“Call them,” Cole said, his voice flat. “Tell them you put a blood choke on a 26-year-old girl, ignored her tapping for 3 seconds, and put her to sleep because your feelings were hurt. I’ll wait right here. ” Derek opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He looked around the room, silently begging for someone, anyone, to back him up. The software engineers, the accountants, the blue and purple belts who usually laughed at his terrible jokes, all looked away.
They suddenly found the texture of the floor mats incredibly interesting. “What the hell’s going on here? ” The voice boomed from the back office.
The heavy wooden door swung open, and Greg marched out. Greg was the gym owner and head instructor.
He was a man in his late 40s with thick cauliflower ears, a barrel chest, and a black belt heavily frayed at the edges, adorned with four red stripes.
He moved with the heavy planted steps of a man who owned the ground he walked on. Greg pushed through the crowd of students, taking in the scene.
He saw Sarah sitting near the wall, pale and massaging her throat. He saw Derek nursing his arm against the padding, and he saw Cole standing perfectly still in the center of the mat.
Greg knew exactly what Derek was.
Every head coach knows who the gym bullies are.
But Derek paid a premium membership, bought all the expensive gym merchandise, and brought in his meathead friends who paid their dues on time.
In the brutal economics of running a martial arts school in a strip mall, morals often took a backseat to rent money.
Greg had spent 3 years looking the other way. Now, the mess had landed right in the middle of his pristine mats.
“Who are you? ” Greg demanded, stopping 3 ft from Cole. He crossed his thick arms over his chest. “You don’t walk into my gym, interrupt my class, and assault my students. I don’t care what you think you saw. ” Cole finally broke his gaze away from Derek and looked at the older man. “I didn’t think I saw anything.
