“Cool. I’ll let Tessa know. Catch ya later.”
I nod, enjoying the heat from the water too much to care where he’s gone. My mind is blissfully quiet for once. No intrusive thoughts, no flashbacks, just me and the sound of the water echoing off the tiles. I breathe out slowly before turning off the shower to go get ready.
Spending the evening with a bunch of kids feels normal to me. I mean, I’m pretty much the biggest kid you’ll ever meet so being able to teach them something that could protect them? I love it.
Joey has a training room at the back of the gym which I’ve rented every week for the last three years. Not only do I get to let off some steam, but I can also do something for the kids in the area—create a place for them to go that keeps them off the streets and on the right track.
I pay for everything because I refused for Joey to let me have the room for nothing. It makes me happy looking after people I care about. Plus, it’s not like I’m short on cash. I represent some of the biggest celebrities out there—ones who will pay a pretty penny for me to be on retainer. This is my way of giving back.
Strolling into the room, I notice all of the kids are lined up waiting for me. The room is large enough for them to have space to do what they need without being on top of each other. I asked Joey to install safety mats throughout, so when they inevitably end up on their asses,it's cushioned. Mirrors line one of the walls, perfect for them to check their stature as they’re practicing.
The ages range from five up to our oldest, Samuel, who’s seventeen. His dad was beating him when he was younger. He found this class when I first started it and has been here every week since. I tried getting his dad arrested once, but it didn't end well for Sam. After that, I made him promise to come here every week, and then I paid his dad a visit. Needless to say, I left him with two broken legs, a busted nose, a few cracked ribs, and a threat that if he opened his mouth, I’d be back to finish him off.
I regret nothing.
I give the kids a broad smile and take my position in the front of the class. “What’s rule one?”
“If you can avoid violence, stay away.”
I nod, smiling. “What happens in class…”
“Stays in class,” they all shout back in unison.
“What do you do when someone starts threatening you?” I ask as I walk around, checking their postures.
“Use your voice,” Aubrey, a small seven-year-old with blonde pigtails, says.
“Good. Use that voice loudly. Don’t be afraid to scream at the top of your lungs.” I stop in front of them, hands clasped behind my back. “What else?”
“Hands up,” Ethan, a fifteen-year-old with an attitude problem, shouts.
“Why?” I ask.
A lot of kids used to get confused when I would start the lesson with the same questions, but repetition leads to remembering, and if I can save even just one kid with this, then I damn well will.
“Because if someone comes at you aggressively, you can stop their attempt with a block,” Samual says, his tone low yet respectful.
“That’s right,” I agree, smiling proudly. “Good job. Pair up. I’m gonna teach you how to do a palm strike.”
Chapter Three
BLAKE
It’s my first day working at Sampson and Lowell, and I’m excited. This was the job opportunity of a lifetime, and there was no way I was going to pass it up when they approached me.
After achieving top grades throughout college and then passing the bar, I’d been on the radar of many law firms, but I only ever wanted to work for Frank Sampson and Michael Lowell. Those two run the most sought-after firm in the country, and I know they only employ the best lawyers money can buy. The likelihood of any of them losing a case is usually slim to none.
I started my career shadowing other lawyers in a downtown non-profit. I was given small cases to work on alone, and over the years, I’d managed to somewhat make a name for myself. I’m fair, yet tough. I care more than I should, which is why I want to work for a larger company. Hopefully, with the money they pay, I can take on more pro-bono cases and help more people.
Brushing away the loose strands of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail, I make my way through the throngs of people on the bustling streets of downtown Detroit. The wind bites at my skin, and my shoes rub against the heels of my feet as I check the time.
“Shit,” I mumble.
Running late on my first day isnota good sign. I tug my black peacoat further up around my ears and quicken my pace, hoping and praying these people will see the panic on my face and move out of the way.
Within a few minutes, the high-rise appears only a few blocks away. Pushing my poor legs faster, my calves scream in agony, but I make it with minutes to spare. The automatic doors slide open, and I slip through, rushing over to reception.
“Hi, my name’s Blake Adams. I’m starting with Sampson and Lowell today,” I say breathlessly.
