In Her Corner

“If you ask me, it was a matter of time and statistics,” Tito said. “Player’s gonna be played eventually.”

Bella’s gaze drifted back to Kyle. He was talking to a pretty brunette at the bar.

So. He’d had a relationship with a coworker that had ended badly. It explained why he was so prickly about her being friendly, she supposed.

Not that it excused his behavior.

He could rest assured that she wouldn’t get too friendly with him.

CHAPTER FOUR

BELLA GAVE IT a couple of days before she broached the subject of the Touchstone youth center’s request for self-defense classes to Kyle. She was still sore about their exchange on Friday, but she wasn’t about to let that interfere with her training. She had to remain professional.

She’d called Reta Schwartz, Neal’s friend at the youth center, and listened to her ideas for classes to offer the young people who frequented the center. The social worker wanted something fun and practical to help boost their confidence. The center didn’t have the space or equipment, so Bella said she’d ask Kyle if they could host the classes at Payette’s.

“It would be a great opportunity for everyone involved,” she told Kyle when she finally sat down with him. “We could do it in the evenings, right after the women’s boot camp class.”

He hesitated. “What kind of compensation are we talking?”

“Compensation? Kyle, this would be entirely pro bono. The center doesn’t have money to throw around.” He grimaced, and she continued, “You can write it off. Community outreach programs like this are vital to developing relationships with potential future clients, plus they’re a great PR opportunity.”

He pressed his palms together and rested his lips against them as if he might breathe patience into his cupped hands. “In theory, it sounds like a great idea, but as much as I’d love to take this on, we’re already suffering from declining memberships. If we start inviting random street kids into Payette’s, this place stops being a world-class MMA facility for serious fighters and turns into the local Y.”

“That won’t happen as long as the teaching standards are high. These kids will see that learning here is a privilege. We have to offer them something worth sticking around for, worth telling others about.”

Kyle rubbed his forehead. He looked so much older when he did that. “I’m not sure I can convince any of the guys to run this class. They’re busy enough....”

“I can take charge,” she volunteered, sensing his crumbling resistance. “If you’re not comfortable with that, I’m happy to take a co-teaching role, though if anyone leads this class, it should be you. We can put together a basic self-defense curriculum, mix it up with a few beginner Muay Thai and boxing lessons.”

He regarded her with interest. “You’re really into this.”

“My grandfather Fulvio used to drive around the streets and hand his card out to kids in tough neighborhoods. He wanted to keep them out of gangs, get them to channel their anger into something constructive. The ones that came usually stayed and made something of themselves. It was Fulvio’s way of doing something for the community. Plus, he got some of the most brilliant fighters off the streets.”

She didn’t mention that she thought this would be a good opportunity for her and Kyle to work together toward a common goal. As many times as she’d extended an olive branch, she’d also swatted him with it. She had to mend the rift between them if she was ever going to get that wrestling training she’d come here for.

“How’d they even afford the classes?” Kyle asked. “If they’re street kids, I mean.”

“Scholarships. Or he’d make them work their lessons off. He always figured something out. The money wasn’t that important to him. All he cared about was the boys.” She sat forward. “Kyle, if we want to get people to see that Payette’s isn’t just another gym, we need to reach out to them.”

Kyle nodded. “All right. Let’s do it. I’ll lead the classes, but I want you there, too.”

* * *

IT DIDN’T TAKE them long to put the hour-long class together. Reta had fifteen students signed up right away with a waiting list of ten more.

They started the class the following Wednesday. Six girls and nine boys ranging from age fourteen to twenty-two had signed up. Many of them didn’t have proper gym clothes. Kyle handed out Payette’s T-shirts to them as makeshift uniforms. In most cases, it was better than the clothes they had.

Bella watched as Kyle greeted everyone, speaking with the comfort and ease of someone used to interviews and large audiences. He joked around with the students, but his stance and the strong line of his back and shoulders told everyone he wasn’t going to tolerate bullshit or goofing off. She wondered where he’d been storing this charming, confident, easygoing version of himself.

She surveyed the students. Most of them looked eager to learn, listening raptly as Kyle recited the gym rules. Her eye caught on one girl huddled in the far left corner with her knees drawn up to her chin, picking at her cuticles, eyes darting around as if someone was going to steal the mat out from under her.

“What’s her story?” she asked Reta discreetly. The head of the youth program glanced over.

“That’s Shawnese. She’s...a special case.”

“Special how?”

Reta hesitated. “She has trust issues.”

Bella read between the lines and nodded. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

They went through warm-ups and conditioning—jumping jacks, pushups, burpees. Bella watched as Shawnese halfheartedly followed along. She sidled up next to her and smiled. “Hey.”

The young woman turned a suspicious eye on her. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Is it okay if I stand here with you? There isn’t enough room on the other side.”

She shrugged.

With Bella there, Shawnese followed along more closely. When Kyle told them to break up into pairs, Bella immediately partnered with her.

The exercise was to show the difference in strength using open and closed hands. One person would rest their arm over the other person’s shoulder while they tried to bend it at the elbow. Invariably, the open-handed method always stayed straight.

“I don’t get this,” Shawnese said as she pulled at Bella’s arm. The two of them stood eye to eye, but Bella easily had twenty pounds on the younger woman. “How can an open hand be stronger if people punch with closed fists?”

“There are different schools of thought with different martial arts forms, but we’re teaching self-defense. Look.” She held out her upturned hand. “If you strike out with the heel of your palm, you’ll risk less injury to your own hand.” She slowly pushed the hand out. “Even if you don’t know what you’re doing and you miss the bridge of a guy’s nose, look at the damage you can do. Fingers in the eyes. Pushing the guy’s head backward. Palm to their muzzle. You can grab their hair. Lots of things you can do with an open hand. Closed—” she made a fist “—and you cut off those opportunities.”

Shawnese tilted her head, looking at her own hands as she flexed her fingers open and closed.

“The main thing,” Bella emphasized, “is to get away. The best way to help yourself out of a situation is to walk away from it.”

“Dunno if that’s gonna be possible,” Shawnese muttered.

“We’re just giving you the basics. If you have questions, or you want to learn something specific, just ask.” Bella hoped the young woman would do exactly that.

By the end of class, Shawnese seemed much more receptive to Kyle’s instruction and to the prospect of more lessons.

“You did a great job,” Reta said. “I’m kind of shocked Shawnese opened up to you so fast.”

That was opening up? Reta must have read the look on Bella’s face, because she chuckled. “Seriously, when she first came to the center, she barely said a word to anyone. Just sat in the corner to stay warm and safe. She tries to hide it and act tough—it’s part of the armor. I think she’s said more to you today than to anyone else all week.”

After the students had gone, Bella went to Kyle. “That seemed to go really well. You were great.”

He smiled modestly, dimples flashing in the corners of his mouth. Bella was struck by how much it changed his face. A little buzz zipped through her. In that brief glimpse, she saw the triumphant Olympic gold medalist, the heartbreaker playboy and the carefree youth she’d seen in old training footage. “You, too. Your assisting really helped move things along. The students show promise,” he said. “Thanks for sticking by. I noticed you were spending some extra time with that one girl.”

“Her name’s Shawnese. Reta says she’s got some trust issues. I thought it’d be a good idea to stay close to her. In a class of fifteen, there’s always going to be one odd man out, and there’s nothing worse than being the last person picked.”

“Let’s make sure we diversify when we pair them up,” Kyle said. “It’ll be good to get them to mingle.”