“Office manager?” Amery repeated.
“If you take the Okada job, you’ll need to hire another graphic artist. I’ll have seniority, and I’m good at balancing the creative and business side. Anyway, I’ll check out the actual profit and losses for your existing food-based customers and see if letting that part of your business go will be a financial blow.”
“Awesome. But I want you to wait until this is a done deal before you drop out of school.”
“Damn. And here I was totally going to blow off my homework.”
“Smart-ass. Let’s get set up for the Wicksburg Farm Halloween bash.” Amery made it halfway to the sink with the empty coffee cups when she remembered she’d left her camera in Ronin’s practice room. She couldn’t take a chance on Molly seeing those photographs even if she swapped out the memory cards, and if she and Ronin continued to take risqué pictures of each other, they’d need a camera at his place anyway.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned around and smiled. “On second thought, let’s head to the electronics store first. I’ve been meaning to upgrade my camera and get one of those headset thingies.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE following week, Alvares “Blue” Curacao showed up at Black Arts on time with his instructors—two men and one woman. He bowed and then offered his hand. “Hachidan Black. Thank you for this opportunity.”
It seemed strange to hear his belt rank mentioned since Ronin was used to being called Sensei at the dojo. “My pleasure. Have a seat, and everyone can introduce themselves before we get started.”
The tension in the room was palpable.
That’s when Shiori walked in.
Ronin could feel Knox and Deacon’s questioning looks, but he kept his focus on his sister. He’d asked her to mediate this meeting. Personal issues aside, Shiori was a shrewd businesswoman, and he wanted her involvement in this situation.
“Gentlemen.” She nodded to the other woman in the room. “Sophia. I’m Shiori Hirano, a visiting instructor from Japan. Since I have no personal stake in the outcome of this meeting, I’m here as an impartial mediator. Anything that is said in this meeting is confidential, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Blue said.
“Agreed,” Ronin said.
“Let’s start with you, Mr. Curacao. Tell us about your dojo. Number of students, qualifications of instructors, monthly fees.”
“Currently we have three qualified instructors besides myself, black belt levels sanctioned by BJJA—Brazilian Jujitsu Association. We teach seventy-five students. The majority of them are below blue belt ranking since the Brazilian method moves slower through the belt ranking system than traditional jujitsu. Our requirements are a minimum of three paid classes a week. We do not charge higher-ranking belts higher fees.”
Everyone around the table nodded approval. Several martial arts disciplines charged higher fees for brown and black belt levels—which created a problem because the instructors moved the students up the ranks faster to collect the significantly higher class fees.
When Blue revealed his hourly class fee, Ronin quickly did the math. They were making a nice chunk of change every month.
Shiori looked to Ronin to offer the same information.
After he finished speaking, she opened up the discussion to the instructors from both camps. Ronin was really impressed that his guys asked things he hadn’t considered. And Sophia asked why the Black Arts staff wasn’t utilizing female instructors. Then she questioned the boy-to-girl training ratio. Something that had never crossed his radar—until Shiori had questioned him along those same lines.
When Shiori began speaking of the different philosophies, Ronin discreetly shook his head. Always a pointless discussion.
Knox stood. “Let’s look at the training rooms.”
At that point, everyone left Blue and Ronin alone.
“I thank you for opening the door to this discussion, Sensei. Especially after—”
“You knocked me out? I don’t hold grudges.”
Blue cocked his head. “So I shouldn’t hold it against you that you let me win?”
Ronin said nothing.
“I’m an excellent fighter, but it shouldn’t have been that easy. I have to ask, why did you want the punishment?”
He would’ve been disappointed if Blue hadn’t picked up on it. “Ever done something so unbelievably stupid that you want to kick your own ass?”
“Of course.”
“Since I couldn’t do that, and no one here would help me out, I let you kick it for me.”
Blue laughed.
“I appreciate you following up on my physical condition after the fight.”
“No problem. I never asked if you made any money from the event.”
Ronin paused and studied the guy. Blue’s face carried scars from his fighting years. He was one intimidating motherfucker in the ring. But he had a decent head for business—Ronin had checked him out thoroughly before setting up the meetings. “It’s a nonissue at this point. Do you make money from events?”
“I make enough to tempt me into wanting to make more. I’d like to bring something up before we get into the possible dojo merger. Because if that doesn’t work out, for some reason I think this idea might.”
“I’m listening.”
Blue leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We both know mixed martial arts fighters’ goals are to get into one of the big organizations and fight on a professional level. But if amateurs have no place to fight, how will they establish a record and move up the ranks?”