Brainy and the Beast (21 page)

Grimacing at my own carelessness, I darted a look toward the dojang to see if Henry had seen me abusing the leather on his door. Thankfully, from what I could tell through the now fogged windows, his attention was on Grant’s class. “You’re an idiot, Nicky.”

Didn’t seem to be much doubt about that right now. I was pretty sure if I asked Henry, he’d agree with me. At least, I thought he might not be happy with me right now.
Guh. I don’t know.

The wind, which had picked up while we were in the car, chose that moment to blow snow in my face and down my collar. “Jeez.” I tugged my parka up around my ears.

Even Mother Nature was slapping me upside the head.

It was nice and warm inside the dojang. Henry had found himself a quiet corner and was watching the instructor set up a spar.

It was in fact the same studio I’d taken lessons in two decades ago. John Lee, the man who’d taught me—scrawny troublemaker that I was—discipline and respect along with fighting skills, was now the master of the school. As
sabeom
, John owned and ran the academy. His main instructor, Nestor Ramirez, was now
gyosa.

Nestor and I had actually been in training at the same time. We’d gone to high school together, though I hadn’t met him until we’d begun taking lessons. I’d been one of the gearheads in auto shop while Nestor had been more of a studious kid; plus, he’d been on the tennis team. I wouldn’t have been caught dead around the tennis courts back in school. Probably still wouldn’t, now that I thought of it.

Nestor was leading the class, which had seven kids in it. From what I could tell, they ranged in age from about eight to eighteen. It was funny, because Grant was sparring with a kid who looked to be several years younger, maybe ten. The little guy was holding his own, but I could see Grant was holding back. I felt a quick rush of pride that my nephew would respect the kid’s age but also his talent. The smaller boy got in some good kicks and punches, and Grant was giving back the same but with measured force.

Alongside the matted area, the hardwood floor formed a walkway to the offices on the east side of the space. My sabeom walked out of the nearest one, headed my way. He paused to greet Henry, then moved to where I stood near the door.

Training and instinct took over, and I bowed, one hand wrapped around the other. “
Sabeomnim
.” I added the honorific due him.

John bowed in response. “Nick. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” He opened his arms, and after a second’s hesitation, I accepted his hug. He was a few inches shorter than me, and over his shoulder, I could see Henry watching me.

“Yeah, it has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” The last time I had taken lessons from him, I was about twenty-six. “Maybe ten years?”

“I think so, yes.” John tilted his head. “When your dad came in to sign up Grant, I sort of thought you’d come by.”

I could hear the question there. I grimaced. “Yeah. I’ve been putting a lot of hours in at the garage since the kid came to live with me.” That sounded lame, even to me.

John’s brown eyes were sharp, knowing. “That’s too bad. You’re missing a lot here. Grant has advanced very quickly.” He shot a glance toward the sparring kids, then eyed me again. “Reminds me of a former student of mine.”

I felt a quick rush of satisfaction, and my cheeks got warm. At the same time, I was embarrassed by my neglect of Grant. “I know, Sabeomnim. I…um, I’m starting to spend more time with him. And I…I wanted to come by today to see how he’s doing.”

John turned to stand next to me, and we both watched the class. Grant and his partner were now watching another pair spar, and my nephew’s eyes met mine. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he grinned in response.

“So we heard about the dustup Grant had at school a few weeks ago. I was concerned, because we worry when we hear about our students engaging in fights outside of the meets.” John raised his brows at me. “On the other hand, I was glad to hear he was defending someone weaker from a bully.”

I shoved my hands in my pocket and rocked on my toes a bit. “Yeah. Some skinhead ass—uh, jerk, was going after this little bit of a girl. Knocked her around. Grant laid him out with a sweet kick.” Even I could hear the pride in my voice.

“Yes; Gyosa and I spoke to him about it. He explained everything that happened and took responsibility for his actions.” John faced me again. “That’s a good boy you’ve got there, Nick.”

I looked him in the eye. “Yeah. I’m starting to realize that.” Behind John, Henry shifted in his chair, catching my attention. “Oh, Sabeomnim. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” I lifted a hand toward Henry, and John obligingly stepped back, following me to the corner of the room.

Henry got to his feet as we approached. “Henry, this is John Lee, my sabeom. He taught me everything I know about tae kwon do. Sabeomnim, I’d like you to meet Henry Travis. He’s um, he’s my—”

Henry extended a hand. “His boyfriend.” Apparently Henry had made a decision.

“Henry!” I nearly sputtered it. Now my face had to be scarlet. The dojang was not exactly Boystown, the north-side neighborhood down in Chicago.

Henry gave me a look before smiling at John. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

John’s shake looked firm. “Likewise.” His speculative gaze ran between the two of us. “I didn’t know, Nick. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

My throat was a little tight, and I looked anywhere but at John. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. Well, maybe I didn’t march in the Pride parade, but for crying out loud, my work and home life didn’t exactly let me be like some Hollywood dude who could do what he wanted. And this place was not really where I’d planned to announce my membership in the gay brotherhood. As I recalled, there had been a few fag jokes in the locker room from time to time, when the gyosa wasn’t around. And I had absolutely no idea how John felt about gays.

Fuck
. Now what was I supposed to do? Henry was sporting a somewhat expectant expression, and I bit my lip as I met his gaze for a second.

When I turned back to John, the sabeom had a slight smile on his face. The normally reserved man appeared to be amused. “Your face is very telling, Nick. Even after ten years, I can still read you.” He tilted his head at Nestor, who was demonstrating a kick/punch combination. “I think Nestor will tell you that we’re very tolerant here at the studio.”

I opened my mouth in shock as I turned back toward the class. Nestor was gay? “Really?” Man, if I’d known in high school, I might have been all over that.

Henry cleared his throat, and my eyes darted back to his. I blushed again, this time for— What the hell? We weren’t married, for God’s sake. I could look at other guys. Couldn’t I?

When I glared at him, he just stared at me, waiting. I could feel the cage door swinging closed. I’d never been exclusive with anyone. It actually hadn’t ever come up, to be honest. For that to have been an issue, some other guy would have had to have expectations of me. And me of him. With him.
Guh.

John spoke again. “Would you like to spar?” He gestured toward the center mat. “I’m sure the class would be very happy to see a demonstration of your skill.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think so. I-I don’t even have a
dobok
.” The Korean word for the training outfit rolled right off my tongue. Man, I remembered more than I thought I did.

“We’ve got plenty of those. Come on back.” Without waiting to see if I would follow, my sabeom headed to the locker room.

I just knew I looked like a smallmouth bass, standing there with my jaw hanging. Henry, the shit, had his arms crossed on his chest, and yes, that was a grin on his face now. Stuffy Henry was enjoying himself all of a sudden.

“This is payback, right? You think this is funny because of…” Oops. I hadn’t really planned to bring up the discussion in the car.

“Payback?” Henry’s brow furrowed. “What do you— Ah, is this about what I said in the car?” He dropped his arms, pushed back his tweed jacket—who wore a sport jacket to the grocery store?—and set his hands on his hips. “Not at all. I’m not going to push you into anything, Nicholas, least of all a sparring match when you’re probably out of shape and out of practice.”

Oh. That hit me where I lived. Right smack dab in the ego. “Uh-huh.” I ran my gaze up and down his now cocky stance. Today I was seeing another side of Henry. He’d been crafty at the grocery store, and he was most definitely provocative now. But that gleam in his Jaguar blues—that’s what got me. My dick was twitching all of a sudden. And frankly, he was making my heart beat just a little faster. “Okay, Doc. We’ll see about that. We’ll see about a lot of things.” With my back to the class, I adjusted myself, then started for the locker room.

I was talking to myself the entire walk, and I continued as I changed into the dobok. The white jacket was combined with the black pants used by instructors and advanced-level practitioners.

“You better know just what the fuck you’re doing, Nicky Boy.” I knotted the belt John had left lying on the bench, appreciating his memory. The belt was black, recognizing my
cho dan
—first-degree level. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, breathing deeply. Okay, one session with my nephew did
not
make me ready to go a few rounds with one of these kids, much less an instructor. At least, I didn’t think it did.

I reached for the ceiling, stretching my back and arms, then dropped forward to stretch my hammies. For a few minutes I duplicated the stretches Grant had shown me a few weeks back. I so did not want to end up with a pulled muscle.

Out in the main studio space, I approached the class with more than a little trepidation. The give in the mats cushioned my feet, and I curled my toes a little, trying to steady myself.

Nestor grinned. “So, my old training buddy is back.” He turned to the class. “Students, please welcome Grant’s uncle, Nick Shelton.”

I felt funny when the class bowed to me, but I returned the courtesy. It actually helped settle my nerves, and I took a deep breath.

“We were just going to do some forms before the next set. We’d be honored if you joined us.”

Grateful that I didn’t have to jump right into things, I nodded quickly. “Yeah.” I could see Grant eyeing me with a slight frown, and I hurried to correct myself. “Yes, Gyosa.” Damn, courtesy and respect had been drilled into me for more than twelve years. I should have remembered. On top of that, Henry was staring at me via his reflection in the long, mirrored wall in front of me. I resisted the urge to turn to directly meet his gaze.

The poomsae was relaxing, and I found myself slipping back into the routines I’d learned long ago. I knew why it was so helpful. Punches and kicks performed in a methodical fashion, with all of us grunting out the cadence, were a reinforcement of discipline and focus. Right then I needed both. We went through three sets; I think Sabeom must have told Nestor to cut me some slack by extending the poomsae.

All too soon, Nestor was moving the students toward the wall, spreading them out so they could all see. He gestured toward the center of the mat, once again sporting a grin. “You all warmed up, Nick?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Gyosa.”

We squared off, and I eyed his stance. The last time Nestor and I had sparred, we’d been evenly matched. I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case any longer. “I had no idea you were still into this.”

He threw the first kick in response, and I successfully blocked it. “I’ve been state champ three times.”

Shit
. “Really?” I did a quick three-punch combo, which he blocked all too easily. “Uh. Congrats.”

“Thanks.” His next attack was swift, and I stopped talking. It took all my concentration to block and even try to respond. I was awfully damned glad just then that Grant and I had practiced together, even that one time. If we hadn’t, I would have been dumped on my ass a hell of a lot sooner than I was. Still, I did get some respectable hits in, and I would have sworn I heard Grant’s voice once calling out in support. That was a no-no in the dojang, but I hoped they’d let it slide.

It took Nestor several minutes, but he did end up getting me on the floor. Winded, I stared up at him and grinned. Even though he’d bested me, it had been a great match. I caught the hand he extended, he yanked, and we bumped chests before I got my balance.

Up close, I could see his eyes were light brown, very striking.

“Too bad you brought your boyfriend. I was going to ask you out for a drink.”

“What?” He had
not
just whispered that. And I realized he still had my hand. I yanked it back and sent a guilty look through the mirror to Henry. It was warranted, because he had a serious frown on his face, and he’d moved to the edge of the mat.

I faked a laugh. “Hah. Thanks for— Wait, how did you know he’s my boyfriend?” Now
I
was saying it. Christ.

“Because
your boyfriend
has been glaring at me since we started.” His voice was still low, but he didn’t try to stop me as I stepped away from him.

“Dude.” I was channeling Grant in my shock. I looked at Henry again; now he had his arms crossed on his chest and was eyeing both of us.

“Uh-huh.” Nestor sent an amused expression my way before turning to face his students. “
Cha-ryeot
.” He called their attention. “
Gyeong-rye
.”

The students all bowed obediently, and I squared myself up and returned the gesture. And I just knew Henry was staring at my ass.

* * * *

Grant was actually something of a chatterbox on the way home. It helped make up for the fact that Henry didn’t say a word.

“Uncle Nick, that was so cool when Gyosa nailed you with that
bandae dollyeo chagi
; then you blocked it with the
sonbadak naeryo makgi
.” He was practicing the blocking move as he spoke.

I was half turned in my seat. “Um. You want to translate that for Henry?” I frowned as Henry didn’t even look my way.
Whatever, dude.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, Gyosa used a spin kick on Uncle Nick. Then you”—he nodded his head in my direction—“got a palm block up just in time.” Grant actually sounded proud of me, and my chest swelled along with my head.