Dean looked at the finger pointed at him. Then he looked at Trent’s eyes. “You’re a bully,” Dean said simply. “You use this place, you use these kids to make yourself feel big because out there in the real world, you’re nothing. You hit boys because you know they can’t hit you back. You feed your ego on their blood.” The two young men behind the counter stiffened. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the temperature suddenly dropping. Trent’s face flushed red. The tribal tattoo on his arm twitched as his muscles tensed. No one spoke to him like this ever. In his domain, he was unquestioned. The disrespect tasted like ash in his mouth. “Watch your mouth,” Trent hissed, his voice dropping into a guttural register. “You walk into my gym and talk to me like that, you’re lucky I don’t lay you out right here.”
“I want an apology,” Dean said. He wasn’t asking. It was a command. “Tomorrow in front of the whole class, you look my son in the eye and you apologize for losing control. And then you change the way you run the school. No more egos. No more beating on kids to make yourself look tough.” For a moment, Trent just stared at him. Then a dark, ugly laugh bubbled up from his chest. He threw his head back and laughed loudly, a forced theatrical sound. He looked back at his friends, spreading his arms wide. “Are you—you hearing this guy?” Trent mocked. He turned back to Dean, stepping even closer until he was well inside Dean’s personal space. Trent was three inches taller and forty pounds heavier. “I’m not apologizing to you. I’m not apologizing to your soft ass kid.” Trent sneered, his breath smelling of synthetic sugar and caffeine. “And I’m definitely not changing how I run my gym for some washed up, crippled nobody who can’t even stand up straight.”
Dean remained perfectly still. He was scanning Trent’s body, not his eyes. The eyes lie. He watched Trent’s hips. He watched the subtle shift of weight to Trent’s back foot. He noticed the flaring of Trent’s nostrils, the rapid, shallow breathing that indicated an adrenaline dump. Trent was working himself into a frenzy. He was performing. “This is your last chance, Dean said quietly. Make it right.” Trent stepped into Dean’s face, the black belt sneered, his lip curling into a snarl of pure arrogance. “You think you can come in here and lecture me? Trent spat. You think you can threaten me in my own house? You can’t stop me. No one in this town can.”
