Patrice appeared beside them. “Then start with something comfortable and appropriate for a beginner,” she said. “No need to spend three hundred dollars on something she may use twice.”
Trent felt his face warm. He had been trained by years of advertising to believe the cost of an object said something about the owner. Now he had to watch the customer choose a modest pair of gloves and leave grateful for the honest advice.
During lunch, he sat alone behind the store and looked at his phone. He had stopped posting fight clips. His followers continued asking about the video, some cheering him on and others making jokes at his expense. He muted the notifications, something that had once seemed impossible because the numbers were the easiest measure of how much he mattered.
He found a message from Devin: You okay?
Trent typed, Working.
Devin replied with a photograph of a broken treadmill they were trying to repair at the gym. The conversation turned to belts and bearings, not views or rankings. For a few minutes Trent felt like a person who could be spoken to without someone expecting a performance.
At the end of his shift, Patrice handed him a schedule. He would work two mornings the following week and one Saturday afternoon.
“Good work today,” she said.
He waited for a longer compliment. None came. He realized she meant exactly what she said.
Driving home in the repaired BMW, Trent passed Joseph’s house. The pink bicycle was visible through the open garage door. Joseph was kneeling beside it, adjusting something near the handlebars. Khloe stood nearby holding a small bottle of paint.
Trent slowed, then kept going. He had not been invited to join them, and for once he understood that respecting a boundary was a form of action, not a failure to act.
Chapter 39: A Belt That Had to Wait
Barnes postponed Trent’s black-belt evaluation. He made the decision in private and explained it without insults. Trent had technical ability, he said, but the evaluation included judgment, composure, and the responsibility that came with being entrusted to train less experienced students.
“I worked for that belt,” Trent protested.
“You worked on the skills. You have more to work on.”
“Because of one fight?”
Barnes leaned back against the office desk. “Because you used the gym to settle a personal argument. Because you treated your opponent like someone you were supposed to humiliate. And because I let it happen. We’re both going to have to earn some trust back.”
Trent stared at the floor. He had expected either a stern punishment or a convenient loophole. Barnes offered neither. There was no fee he could pay to accelerate the process, no extra class he could complete in one week, no public demonstration that would prove he deserved the rank after all.
“When can I test?” he asked.
“When you can show me you understand what the belt means. I don’t know how long that takes.”
The uncertainty was difficult. Trent liked goals that could be photographed and posted. He liked the sense of finishing something. Barnes was asking him to practice the kind of patience that did not announce when it would be rewarded.
Lena began working with him twice a week. Their sessions were not dramatic. She asked him to help arrange equipment, then pair with beginners and demonstrate simple movements slowly enough that nobody felt embarrassed. He found it unexpectedly hard to explain without showing off. When a younger student misunderstood, his first impulse was irritation.
“Stop,” Lena said one afternoon. “What is she asking you?”
“How to keep her balance.”
“Then answer that question. Don’t use it as an excuse to show how good you are.”
He took a breath and tried again. The student understood on the second attempt and thanked him. Trent looked pleased, then self-conscious about his pleasure. Lena noticed and smiled.
“That feeling? That’s part of coaching.”
After class he stayed to wipe down the mats. Barnes worked nearby, replacing worn padding along the wall. The two men spoke about ordinary gym business: schedules, cleaning supplies, and a new policy requiring coaches to approve open sparring matches. The absence of conflict felt unfamiliar.
When Trent finally asked whether he could compete again, Barnes answered carefully. “Eventually, if you’re medically cleared and you’ve demonstrated better judgment. But don’t rush to prove you haven’t changed.”
Trent laughed once, without much humor. “You make it sound hard.”
“It is,” Barnes said. “That’s why the belt matters.”
Chapter 40: What Joseph Didn’t Know How to Tell Sarah
