Just for Fun
“Come on.”
Derek Vance smiled and pointed toward the center of the mat.
“Just for fun.”
The woman sitting against the far wall looked up from the bottle of water in her hands.
She had been inside Harbor Point Combat Academy for less than twenty minutes.
She had said almost nothing.
She had shaken hands with Samuel Bennett, the academy owner, signed the visitor waiver, changed into training clothes, and quietly taken a seat near the edge of the room.
That was all.
No introductions.
No photographs.
No conversation with the students.
No attempt to attract attention.
Her name was Lena Carter.
Thirty-two years old.
Five foot four.
A little over one hundred twenty pounds.
Dark hair pulled into a tight braid.
Plain gray rash guard.
Black training pants.
No academy logo.
No sponsor patches.
No belt wrapped dramatically around her waist.
Nothing about her announced who she was.
Derek Vance, on the other hand, did not have that problem.
He was thirty-four, six feet tall, and about one hundred eighty-five pounds.
He was a Brazilian jiu-jitsu black belt, a former Division II wrestler, a three-time regional no-gi champion, and a former professional MMA fighter.
He had fought seventeen professional bouts.
He had won twelve.
He had lost five.
But at Harbor Point Combat Academy, people rarely talked about the losses.
They talked about the victories.
They talked about the armbar he had finished in forty seconds.
The tournament where he submitted three opponents in one afternoon.
The time he rolled with a visiting professional fighter and survived nearly the entire round.
Derek liked being known.
He liked being watched.
Most of all, he liked being the person in the room who could make difficult things look easy.
That evening, nearly forty students were scattered around the academy.
Some were drilling takedowns.
Others were practicing guard passes.
A group of teenagers were working on escapes near the mirrors.
Derek had just finished demonstrating a sequence when he noticed Lena.
At first, he assumed she was a beginner.
Then he noticed the way she sat.
Her back was straight.
Her legs were relaxed.
Her hands rested loosely around the bottle.
She wasn't staring at the other students.
She wasn't studying their belts.
She wasn't looking nervous.
She was simply observing.
Derek walked toward her.
“Come on.”
He pointed toward the center of the mat.
“Just for fun.”
Lena looked at him.
“What kind of round?”
“Grappling.”
“No strikes.”
“No slams.”
“No crazy stuff.”
He smiled.
“Five minutes.”
She took another drink.
“You said black belt?”
Derek laughed.
“Yeah.”
“No, I mean me.”
“You're a black belt?”
“Yes.”
Derek's eyebrows rose.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Under who?”
“Henry Lawson.”
Derek thought for a second.
He knew the name.
Not well.
Henry Lawson ran a small academy several hours away.
He wasn't famous.
He didn't have thousands of followers.
He rarely posted online.
Derek shrugged.
“Never trained with him.”
Lena nodded.
“Okay.”
That simple response bothered him more than it should have.
“Do you compete?”
“Sometimes.”
“At what level?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“The event.”
Several students laughed.
Derek smiled.
“You answer everything like a lawyer.”
“I'm a physical therapist.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
More laughter.
Derek's smile tightened.
He was no longer sure whether the room was laughing with him.
He pointed at the mat again.
“Five minutes.”
Lena shook her head.
“No, thanks.”
The laughter stopped.
Derek blinked.
“Scared?”
“No.”
“Then why not?”
“I just got here.”
“I've already warmed up.”
“I'd rather watch first.”
Derek shrugged.
“Fair.”
He took two steps away.
Then stopped.
Turned around.
“But if you're a real black belt, you don't need twenty minutes to warm up.”
The atmosphere changed.
Samuel Bennett, who had been standing near the office door with a clipboard, lifted his head.
He knew that tone.
He had heard it from Derek before.
The first invitation was usually harmless.
The second was not.
Samuel stepped forward.
“Derek.”
Derek looked at him.
“What?”
“Leave her alone.”
Derek laughed.
“I'm just offering a roll.”
“She said no.”
“I'm not forcing her.”
“No,” Samuel said. “You're trying to make her explain why she won't.”
Derek's expression hardened.
Lena stood.
She capped her water bottle.
“It's okay.”
Samuel looked at her.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
She turned toward Derek.
“I'll roll.”
The room went silent.
Derek's grin returned immediately.
“See?”
Samuel frowned.
Lena raised one hand.
“One condition.”
Derek laughed.
“Name it.”
“If I tap, you stop.”
“Obviously.”
“If you tap, I stop.”
Derek laughed harder.
A few students joined him.
“You think you're going to tap me?”
Lena looked at him calmly.
“I said if.”
Derek nodded.