LESSONS IN KARATE
A sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Daniel dipped his gaze to the tarmac as he slumped towards his place of work. Somewhere he used to look forward to going. In fact, he used to hate leaving. Enjoying the buzz, the spiel, the challenge of selling a car.
Not any more.
Now it was an ordeal, a trial.
Sunlight glinted off the chrome and glass shells of the new and used cars, making them look like huge diamonds. Each bore a price tag 'best deal in town', they boasted.
As he reached the forecourt of DaLUCA AUTOS he felt sick, he felt defeated; he felt a fraud.
One of his colleagues, Josh, was out there pitching to a young couple. Trying to get them to sign off a 4 door new family car.
He was fizzing with enthusiasm, gesturing wildly and making crazy promises.
Just like I used to, thought Daniel wearily.
Today his tread was heavy, his shoulders rounded and his face devoid of any motivation.
Where had it all gone? Damned if he knew.
Not another day trying to sell a car. It filled him with dread. He wasn't sure he could do it. Could even summon a smile much less a winning pitch.
"Hey, LaRusso," a booming voice snatched his attention. A portly, bald man in a silver suit was waving him over. The boss.
Tony DaLuca was a big man in every sense of the word. Not just because he was obese or wore loud suits, but his personality seemed to encompass the entire world, just this half block of showroom, forecourt and admin office.
"Join me" they retired to his corner office. Surprisingly cramped and smelling of stale donuts. Tony loved his donuts, never beginning his day without a box of four.
"Sit down Danny," he waved to a threadbare bum holder that creaked every time, and shook alarmingly. Reclined, Daniel studied his boss. The man who'd hired him with a jovial back slap a year ago when Daniel had been bushy tailed and bright eyed. A keen self-starter bursting with confidence and self-belief.
Where had that person gone? He sure wasn't in evidence now.
"What the hell has happened to you?"
Never someone to mince words, Tony scowled until those bushy caterpillars above his eyes met in the middle.
Good question, thought Daniel, wish I knew. Not waiting for a reply, Tony scratched his elephantine paunch before charging ahead.
"You look like a loser, you walk like a loser and your face screams out loud – I can't do this."
No argument there.
"The fire's gone," Tony belched out sugar and caffeine, "you've lost your mojo kid."
Swallowing, Daniel hunted around for words to say, a counter argument but there wasn't one. Bottom line? His mojo had gone. Booked out of the hotel and left town.
All he could summon was, "sorry boss."
It was clearly the wrong thing to say, "sorry," Tony spluttered, like he hadn't heard that right, "you're sorry," his voice acquired a sharper edge, "apologies I don't wanna hear. I wanna hear – hey Tony I'm gonna do better, outsell every punk you employ, break all the records and be salesman of the month again."
As if. Daniel hadn't earned that title for half a year. He slipped from top to two to – god knows where. The climb back seemed herculean, it seemed beyond him.
DaLuca waited for his rally. It never came. Plump features quivering the showroom owner slapped the desk.
"You seen what my new guy can do," he asked, "Mike sold 23 cars in one day, one god damn day."
Recalling when he'd done that, Daniel sank lower in his seat. Good old Mike. Just who the hell was he?
They faced each other. Boss and failed sales man. Each could guess what the other was thinking.
Finally Tony said, "I gotta let you go."
There it was, final nail.
"I guess," Daniel mumbled.
"You guess? Is that the best you can do? No outrage, no defiance, no fight back? Jeez," the bald head looked away past the girlie calendar, past the broken wall clock and out across the forecourt to wear a slim, smartly dressed blond guy was handing over a set of keys to a new owner.
"There's Mike. He's like you used to be."
Lucky him, Daniel mused.
"Look, I'm sorry Tony, I've just felt so deflated recently."
For deflated read depressed, stale and sick of it all.
"Yeah, I get that," his boss nodded, "Find a job you like Danny, because it ain't here, is it?"
Supposing not, Daniel rose to leave. Tony said,
"Tell Mike I wanna see him, on your way out."
So that was it, fired, canned, on the scrapheap. Daniel had to admit he'd seen it coming. Tony had given him more than a few chances to turn a corner, but he couldn't and now he was out.
As he neared Mike a strong sense of deja vu overtook him. He knew that square cut blond hair, the proud chest, even the wide legged macho stance. There was something naggingly familiar about Mike, then the guy turned to stare right at him. A stare Daniel had seen before, intense and highly focused, hostile and sarcastic in equal measures.
Mike Barnes cracked a smile, "well look who it isn't," he brayed with much of his old bombast, "LaRusso the loser," a short hyena laugh segued into, "Guess you're on the way out. Tony can you? I thought he would."
Feeling sicker than ever at this development, at seeing Barnes again, Daniel cocked a thumb, "he wants to see you."
"I'll bet he does, salesman of the month," tapping his own muscular chest, Barnes added, "your old title, from back in the day," he took great pleasure in saying.
As Daniel moved to pass, a firm hand checked his escape, "we're not done, you and I," the eyes frosted, "We have unfinished business LaRusso."
Pushing the hand aside, Daniel put some distance between them. He wanted out of here on the double but Mike's voice followed him.
"Soon Danny boy, real soon."
What did that mean? They weren't likely to cross paths again.
As he fled a jeep pulled into the forecourt with two young, tough looking guys inside it. The jeep honked at Mike and pulled up just short of him. Whoever these guys were, Barnes clearly knew them if the fist-bumps and smiles were any indication.
Out of earshot he didn't hear Mike say to the two men, "that's him, LaRusso, what have you got for me Ox?"
Ox, built like one, cocked his head, "goes to the same night club every Thursday to get wrecked," a piece of paper was produced with the club name.
The third man, Jerry, sniffed as he studied the wing mirror.
"Doesn't look much to me."
"No," said Mike, "didn't look much to me before the All-Valley," his features contorted with hatred, "and soon he'll look a lot less."
The apartment wasn't tidy but it was cosy. It had been Daniel's home for a year, ever since he got the job with DaLuca. Now he couldn't afford it, unless he got another job soon and in this economy that was going to be tough.
He studied the possessions he had kept, ALL VALLEY CHAMPION cried the headline over his smiling face, he was holding a tinny trophy. CHAMPION AGAIN screamed another headline. Him smiling once more, bigger trophy.
CHAMP RAISES 15 GRAND FOR DISABLED KIDS. Daniel posing and smiling with a mix of kids in chairs or on sticks, he wore his karate uniform and in it had done a public demo for this charity he supported.
Then there were his salesman awards – month, quarter even year. Each photo showed him older, more serious maybe sadder as the light slowly went out in his eyes.
What the hell had gone wrong? Why was he so down? Did confidence bleed away unless constantly fed? Where had the karate champion gone, the hot sales pro?
He caught sight of him as a kid stood next to an elderly oriental man with a beard and moustache. Picking this up he fingered the faded, crinkled paper, still able to make out the paint stains on his front and forearms.
Oh Mr Miyagi, where are you now, he wondered? He hadn't seen his old mentor for ages. They'd just lost touch for some reason, going their separate ways. But he hadn't forgotten the old man, his sensei and how much Miyagi had taught him. Turning a thin, geeky kid into a sleek fighting machine.
It all seemed a long time ago, another life, another him. He wasn't that person any more, a pale shadow. Could he win the All-Valley now? He doubted it. When was the last time he'd even trained? He'd given himself body and soul to his job. A job he no longer had.
Head slumped he considered his future. It looked bleak. Best to think short-time and in the short-term there was only one place he wanted to be.
Music wrapped itself around. Not the 80s tunes he was familiar with but a new beat for a new generation, snazzier, sharper, less pleasant to his ears. Swimming through the gyrating bodies he reached the bar, crowded as usual. His gesture was ignored, he tried again.
Other people shouted louder, gestured harder. Daniel would have to wait his turn. When he finally got served he asked for several shots with a beer chaser. Time to get blotto, to erase his existence at least for a few hours.
He didn't notice the three men watching him intently. Their eyes sharp and expressions calculating. They were drinking juice not beer, they wanted to stay alert.
Ox and Jerry were bigger than Mike but deferred to him. He was the boss, their sensei.
"Not yet," said Barnes, "let him get well oiled first."
None of the trio noticed the one figure sat in a darkened booth, an older man nursing a glass of clear liquid that could have been water or gin, but was in fact Japanese rice wine; sake. His shrewd eyes missed nothing as it took in the thugs then flicked to where Daniel sat, mellowing into something very close to affection.
Downing the first shot, Daniel winced as it volcano'd all the way down, napalming his guts. He shuddered, eyes going out of focus briefly. Then he swallowed the second.
"All alone," the female voice startled him. She was dark and dusty, bare stomach slick with sweat, strawberry hair fluffy and curly framing an oval face with too much make-up.
"Guess so," he slurred, taking the third shot with less gusto.
Parking herself on the stool next to him, voice raised against the techno music, she rested a hand on his thigh.
"I'm Angel."
He could just imagine. Her caustic perfume overloading his olfactory nerves.
"Want a drink," he offered?
"Got one, thanks," she stayed his hand holding the fourth shot, "easy on those stud."
"You my mother," hand free he took the booze.
"Drink too much and you won't be able to perform," her smile had lost some of its wattage.
Perform? He was to perform?
"I'd like to be alone, thanks all the same."
"No you don't," and before he knew it he was off his stool and stumbling to a back exit, it led to a yard lined with bins and crates.
"Hey look," he began to object but before he knew it was shivering in cool night air, smelling rat piss and old pizza. His senses adjusting to Stygian gloom after the bright lights and thudding noise.
Rats squealed somewhere, a drunk cursed and his trainer kicked a can, which clattered noisily away.
She was all over him, all lips and tongue, kissing, probing, hands exploring his trousers. Oh boy, she didn't waste any time. Finding he didn't mind, he kissed her back. Maybe a little diversion was what he needed.
Then, violently, she was gone, Yanked bodily away from him. Hurled aside by strong hands.
"Get lost bitch."
"Hey, you can't…" SLAP and then the three hunters ringed him, belligerent, sneering, one of them familiar. Daniel's befuddled booze soaked brain tried to make sense of it.
One second he was having alley sex, the next….
Angel had gone, melting back into the club to find another mark. He was alone with the trio of guys and knew he was in trouble. No bouncers, no cameras, no witnesses.
His shirt was grabbed by the blond man, "this has been a long time coming LaRusso," the knee came up fast and hard, missing the groin it exploded into his guts and doubling over he retched, moaned and collapsed.
Jerry picked him up, "come on man, do something," the punch evacuated all the air left in Daniel's lungs in a single whoosh and he flew into a wheelie bin overflowing with garbage.
Ox tore him off this, grinned to reveal a gap in his front set then head butted Daniel hard in the face, scrambling what was left of his brains.
"He's mine," said a voice. Ox and Jerry parted to let Mike flow between them. His roundhouse kick smashed home into the floating ribs so hard that Daniel's feet after left the ground. Then the spinning crescent kick dumped him face first into crates and boxes reeking with 3 day old food.
Bleeding from several cuts, dazed, winded and all but helpless Daniel lifted his head. A demonic mask floated above him, handsome and blond, eyes devoid of any human warmth.
"Get up, champ," the demon snorted, "let's see those title winning moves now."
Wishing he could remember them, Daniel hovered on all fours, red tears splatting the gravel, his teeth felt loose and he was sure every ribs were broken.
"Get him up."
Happy to do so Ox and Jerry held an arm each as a boneless Daniel swayed and staggered, half blind.
"This is what I call karate," said the demon as it sized him up.
But then the nightmare changed. It went off script. The night-Daniel-got-hammered turned into something else.
There was someone else in the shadows and filth. Not Angel, she was long gone. This new presence was short and squat and when it moved it did so with blinding speed.
A spinning foot sweep dumped Barnes on his ass in a puddle of piss. Then a side kick sent Jerry careering into a wall, smearing him across this his head cracking brick. Big Ox took a snap kick to the groin that reduced his height just enough for the elbow to smash his nose.
Peeling off the wall, Jerry saw a metal bar but as he swung this the stranger ducked, spun and thrust kicked him so hard he all but took off up the alley.
Ox grabbed a box and threw this but the stranger side stepped easily. Roaring like a buffalo, Ox threw punches. Neat as you like his opponent parried them, deflecting each haymaker with seemingly no effort.
My god, thought Daniel, he knew those moves, wax-on, wax-off. Then with a piercing kiai the newcomer hit Ox...right, hand, left, right, crescent kick and the big guy dropped into a shuddering, nerveless mass.
Back up, pants soaked in rat urine, Mike took one look at the unfolding drama and fled. This was not his movie, he wanted no part of the rewrite.
He shouted something, but it was lost in the hubbub as Daniel sank back on all fours.
Slow, precise steps approached him. Not his attackers, they were gone. This was his saviour, the mysterious superhero. Blinking blood from his eyes, he tried to focus but the man's face floated before him, watery and wraith-like.
Hands impossibly hot touched his ribs and to Daniel's astonishment he found he could breathe without pain. His surely broken ribs expanding outwards away from his lungs. The hot hands touched his face finding lips, nose and eye sockets.
With each contact pain receded. Daniel felt his cut lips, bloody nose and blacked eyes lose their raw, chopped liver feeling.
His whip lashed neck next and this too eased off, his spine zinging with warmth and relief.
He no longer hurt, he was no longer winded, his brain was clearing by degrees as a strong breeze blew the fog away.
It was like he hadn't drunk anything, not one single shot. He was beginning to feel as though he hadn't been beaten up either, hadn't taken all those punches and kicks.
Fingers framed his face, "look at me," said a crusty, gravelly voice and Daniel blinked, his vision coming back into sharp focus.
That face, that beard, those eyes – he knew them, knew the voice and the man. But this was impossible, it couldn't be. He was surely dreaming, maybe brain damaged. That last kick had concussed him.
"Look into my eyes," said a voice from the past and Daniel did look. Seeing brightness, clarity and wisdom.
This was an old man, he'd been saved by a pensioner.
"Mister," he began to croak but his voice wouldn't work properly.
"Can stand," said as a question?
No, he thought, no way, are you kidding?
But stand he did, legs wobbly at first, balance suspect but the hot hands held him.
"If stand, can walk?"
That was too much. He'd been shit-kicked to a pulp, he needed a hospital, drugs, surgery.
Yet he walked, one step, two steps and with each step his strength returned. He wasn't broken after all, he wasn't a cripple.
Instead of leading him back into the club, his hero took them to the far end of the alley where a white van was waiting. The writing on the side was in crimson but Daniel could only make out the first letters M, K and S.
Opening the passenger side door, the man who had saved his life helped him in, "drive not far," he said in broken English, "you safe now."
Yes I am, thought Daniel but I shouldn't be, those guys should have beaten me to a pulp. He was sure Mike Barnes had been one of them but couldn't prove it, so no point involving the cops.
"I know you," he grunted.
"Know you too," the van coughed to life.
"Thank you for my life."
"Welcome."
Vision almost back to normal Daniel studied his bruised, bloody reflection. Not as bad as he'd feared, he hadn't lost any teeth.
"The way you beat those guys," he began but the driver waved it aside.
"Best not talk."
Now Daniel did turn and look at the man beside him, his heart skipping a beat, his whole body electric with surprise and delight. It was like he'd slipped back in time to another life, like he was a kid again recovering from a thrashing by the cobras.
Where have you been these past few years, he wanted to ask, and why have you come back now? But he didn't ask these things. He sat in silence and let himself be driven across town to a business district, a mix of start ups, run downs and container facilities.
His destination was on a corner, a bright two-level conversion with a big side window overlooking a gym, no a dojo, in which people were practising moves taught by a tall, dark haired woman.
Daniel felt his throat tighten for a moment, he could read the name of the place now, same name as on the van.
MIYAGI DO KARATE SUPPLIES.
Oh my god, he thought, his old mentor had opened a full-time dojo, he had other students. Some were kids, like he had been, others were older even middle-aged. One fat guy, beetroot faced, was huffing and puffing as he tried to keep up.
"You have a karate school," he gasped, "what happened to the bonsai trees?"
"Shop burned down," was the only reply as getting out, Miyagi came around to his side to help him down.
Wincing, Daniel found he could support himself now, he could walk slowly, "how did it burn down?"
"Bad people set fire to it."
Horrified that anyone could do this, Daniel limped to keep up, "who would do that?"
There was a side door, it didn't lead to the dojo but a storage area around the back and Daniel's eyes almost popped as he saw what was in there.
Large makiwara hitting posts, impact pads, heavy bags, long staffs, nunchaku rice flails, tonfas, tridents and various karate uniforms white and black plus various coloured belts.
It was like a martial arts supermarket MADE ON OKINAWA was stamped on many items, "you import all this stuff," he asked?
"Family help," Miyagi confirmed.
"So you've turned karate into your new business," Daniel concluded.
"Daniel-san, karate always been my business," said with a smile and a twinkle in the eye but no less serious for that.
There had to be thousands of dollars worth of stuff here. Good quality too and going over to a sharp three-pronged trident he picked it up, admiring its sleek power and gleaming elegance.
"Boy, this is sure different from where I used to train," he confessed, not a little envious.
"Place not matter," he was told, "effort matters."
"I've let my karate slide a bit," it was hard to admit but he had to be honest with this man, and it wasn't just his karate he had neglected.
"I notice," Miyagi remarked, indicating his marked features.
"Yeah, I should have fought back," if I wasn't drunk, out of shape and too sorry for myself.
"Have lost confidence," three simple words but they encapsulated all that was wrong with Daniel's life. Yes, he had lost confidence in himself and what he could do.
"That obvious, huh," he shrugged, replacing the trident. He sighed, "I got fired today. Oh I deserved it."
A finger was raised to silence the confession, "not deserve it," said Miyagi with an edge to his voice, his eyes sharp.
"I seem to have lost my way."
"Then find new way," Miyagi declared like it was that simple. Then Daniel's eye was caught by a smaller crate that did not contain weapons or uniforms, going over he took out something wrapped in clear plastic.
LESSONS IN KARATE by Keinosuke Miyagi. His hands shook as he held the heavy volume.
It was a large format hardback, the cover coloured red and blue with gold lettering. There was a black and white photo of a younger Miyagi inset and the whole thing felt heavy and high quality.
"You wrote a book," he cried aware he was stating the obvious and by the crack in his voice. Taking it out of the plastic, he thumbed through chapters on history, philosophy, personal life story and diagrams of basics and kata.
Smiling proudly, the old man looked close to tears himself, "if wisdom not recorded, it lost," he said softly.
"This is amazing," the book was over 500 pages long, "is it your entire style?"
Nodding once with a polite 'hai', the sensei watched his former pupil devouring the contents, "fantastic," he said, "wow, look at this."
Miyagi humbly said, "Keep copy."
Checking the price, Daniel realised he didn't have enough change on him, not after all those shots.
"I can't afford," he began but this was waved aside.
"Is gift from me to you."
Something tight in his throat, Daniel felt his eyes burn at the incredible generosity. He had to look away before he embarrassed himself by blubbing. For distraction he looked at the karate class taking place in the dojo.
The female sensei, who was tall and slender with long legs and dark hair tied back into a bun, was demonstrating on a heavy bag. In a left stance she pivoted and with her right leg did a double roundhouse kick, low, high, one, two, smack, smack.
She was good. No wobble, no hesitation and two hard kicks.
After kicking again, she stood aside and waved the line of students to have a go one at a time, which they did.
"Who is she," he asked?
"Julie-san, she my next project after you."
Daniel's head dipped a bit, "my replacement."
To which the old man responded, "nobody replace you, Daniel-san," he said sincerely.
Now tears did come, they ran down both cheeks creating two hot tributaries.
If he noticed this, Miyagi said nothing. Unable to speak for a while, Daniel took out a tissue to wipe himself.
"I haven't done any karate in a year."
"Time to restart."
Wondering if he could, if he'd ever get back his old skill, Daniel nodded.
"I'm a bit sore," he admitted.
"Karate not just kicks and stances."
Waving him to sit down, Miyagi stood to one side, "position hands like this," he rested both hands on his lower belly, the famous hara, "now relax shoulders, unclench jaw and breath deeply. As you breathe in picture the word STRENGTH, as you breathe out see the word POWER. Breathe with me, in and out."
As Daniel did so he saw those two words, strength and power, strength in and power out. He kept going, two breaths, three, four…
Soon he felt much calmer, his anxiety easing off, his knotted muscles becoming limp.
"Feel better," asked his sensei?
"Yes, much," he confessed, "this is powerful stuff."
"Ibuki," he was told, "or deliberate breathing is a key part of my system."
The stress had gone, the fear and anger too, even his self-pity had toned down a lot. Oddly his bruises weren't throbbing as much, his limbs felt looser.
Standing up he declared, "maybe I'll visit the dojo after all."
Smiling to himself as though this U-turn wasn't a surprise, the old man simply nodded.
By now Julie was teaching a kata Daniel hadn't seen before, it was all hand moves in, out, up and down many done at dynamic tension. She taught it well and the students kept up with her. Those that didn't, she corrected gently.
Good teacher, he thought. Wishing he had decided to pass on the system. Would he be a good teacher like Julie?
Kata over, she bowed off the class then sauntered over as Daniel was gently limbering up, stretching tense muscle groups.
"Hi," the voice was musical and welcoming, "you must be the famous Daniel-san," it was said without bitterness, "sensei is always talking about you."
Now this did surprise him. Surely he had been forgotten, was a figure from the past. Taking in this girl he was struck by her athletic beauty. Very slim and tall she had the kind of gaze that held your attention.
"He talks about me?"
"Oh yeah, all the time, Daniel this, Daniel that."
Well they had shared some adventures together, "it was ages ago," he demurred.
"Two times All-Valley champion," she reminded.
"That was ages ago too."
"How come we don't see you in here?"
I didn't know it existed, I was too obsessed with my job, I hadn't spoken to Miyagi for years. But he didn't say this, "distracted I guess, life happens."
It sounded lame even to him but she let it pass with a nod and a wave, "Did you learn TENSHO, the kata I just taught?"
"Never heard of it. Sensei and I focused on a few things."
"Maybe," a lip was chewed, "I could show it to you some time."
He'd like that, like to spend more time with this interesting girl whose skill now far surpassed his own.
"Sure, why not," he said quickly, "but today I'm sticking to basics."
Her gaze took in his bruised face and the way he favoured his left side. It was obvious he'd been beaten up so why try to hide or deny it?
"Got jumped in an alley by three guys."
"Did you fight them off," she was being kind. Did he look like a guy who'd won a fight?
"Sensei jumped in."
Mouth forming an O she almost said something, then thought better of it. He hoped she didn't pity him. Anything but that. Being pitied by a girl was the worst.
Back in his apartment, Daniel read the book. Impressed by its sheer scope of knowledge. Most karate books were just a collection of basics, this was far more impressive. This was a master text.
Feeling anxious again he sat down and repeated the breathing exercise, strength in, power out. Making sure his neck and shoulders were relaxed. After a minute or so he felt much better. Not only was his anxiety gone but he was feeling something very close to optimism for the first time in ages.
As advised by the book he took a blank sheet of paper and began to write down what he wanted to do with his life. No navel gazing, he just wrote the first thing to come into his head. That first thing was a total surprise, he hadn't expected it.
Sitting back he re-read his own words. Well, this was a turn-up. Doing more breathing he waited to see if he felt different. He didn't. Checking the time he began to get changed into his work clothes, his suit and tie.
Mike Barnes was losing his pitch. Even from a distance you could see that the young couple weren't interested. She was gazing around and he kept steeling glances at his watch. Mike wasn't going to close this one. For once his clever spiel fell on stony ground.
Making his way over, smile plastered on his face, Daniel studied the couple especially the woman and noticed something.
"When are you due," he cut in to ask earning a scowl from Barnes, who visibly bristled.
"You don't work here any more LaRusso, kindly get lost."
Ignoring this, Daniel kept smiling at the woman.
"Four months," she smiled back.
"Boy or girl?"
"We don't know, we want it to be a surprise," said hubby.
"So what you really want is a family hatchback for junior," Daniel surmised, sure his old instincts were spot on, "not some two door sports model," he rolled his eyes and saw Barnes flush.
Waving to just such a car Daniel led the expectant couple away from his rival, "how about this," he offered and saw their interest resume. It was ideal for new parents with a toddler, with room for a second child should the need arise.
The woman beamed and the man ran an appreciative hand over the chassis.
Furious at being upstaged, Mike stormed over, "excuse me," he blustered, taking Daniel by an arm to shove him aside, "what the hell are you doing? You got fired, remember?"
Tugging his arm free but keeping his pleasant demeanour in place, Daniel lowered his voice to say, "watch this," returning to the couple he opened the driver's side door, "why not take it for a spin," he offered, "no obligation."
Mr regarded the price warily, "bit more than we budgeted for."
"Oh I'm sure we can do a deal," Daniel said airily, "10% off, maybe more," he was winging it but then he had in the past, improvising to keep the punter on track, "is the colour okay madam," he asked, knowing colour mattered to women?
As the couple left for their test drive, Daniel turned to see Barnes ready to explode. Fists clenched, he looked about to attack. Then they both saw big Tony marching towards them, a grin on his porcine features.
"Nicely handled Danny boy," he said, coming over to give Daniel a one armed hug, pointedly ignoring Barnes.
"I could tell she was pregnant, that they had different priorities. Selling is about good instincts, reading people."
Even the old spiel was back.
"Damn right. You seem back on form," said the big man.
"I'd like to return Tony," it was time for a different pitch, "a month's probation if you like. But this is where I wanna be, at the cutting edge. I know I can do better than," a sideways glance, "some people."
Hopping from foot to foot, Barnes was all but breathing fire but there was nothing he could do. He'd been outplayed and they all knew it. He'd blown his chance and stepping in LaRusso had probably closed the deal.
"Why not," said Tony, "pop in tomorrow nice and early, good to have you back. Maybe some people could learn from your approach."
Teeth gritted, Mike forced a smile but it looked more like a grimace and Daniel thought how do you like those onions?