Purple Method

by Victoria Milne

  He went easy on him for the rest of the warmup, and when everyone was grabbing a drink of water once they were done, about fifteen minutes later, he realized Max didn’t have any with him. Rick grabbed his bottle and went over to where he was sitting on the ground with Gio and gasping for breath.

  Max narrowed his eyes. “That was brutal.”

  “Here, take this.” Rick handed him his water. “Sip it. Don’t gulp.”

  “It was.” Giovanni nodded. “It gets easier now, though, right, Sensei?”

  “Easy? You want to give me a hand with the demos?”

  “No way!” Giovanni said. “I meant there’s less cardio now.”

  “Can Max work with you when we pair up?” Rick asked him. “Nicole can work with Oli. It’ll do you both good to pair up with other people for a change.”

  “Yes, Sensei.”

  “Hey, you got your gloves. That’s awesome,” Rick said to Giovanni, who proudly handed them over for inspection. They were black with blue flames. “These are a decent make. They should last you a good couple of years.”

  “Can you help me with these?” Giovanni asked and unwrapped some brand-new hand wraps.

  “Sure.” Rick showed him how to do the first one and watched as he did the second one himself. “Grab a pair of boxing gloves and some focus pads from the cabinet,” Rick said to Max, who screwed up his nose. “The ones on the top shelf don’t smell so bad. Try them first.”

  “Okay, guys, gather around,” Rick said after putting on his boxing gloves. He beckoned to William, who put on a pair of focus pads and secured them with the Velcro fastening.

  “We’re going to start with a couple of kickboxing drills.” He got into a fighting stance, with his left foot forward and his fists up by his jaw. “Switch kick.” He paused to let William get the pads in the correct place by his right knee. “Strike with the top of your foot and land forward.” He completed the move: switching his stance so his right leg was forward, and then striking the pad with his left leg before placing his foot back on the ground. “Right roundhouse.” Rick put all his weight on his left foot and pivoted his heel as he brought his right leg up to strike the pad to the left of William’s face. “Land forward and go straight into the left uppercut, stepping forward with your left leg. Again landing forward. Beginners up to orange belt finish with a right cross.” He demonstrated and then reset to his finishing position after the uppercut. “Everyone else, carry on with a spinning elbow, striking across with your right elbow. You’re aiming for your opponent’s cheek with this one, and then finish with a snap kick and then a jumping snap.” He completed the demonstration and repeated it three times.

  Giovanni, Nicole, and Max all looked completely confused, and that really was no surprise. He knew it was a lot to take in. All the combinations had an effortless flow when you got them right, but it would take years for them to perfect them.

  “Guys, come on over.” Rick took off his gloves and beckoned to Oli, Nicole, Giovanni, and Max, and took them to the far end of the hall. “How are you feeling about the drill?”

  “It’s okay, I think,” Oli said. “Can we see the footwork for the roundhouse into the uppercut again?”

  “Of course. I’ll take you through from the beginning. Decide who’s going to pad and I’ll do the drill with you.”

  “Shall I pad?” Max asked Giovanni.

  Max seemed content to watch for now, obviously not realizing that padding was harder than it looked. If you didn’t get the pads in the correct place at the right split second it was gonna hurt. A lot.

  “Let’s take it slowly to start,” Rick said. “Max, hold the pads together so they’re doubled up, by your right knee. Get your feet into fighting stance with your left foot forward, and make sure you brace yourself for the impact. Okay?”

  “Got it.” Max did as asked but appeared uncomfortable. It was a bit of a weird position, Rick guessed, but he’d been doing it so long that it felt natural.

  “Okay. Gio and Oli, just do the first kick.” He indicated for them to go ahead. Max shut his eyes as Giovanni’s leg came around to strike. It was cute, but he wouldn’t last two seconds if he let that become a habit. “Max, eyes open, okay?” Rick smiled at him as Max opened his eyes. He looked shell-shocked and rubbed his knee—as best he could with the pads on. “Hold your arms sturdy and it won’t hurt.” Max nodded, still looking slightly stunned.

  He seemed to get the hang of it—so long as Giovanni didn’t try to do the moves too fast. Rick left them to it to go and check on everyone else. Once he’d done a full circuit, he told everyone to switch. It would now be Max’s turn to do the moves.

  “How are you getting on?” he asked Max, helping him remove the pads and secure the gloves.

  “He’s doing great,” Giovanni said and dashed across the hall to get his water bottle.

  “Gio kept on missing the pads,” Max said and frowned. “It fucking hurt.”

  “Try to gauge where he’s going to strike and adjust the pads.”

  “But I thought they had to be in specific places for each move?”

  “They do. Technically. But you and Gio are new to this, so your accuracy isn’t going to be so precise as someone like, say, William, yet. It’s okay to compromise a bit at this stage.”

  “Any final words of wisdom?” Max asked as he smacked the gloves together.

  “Try to hit the pads. I don’t want to have to perform CPR on Gio.”

  “Yeah. Funny,” Max said. “You did see how high you’re expecting me to kick, right? I’m not sure my leg even stretches that much.”

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” Rick said with a smirk and waggled his eyebrows. Max blushed and turned away just as Giovanni returned.

  Max couldn’t kick that high. Not even close. Nor could he hit the pads. Poor Giovanni would be covered in bruises tomorrow. Max hadn’t been kidding about not having any coordination.

  “Turn your heel toward Gio more,” Rick said. He stood behind Max, who was attempting the roundhouse kick and failing miserably. Placing his hands on Max’s hips, Rick tried to maneuver him into the correct position, but Max lost his balance and fell backward into him, pressing his butt right into Rick’s groin. Damn, that felt good. He began to stiffen and pushed Max as he took a step away. Max was so flustered by his inability to do the kick that Rick wasn’t even sure Max had noticed the contact. Or maybe he had and that was why he was so rattled.

  “Try it again,” Rick said, making sure to stand to one side of Max this time. It wouldn’t do either of them any favors if people noticed.

  Max had sort of got the idea by the time they had done a couple more drills. He was definitely improving.

  “Okay, go and grab a drink if you haven’t already,” Rick shouted. They were about to do some knife defense and have a bit of fun at the same time. He’d created a game to test their skills, and he was looking forward to seeing it in action. But first he needed to teach them the technique.

  He ran through his usual spiel about how dangerous knife attacks were and that their first form of defense should be to defuse the situation and remove themselves from it. It was too easy to get hurt when you were confronted with someone lashing out with a sharp blade.

  A few years back, someone who’d attended the same martial arts school as him in Leatherton had been all too cocky when attacked by some guy with a knife. He’d thought he could easily handle it because he’d learned a couple of defense moves in class. He got slashed so badly that he’d bled out and died. It had been a harsh lesson to them all.

  Rick demonstrated five different defenses from knife attacks for the blue belts and above, and sent them to the far end of the hall to practice.

  “Max, can you help me show this defense technique?”

  “Uh, sure. What do I have to do?”

  “Pretend you’re thrusting a knife at me.”

  Max made a fist and motioned forward with a stabbing action.

  “With your right hand.” Rick smirked
. “I didn’t realize you were left-handed.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Okay, so most people will attack with their dominant hand, and that is likely to be their right.” He loved it that Max was constantly keeping him on his toes. “Try it again.”

  Max exaggerated the thrust with a roll of his eyes.

  Rick demonstrated while talking. “Step to the side, to the left, and grab the outside of their wrist with your right hand. Goose the wrist up and twist. Max, if this gets too much at any point just tap out, okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “Tap my arm or leg and I’ll release.”

  “Okay.”

  “Make sure you’re pulling their arm while you do this. Then push your hip into their body and press down on their shoulder with your left hand. Keep the pressure on and turn your body away from them while keeping them close. With your right hand, make sure that’s close to your body too so they can’t stab you there. Increase the pressure on their wrist and they should drop the weapon.” He released Max and gave his shoulder a quick rub. “You okay for me to show that again, faster this time?” Max nodded and thrust out his hand again. This time Rick carried out the moves swiftly, and Max groaned in surprise at the speed.

  “That’s what you’re aiming for. Giovanni, can you take over from Max so he can watch?”

  Rick had to show them quite a few more times before they felt confident with the basic moves. Leaving them to it, he checked on the other group and instructed them on the game he’d made up, and left William in charge of them.

  When he returned, there was a full-scale debate going on, with Oli bent forward with his arm in the air, while pretty much everyone else gave their version of how they thought it should be done. After pairing them up and coaching them while they did it, finally they seemed to be getting it. Even Max, to his surprise.

  “Okay, you’ve learned the moves. Let’s have some fun with this now. We’re going to play a game using the knife defense you’ve been doing. Oli, come stand over here. Max, can you put on some focus pads.” He made the others stand in a semicircle, with Max at the far end, facing Oli. “Right, so I’m going to stand behind Oli. I’ll point at someone at random. If you’re pointed at, come at Oli as if you’re carrying a knife. Oli, use the defense you’ve just learned, and then run to the focus pads, do a jab, cross, hook, and then run back to the center again. Got it? Take it easy with the punches, as you’re not wearing gloves this time.”

  They were all looking at him blankly. That was not a good sign. He pointed at Nicole, and she rushed forward and thrust her fist at Oli. He managed the defense quite well. Then Oli ran to the pads, and Rick realized he hadn’t told Max how to hold them. Luckily Oli showed him what to do. “Nicole, you need to go back to your spot.”

  “Oh, okay. I get it now,” she said.

  It ran smoothly after that, as each of the beginners took their turn in the middle. Then it was Max’s go. He managed to defend the first attack reasonably well. Rick pointed at Oli, who came at Max’s blind spot to his right.

  “Oh, I forgot the punches,” Max said, and darted toward his left—to Giovanni, who was holding the pads—just as Oli reached him, and Oli swiped at thin air with his make-believe knife. It was like something out of a cartoon.

  Everyone laughed, and Rick shook his head in despair. This game was supposed to be easy.

  “What? What’s so funny, guys?” Max asked, turning to them with a bewildered look on his face.

  Rick sighed. How to explain it? He almost wished he’d filmed it. Thank goodness the lesson was nearly finished.

  “THAT WAS more fun than I thought it would be,” Max said as he helped Rick collect up any borrowed focus pads. He’d had a shower and changed, and now it was just the two of them. “But we need to talk about your taste in music.”

  “What’s wrong with my taste in music?”

  Max screwed up his face. “All that dance music. Metal songs would work better. Get people fired up more.”

  Rick took the pads from Max’s hands and placed them in the cabinet, then rested his hands on Max’s waist. He’d locked the door, so there was no chance of anyone walking in on them this time. “Is that so?” Rick leaned down and gave Max a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t I get any points for telling you about that band with the awesome bassist?”

  Max sighed and rested his head on Rick’s shoulder. “Fine, you win. I owe you big-time for that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad I could help.”

  “You’re really good at it, you know. Teaching ninja shit.” Max raised his head and looked him in the eyes. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be… apart from the warmup, that is. That was far worse. That was hell.”

  “Hell?” Rick laughed. “You think that’s bad, you should see what you have to go through to get a black belt. It’s far worse than that.”

  “Masochist,” Max said and wrapped his arms around Rick, pulling him close. It felt so comfortable to be with Max like this. To be on the receiving end of his affection. He could totally get used to this. Rick kissed the top of Max’s head.

  “Do you think you want to try it again?” Rick asked.

  “The ninja lessons?”

  “Will you quit calling it that?” Rick smiled.

  “You were right; it would be a great excuse to spend time with you. I’m just not sure I can put myself through that warmup again.”

  “How about some private lessons, then?”

  Max tilted his head and kissed Rick, and Rick opened his lips, allowing Max to deepen it. God, he felt good. “I could get on board with that,” Max said.

  “Would you let me take you on a date next week?”

  Max froze and pulled away. “A date? What, like, out somewhere?”

  He’d been ready for Max to overreact, and looped his fingers over the top of Max’s cargo pants, tugging him closer. “How about next Thursday? I’ve got a competition fight that night. William, Art, and a guy called Rafael, who you haven’t met yet, are fighting too. You could come along as part of our team. Nobody but us would have to know we were on a date, and if anyone saw you there, they’d never guess.”

  “Maybe.” Had he nearly convinced Max? He hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

  “Is it a date?”

  A smile crept onto Max’s face. “Yeah. It’s a date.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Max

  AT SEVENISH, Max sauntered into the garage, armed with his shiny new bass guitar and a huge smile after his time with Rick.

  “Where the fuck have you been all afternoon?” Tony shouted at him from behind the drum kit.

  “I can’t play without a guitar, now can I?”

  “You went to Hugh’s without telling us?” Kyle whined. “I needed to go.”

  “What for?”

  “I dunno, but I’m sure I would’ve found something.”

  Between them, they’d spent a small fortune at Hugh’s music store over the years.

  Kyle crouched next to him and gasped as Max removed his gleaming instrument from the case. “Is that what I think it is?” He chuckled. “You’re such an idiot.”

  “What is it?” Tony came out from behind his drum kit to take a closer look.

  “She’s a beast, that’s what she is,” Kyle said, prying the guitar from Max’s hands.

  “Six-string fretless.” Tony shook his head and pursed his lips, obviously fighting off a smile. “You better be able to play that thing.”

  Taking his precious guitar back from Kyle, Max slipped the strap over his shoulders and plugged into the bass amp. It was now or never. One chance to convince Tony that taking this instrument to the next level would be the right direction for Purple Method, otherwise he’d be stuck playing monotonous riffs for the rest of his life, like most other bassists. Quickly making sure it was still in tune, Max slid his fingers up the fretboard, caressing the strings. “Insidious Girl” would be a good song to play, not only because Tony had writt
en it but also because it had a tempo that would suit the slap-bass style without having to make drastic changes to the riff itself.

  Max dropped his wrists and placed his fingers into position, took a deep breath, and played the first notes. They sounded raw and gritty, but with a funky edge to the beat. After the repetitive first bars of the song, Max bounced the side of his thumb against the lowest string, his stomach flitting as the sound rippled through his body, and then he plucked the higher note, ghosting the fretboard to deaden it, creating a crisp, clear sound before picking up the pace, his right wrist rotating, flicking back and forth as he plucked the strings and hammered-on to create a heavy, exciting rhythm.

  Reaching the end of the song, Max switched to “No Jurisdiction,” but instead of playing the bass line, he played the lead guitar riffs, plucking the strings to create a rumbling yet stiff style, building a unique, bass-riddled tension until he released the thunderous beats with a rapid slap-bass chorus. Smacking his palm over the strings, the instrument silenced, and Max looked up at Tony and Kyle.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re trying too hard,” Tony said. “You know I wasn’t actually going to kick you out of the band if you didn’t play bass, right?”

  “Fuck you!” Max was trembling, and he wasn’t sure if it was from anger at his brother putting him through this or from excitement about what this could mean for their future. “Tell me you’ve heard a bass played like that before. Go on. I bet you can’t. I gotta tell you, in all the music I’ve ever listened to, there’s one band doing this, and they aren’t even playing heavy metal. If we try this, we’ll be the only band out there. We’ll have a unique sound.”