Trevor heard him.
Walter heard him too.
Trevor turned.
“Hey, Walter.”
The older man stopped.
“You ever train?”
Walter leaned on the mop handle.
“A long time ago.”
“What?”
“A few things.”
“Karate?”
“No.”
“Boxing?”
“Some.”
“Wrestling?”
“Some.”
“Jiu-jitsu?”
Walter paused.
“Some.”
Mason laughed.
“This dude trained everything.”
Walter smiled faintly.
“Not everything.”
Trevor looked toward Frank.
The coach's expression had changed.
That interested him.
“You know something?” Trevor asked.
Frank shook his head.
“Leave Walter alone.”
“Why?”
“Because class is over.”
“That isn't why.”
“Trevor.”
The warning was unmistakable.
Trevor ignored it.
He turned back to Walter.
“One round.”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“No.”
“I'll go easy.”
Walter pushed the mop bucket toward the wall.
“I'm working.”
“You already told me I was going too hard.”
“I did.”
“So show me what light looks like.”
Walter studied him.
There was no anger in his face.
No fear.
Only patience.
That irritated Trevor more than an insult would have.
Trevor wanted resistance.
Walter gave him none.
“You worried I'll hurt you?” Trevor asked.
Frank stepped between them.
“That's enough.”
Trevor laughed.
“I'm asking a question.”
Then he looked Walter up and down.
“You won't last thirty seconds.”
The gym went silent.
Walter looked toward Caleb.
The teenager was still sitting against the wall.
Then Walter looked at Frank.
“Thirty seconds?”
Frank immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Trevor smiled.
“See?”
Walter asked quietly:
“What rules?”
Frank closed his eyes.
“Walter.”
“What rules?”
Trevor answered.
“Grappling.”
Walter nodded.
“No striking?”
“Fine.”
“No slams?”
Trevor shrugged.
“If you want.”
Walter said:
“I do.”
He removed his rubber gloves.
Folded them carefully.
Placed them on top of the mop bucket.
Mason raised his phone.
Walter pointed toward it.
“Put that away.”
Trevor smiled.
“Scared of cameras?”
Walter looked at him.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because if I agree to train with you, that doesn't mean I agree to perform for strangers.”
Frank looked toward Mason.
“Phone away.”
Mason lowered it.
Walter rolled up his sleeves.
Once.
Twice.
The faded maintenance shirt exposed his forearms.
And suddenly several people noticed things they had never noticed before.
A scar near his left elbow.
Another along his wrist.
Thickened knuckles.
Dense forearms.
Hands that didn't look strong because they were large.
They looked strong because they had been used.
Walter removed his sneakers.
Then his socks.
A surgical scar ran several inches above his right ankle.
He stepped onto the mat.
And something changed.
The janitor disappeared without actually going anywhere.
His back straightened.
His shoulders relaxed.
His weight shifted toward the balls of his feet.
His hands rested loosely in front of him.
His eyes became still.
Trevor noticed.
For half a second, the smile disappeared from his face.
Then it returned.
“Okay.”
Frank walked between them.
“This is ridiculous.”
Walter nodded.
“Probably.”
Trevor said:
“Thirty seconds.”
Frank pointed at him.
“Technical.”
“Yeah.”
“No cranks.”
“Obviously.”
“If he taps—”
“I know what a tap means.”
Walter looked at Caleb.
Then at Trevor.
“Good.”
Frank stepped back.
“Ready?”
Walter nodded.
Trevor dropped into his stance.
“Go.”
Trevor moved first.
Fast.
He reached for Walter's head.
Walter redirected his wrist.
Trevor reached again.
Walter moved half a step.
Five seconds.
Trevor changed levels.
Walter didn't react to the fake.
Trevor came high and secured an underhook.
Walter gave ground.
Trevor drove forward.
The older man stepped backward twice.
Then sideways.
Trevor suddenly lost his angle.
They reset.
A murmur traveled through the room.
Trevor heard it.
He attacked faster.
Collar tie.
Wrist control.
Snap.
Walter's head moved just enough to escape the pressure.
Ten seconds.
Trevor attempted a single-leg.
Walter removed the leg before Trevor could settle his grip.
Trevor stood.
The smile was gone.
“You definitely trained.”
Walter said nothing.
Trevor rushed again.
This time he got both arms around Walter's waist.
A body lock.
Exactly where he wanted him.
The difference in size became obvious.
Trevor tightened his grip.
“Got you.”
Walter answered quietly:
“You keep saying that too early.”
Trevor stepped inside for a trip.
Walter allowed his weight to move forward.
Then he turned.
One foot changed position.
One hand controlled Trevor's elbow.
The other guided his shoulder.
The movement was so small that several people didn't understand what they had seen.