Breck and Jegs stared at him darkly.
Kenzie covered her mouth and laughed.
Charlie’s smile ebbed. He peered back down at his tattoo. “Shit.” He frowned. “Yeah, we look like morons.”
“Ya think?” Breck growled.
Kenzie snicker-giggled. “I think they’re sexy.”
“You know what? I don’t even care.” Jegs waved it off and eyed the big screen. “I just wanna expire in peace while watching Jackie Chan.”
“But we’ve been watching this shit for hours,” Reggie, the team’s center, groused two seats down. “Can’t we watch something else now? For shit’s sake.”
“No! We’re marathoning! And it’s Jackie fucking Chan!” Jegs cut him an exasperated look. “No hating on the Chan!”
Reggie groaned and rolled his eyes, then winced and palmed his forehead. “Fuck. Well, at least turn it down. My head is pounding.”
Jegs muttered something under his breath and brusquely snatched up the remote. “This feels like blasphemy.” The volume inched down. “I’m sorry, Jackie baby. He knows not what he asks.”
Breck’s lips quirked.
Charlie laughed. “If you love the guy so much, keep the torch burning. Pay him homage by following in his footsteps.”
Jegs eyed him. “Huh?”
“Become a badass, too. Go take some classes at that martial arts place.”
Jegs stilled. “There’s a martial arts place around here?”
“Yeah,” Charlie chuckled. “Teaches Jujitsu or some shit. Just around the corner.”
Breck nodded. “On Brenswick.”
“Across from the coffee shop,” Charlie added.
Jegs’ gaze lit up bright. “Let’s do it.”
“Let’s?” Breck coughed. “Chan’s not my boyfriend.”
“Mine, either,” Charlie laughed.
“Besides,” Breck grinned and shrugged smugly, “I already know how to fight. Just put a fucker on his ass last week.”
“That was great,” Reggie chuckled.
“Boring,” Jegs countered. “So you punched him. Big deal. This class’ll make us kung fu gods.”
“Yeah, but see, that’d be overkill.” Breck’s lips curved higher. “I’m already the king.”
Charlie laughed. “True that. A king with a harem. No more limelight for you.”
“Come on,” Jegs persisted, tossing Charlie’s words in his face. “As a show of solidarity.”
Charlie coughed another laugh, then scrubbed his face. “You’re a bastard. Fine. I’m in. But only ‘cause I got you inked.” He and Jegs looked at Breck.
Breck scowled.
Reggie snickered. “Gotta do it now, G. That’s two against one.”
“Goddamn it,” Breck groaned. Reluctantly, he nodded.
“Yes!” Jegs punched the air, then grimaced. “Ow. My head.”
“I’ll give ‘em a call,” Charlie offered. “The sign said classes start soon.”
“Awesome.” Breck slid his gaze to Reggie and muttered, “When it’s over, I’m coming to test my skills on you.”
* * * *
“Haha… Alright, my bitches.” Jegs rubbed his hands together. “You ready to learn the ways of the Master?”
They stopped in front of the martial arts building, having footed the two-block walk from their house.
Breck eyed the place. It’d been a week since he’d agreed to do this.
Charlie laughed and shook his head. “This is not gonna end well. Seriously, Breck, kick Jegs’ ass for talking us into this shit.”
Breck cut him a look. “I ain’t your sic dog.” He looked back and frowned. “But don’t tempt me.” He could be getting laid right now.
He studied the facility as they stood out on the sidewalk. An imposing two-story building, flanked on both sides by even larger oaks. Brick exterior with tall, arched windows. Sparse trimming. A large black sign that read, Dojang - Taekwondo.
“Taekwondo?” He glanced at Charlie. “Thought you said Jujitsu.”
Charlie shrugged. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes,” Jegs chastised, sounding disgusted. “Jujitsu’s Japanese. Close combat. Lots of grappling. Taekwondo is Korean. Kinda like kickboxing.”
Breck liked the sound of that. Grappling was more his friend Tad’s style. The former wrestling captain could take down the best of them. Including Breck.
“Eh. Whatever.” Charlie didn’t seem impressed.
“C’mon.” Jegs headed for the door. “It’s almost time.”
They followed him inside, signed in at the counter, and grabbed their doboks; white pants, white belt, and a white cross-over jacket with black trim. They changed in the locker room, then sauntered out to the edge of the mat.
Breck regarded his surroundings. He’d expected an unattractive space. To his surprise, the place was pretty inviting. No unsightly, off-white walls, but brick. Warm recessed lighting instead of glaring florescent bulbs. Hardwood floors in place of industrial tiling. Even the mat beneath his feet looked stylish; not an offensive bright blue, but rather, an illustrious black.
A floor-to-ceiling mirror stretched across the back. Up front, those big arched windows stood nearly ten feet tall. Overall, the whole place looked reminiscent a renovated dance studio.
And who knew? Maybe it was.
Breck regarded those present. Mostly college students—who’d already spotted him and were now openly staring. No surprise. He was an icon on campus. A superstar. He lifted his chin and assumed his I’m-the-man demeanor.
And that’s when he saw him. What had to be the headmaster. And not just because he looked older than everyone else. But due to the way he carried himself with such confidence and poise. Breck could feel his presence just as much as he could see it. Which was saying something, since the dude was seriously big. Oh, yeah. Sensei filled out his dobok in alllll the right places.