Strictly Need to Know

by MB Austin

  Camp began formally with a bow-in, all of the new students in their fresh gis. Maji had glimpsed Rose in the locker room moments before, teaching a few of the girls how to tie the stiff white belts.

  After everyone was seated in a circle on the mat, Hannah gave her spiel about dojo etiquette and safety, and the daily schedule. After the instructors introduced themselves, Hannah impressed on the girls her What’s said here, stays here rule, along with the patented answer when asked for gossip: That’s not my story to tell.

  For a moment, Maji felt thirteen again, scanning the faces of a handful of girls from exotic-sounding places and watching the black belts for some hint about what was to come. Looking around the circle at the girls today, she saw a familiar apprehension in them. Rose alone looked calm, eager to begin. Maji admired her openness. Maybe being the only adult, and having been the test student the prior week, was helpful. Or maybe she was just a great sport, in addition to being beautiful, and smart, and nice. Move on, Rios. Maji refocused her attention on the kids.

  Maji observed while the first few students introduced themselves: Dimah, from the United Arab Emirates; next Valerie, from the Couer d’Alene Tribe; then, also from Idaho, Amber, a slight blonde whose mother “married this white supremacist creep.”

  Something about Amber made Maji recall Siobhan, the first girl she’d done more than kiss. Who’d gone home to Belfast after camp to help secure the Good Friday Agreement, only to lose a leg a few months later in the Omagh bombing. What price would these kids pay for the risks they’d take on, full of youthful optimism?

  Maji shook the thought away, tuning back in to hear the last three girls: Martine, as dark as Amber was fair, and “proud to live outside the binary”; Bayani, a willowy youth from the Phillipines clearly trying to fit into the female binary box; and Soledad, whose family organized farm workers in California. Each of these kids would have to act as her own bodyguard, Maji thought.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Rose raised her eyebrows and smiled. “I’m Rose, and I wish I’d been here at your age. But I’ll do my best to keep up. I’ve taken a couple little self-defense classes, but never anything like this before.”

  Maji nodded, appreciating the relieved looks on the teens’ faces. Rose had fessed up to the insecurities they all felt as strangers and first-timers there. As Hannah had noted last week, in a private moment, Rose would be an excellent student and a good example.

  The rest of the morning, they worked on fighting techniques. Before beginning, Hannah illustrated on one of the Bobs some key disabling strikes—a hammer fist to a clavicle or temple, a kick to a kneecap, a hard stomp over the foot. Moves that would keep an attacker from using a weapon, hitting, grabbing, or running after them.

  “The human body is surprisingly easy to break, and just knowing that you can, if you must, will change how you respond to a threat.” With a nod to the instructors lined up in the one-kneed kneeling position, Hannah added, “Your body can also function as a shield.”

  On cue, the instructors stood up and demonstrated several techniques in slow motion, while Hannah narrated. Maji threw a punch at Bubbles’s head, and Bubbles put her into a standing arm bar. Tanya grabbed Christy by the lapel, walking her backward with a menacing look on her face. Christy remained calm, and with her hand, pinned Tanya’s to her chest. She made a tiny bow, and Tanya dropped to her knees, no longer able to attack. Next, Christy stood over a cowering Bubbles, pretending to punch at her head while Bubbles shielded her face from the blows. Maji walked up behind Christy and caught her arm as it rose to strike the next blow. Maji turned Christy away from Bubbles, taking her to the ground and pinning her arm behind her back. Then Bubbles handed her a prop knife, and Maji became the aggressor, moving toward Tanya and raising the knife to stab her. Christy sprang into action, entangling Maji’s knife hand while she applied a choke hold to Maji’s throat. When Maji slumped in mock unconsciousness, Christy kicked the knife away and pulled out a cell phone, saying, “9-1-1” as she dialed.

  Rose began to clap, and the girls joined her. Hannah nodded to the instructors, who took a knee again in a silent row.

  “Try to have fun with your fighting skills,” Hannah said as the students settled back down. “Soon you may come to see them as the easiest ones to master. We will also develop skills at escape and evasion, verbal deescalation, creating allies, and—most importantly—how to employ sound tactical judgment.”

  Angelo pushed back from the kitchen table with an apologetic look. “Thanks for lunch, Ma. Wish I didn’t have to get back to work.”

  His mother looked unimpressed. “It was bad enough, you working back office for Gino. If I’d had any sense, I’d have sent you packing after we laid Max and Carlo to rest.”

  Angelo put an arm around her. “I needed to be here with you as much as you needed me. And I gotta do something for a living, now I’m outta the Army.”

  She pulled away from him. “You left here once. You could do it again. And Gino? Jesus, how can you work for a man who would kill you if he really knew you? Hell, I can barely sit through supper with him.”

  “He’s just a means to an end, Ma. I’ve done good work for Gino, and that got me connected with Khodorov, right? Next thing you know, I’ll be out from under Gino for good.”

  “Like you’re gonna be safer in Brighton Beach.”

  “Think bigger, Ma. Wouldn’t you like to see Europe?”

  She squinted up at him. “Whatever angle you’re working, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Speaking of which”—he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead—“I gotta stop up at the Big House.”

  Angelo walked up the hill alone, enjoying the sunshine on his face. As he approached the formal front entry, Ricky emerged, jingling the keys to his Corvette.

  “Going to work?” Angelo asked. If you could call bouncing work. Ricky would hit all the clubs, drop in on the wiseguys while they took care of actual business, and collect Gino’s share of each crew boss’s take for the week. Perks included free drinks and hookups with women who thought anybody that close to the capo di tutti capi—the boss of bosses—was sexy. Ang shoved that thought aside.

  “Somebody’s got to. We can’t all sit on our ass playing Mr. Alco-rhythm.”

  “Algorithm.” Angelo motioned him to move aside so that he could enter the house. “Well, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  Ricky remained a one-man blockade. “Whatcha need?”

  “A word with Gino. Nothin’ to concern you.”

  “All his business concerns me, Alco.”

  Angelo almost smiled, wanting to ask which smarter wiseguy Ricky had stolen the wordplay from. Instead, he pulled his best fuck-you face. “Really, Little Dick? Who promoted you to consigliere? Marrying the boss’s daughter don’t make you anything but Gino’s bitch.”

  “Who the hell is it?” Gino’s voice came from inside the house, before Ricky could digest the nickname or the insult. Ricky turned to answer him, and Angelo slipped by. Ricky followed on his heels.

  In the parlor, Gino sat reading the paper, a short-haired tabby curled on his lap. Nonna Rose dozed by the picture window, snoring softly.

  Sotto voce, Angelo asked him, “Can we talk someplace? Your office, maybe?”

  Gino laid his paper aside, careful not to disturb the cat, whose ears he rubbed absentmindedly. “Ma took her hearing aid out. Here’s fine.”

  Angelo took a seat on the edge of the couch, facing him. Ricky flopped down at the other end of it.

  “Khodorov’s son is coming out here to work on the program in a couple days. And he can’t drive back and forth from the city all the time. So—”

  “All what time?” Gino interrupted.

  “While he’s helping me with debugging and testing. Gonna be a lot of work, all kinds of hours.”

  “You ain’t done already?” Ricky interjected. “You don’t even know if it works?”

  Angelo ignored him and spoke directly to Gino. “It will
be ready. It will work just fine. The distribution deal you made with Khodorov is solid, and he knows I need the kid to give me a hand.”

  Gino nodded. “So what are you asking?”

  “Can you spare him a room up here, in the Big House?”

  Ricky sat up abruptly. “I don’t want one of them under my roof!”

  “Whose roof?” Gino said in his dangerously quiet tone.

  Ricky looked down at his hands. “Why can’t you put him up?” Ricky asked Angelo, looking at him sideways.

  “I got two friends coming in, and my house is not so humongous as yours, Rickiopolus. Plus, I’m gonna need some downtime when Sander’s not looking over my shoulder.”

  “More like breathing down your neck.” Ricky shuddered. “Don’t know how you can work with a fag.”

  Angelo turned to look Ricky in the eye. “Grow the fuck up, already. You think there weren’t any in the Army? I can take care of myself. It’s Mom’s feelings I gotta respect here.”

  “She don’t like fags, either?” Ricky asked.

  Angelo sighed loudly. “No, you idiot.” He looked to Gino again. “She don’t want a Khodorov in her house when nobody’s got an eye on him. And this is already tough on her, you know?”

  Gino picked up his paper again, done with the discussion. “Send the kid to me when you want him outta your hair.” He looked to Ricky. “And you—watch your mouth. Word gets to Khodorov that you’re bad-mouthing his kid, it could screw up our thing with him. And I’d hate to see my daughter become a widow so young.”

  Ricky nodded sullenly and looked down at his overpriced sneakers.

  Gino looked to Angelo as if he expected him to be gone already, having been dismissed. “You want me to talk to your mother for you?”

  Angelo blushed and stood to go. “Nah, I’ll handle her. Thanks, Big G.”

  Rose slumped in the back of the town car. When the adrenaline from her first ever scenario finally wore off, somewhere halfway through the group debrief of all six of the scenarios they had run that afternoon, she had just wanted to curl up and sleep. Drilling a technique was so much different than being thrust into a situation and having to decide how to respond, and then keep improvising until Hannah clapped for the break. Even in gis, with familiar faces all around her, it felt nauseatingly real.

  “You okay?” Maji asked.

  “Depends. Are we doing scenarios like that every day?”

  “Nah. We’ll do different scenarios. Every day.” Maji paused. “It gets better. And you did fine.”

  Rose chuffed. “Liar. Everything I practiced went right out the window. If that had been real…”

  “Yeah. You would get hurt, or break somebody, or get arrested. A stress test lets you learn about yourself with no permanent consequences.”

  “I learned adrenaline makes me stupid. Yay.”

  “Rose, we taught you how to hit in just a few days. Learning how to not hurt someone when you should be scared or angry, that takes lots and lots of practice.” Maji laughed ruefully. “Hell, my first year I defaulted to hitting every fucking time. I was like Hannah’s object lesson in…well, I had adrenaline and an attitude, I guess.”

  Rose opened one eye and squinted at her. “You? I just can’t see it. How old were you?”

  “That year, thirteen. Had to repeat camp three times before Hannah would let me assistant teach.”

  Rose sat up, smiling. “You flunked three times?”

  “Bubbles is starting to rub off on you.” She sounded disapproving, but her cheeks dimpled with the effort not to smile back.

  “What’s it like to come back now? After…everything.”

  Maji looked out the window for so long that Rose thought she wouldn’t answer. “It’s good to remember where I come from. Who I am.”

  True to his word, Angelo made sure Maji and Rose were not alone together at home. Not by the pool, not in the kitchen, and not in the living room after supper. He brought his laptop up and worked quietly while his mother used the dining room table to take a practice exam. When Frank left for his own apartment over the garage, Angelo excused himself, kissing his mother on the head.

  “Where you going?”

  “Living room. Keep Ri and Rose company.”

  “What, they need a chaperone?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “Ang, they’re grown-ups. A little kissing never killed anybody. Hell, they can’t even get knocked up.”

  Angelo figured Rose and Maji had heard the exchange, so he answered for Rose’s benefit. “Ma, Ri’s my beard. Anybody but you caught them together, how would that look for me?”

  She snorted. “Nobody in this family pays attention to women, Ang. You should worry more about who’s watching you and that kid.”

  “Me and Sander? What’s to see? He comes here, we work.”

  “Don’t insult me, Ang. Go on, let me work here.”

  While he settled into the open armchair in the living room, Maji ignored him, and Rose glared at him silently. Undeterred, he set his laptop on the coffee table and gave her a warm smile. “So, how’s camp?”

  Rose blinked twice, and looked to Maji. Then she cleared her throat.

  Maji finally looked up from her Russian textbook. “Tell him whatever you want, within Hannah’s rules.”

  Rose smiled, finally. “It was amazing. I actually knew more about striking, blocking, and falls than some of the girls. I guess I just assumed they came from martial-arts backgrounds.”

  “Better they don’t, sometimes,” Maji contributed. “No bad habits or attitudes to unteach. A clean slate like you is easier. Especially a fast learner.”

  Rose flushed slightly, and Angelo felt for her. After that last girlfriend had chipped away at her ego, she could use some building up. And the hot-cold treatment from Maji had to be rough. He looked to his best friend and most trusted teammate. “She’s doing okay, then?”

  Maji kept her face neutral, but she couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes. “Rose fits right in.” The corner of her mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “And she has a right cross like a freight train.”

  “It was very nice of Hannah to make a place for me,” Rose demurred. “Especially now I understand where the girls come from—who they are, and why their success matters.”

  Maji gave her a long serious look. “You belong at camp as much as they do. You’re welcome to train as long as you want.”

  Rose met Maji’s eyes across the room. The spark in her eyes was almost mischievous. “Good. I hadn’t planned to stop.”

  This time, it was Maji Angelo felt bad for. He’d never seen her so affected by a woman, or trying so hard not to be. He’d thought for years that she’d like Rose. And this summer they were finally both free. He hadn’t counted on them needing a chaperone, but at least he knew they clicked. And neither one would be alone when he was done here.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose rode home with her leg across the town car’s width, her foot in Maji’s lap. She fussed with the ice pack on her knee. Thursdays seemed to be the day her body cried basta. She grimaced when they hit a bump.

  “Maybe you should take tomorrow off, hon,” Frank said from the front.

  “Or you could just take Thursdays off,” Maji joked.

  A ninja and a mind reader. Rose shook off the thought. “No way. I’d have hated to miss today.”

  “Yeah? What’d you learn?”

  “How to scale an eight-foot wall, and then get back down—on my own.” Rose said. “If I can just learn to land properly, I might actually become a ninja like Maji. I mean, Ri.”

  “S’okay,” Maji assured her. “Nobody’s got a bug in the car. Right, Frank?”

  “I’m still checking every time I get back in. Promise.”

  “Thanks.” Maji turned partway, the better to look Rose in the eye. “If you need a day off, Dev or Tom can cover you.”

  “And give you a break. No, don’t be nice, everyone needs one sometimes. But you’ll have to take yours on weeken
ds, because I’m not missing a minute of camp.”

  “If the swelling’s not down by morning, you will. We’ll get you an MRI. Wouldn’t hurt to have Dev look at it when he gets in tonight.”

  “He’s a doctor?”

  “Field medic. Next best thing.”

  “Dammit, anyway. I had a special meal planned to welcome them.”

  Maji frowned. “Look, the last thing I need is you waiting on those two—you’ll undo years of effort on my part. No, we’ll cook for you tonight. Right, Frank?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Anyway,” Maji continued, “you should put your leg up. I promised Hannah to keep you off your feet.”

  Rose raised an eyebrow at the double entendre, and Maji flushed.

  As the town car pulled up in front of the garage, Rose goggled at two Humvees that dwarfed it.

  “Looks like we got company,” Frank noted.

  Maji shook her head. “Oh, for God’s sake.” Apparently, this wasn’t what she’d expected her friends to arrive in.

  “Wow,” Rose breathed, as they passed the giant hunks of steel and chrome with rugged-looking tires as tall as her waist. “There’s no other word for it. They’re obscene.”

  “Mmm,” Maji concurred.

  Inside, they followed the low murmur of deep voices down the hall and into the living room.

  “Hey! You parked in my spot,” Maji announced to the back of the couch and its occupants.

  Two men, a study in contrasts, popped up from the couch with a whoop, whirled, and beelined to her. The short one, built like a fireplug, took the land route. The other, a full head taller and slender with the wide shoulders and narrow hips Rose found quite attractive on a man, simply stepped over the back of the couch. He got the first hug in, only to be elbowed aside by his counterpart.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” the fireplug with a crewcut muttered, rocking Maji from side to side with him. “You promised to eat more, Ri.”

  “Good to see you, too, akhi.” My brother.