Page 52 of Off Balance

"He's probably wearing makeup. That's how they are now. You know, because he's a?—"

"A great teacher," I interject before I'm subjected to however he was about to end that sentence. It's in his best interest that I don't hear what he was about to say.

I make sure to convey my seriousness very clearly when I turn around to glare at the guy, sitting there smug, looking like he hasn't showered in a week. I turn to glare at the rest of the room, staring down these mediocre, sorry excuses for men.

"Holy shit. You're Domenick Connor," the guy in a trucker hat says.

Khaki pants guy looks up from his phone. "The boxer?"

"Well goddamn, I think you're right," Pigpen says, eyes lighting up like I wasn't two seconds from telling him off.

They all start talking so fast, I can barely keep up with who is saying what. I almost regret opening my mouth and drawing attention to myself.

"Can we get an autograph?" I ignore that completely.

"I heard a rumor you've been making the circuits around ATL." That gets a raised eyebrow. "Good to know you didn’t just up and disappear.”

"Nah, man. Dom Connor wouldn't run from a fight."

"But what are you doing back here, though? Shouldn’t you be off in Vegas or wherever all the good fightin’ is?"

Finally, they shut up, and all three of them turn in my direction to wait for an answer. Khaki pants guy is taking pictures with his cellphone down by his leg like he thinks he's being sneaky.

What a bunch of fucking idiots. I suppose I have a chance to teach them a little lesson.

"I'm just hoping to get a word in with my trainer when he's through with class."

They all crane their necks to look through the window. There are two dads in the room, standing back against the wall. None of them are doing the exercises with the kids. Other than them, Cam is the onlyhein the room. I'm finding it both amusing and annoying that they're checking out the dads as my possible trainer instead of Cam.

"Like I said, he's a great teacher."

"The dance teacher?"

"That's what I said."

One of the guys starts laughing, but stops when no one joins in.

"What's he training you on exactly?"

"Ballet," I say, like it should be obvious. I'll give him this one. It’s not like it’s obvious by looking at me, and they all know I'ma boxer. "It's a great training tool for sports. Good for balance, flexibility, strength."

"Strength, really?" Pigpen snorts.

"Yeah, I said the same thing. Then I got shown up. That kid right there," I point to Cam, "is guaranteed the strongest guy here."

They'd be more offended if I wasn't sitting right in front of them, wearing a gym tank that exposes my arms. Is it weird that I want to flex just to make a point?

"Stronger than you?"

"In more ways than one," I reply, but it comes out weird and I don't need these creeps asking questions. "You ever seen a man do one handed handstand pushups, without anything to support him? He's got more muscle control and core strength than anyone I've ever met. Ballet dancers are hardcore."

Done talking to these idiots, I turn back around to watch Cam. He clearly loves teaching, and he's good at it. All the little kids are watching him carefully, and following his lead. He's patient with them and smiles even when they get it wrong. He's in his element here, just as much as he is on stage.

Ater the class is over, the three guys approach me again for autographs. I only agree because I don't want there to be any chance of complaints getting back to Cam, and I even stand there and let them take selfies with me. I have a feeling I'm going to regret not keeping my mouth shut.

"You did what?!"

Cam is unsurprisingly upset that I told Dwayne about what happened at the party. More than upset, he's livid.

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