resumed his seat. “So how ‘bout it, Gian,” he persisted. “You ever done it in this chair?”
“The day I discuss my sex life with you, will be the day—”
“ What sex life?” Karl mumbled. “I thought you were married to Sheng Li.”
“At least I’m not married to my right hand,” Gian replied.
“Oh, snap,” Cory shouted, drawing his knees to his chest in exaggerated paroxysms of laughter.
“Who was that girl I saw you with at the Tropicana last night, Cory?” Karl sneered. “Her ass looked like two bowling balls wrapped in basketball skin.”
“At least my girl had an ass,” Cory coolly responded. “Yours had a billboard booty.”
“It’s ’cause I keep her on her back,” Karl said. “You’re such a pig, man,” Chip muttered.
“Better a pig than a Boy Scout,” Karl scoffed. He grabbed the bulge between his legs. “I got females beg ging me to feed their kitties. All you got outta your girl last night was a walk.” He clasped his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes. “Oh, how sweet,” he started in a teasing falsetto. “Opie took Frieda for a walk down Limp Lover’s Lane.”
Sionne belched. “Who’s Frieda?”
“For cryin’ out loud, I could smell that,” Gian winced. “Did you have hotdogs before you came here?” “Who’s Frieda?” Cory asked.
“Cinder White,” Karl said. “Gian’s private lesson. Or maybe she’s into Chip’s privates now.”
Gian’s jaw hardened.
“Why do you call her Frieda?” Chip asked.
“Frieda is a black girl’s name,” Karl smirked.
“ Actually, it’s German in origin,” Cory said. “It means ‘lady.’ My sister and her husband are having twins. All they do is talk baby names.”
“If they’re girls, she could name them Frieda and Hazel,” Karl said. “Or Leroy and Tyrone, if they’re boys.”
“Why don’t you shut up, you ignorant prick,” Cory snapped.
Karl kicked the footrest back into place and sat taller in the recliner. “Why don’t you make me?”
“You know I can,” Cory warned.
“Let’s dance, Lionel.”
Both instructors stood and started to square off, but Gian quickly stepped between them, Chip taking Cory’s arm in a brotherly grip.
“Settle down, guys,” Gian said, his tone reminding them that he could take the both of them if he had to. Fast, slim, and strong, Cory was the youngest reigning Junior Regional Martial Arts champion ever, and the first African-American to win the honor. Karl rarely competed, but his mean streak and the solid muscle packed on his large frame might have been enough to give him the edge in a fight with Cory. It was a match-up Gian would have enjoyed watching on the mat, not in his house.
Karl and Cory returned to their seats, although they continued to give each other the stink eye.
“Save this for the tournament,” Gian told them as he paced the room. “The footage you’re about to see will show you what you’ll be up against. You’re gonna need everything you’ve got to win. And winning this tourna ment is about more than prize money or trophies. This is w here the best of the best meet to prove who most deserves that title. You take everything you have to the mat, and you spend it, every bit of it. When you walk into that arena and face off with your opponent, you’ll do it for honor.” He glanced at Chip, then Cory. “You’ll do it for respect.” He threw a glance at Karl.
Gian stepped around the cocktail table to pull Sionne’s plate from him before he could dive into a third helping of pasta. “You’ll do it to show your peers that you’re a champion on and off the mat.”
Gian returned to the armoire and pushed PLAY on the remote. “You four are Sheng Li’s best chance for a team title and to medal in the individual fight classes. I’d like each of you to nominate a student or two who you think would make a good showing in the exhibition matches. Competitors will be matched up according to skill level alone, not
“The day I discuss my sex life with you, will be the day—”
“ What sex life?” Karl mumbled. “I thought you were married to Sheng Li.”
“At least I’m not married to my right hand,” Gian replied.
“Oh, snap,” Cory shouted, drawing his knees to his chest in exaggerated paroxysms of laughter.
“Who was that girl I saw you with at the Tropicana last night, Cory?” Karl sneered. “Her ass looked like two bowling balls wrapped in basketball skin.”
“At least my girl had an ass,” Cory coolly responded. “Yours had a billboard booty.”
“It’s ’cause I keep her on her back,” Karl said. “You’re such a pig, man,” Chip muttered.
“Better a pig than a Boy Scout,” Karl scoffed. He grabbed the bulge between his legs. “I got females beg ging me to feed their kitties. All you got outta your girl last night was a walk.” He clasped his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes. “Oh, how sweet,” he started in a teasing falsetto. “Opie took Frieda for a walk down Limp Lover’s Lane.”
Sionne belched. “Who’s Frieda?”
“For cryin’ out loud, I could smell that,” Gian winced. “Did you have hotdogs before you came here?” “Who’s Frieda?” Cory asked.
“Cinder White,” Karl said. “Gian’s private lesson. Or maybe she’s into Chip’s privates now.”
Gian’s jaw hardened.
“Why do you call her Frieda?” Chip asked.
“Frieda is a black girl’s name,” Karl smirked.
“ Actually, it’s German in origin,” Cory said. “It means ‘lady.’ My sister and her husband are having twins. All they do is talk baby names.”
“If they’re girls, she could name them Frieda and Hazel,” Karl said. “Or Leroy and Tyrone, if they’re boys.”
“Why don’t you shut up, you ignorant prick,” Cory snapped.
Karl kicked the footrest back into place and sat taller in the recliner. “Why don’t you make me?”
“You know I can,” Cory warned.
“Let’s dance, Lionel.”
Both instructors stood and started to square off, but Gian quickly stepped between them, Chip taking Cory’s arm in a brotherly grip.
“Settle down, guys,” Gian said, his tone reminding them that he could take the both of them if he had to. Fast, slim, and strong, Cory was the youngest reigning Junior Regional Martial Arts champion ever, and the first African-American to win the honor. Karl rarely competed, but his mean streak and the solid muscle packed on his large frame might have been enough to give him the edge in a fight with Cory. It was a match-up Gian would have enjoyed watching on the mat, not in his house.
Karl and Cory returned to their seats, although they continued to give each other the stink eye.
“Save this for the tournament,” Gian told them as he paced the room. “The footage you’re about to see will show you what you’ll be up against. You’re gonna need everything you’ve got to win. And winning this tourna ment is about more than prize money or trophies. This is w here the best of the best meet to prove who most deserves that title. You take everything you have to the mat, and you spend it, every bit of it. When you walk into that arena and face off with your opponent, you’ll do it for honor.” He glanced at Chip, then Cory. “You’ll do it for respect.” He threw a glance at Karl.
Gian stepped around the cocktail table to pull Sionne’s plate from him before he could dive into a third helping of pasta. “You’ll do it to show your peers that you’re a champion on and off the mat.”
Gian returned to the armoire and pushed PLAY on the remote. “You four are Sheng Li’s best chance for a team title and to medal in the individual fight classes. I’d like each of you to nominate a student or two who you think would make a good showing in the exhibition matches. Competitors will be matched up according to skill level alone, not
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