Caged (Mastered, #4)(115)
“So? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I did not expect to be conducting interviews at f*cking midnight tonight with zero advance notice,” Beck snapped.
Whoa. Zen-man had his gi in a knot. “That’s what Ronin asked you to do?”
“Ronin hinted at that. He didn’t come right out and say that’s what is gonna happen after this shindig. And now Sensei is surrounded, and I sure as hell won’t interrupt his leagues of admirers to get clarification.”
Deacon crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you were Black Arts’ Shihan before Knox, so you’ve dealt with Ronin’s you-ought-to-be-able-to-read-my-f*cking-mind behavior before. Yes, he’s your boss and what he says goes. But call him on his shit, Beck, if you don’t agree with him.”
“Who’d you arrange to meet tonight before the last-minute interviews were hinted at?” Riggins asked.
Beck’s gaze moved to Riggins. “An old friend. But that’s not what this is about.”
“You sure?”
“No.” Beck ran his hand through his hair again. “Fuck. How’d you know?”
Riggins shrugged. “There seems to be all-around confusion on what this trip is really about. It’s business. Period. Interpersonal shit shouldn’t take priority. Knox and Shiori, Ronin and Amery, and I are the only ones who understand that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Beck is pissed for having to back out of a hookup because Sensei needs him to do his job. You are eye-f*cking Molly, and I expect to see you two sneaking off to a coat closet as soon as the speeches are done. Maddox is parading around with Presley, a chick half his age, to make his ex–old lady jealous—and I ain’t sure that’s not the only reason we’re here in LA. Jaz is hiding in her room like she’s afraid she’ll run into someone she knows. Then there’s Fee and Gil, who are constantly arguing about something that happened between them five years ago that has nothing to do with her ability to fight.”
“Wait. You speak Portuguese?” Beck said.
“Yeah. I also speak Russian. So I know that Max Stanislovsky lending Ivan the company plane had some strings attached. Haven’t you noticed both Ivan and Sergei have been on their phones nonstop? They’ll disappear as soon as this gig is over to do whatever Max asked them to.” He gave a head jerk to Katie. “Hot stuff over there is doing a great PR job, but she’s doing a piss-poor job ignoring Blue, since his whole purpose for being fawned over by female BJJ devotees is to get Katie’s attention. Zach and Jon-Dean are doing a stellar Beavis and Butt-head imitation as a couple of rubes in the big city. Then there’s Fisher and Blaze, who’ve already been suckered by the advances of the hot chicks I suspect are working for TGL to get the inside scoop on the Black Arts MMA program from the weakest links.”
Deacon and Beck both stared at Riggins with their mouths hanging open.
“What?”
“What is exactly right. Dude. In the last six months I’ve barely heard you string two sentences together. And then you rattle off all that like we’re idiots for not seeing it?”
“Well, you are. It’s really freakin’ obvious.”
Deacon got in Riggins’s face.
The man didn’t even blink. Or flinch.
“Who are you?”
“I’m a simple EMT who enjoys jujitsu and people watching.”
“Bullshit. Tell me.”
Riggins’s sharklike smile sent chills up Deacon’s spine. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He pushed off the wall. “Now I really need a damn drink.” And he walked away.
Beck looked at Riggins’s retreating back. “Ever get the feeling you’ve been completely wrong about someone and it’s about to bite you in the ass?”
“Yeah. I used to think Ronin was the scariest motherf*cker in the dojo. No more.”
Ronin and Amery were gathering the Black Arts crew.
Beck said, “Come on. Showtime.”
The instructors were lined up in the first row on the stage, behind Ronin. The fighters and Katie were in the back row.
The three hundred people in the room actually quieted down when the head of PR took the podium.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the International Mixed Martial Arts magazine MMA expo!” Polite applause. “This kickoff party is sponsored by Black and Blue Promotions and Black Arts, based out of Denver, Colorado. Rather than read the impressive list of instructors and fighters associated with Black Arts, I’ll introduce Sensei Ronin Black, eighth-degree jujitsu master, who owns and operates both businesses.” She faced him and bowed. “Hachidan Black, the floor is yours.”
Thunderous applause echoed throughout the space. “Thank you.” Ronin faced the audience and began to speak.
The man, for being borderline antisocial, was a compelling speaker. After he hit the high points of his speech, he started introductions, beginning with ABC, the role Blue had in ABC and Black and Blue Promotions, and then ABC’s instructors.
Next he introduced the Black Arts instructors.
Deacon watched the growing buzz rippling through the crowd as they heard the impressive credentials of those affiliated with Black Arts.
Then came time for Ronin to turn the microphone over to Maddox. “Last year Black Arts was able to bolster its fledgling MMA program by hiring the best trainer in the business. Maddox Byerly.”