Flashback

  Some Years Ago

  Despite the badass name, Dragon Dojo was very much a typical suburban attraction. No cobras, no wax on, wax off. It catered to local kids, families, and the occasional housewife who wanted something different from the many aerobics classes down the street at the community center. The sensei was a great guy, though, so the place was respectable.

  I’d been a student there years ago, back in high school. My mom, bless her, had wanted to find something the family could do together. My father thought he was too cool to go, looking down on the teachers for not being macho enough. My sister came twice at Mom’s insistence (wow, that sounds wrong when taken out of context), then made excuses, then eventually straight-up said she hated physical exercise and refused. Stacy basically lived on her phone, and the many attempts my parents had made to get her to do anything that used muscles had always failed. The only things she cared about were texting her superficial friends, YouTube, and Instagram. If she could, she’d probably become a digital person and live on the net permanently, far away from her family.

  So, for three years, it was just me and Mom. As a dude, especially a dude in high school, maybe some people think I’m supposed to say it was embarrassing and uncool. But, honestly, it turned out to be the kind of quality time parents yearn for with older kids, and I enjoyed it too, especially with us being apart from my overbearing old man so Mom could be herself more. It brought me and Mom closer together after those awkward puberty years when boys are trying to be more manly and independent, when we’re jerks to our Moms, which really hurts them even though they pretend its fine. And yes, we should feel guilty for that and find ways to make up for it later on.

  I graduated from school, then moved away for a bit. Years later, after moving back to town and a couple of months after Cerise and I had become engaged, Cerise and I cycled past the dojo and ran into my mom coming out. (Not literally.) Mom still sporadically attended to dojo. Even after I’d left home at nineteen and quit the dojo when I’d moved away, she’d continued, training for a year or two, then taking a year off, that kind of thing. She’d recently gone back. Even though I’d moved back to town about a year earlier, she hadn’t mentioned it, probably thinking I wouldn’t be interested in training again, especially now that she was older and it would be even less ‘cool’.

  Cerise…was an amazing girlfriend in so many ways. She and Mom had hit it off right away when they’d first met, in large part because Cerise had made a determined effort to be friends and really build a bridge between them. They texted, chatted nonstop in person, and gave gifts on birthdays. I’d realized early on that this was a really good sign. Cerise surely wouldn’t have made that kind of effort if she hadn’t been serious about me or if she were a more selfish person. Seeing her going all in to love my mother and build a future with the one family member I was close to meant the world to me. It was one more reason to love her, and one more reason I was marrying her. One more reason I wasn’t good enough for her; I’d never made the same commitment to her family.

  Cerise had known about my doing martial arts as a kid, something she’d never tried. So it was kinda surprising but kinda not when, standing outside the dojo with my mom, Cerise turned to me with excitement on her beautiful face and eagerly suggested, “We should join up! Then all three of us could do it together!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom light up at the idea, but she quickly tried and failed to suppress it. But it was easy to see the hope there as she fidgeted and tried real hard not to say anything. Mom was the type of parent who wanted to spend time with their kids, no matter how old they got, unlike my old man, who would rather be at his job or off doing his own thing. It wasn’t like my sister ever spent time with either parent. Once she’d gotten old enough to be on Only Fans, her life had been all cameras and blowjobs and private jets so rich assholes could bang her in the ass on some Caribbean beach. A millionaire by the age of 21. Didn’t even bother to text on Christmas or Mother’s Day. I didn’t give a damn about her sex life or career, enjoy what you want, but my mom didn’t deserve that coldness from her daughter. Really ungrateful.

  I was a little nervous at the idea of looking dumb in front of my fiancé, but I ran my hand through my hair and reluctantly agreed, knowing it would make Mom happy, “Sure. Why not?”

  Cerise bounced up and down with glee, and Mom couldn’t help but finally allow her own excitement out. The two hugged and immediately began making plans for buying gi uniforms and deciding what days we could all go together.

  My first lesson back after years away was both blessing and curse. On the upside, it was awesome that I remembered a bunch of the moves. I felt so proud of myself, even if I knew I was making some mistakes. On the other hand, I was not in the shape I’d been in. And when I did make mistakes, I got angry at myself, even though, as Mom said, it was perfectly natural after ten years away. She told me not to be so hard on myself, but I couldn’t help it.

  Cerise was an immediate sensation at the dojo. There had always been people of all ages at the dojo, but very, very few women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five. Maybe aversion to exercise wasn’t limited to my sister, Stacy. So when a young, very beautiful woman showed up, every dude in the place, married or not, was instantly aware of her, and more than happy to talk and give her pointers and try to get her to smile at them.

  I admit, I had a bit of an insecurity complex about my fiancé. I didn’t know why she was with an average nothing like me, instead of someone good-looking or rich or whatever. Seeing the way guys all reacted to her had always made me feel a little sick. It was tempting to go over and insert myself into every encounter when some asshat flirted with her, then maybe punch him in the face for trying to steal my girl. I rarely did, though. Definitely never punched anyone.

  To my surprise, Cerise had once told me that she respected me for that. It had been over breakfast in bed one morning.

  I’d blinked at her over a BLT as I sat against my pillow and the headboard. “Huh?”

  She’d looked at me over her tea like she shouldn’t have to explain it, that it should be obvious. “Because you trust me. And I can see the way you feel, I know you want to be all macho and protect me and keep me as yours, which is hot, but you trust me to stay with you, trust me to make my own decisions, and I respect that. I don’t need someone trying to control me. I decide who I want to be with.”

  “Who?”

  “You, you dummy!” She’d laughed and playfully slapped my shoulder.

  “Hmm. So, I should not go and tell jerkface in the overpriced suit to piss off when he flashes his money in your face and asks if you want to ride in his Ferrari?”

  She’d giggled. “Exactly.”

  “What if he asks if you want to ride his cock?”

  “I’m not a little girl. I can handle it. But I promise, if anyone needs their face punched, I’ll call you.”

  “Good.” I’d taken a big bite of the BLT, chewed, swallowed, and then looked over at her. “You wanna ride my cock?”

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  She’d almost spewed her tea all over the sheet when she laughed. But she’d put the cup on the side table, wiped her mouth, taken away the really good BLT, which had kind of bummed me out because sex while eating a really good sandwich is pretty much my number one fantasy, and then she’d straddled me. Twinkle in her eyes, she’d said, “Always.”

  The post coital sandwich had still been pretty awesome. Extra bacon and lots of mustard.

  By the way, don’t eat mustard anything in bed. That stain never comes out.

  Anyway, the dojo. Maybe it was the fact that we were engaged, and the wedding was coming up fast. You’d think I’d maybe be more secure because of that. Nope. Worse. So all these fit guys, some younger, most cooler, they were finding reasons to be near her, to introduce themselves, and I wished I had a flamethrower so I could reduce those guys to ash. I didn’t. I chose to trust her.

  Besides, if she did choose to quit me, it would mean she didn’t really love me the way I loved her, so I’d be dodging a bullet, right? Better to get ditched earlier than ten years into a marriage. And I did love her. I wanted her to be happy. So if she’d rather be with someone else, then I guess he’d be a better match for her, so I should, logically, accept that.

  Ha. As if. I’d probably spend ten depressed years in my apartment, never coming out, then go postal on the guy who had taken her from me.

  …Nah. Not really. Because doing something like that would hurt her. Even if she left me for some rich prick, I knew I’d never be able to hate her, let alone hurt her.

  Our first class at the dojo started, and we did drills in front of the giant mirrors that filled one wall. You were supposed to use it to check out your own form. I could see a bunch of the guys checking out Cerise’s form instead. I also noticed that my moves were even worse than I’d thought. In retrospect, even if Cerise hadn’t been so absorbed trying to do her own thing to bother looking my way, she would have had no idea I was screwing up, but I looked in the mirror and saw my sloppy moves and felt like a failure.

  What guy doesn’t want to impress the love of his life, right? You wanna be perfect for her.

  Sensei didn’t seem to think I was all that bad. He walked by a couple of times, reaching out to make tiny adjustments to my form and nodding in approval, telling me I was doing amazing after being gone so long. Maybe he was making a special effort after meeting Cerise and was trying to help me look good. It seemed to work. Cerise noticed the praise and flashed me a thumbs up. Couldn’t help myself, my pride swelled, and I grinned like an idiot.

  After going through warmups and solo drills, it came time for preset sparring drills. You and a partner face off like you’re fighting, but you’re going through preset moves like a dance. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it eases you into being in a fight-like situation because you are supposed to make light contact and really push your partner to defend themselves.

  We have an army base nearby, and there are always a few soldiers in the dojo. Them and the construction guys are always the biggest, but the army guys have a real special mentality to them, an in-your-face attitude that can seem real friendly. But they’re always showing off, flexing, laughing too loud and slapping your back too hard. Like they’re trying to be all casually alpha around the civilians. They’re rarely outright jerks, often rigid about their code of conduct, but somehow, they exude this attitude that says they’re the big dog and you’re more than welcome to throw down because they’d cheerfully prove it to you.

  Beef was one of the biggest army dudes. Shorter than me, but he’d made up for that shortcoming by going to the gym twice as much as anyone. He was one of those guys whose arms couldn’t hang down straight because he had too much muscle. His tits were bigger than Cerise’s. He’d been one of those meeting and greeting my fiancé and asking all sorts of flirty questions before class started.

  Beef came over me, a sly grin on his face, light gleaming off his bald-like-a-bowling-ball head. He’d been at the dojo a long time, a rookie like me when we’d started, but a black belt now, whereas I was starting at white all over again because I’d been gone. He called out, “Jimmy!”

  I hate the nickname Jimmy, btw. My name is James.

  “Jimmy! How ya doin’? What happened to yer blue belt?” Blue was two steps up from white, what I’d earned before quitting the dojo.

  I forced a laugh at the underhanded dig. “Lost in the laundry, I guess.”

  “Aw. Shame.” He then acted all serious and helpful. “Come on, you remember these sparring drills, right? You and me, let’s see what you got.” While the sensei who owns the dojo is the head guy, the other black belts often teach classes alone or assist when the sensei is teaching. So even though we’d started about the same time and been about the same level when I’d left, here he was, acting all superior because he now had ten years experience on me.

  He was no doubt trying to impress Cerise while taking the opportunity to make me look less than him. He was that kind of guy. I didn’t get the chance to refuse because he was a black belt now, and he just started into it, forcing me to go along.

  Out of the side of my eye, I saw sensei pairing Cerise and my mom up, and boy, you could see the joy and pride on Mom’s face; she was just glowing at the chance to teach Cerise. It was awesome.

  Then Beef punched me in the chest, hard. He’d started the drill without me. “Hey now. Where’s your focus? Come on.” He reset.

  The hit had hurt, but I refused to act like it did and give the blockhead the satisfaction. I reset, and we went through the drills a few times. I wasn’t going to lose to him.

  Honestly, I was out of shape, slow, and had forgotten moves, but I was keeping up better than I’d thought I would, especially with Beef coming hard at me like I was another black belt and not a rookie again. He kept tagging me with his kicks and punches, landing them on my thighs and arms and chest. The guy was so huge, he didn’t even seem to be making much of an effort, but each one hurt. The more I tried to keep a stony face and not show pain, the more it egged him on, blows landing harder and harder.

  Beef was enjoying it. He knew full well he was torturing me.

  I was annoyed, but there was absolutely no way I was going to show fear or pain, not for him, and not with Cerise nearby. I didn’t want to look weak. I wanted to prove how tough I could be.

  Beef landed a heavy roundhouse on my left thigh. He’d been aiming and hitting the exact same spot over and over. On purpose. This is one of the strongest guys around, a legit monster. I took a lot of punishment. But finally, my bruised leg couldn’t take it anymore, and I finally cried out and dropped to one knee.

  Beef acted all contrite. “Oh, hey there. Sorry about that. You were doing so well, didn’t realize it was too much for you.” He offered a hand to help me up.

  I looked at it but didn’t take it. Everyone in the dojo, of course, was looking my way, including Cerise. Sensei was hustling over in concern, with Mom looking on with worry but not following, probably because she wanted to spare me the embarrassment of mothering me in public. Didn’t matter. My face was hot and getting redder by the second; I could feel it. And when guys get embarrassed, anger’s swift to follow, right?

  I ignored the fake offer of help and forced myself to stand, wincing. I hated him for being a jerk. But I also hated myself for not being tough enough to endure him.

  Beef came forward with a wide smile and clapped me on the back. “See, you’re all right. Don’t know my own strength, but you’re tough enough to shake it off. Impressive, Jimmy.”

  Suddenly, Cerise was at my side. To my great relief, she didn’t mother me either; I would have probably snapped hard if she had. I was in a bad place right then. She put a hand on my shoulder, very clearly telling Beef and everyone where her loyalty was. Though she was usually smiling and had been having a great time so far, her face was blank now as she looked at Beef. “I thought martial arts was all about knowing yourself and control.”

  Beef shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “So if someone doesn’t know their own strength and can’t control themselves, then I guess they’re not a very good martial artist. In fact, they’d be a failure twice over.”

  Beef’s smug attitude bled away, and when more than a few in the crowd hid laughs or loudly sucked in a big breath at the audacity of the statement, his expression turned to a scowl.

  Sensei quickly stepped in and ended things before they could get worse.

  As everyone got back to drills, Cerise gave me a concerned look. “You ok?”

  I was proud as hell of her, but still feeling utterly humiliated and angry. “I’m fine.” I acted like it was nothing, though my face was still hot and my leg hurt so bad I couldn’t move it. The muscle had cramped up from the blow. I was useless. I should have said more, thanked her, acted better, but I just couldn’t. I was glad when she squeezed my shoulder and then went back over to drill with Mom.

  I tried to get through the rest of the class like things were fine, but inside, I was an emotional mess. Just like a guy, right, hiding all their feelings instead of dealing with them? Not healthy. I’d learn that the hard way later. But at that moment, I just hated being so fuckin’ weak. I was ashamed of myself for not being strong enough, not being tough enough, not being able to shrug it off and being so emotional instead.