Page 28 of Double

“Nah. Not today.”

“You teach adult classes?” Tinsley questioned.

Charity nodded. “We do. Most of our daytime classes are for adults. The afternoons, once school lets out, it’s mostly kids. But we do offer a few evening classes for adults.”

“What classes do you offer? Like Karate?”

“We offer Karate, Judo, Jiu-Jitsu, some styles of Kung Fu, Taekwondo, and Aikido. For women, though, when it comes to self-defense? We like to train them in Krav Maga.”

“Krag Mava? Never heard of it.”

Both Charity and I snickered. “Krav Maga,” Charity repeated slowly. “It’s an Israeli self-defense system.”

Tinsley nodded.

I glanced down at my watch. “I’m taking her around to see everything and meet everybody. Y’all were the first stop. C’mon. Let’s give her the tour. She’ll probably end up here at some point.”

“Probably,” Charity agreed before turning on her heel and leading us toward the hallway.

“You think I’ll end up here taking self-defense classes?” Tinsley asked, looking up at me. Her caramel brown eyes were going to be what undid me.

Those eyes and those thighs. Shit. This girl had me spitting bars. Rhyming without even trying. “Yeah. You’re my wife. There’s no way I’mma have you out here unable to defend yourself. I’mma schedule you a few lessons with Charity, have her start working with you on the basics. Then, I’ll pick it up from there.”

“You’re gonna give me self-defense lessons?”

Charity turned her head. “He never told you that he was a self-defense prodigy?”

“You’re talking too much, Charity.”

She waved me off. “Whatever. It’s true.”

I looked down at Tinsley. “My aunt—well actually, she’s my cousin. She’s Charity’s mom. I call her my aunt out of respect because of the age difference and everything. Anyway, when we were shorties, it was important to her that we know how to defend ourselves. She was . . . proficient in Krav Maga.”

“Before she met my dad, she dated a professional basketball player who liked to put his hands on her. She learned self-defense as a way to get him to stop,” Charity explained. “That’s why it was important to her that we all know how to encourage people to keep their hands to themselves.”

Tinsley’s mouth formed a silent “O” as she nodded her understanding.

“As soon as she put me on, I just took to it,” I said. “I don’t know. Something about it agreed with me.”

“The sensei my mother took us to said he’d never had a student take to Krav Maga more quickly, or with more . . . vigor than Double.” She gave a giggle. “He moved up the ranks so fast. The rest of us were still on yellow, and this dude was already on blue.”

Tinsley looked up at me. “What does that mean? Is yellow for beginners?”

“Yeah, the first belt is yellow. I was like three levels ahead of them.”

“Within the first month, Tinsley. Your man was a self-defense beast. He was competing against kids twice his age. He’s the reason Big Hill turned the lounge into a dojo in the first place. Double ran it for the first ten years.”

“Me and LP ran it.”

“True,” she conceded.

“Why’d you stop running it?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “The passion for it lessened. I still enjoyed it, but I wanted to see what else I might enjoy.”

Charity led us to the Krav Maga studio first. As soon as we stepped into the room, I felt my nervous system relax. The room was semi-sparse because you needed space to do the techniques properly. The walls were painted a cream color, the floor featured large, gray tiles, and every piece of equipment and every accessory was black.

Tinsley immediately headed for the hanging punching bags. I followed her, shaking my head because I didn’t get what it was about women and punching bags. Every woman—whether she was a potential client, a family member, or a girlfriend—I’d ever brought into the Krav Maga room headed straight for the bags.