âHow should I know? The guyâs a prick. He just opens his mouth and shit pours out.â
âHe said he hadnât had any interest this week. How could you have been paying interest? You havenât got any money.â
âIâve given him a couple of hundred quid now and then,â she said, pressing her face against my shoulder. âJust to keep him off my back.â
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
T HAT NIGHT, I returned to my one-to-one unarmed combat class, realizing that I might need to be fit for whatever lay ahead. Again, Lenny insisted that I punch him in the stomach as hard as I could.
âIsnât this the way Houdini died?â I asked him.
âHow the hell should I know?â
That was the frightening thing about Lenny. He was a world-class exponent of karate, but he had no interest whatsoever in Japan or Zen or Shaolin monks. His areas of expertise were drinking, putting out fires, and causing grievous bodily harm.
As a firefighter, he had cut people from wreckage and walked into burning buildings, yet the only anecdote he had to offer involved giving a firemanâs lift to a naked eighteen-year-old. âShe had the biggest pair of knockers youâve ever seen in your life.â
Obeying orders, I drew back and hit him in the stomach as hard as I could. Lenny let out an angry yell.
âSorry,â I said, surprised by my own strength.
âIâm not shouting âcause you hurt me. You daft prick. I was using ⦠whatâs it fucking called? Chi. Spirit. If you cry out when youâre hit, it limits the damage your opponent can do to you. Itâs like Iâm directing all my resistance here.â He patted his solar plexus. âHit me again.â
I whacked his belly a few more times. Each time, he roared defiance. Then it was my turn. âBut youâre a black belt third dan,â I objected.
âYeah?â
âYou could cause me permanent damage.â
âDonât worry. Iâll hold back a bit.â
I braced myself, and as his fist flew forward I summoned all the chi at my disposal and yelled. A few seconds later, I was lying on my back on the floor of the gym.
âFucking hell,â I said, rubbing my aching gut.
âNo,â said Lenny. âThat was good. You showed good spirit.â
He made me stand up while he hit me again. After the third time, I started to feel a little pissed off. When it was my turn to hit Lenny again, I summoned all my strength, yelling as well as punching. This time, the blow contained all my accumulated pain and embarrassment, and when it connected, Lenny rocked slightly on his heels. At that point, he beamed. âIâll tell you what, my son,â he said. âThat was a fucking beauty. Keep punching like that and youâll have no problems whatsoever.â
Later, in the shower, Lenny made me an opportunistic offer. âListen, Iâve been thinking,â he said. âYou know that little chat we had about your kicks? How I said there was room for improvement?â
âIf I recall, you described me as âfucking useless.ââ
âDid I? Well, listen. Iâve got something that might help you. A set of leg stretchers.â
âLeg stretchers?â
âYeah. Theyâre yours for forty quid.â
We went out to Lennyâs little white van, and he produced two long movable metal bars joined by a handle. The idea was that you held the device between your ankles and pressed down on the handle until the bars forced your legs apart.
âDo they work?â I said.
âYeah,â said Lenny. âHow do you think I got to be so supple?â
I didnât really want the stupid contraption but thought that buying it might further my relationship with my karate tutor. âOkay, youâre on,â I said. âBut could you give me a lift home? This thingâs a bit heavy.â
âDeal,â said Lenny, and we shook
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