Chapter 16

"But we're at capacity, sir."

I tugged at the collar of my t-shirt. I found it uncomfortable to dress down. Casual didn't exist in my vernacular. I wanted to blend in as I strolled through the Boys and Girls Club. It had been up and running for a couple months, and already we found ourselves inundated with applications.

I looked over the submissions. Twenty-three came from local social workers hoping to socialize their wards. On the first sheet, I spotted the words "Foster Care" and tossed the papers on the desk.

I let out a long sigh. Southland had an epidemic that needed a resolution bigger than after-school programming. A kid came running down the hall, making a lyrical dinging sound. I chuckled as his music teacher chased him into the lobby.

"Bobby, the triangle stays in the room."

He continued ringing it, proud of the loud sound. I dropped to a squat, holding up a hand to stop his running. Darkness itself bent to my will, and heroes fell in my wake. But a five-year-old with a musical instrument could very well be my undoing.

"You've got an important job, Bobby. They need their best triangle player."

He raised an eyebrow, not convinced. The kid wanted attention and acted up to keep all eyes on him. I almost chuckled when I realized how much I related to a five-year-old.

"Go keep Mrs. Cline in check." I gave her a wink. "And you play that triangle as loud as you can." She frowned at my suggestion. But Elizabeth chuckled from behind the front desk. His teacher collected him and led him down the hall as he struck the metal as hard as his little hands allowed.

"Elizabeth," I stood up. "Admit them all."

"But—"

"We'll make it work."

"I'm sure you will."

Turning, I was delighted to see Won-Ho. I think I preferred his smile over the usual brooding. He gave a slight wave, standing in the doorway. I waved him in. It wasn't an accident that I invited him to the club. This had been the catalyst for our first meeting. It only seemed fitting that he saw it in action. I gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. His body tensed at the physical contact.

Normalizing. We'd work on that.

I set the papers on the desk. "Have Director Shapiro reach out to the candidates. Have him make a list of necessary accommodations, and we'll find a way."

She nodded. I ignored the slight tilt of the head toward Won-Ho. There was only so familiar I'd get with my employees. She could fish for information all day. She'd be going home empty-handed.

I ushered Won-Ho down the hallway.

"I expected another cultural disaster," he jested.

"Lesson learned. I'll be asking for recommendations before making assumptions."

"He can be taught."

I pressed a hand in the small of his back, directing him to a window looking into a classroom. Twenty young children sat at tables while doing worksheets. The teacher moved about the room, stopping to help a kid in distress.

"Homework assistance. They're struggling in school, so we make sure they're getting help."

"What about their parents?"

"Most work multiple jobs. They get help here until their parents pick them up." He reached out, his pinky hooking my finger. "Those with parents, that is. A large portion is in the foster care system."

"Is this what you needed as a kid?"

I pondered the question. I didn't regret my upbringing. It made me who I am. At the same time, I wonder if I could have reached my potential sooner had somebody been guiding me along.

"Perhaps," I admitted. "I was one of the lucky ones."

Taking a chance, I put my hand in his, squeezing his fingers. I pulled at his arm. He'd see the rest of the facility eventually, but this wasn't the reason I invited him. My chest tightened at the thought. I was either going to help Won-Ho, or this would be the moment he retreated into himself. As much as I wanted him for myself, it'd only happen once he let go of his guilt.

"This is the rec center." I pushed through the double doors into an indoor basketball court. A row of bleachers lined the left wall, where a coach sat watching a dozen kids play kickball.

Won-Ho stopped, pulling his hand away. The secret was out of the bag.

"No."

I turned to see the color drain from his face. He was truly afraid. He could stop a tank, but the sight of children terrified him. Well, not all the kids, just one in particular.

At the home plate, Dae prepared for the pitch, leg drawn back. As the ball rolled in his direction, he charged, toe connecting and sending it soaring. They had similarities, enough to tell there was a relation. The kid ran past first, arms pumping as he made his way for second base. I looked back to see Won-Ho mouthing, "Go. Go. Go."

He cleared second and stopped, the ball nearly hitting him. He picked up the pace again, rounding third. Won-Ho's words grew louder as Dae approached home base. The catcher chucked the ball, and he ducked. Safely out of harm's way, he made it to home. His team behind the plate cheered, jumping up and down. When Dae threw his arms around his teammates, joining in the victory dance, Won-Ho's hand found its way to the middle of my back.

"You don't need to talk to him. I wanted you to know he's surviving, thriving even."

Won-Ho wiped the tears from his eyes. He shook his head, his neutral lawyer face setting in. I watched as he compartmentalized, sealing his pain away for a later time. He gave a slight nod. "We can talk." His voice trembled.

We walked to the bleachers as the coach went to talk to the kids. We took a seat as he gave them each high fives. He was already organizing the kids into new teams for another round. I couldn't fathom why kids found the sport exhilarating. Kicking a rubber ball and running in circles… I guess it was no worse than any other sport.

"Dae," I shouted. "Can I speak with you?"

The coach waved, giving Dae permission to go. Unlike Won-Ho, his grandchild would be described as lanky and still in that awkward stage of adolescence. Since I orchestrated this restoration, I broke the ice and gave Won-Ho a moment to collect himself.

"Dae, my name is Damien Vex." I extended a hand. He had a firm handshake; somebody had taught him the importance of first impressions. "I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine." When Won-Ho didn't speak up, I gave him a nudge with my knee. "He's kind of shy."

"Jal jinaesseoyo?"

"Jal." Dae's eyes went wide. "You speak Korean?"

Won-Ho nodded. "My parents are from Busan. They?—"

"My family is from Busan, too!"

Won-Ho grew quiet. This might have been too intimate for his first encounter. I had suspicions of why he was estranged from his family, and it wouldn't be resolved with a single meeting. After decades of wallowing, he had gotten this far. I wouldn't let him recede, not yet.

"Dae…" I stood up, taking off my jacket. "Do you think coach would let us play?" I guess it had been a good call to wear sensible dress shoes today. "That's if my friend would like to play."

I stood next to Dae, my smile stretching from ear to ear.

"Won-Ho," he said, standing and flexing his arms.

"He's on my team." Dae took Won-Ho by the hand and pulled him toward the group of kids. I would be offended at not being picked if it weren't adorable how fast the kid rebounded from the awkward exchange.

"Coach, we're coming in," I shouted.

* * *

"Take it easy on him, Dae," the coach shouted. "He's my boss."

I removed my cufflinks and rolled up my sleeves. If members of the board saw this, they'd believe me a doppelg?nger from the mirror dimension. Lifting weights didn't help with running. Even in a friendly game of kickball, I refused to have my ego tarnished. Victory was only?—

"Two strikes," Won-Ho said behind me. Acting as their catcher, he squatted low to the ground, ready to grab the ball. I'd need to revisit the image of his straining jeans at a later time. "Cream him."

"Oh, no," I said, stepping up to the plate. "We're winning this."

We were down by one. Macy stood on third base, ready to tie the score. I'd need to make a home run. I stared down the lane at Dae as he wound the pitch. With a couple of quick steps, he released it. Bounce. Bounce. I just had to time it?—

My toe connected, sending it sailing toward the back of the gym. Mary was already running. "Run. Run. Run." I nearly forgot the rules of the game. I leaned forward, moving toward first base. My shoes were anything but sensible as they slid along the floor. By the time I gained momentum, Simon already had the ball in hand.

"Run!" my tiny teammates shouted.

I made it to the first base, but it wasn't enough. The ball sped toward me. I slid, almost falling. The unfortunate balance served me as it sailed overhead. If I could do it, we'd win.

I struck second base and made my way for third as Lucy threw the ball to Dae. I touched the rubber base and saw the straightaway for home. The only thing standing in my way was a massive man with a devilish grin stapled on his face.

"Shit," I mumbled between ragged breaths.

I charged forward. I prayed Lucy missed her throw or Won-Ho dropped the ball. She lobbed a perfectly placed pitch, and Won-Ho caught it. I realized my only way to victory required dodging this handsome man. I slowed my approach. There was no way I'd slide, not in these pants.

"Come on," I said, hands on my knees. "We can win. We're so close." The kids had no idea what was going on as Won-Ho approached, the red kickball gripped in one hand. "Give me a break. I haven't sported…" I'm pretty sure a heart attack set in. I'd need to work on my cardio.

Won-Ho was within arm's reach, the ball only a foot from tagging me out. Did I plead? For the good of the kids? "You're not going to cut me a break, are you?"

He shook his head. "Never." That summed up our relationship thus far. As he pushed the ball against my chest, he whispered. "I'll always call you out." It was the very thing that first drew me to him.

Won-Ho turned to Dae, raising his hands above his head. The kids came charging in, cheering. While they celebrated, I turned to my team of sour-faced children. Would it be wrong to buy them consolation cars? Nothing fancy, just something to learn with.

"Next time, better shoes," scolded Macy. I'm pretty sure she dragged her finger across her throat to ensure I knew my place in this social hierarchy.

"Ice cream for everybody!" I yelled. Now, even the losing team cheered. Not Macy. She glared. I'd have to watch my back with that one.

The double doors to the gym opened, and even with the light creating a silhouette, I recognized the hulking form. It seemed Vanguard's treasured hero made house calls. The cabal probably informed him about the change in ownership of their respective buildings.

"I need to see to this," I said to the coach as I passed. Rolling my sleeves down, I worked my way back to normal. With a gymnasium full of kids, Bernard wouldn't make a scene. Though, with his friends, who knew what the man would do?

As I approached, I tried not to take satisfaction in the frown on his face. He may have beaten me in a physical confrontation, but he'd never be able to keep up with my business prowess. It was time to take satisfaction in my new acquisitions.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Bernard's mustache twitched as he growled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Kickball. Though, I admit not very well."

He stepped closer, our chests brushing against one another. Swallowing the growl, he drove a finger into my chest. "I'm not here to play your games, Vex. I gave you a chance to walk away. But if you mess with my friends?—"

"You'll what? Put me in jail? For making legal purchases?" I leaned in closer. "Or were you thinking something bloodier?"

His body tensed. I wondered, if not for the sound of children, would he unleash his full might in a single blow? It'd almost be worth it to see the infamous Sentinel lose control. The harder he hit, the closer I came to victory.

"I warned you," I said. "I'm going to destroy everything you hold dear." Holding my breath, I waited for the sucker punch. Come on, Bernard, don't hold back now, not while there was an audience.

"Can I help you?"

I turned to see Won-Ho. The kids were busy packing bags as he approached. If I didn't know better, I'd say there was a bit of swagger in his walk. He knew who stood in front of me, if not by reputation, then by my wall of obsession. I hadn't anticipated him breaking up our reunion.

"None of your concern. This is between me and Vex."

"If it involves Vex, it is my concern."

Confusion. Attraction. They came as a cacophony of mixed emotions. Part of me wanted him to continue his reunion with Dae, but another part wanted him there to partake. I'd have to dissect that later.

Won-Ho stopped at my side with a hand resting in the middle of my back. "Whatever your grievance, this is not the place."

Bernard's eyes narrowed, never looking away from me. Smart man. His lip quivered as he bit back the rage. "This is your only warning?—"

"I'm going to stop you…" Won-Ho inched forward. "Before you say something stupid. Back off, Sentinel."

Now Bernard's eyes turned to Won-Ho. I held back the grin as the blue light from Won-Ho's chest took the form of a tiger. It was one thing to stand by my side and brush off Bernard's aggression, but to bring powers into the equation? Won-Ho had effectively turned up the intensity.

"You come here, to a bastion Vex built for the impoverished. You interrupt a group of children playing games. For what? Because your pride is hurt? For all the rumors I've heard about the legendary Sentinel, he strikes me as nothing more than a bully. Today, it's you who's the criminal."

Willing to summon his powers and bring out his inner lawyer? If we weren't seconds from having lightning hurled at us, I'd acknowledge the swelling in my chest… or the stiffness in my pants.

"This isn't over, Vex."

"But it is," Won-Ho finished.

Won-Ho had maneuvered himself between Bernard and myself. I wanted to be angry that he had gotten in the way, ruining a perfectly executed plan. With a single punch, I'd have destroyed his reputation. Won-Ho robbed me of the opportunity. And yet…

"Toodles," I said with a wave.

"Don't be childish," Won-Ho said. He didn't budge as Bernard stormed away, fists clenched. It hadn't gone according to plan. I didn't need Won-Ho to save me, not in the least. I had concocted a plan that Bernard couldn't punch his way out of. Part of me was irked, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Won-Ho stood up for me. Not did he just defend me. He had challenged the city's golden child.

"You're hardly innocent."

With that, he turned and headed back toward the kids. I'd need time to process what had occurred. I didn't intimidate Won-Ho in the least. More than that, he had no problem putting me in my place. I couldn't recall the last time a man had done that. He had established himself as my equal, not by climbing upward but by knocking the pedestal out from under my feet.

I should be angry. Even as I tried to intellectualize the situation, my brain fell victim to a hurricane of emotions. Won-Ho continued to stir something I couldn't quite define, and I didn't hate it.

Setting the inner conflict aside, I had a group of children chanting for ice cream. Right now, the only person who considered me a villain would be their dentist.