The Academy

by Laura Antoniou

  “Well, then I think we’ve ironed out the details, now it’s time to give you the final tally,” Anderson said, picking up the pen they had used to make notes all over the main sample contract. “This is my asking price.”

  Tetsuo picked up the paper with both hands and sucked in a breath involuntarily. “This is...most respectable,” he said carefully.

  “Yes,” Anderson admitted. “We’re talking years of my time. Not to mention the loss of his services at a point where I have no senior student to replace him with. But you know, I’m warming up to the idea of selling him. If you don’t want him, I could just go out to dinner tonight and announce a surprise auction, see if I can get a sweeter deal than this.” She was smiling, casually, and there was a slightly playful touch to her threat. But it made Chris snap out of his reverie and clench himself tightly to avoid reacting at all.

  “That would be unnecessary,” Tetsuo said, laying the paper down. “I am honored to accept your asking price, with all the previous conditions we discussed. However, I must ask for an hour or two to communicate with my bankers to make arrangements, as I have stupidly not brought my man of business with me on this trip.”

  “Take as long as you need, Tetsuo. We have to have the new contract drawn up anyway, I’m going to rely on you to find someone here who can do that. If I have your handshake, it’s as good as done.”

  He extended a hand and they shook firmly, American style. “I will contact you when all the arrangements have been made and the new contracts drawn up.”

  “Thanks muchly, Tetsuo, it’s always a pleasure to do business with you.”

  Chris rose to open the door and let Tetsuo out, and quietly cleared the table of cups and trays, and put his file back together neatly. Anderson watched him silently, and when he finally turned to her, she indicated with her eyes where she wanted him. He hesitated—after spending so much time on his knees—but he went to the chair that Tetsuo had most recently occupied and sat down, gingerly.

  “You belong on your knees,” Anderson said flatly.

  “As the Trainer says.”

  “No. Speak informally. I don’t think I will accept formal manners from you any more, unless that’s what Tetsuo wants.”

  Chris winced slightly. “Please forgive me. There is no excuse for my rudeness to you, there never is.”

  “Yes there is,” she said. “You are rude to me because you’ve found out that it amuses me when you say profane things, or challenge me in such a childish way. You found out it makes me laugh when you tell me to suck your cock, and you say it with a smile. And not as often, you are rude to me when you want to get a negative reaction. I usually don’t rise to such behavior in a slave, and so I let you get away with it. You then feel bad for so obviously trying to provoke me, and immediately provide your own punishment. I rarely see the need in hurting someone who is so good at hurting himself. Now Tetsuo—he’ll hurt you. He’ll never, ever, go as far as he did before, no matter how you provoke him, but he will hurt you. And you’ll have that collar you crave so much. And at last be free from my inconsistent behavior.”

  Chris folded his hands between his knees and lowered his head. “May I ask a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What will you do with Michael?”

  “Michael? Since when do you care about Michael?” She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

  “You—you placed his training in my hands.”

  “Oh, well, I wouldn’t worry about Michael,” Anderson said with a sideways wave of her hand. “He’ll be gone in six months, a year at most.”

  Chris’s head shot up. “What? I beg your pardon...what do you mean?”

  “Michael isn’t trainer material,” Anderson said. “My God, Chris, you’ve been telling me so for months. After all these years, you still don’t trust your own instincts?”

  Chris felt the blood draining from his face, the itchiness of bruising beginning. “I—I don’t understand, I’m sorry...”

  “Michael was a test,” Anderson said, leaning back. “I wanted to see what you would do with an unsuitable candidate. You lost confidence after that whole Sharon thing. I needed to make sure you still had it in you, that you could still see what was and wasn’t there. I needed to kick you again, Chris. And he was a great kicker, you have to admit that. Got your back up the minute you met him. Twisted you eight ways till Sunday. But you kept training and you kept telling me in your evaluations that you didn’t see the potential, even though I made you think that I did.” She sighed and shook her head.

  “You—you brought Michael out of California to...test me?” Chris’s hands fell apart helplessly. “I am an idiot.”

  “No,” Anderson said carefully. “You are an obedient trainer who knows that the world doesn’t revolve around him, and therefore no one would go through all that trouble to bring in someone to specifically to annoy you. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I see.” There was nothing else he could bring himself to say. He laughed, suddenly. “But—he’s improved. Dramatically. I—I was going to write you a report.”

  Anderson also laughed, only sadly. “Of course he’s improved, Chris, you’re training him! Chris—you could improve anyone, if they gave you half a chance!”

  “So—you’ll dismiss him?”

  “No, I won’t need to. Without you there, he won’t last six months with Grendel and Alex. And even if he did, he’d figure out right about then that he can’t go through with the sale, and he’ll come to me and cry and tell me that he’ll never forget what he’s been through, but he’s not strong enough to be in service, or something like that. Then he’ll run back to California and find some nice girl to marry and he’ll entertain romantic visions of the life he almost had.”

  “I—I’m glad that it’s all settled,” Chris said, setting his jaw. “And I’m sure Michael will be grateful when he realizes a year of his life was used to teach someone else a lesson.”

  “Oh my God. You fell in love with the little peckerwood, didn’t you?”

  “Certainly not!” Chris shot back, immediately.

  Anderson nodded. “Oh, but you did, kiddo. Just like you always do. Oh, poor, poor Chris. That was one piece of advice you just can’t help but disobey. You love ’em all, the silly things, good and bad ones. And it would all be tragic, if they didn’t turn around and fall right in love with you, too. That’s the difference between us, Chris Parker. They love you and you let them; you love them and they let you. Me? I don’t let any of them in. Can’t afford to.”

  She looked at him, his head down again, his hands clenched on his knees, and sighed. “Now get out. You got what you wanted. Don’t worry about Michael, he’ll get what he wants too, in the end. Someone will find you when it’s time to sign the contracts.”

  “Yes, Trainer,” he said, and rose. He bowed to her before leaving, but ever mindful of her instruction, he did not make it a formal bow.

  Chapter Thirty: Giddy as a Schoolboy

  The last dinner together for the Academy was not officially formal, but Ron wanted to wear his tuxedo anyway. “I gotta get some use out of it,” he said. Michael went back to the room with him to act as his valet and enjoyed the duty immensely, especially when Ron complimented him on his skills.

  “So you’re really coming around in all this,” Ron said, allowing Michael to straighten his bow tie. Unlike Chris, Ron seemed content to have one that fastened with strap and hook, rather than the old-fashioned type that actually needed a knot. “That’s great, I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Michael replied, stepping back to run through the mental list of things to look for. Ron’s collar and tie were correct, his shoes polished, his pleats hung and broke just right, his cuffs neat... perfect. Michael had chosen Chris’s light gray suit for the evening and had it hung up with a shirt and tie, but Chris was still in his meeting with Anderson—which had the entire resort buzzing in concern and speculation.

  Michael was about to wonder out loud whether
Ron might consider giving Anderson’s room a call, when he caught the sound of whistling outside the room, and the door slid open. Chris kicked off the light slippers and walked in, his eyes lighting up when he saw them.

  “Well, hello! Ron, it’s so good to see you—nice suit! Get that for Aaron’s Bar Mitzvah? I was so sorry to miss that, but you know how Mom and Dad are, I didn’t think they’d want to see me.” He nodded to Michael and looked at the suit hanging up. “Oh, good choice. But since my brother’s formal, I’ll be, too. The one with the pointed lapels, please, the silver and black studs—and—oh—the European tie this time. That’ll be different enough.” He sat down cross-legged by the table and laughed, looking at their surprised faces. “Well, Michael?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course, sir, right away!” Michael tried to hide his shock at Chris’s rapid fire cheerfulness as he grabbed the hanger holding the suit and opened one of the closets to exchange it for the tuxedo with the pointed lapels.

  “OK, so I’m guessing she didn’t ream you a new asshole,” grinned Ron, as he sat down opposite Chris.

  “Oh, but she did.” Chris said. He tilted his face a little and Ron reached across and ran a finger along Chris’s jawline. Ron whistled.

  “Uh—that would be pretty rare for her, wouldn’t it?” he asked.

  Chris laughed again and nodded. “Why yes—I’d say it happens once every few years. When I need it, apparently.”

  Michael blushed furiously, half in shame for Chris’s easy acceptance of what must have been a humiliating scene, and half for being present to hear about it. He could see quite clearly now that Chris’s cheeks and jawline were marked up. Damn her for doing this! How could she even think of slapping around a great trainer like Chris? Dammit, she might have trained him, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like that just because she didn’t get her way. Especially when she didn’t even bother to lift a finger to help him! He fumbled with the tray holding the boxes of jewelry and dropped one, and blushing even harder, dropped to his knees to retrieve it.

  “Yeah, well, if it makes you happy,” Ron laughed. “Which, apparently, it does! So is everything cool now?”

  “Ron—everything is very cool. No... no... way cool.”

  Michael turned his head sharply to one side, staring openly at Chris, who thought that the sight of him was very funny, and started to laugh again. Ron and Michael traded looks of confusion, and Ron turned back to Chris and said, “Did I just hear you say—way cool?”

  Chris caught his breath and nodded, barely suppressing a grin. “Yes. In fact—I feel—awesome. My God, what a stupid way to describe things, but entirely correct. I am full of awe.”

  “OK, he’s gone off the deep end,” Ron said, sitting back. “I think one of those smacks must have jarred the brain loose. Listen, Chris, I know you enjoy a good taking down now and again, but you’re not making sense. What happened?”

  “Did the proposal pass?” Michael asked.

  “The proposal? I don’t know. I’ve been in the Trainer’s room all afternoon.” Chris stood up and pulled his tie off. “No one said anything to me about the proposal.” He tossed the tie at Michael, who caught it and rushed over to catch the jacket as well. “I’ve been busy not listening!” He laughed as he began to unbutton his shirt.

  Ron grunted as he heaved himself back up. He walked over to Chris and laid both hands on his younger brother’s shoulders. “Great, he’s fucking giddy. Chris, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but calm the fuck down! What is going on here? Someone slip you a happy pill or something?”

  “No—no—oh, God, Ron, yes, I know—this isn’t like me at all, is it?’ Chris took a deep breath, gripped his brothers arms for a moment and then looked up into his eyes. “I’m sold.”

  “What?”

  Michael looked up from his place on the floor, pulling Chris’s black shoes out, and froze.

  “I’m sold, Ron. Purchased. I’m property.”

  Ron’s mouth opened in shock. “No way!”

  Chris stood on his toes and brought his brother down to his level. “Way.” He bounced back down and laughed again.

  Ron closed his mouth and shook his head in amazement. “Well, what do you know? Congratulations, kid, you made it. Jeeze, I can’t believe—she came out for that? It wasn’t the proposal at all, was it?”

  “No, no, I don’t think it was,” Chris said, finally pulling his shirt off. His tattoo rippled as he crossed the room to Michael and help his arms out. Michael quickly stood and brought a crisp, clean shirt up and helped Chris into it, mutely.

  “So who’s the lucky guy? I’m assuming it’s a guy.”

  “It’s Sakai-sama,” Chris said, unbuttoning his trousers and letting them drop. The tattoo of the phoenix that started just under his large nipples extended down his torso and vanished into the waistband of dark colored boxer shorts, bright and malevolent and teasing. As he bent to pull on the tuxedo pants he chuckled to himself. Michael made a choking sound at the name of Chris’s purchaser, but got the studs into his hands and didn’t even raise his eyes.

  “Japanese guy? Hm... is he queer?”

  Chris straightened up and let Michael fasten his front studs as he pulled the braces up over his shoulders. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Ron, really. As though ‘queer’ has any meaning here. He’s been married. But he certainly has uses for men, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

  “Oh, so you’ve met him—hey, wait a minute. Sakai-sama—Tetsuo Sakai? The guy you went to train with back, what—five years ago?”

  “I think eight,” Chris said, closing his eyes to think. He fastened his left cuff link and let Michael do the right. “Yes, eight.”

  “Chris, let me just make sure I have the right guy here. The one who put you in the hospital?”

  Chris opened his eyes and grinned a fierce, feral grin. “Yes. That would be him.”

  Ron nodded, and then walked up to Chris and high-fived him. “Way to go, baby bro’.” He laughed heartily and shook his head. “So you finally found someone who can take you down hard and let you live to see the next day. And a man, too. Thank God, now I can stop worrying about you. But Japan? Now you’ll never make a family Bar Mitzvah. Shit—I was gonna introduce you to my new lover next week!”

  “Write me a letter,” Chris said, turning so Michael could fasten the tie around his throat. Michael’s fingers fumbled—he couldn’t get it right, and then Chris’s hands came down over him and gently disengaged them.

  “Why don’t you let me do that, Michael?” he said, suddenly even voiced and soft-spoken.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I—I just—please forgive me...”

  Chris sighed and brought Michael’s hands together in his. “Thank you for your help, Michael. You’ve been very proper and I realize that I haven’t even given time for you to digest this sudden news. Sit down for a minute and compose yourself, please.”

  Michael took that advice. (When you are given an opportunity to do something, take it, Chris said to him, over and over again. You will never know when you have that opportunity again. Enjoy every freedom offered and you will enjoy your return from it as well.) He sat down and leaned one arm on the table as Chris nimbly did up the tie and snapped the collar straight under it.

  “So I don’t see a lock around your neck there,” Ron said.

  “No—there were contract negotiations. They have to make up new copies. But they shook hands.”

  “How long is the contract for?”

  Chris looked at his brother in shock, his jacket in one hand. “Er—I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.”

  Ron burst out into laughter again, this time until tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “That’s my baby brother, all right! They told you not to listen and you actually didn’t listen! Chris, I said it before and I’ll say it again—you are obedient to the point of impertinence. I don’t know how anyone can stand you, let alone pay out good money for you.” He shook his head, sighing. “Well, since it’s not all signed away ye
t, I’ll keep quiet about it. Or at least I’ll try to! But I want to go have a drink. Shall we raise a private toast in your honor?”

  “I’d love to. Hell, Ron, I think I need to. Why don’t we meet you in the bar area by the entrance to the western building?”

  “You got a deal. See you there in a few.”

  Ron left, chortling to himself, and Chris looked down at Michael. With a sigh, he lowered himself to the floor and sat opposite him. “Michael, I’m very sorry I didn’t find a more appropriate way to give you this news.”

  Michael looked into Chris’s eyes. “This is something you wanted?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “Then... then I’m very happy for you. You deserve to get what you want.” He lowered his eyes quickly. “Did you know that this was happening?”

  Chris pursed his lips and then decided to tell the truth, or at least as much of the truth as he could. “Sakai-sama told me that he was interested in arranging a contract with me the first evening we were here. But I have not been—a free agent, I suppose you could say. I couldn’t enter into such an agreement with him unless Anderson was amenable.”

  “You’re loyal to her,” Michael said. “You really live like you write—all that stuff about honor and loyalty and sacrifice.”

  “Well,” Chris colored slightly and coughed to hide his discomfort, “I don’t think you can make that judgment at this point. I try to, as you are trying.”

  “She—she really hit you,” Michael observed. He could imagine her slender hands, hard knuckles, crashing into that face, and could actually see dried blood on Chris’s lip. In all the time he had been in her house, Anderson had touched him maybe four or five times, and never in anger or discipline.

  “Yes.”

  “And—after that, she negotiated your own contract in front of you?”

  “Yes.”

  Michael leaned forward, his face searching. “And you’re not—angry with her?”

  “No.” Chris said that firmly, with such complete conviction that Michael sat up straight again. “And you shouldn’t be angry on my behalf. For one, I deserved every blow, and much worse—and two, it’s none of your business.”