“Shiori,” Sophia said, plopping next to Blue at the opposite end of the table.
“She’s teaching,” Ito said.
“Blue?” Ronin prompted. “Where are we on things?”
“The first event is set. I didn’t have to jump through many hoops to get the name of our new company switched over. Not much to report.” Blue smiled at Amery. “I believe Hardwick Designs is handling the flyers and print promotional materials?”
“Yes. If you have previous playbills—matchups, whatever they are—hand them over along with all the details I’ll need and your deadline.”
“Are any of the Black Arts fighters going up against ABC fighters in this event?” Knox asked.
Blue shook his head. “Deacon is in the pro fight. Sophia is representing ABC in the lone women’s bout. We’ve got to decide how many amateur bouts we want on the card. Ideally we should represent as many weight classes as we can, and I think eventually that won’t be a problem. But right now, we’ve got no amateurs in the heavyweight or super heavyweight divisions.”
Ronin took the piece of paper Blue offered him. “What’s this?”
“My recommendation on joint promotional goals versus individual dojo goals. I realize we both want to get our amateurs experience in the cage, but by putting too many guys from Black Arts and ABC on the Black and Blue Promotions fight card, we run the risk of becoming incestuous. What we don’t want are other MMA clubs thinking we’re only interested in furthering our fighters’ records. Then they’ll stop submitting fighters for events. The only way to accurately judge whether our club fighters are up to snuff is by fighting guys from other clubs.”
“Agreed.” He looked at Deacon and Knox, then Blue and Gil. “You guys see other options?”
Knox rested his elbows on the table. “If we limit entrants, we’ll still have to find other fights for them.”
“Also, why would they stay with our training program if we’re not putting them in events we sponsor? They’d be better off training elsewhere. So we lose income and fighters. How is that beneficial for either club?” Gil asked.
Blue pointed to the piece of paper. “That’s why I brought it up. Why would we help other amateur fighters but not our own?”
No one said anything out loud, but Fisher and Ito were speaking in low tones.
Amery cleared her throat. “Can I suggest something?”
Ronin didn’t miss the annoyed looks sent her way—like why the fuck did Sensei’s girlfriend get to speak?—and now he under- stood her reluctance to attend the meeting. “No one else has jumped in with ideas, so go ahead.”
“Use the event as a carrot for your fighters. Tell them you’re picking only one fighter to represent the club. If the guys are serious, won’t they work harder to be the guy chosen?”
He checked out the reactions around the room. Everyone seemed surprised. “Not a bad idea. That’d also encourage them to find other amateur fights on their own to up their game.”
“Makes sense,” Deacon said. “Especially since I’ve gotta go lookin’ for my own pro fights.”
“So at least for the first few events, we’ll limit the bouts to one fighter from ABC, one from Black Arts. That means we’ll need two pro division fighters and sixteen amateur fighters to fill the other slots?” Blue asked Ronin.
“Sound fair?”
“Does to me.” Blue prompted Sophia and Gil. “You guys all right with that?”
Gil nodded.
Sophia said, “We are going to feature at least one women’s bout?”
“What’s the crowd reception been on that? Because we’ve not had experience with it,” Ronin asked Sophia.
“I could claim half-naked chicks beating the crap out of each other and rolling around on the floor really speaks to the type of people who attend MMA events, but I wouldn’t want to be called sexist.”
Everyone laughed.
“Seriously, even if we have to add a tenth match, I believe we should strive to have a women’s bout on every card. Not all promo companies do this, and it would set us apart.”
More murmured agreement.
“Blue, put the call out to other clubs. Since Deacon didn’t fight last time, he’ll be our one fighter.”
Blue grinned. “You sure you don’t wanna have a rematch, Sensei?”
“My fighting days are over for a while.” Ronin felt Amery’s stare, but he couldn’t claim his fighting days were behind him for good.
“It’s been some time since we’ve participated in a smoker,” Gil said. “We haven’t been keeping up with who’s running them on a regular basis. Have you?”
“We used to hold them a few times a year,” Knox said. “Sensei would ref. But the last time he ended up with a heel to the head.”
Blue sucked air in through his teeth. “I heard about that.”
Amery asked, “What’s a smoker?”
“When MMA clubs hold matches against each other. There aren’t winners and losers. It’s just a chance for fighters to compete outside of their clubs,” Sophia said. “The more you’re around the fighting life, the more lingo you’ll pick up.” She stood. “We done here? I gotta see if Katie stuck it out in Terrel’s class after she bitched about putting on the ring-girl outfit.”
“We’re done,” Ronin said.
“You are. The rest of us have classes to teach,” Knox grumbled.
After everyone was gone, Amery stood and paced to the window, then came back.
“What?”
“You didn’t deny that you’re going to fight again. Are you planning on it?”
“It’s what I do.”
“And if I asked you not to fight?”
“You won’t. You accept all parts of me, remember?” Ronin picked up her right hand and nibbled on her fingers. “Let’s go upstairs. It’s your night to cook. What are we having?”
“Something unhealthy like spaghetti. For having such a kick-ass kitchen, you don’t have all the tools I need to cook like I’m used to. So be warned: I’m bringing my stuff into your domain.”
“Bring it all. Then it’ll already be there when you move in with me.”
“I’m thinking about it.” She squirmed until he let her loose. “Tell me about Katie.”
And . . . she had sidestepped the issue once again. “This can’t go further than us.”
Amery poked him in the chest. “I knew it! She is a porn star you’re trying to reform.”
He laughed. “No. She’s Thaddeus Pettigrew’s daughter.” He explained the situation. “She’ll be Blue’s headache most of the time.”
“Will she have access to you?”
“In limited amounts.”
“Good.” She nipped his chin and then flicked the sting away with a sassy flick of her tongue. “I’d hate to have to give that little bitch the beat-down. I have had training from the best.”
“That you have.”
“I brought you something.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a package. “Not as fancy of a tie as last time . . .”
“What is it?”
“A gift.”
Ronin ripped open the paper and saw a framed tin-type picture with Asian influences that they’d seen at a Renaissance fair several months ago. She’d refused to let him buy it, evidently so she could go back and get it for him. “Amery. This is . . .” So fucking sweet and personal. He was undone once again by her thoughtfulness.
“Your desk is decidedly bare. Maybe it makes me territorial, but when you see it, I know you’ll think of me.”
“Always.” He kissed her. “Thank you. It’s perfect. I’ll just grab the box of black ropes from under my desk before we go upstairs since we have a tradition of me tying you up after you present me with a gift.”
Amery leaned back to look at him. “A tradition? This is only the second time.”
“A tradition has to start somewhere.”