Caged (Mastered, #4)(59)
“Whatever. Just don’t call me rooster. Or red. I’ll prove size don’t matter when I come out swinging, ’cause them’s fighting words.”
Food ordered, they all kicked back and decided to hit the games after eating. Talk turned to sports. Being raised in Seattle, Beck was a diehard Mariners fan. No one else followed baseball as fanatically as he did, so Fisher brought up the Broncos heading to training camp. Which generated Beck’s impassioned speech about the Seahawks.
“You lived in Denver for three years and in San Francisco for almost five years and you didn’t switch to teams that actually win championships?” Fisher asked snidely.
“Spoken like a native Coloradan who’s never lived anywhere else,” Beck said. “My allegiance remains with the teams I’ve followed for years—no matter where I live.” He pointed at Deacon. “Tell him, Yondan.”
“What?”
“Who’s your team?”
“The Cowboys. Ain’t only my team; they’re America’s team.”
Arguments followed, and Beck started spouting off stats for all the teams. The man had a head for figures. Reminded him of Dante in a lot of ways.
Deacon noticed Ivan, Sergei, and Blue were talking among themselves. “Care to share with the class, boys?”
“We’re talking real football. You Americans wouldn’t understand,” Ivan said with an air of superiority.
“You mean soccer,” Blaze scoffed.
“Football,” Blue corrected.
“So why’s it called the World Soccer Cup, huh?”
“It’s not, dumb-ass. It’s called the World Cup.”
“Oh.”
Sergei slammed his fist on the table. “Hockey!”
“Whoa, there, Sergei. You’ll scare the kiddies. Besides, hockey is over for the year. The Rangers won the Stanley Cup.”
“Nyet.” Then Sergei went into a very animated conversation with Ivan that made Deacon wish he understood Russian.
“What’d he say?” Fisher asked.
“Sixteen, seventeen games for football players is nothing. Hockey players play eighty-two games. That is the true test of athletic ability.”
“I’m assuming Sergei used to be a hockey player?” Deacon said dryly.
Ivan shook his head. “His brother, Semyon, is. He’s a skate-on for the NHL draft, hoping to get picked up by the Avalanche.”
Enough food arrived to feed a hockey team.
“So, Deacon, you’re really not going to the strip club with us?” Beck asked.
“Nope.”
“He’s blowing us off to get blown by Molly.”
Deacon leaned across the table so he had Fisher’s full attention. “I won’t put up with disrespect where she’s concerned, so watch your f*cking mouth.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Last month when I took Jewel out, you said a bunch of lewd things—like showing Jewel the family jewels and asking how well she polishes them with her mouth. Now, when you’re with a woman for longer than fifteen minutes, she’s off-limits? Total bullshit, Deacon.”
“Fisher has a point,” Blue said. “You were such a dick about him going to the ballet with Jewel.”
“Come on. It was the f*cking ballet.”
Ivan smacked the table. “I was in the f*cking ballet, remember? Even in a pair of tights, I can crush the life out of you, redneck.”
Jesus.
Beck made the time-out sign.
Reaching into his pocket, Deacon pulled out his VIP pass. “Happy f*ckin’ birthday, motherf*cker.”
“Hey. You were gonna give that to me,” Fisher complained.
Deacon flashed his teeth. “And now I’m not.”
“Asswipe.”
The food didn’t last long. Sergei, Ivan, Blaze, and Fisher took off to play games. Deacon opted for a second beer—which he wouldn’t have had if Maddox sat across from him.
Maddox. The man was up to something.
“D? You doing okay?” Beck asked.
“I guess. Weird situation with Maddox bringing Courey in. Don’t know what to make of it. Maddox ain’t saying shit, which puts me back to square one. Speculating just makes my damn head hurt.”
“I’m sure you heard me’n Maddox had words last week.”
“Yeah, I heard. Words about what?”
“You.”
Deacon glanced at Blue. “You disappeared awful damn fast today. You get into it with Maddox too?”
Blue shook his head. “With Ronin.”
“No shit?”
“I’m aware Sensei pays Maddox’s salary. But when he brings in outsiders when he has a perfectly viable solution to the sparring and training partner problems, it pisses me off.”
“I’m lost.”
Beck and Blue exchanged a look. Then Beck folded his arms on the table. “As Shihan, I deal with problems before I bring them to Sensei. That’s my job. We’ve rebuilt the staff since Knox and Shiori are both part-time. You were always part-time. Ito was always part-time. I took over all but three of the black belt classes. That’s a lot. So we hired Jaz, moved some of the black belts into teaching the lower-belt classes. More-advanced students teaching less-advanced students. But I didn’t have a f*ckin’ clue that Maddox would pull both you and Ito from the teaching rotation entirely. I had to scramble to fill those instructors spots.”