pounds and six and a half feet tall, Sionne Falaniko was Gian’s biggest fighter. His back ground in mixed martial arts made the Samoan a fierce competitor, but Sheng Li had refined his skills and shaped his talent, helping him to six national fighting titles.
His native tattoos and size gave him an imposing appearance, but a minute in Sionne’s company was all it took to realize that inside the well-muscled fighting machine raged the heart of a kitten. One of Gian’s best instructors, Sionne’s specialty was teaching the basics of martial arts to children aged five to eight.
“Are you gonna need your La-Z-Boy, chief?” Sionne asked. He clutched two plates in his hand, each resem bling a model of Mt. Everest sculpted from pasta and red sauce. “If you want Karl moved, I can move him.”
“No, Karl can keep it. Are you gonna need an ambu lance after you eat all that?”
“This?” Sionne raised the plates. “This is just the first course.”
Thankful that Sionne had taken up martial arts and not competitive eating, Gian followed him into the media room, carrying bottled water for each of them.
Chip entered behind Gian, taking a seat on one of the two oversized sofas on opposite sides of the yellow pine c ocktail table Karl was using as a footrest. Gian walked between the La-Z-Boy and the table, knocking Karl’s feet onto the floor. Half of Karl’s food jostled onto his lap.
“What the hell, man,” Karl cried, half-chewed chicken spraying from his mouth.
“You’re in a recliner,” Gian responded coolly. “You want to put your feet up, use the footrest built into the chair.”
“Damn it, Gian,” Karl swore. “I just bought these jeans.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to find another pair,” offered Cory Blair, a weekend instructor who attended Washington University. “There’s a Tuffskins outlet in St. Charles.”
“That’s real funny, Urkel,” Karl sneered over the laughter of his co-workers. “Shut up before I kick your ass back to school.”
“That’s enough, guys,” Gian announced, quieting them. “Let’s get this meeting underway.”
He opened the armoire occupying the wall adjacent to the two sofas, revealing a forty-seven-inch flat screen television. At Gian’s bidding, Chip and Cory lowered the room-darkening shades covering the windows behind the sofa they shared.
“If I’d known there was going to be a movie, I’d have brought the cupcake I took to the Tropicana last night,” Karl said. “Gian, this is the best makeout pad I’ve ever seen! Dude, I bet they drop their panties the instant they see this place. Hell, if I’d have known you were living this large, I’d have invited myself over a long time ago. No w onder you pay us pennies. All Sheng Li’s dough goes into your mortgage.”
“All Sheng Li’s dough goes back into Sheng Li,” Gian said stiffly. “This was one of my brother’s model homes. I got it for next to nothing.”
“Eat that up,” Cory muttered.
“This is one of Pio’s green homes?” Chip asked.
“Yes. But I didn’t invite you bums here to talk about my house,” Gian said. “I want to discuss the International Martial Arts tourney with you.”
“Man, that’s five months away,” Karl complained.
“And some of us need every second of that time to train.” Gian pressed a key on the remote clutched in his hand. The television blipped on and he hit another button, this one powering the DVD player.
“Ever done it in a recliner, Gian?” Karl asked, fooling around with the chair’s back and footrest settings.
“If that’s an invitation,” Gian started, “I’m flattered but not interested.”
Chip and Cory laughed, which made Karl launch himself out of the chair. Sionne, incredibly agile and fast for his size, popped off his ottoman and blocked Karl’s path to the sofa.
“Guys, c’mon,” Gian sighed. “The faster we get through this meeting, the sooner you can get out of here.”
Glowering at Chip and Cory, Karl
His native tattoos and size gave him an imposing appearance, but a minute in Sionne’s company was all it took to realize that inside the well-muscled fighting machine raged the heart of a kitten. One of Gian’s best instructors, Sionne’s specialty was teaching the basics of martial arts to children aged five to eight.
“Are you gonna need your La-Z-Boy, chief?” Sionne asked. He clutched two plates in his hand, each resem bling a model of Mt. Everest sculpted from pasta and red sauce. “If you want Karl moved, I can move him.”
“No, Karl can keep it. Are you gonna need an ambu lance after you eat all that?”
“This?” Sionne raised the plates. “This is just the first course.”
Thankful that Sionne had taken up martial arts and not competitive eating, Gian followed him into the media room, carrying bottled water for each of them.
Chip entered behind Gian, taking a seat on one of the two oversized sofas on opposite sides of the yellow pine c ocktail table Karl was using as a footrest. Gian walked between the La-Z-Boy and the table, knocking Karl’s feet onto the floor. Half of Karl’s food jostled onto his lap.
“What the hell, man,” Karl cried, half-chewed chicken spraying from his mouth.
“You’re in a recliner,” Gian responded coolly. “You want to put your feet up, use the footrest built into the chair.”
“Damn it, Gian,” Karl swore. “I just bought these jeans.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to find another pair,” offered Cory Blair, a weekend instructor who attended Washington University. “There’s a Tuffskins outlet in St. Charles.”
“That’s real funny, Urkel,” Karl sneered over the laughter of his co-workers. “Shut up before I kick your ass back to school.”
“That’s enough, guys,” Gian announced, quieting them. “Let’s get this meeting underway.”
He opened the armoire occupying the wall adjacent to the two sofas, revealing a forty-seven-inch flat screen television. At Gian’s bidding, Chip and Cory lowered the room-darkening shades covering the windows behind the sofa they shared.
“If I’d known there was going to be a movie, I’d have brought the cupcake I took to the Tropicana last night,” Karl said. “Gian, this is the best makeout pad I’ve ever seen! Dude, I bet they drop their panties the instant they see this place. Hell, if I’d have known you were living this large, I’d have invited myself over a long time ago. No w onder you pay us pennies. All Sheng Li’s dough goes into your mortgage.”
“All Sheng Li’s dough goes back into Sheng Li,” Gian said stiffly. “This was one of my brother’s model homes. I got it for next to nothing.”
“Eat that up,” Cory muttered.
“This is one of Pio’s green homes?” Chip asked.
“Yes. But I didn’t invite you bums here to talk about my house,” Gian said. “I want to discuss the International Martial Arts tourney with you.”
“Man, that’s five months away,” Karl complained.
“And some of us need every second of that time to train.” Gian pressed a key on the remote clutched in his hand. The television blipped on and he hit another button, this one powering the DVD player.
“Ever done it in a recliner, Gian?” Karl asked, fooling around with the chair’s back and footrest settings.
“If that’s an invitation,” Gian started, “I’m flattered but not interested.”
Chip and Cory laughed, which made Karl launch himself out of the chair. Sionne, incredibly agile and fast for his size, popped off his ottoman and blocked Karl’s path to the sofa.
“Guys, c’mon,” Gian sighed. “The faster we get through this meeting, the sooner you can get out of here.”
Glowering at Chip and Cory, Karl
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