He couldn’t take the man down and that was solely because the dude was awesome with a damn cane. At least he didn’t go down himself and was sweating less in his shirt sleeves—ungartered—than the instructor.
Pretty much a draw.
Mr. Laverstock pulled a large white handkerchief from his trousers pocket and wiped his face. “We can work one-on-one as we have now, or I have a schedule of classes.” He walked into the open doorway on the far end of the room and returned with a sheet of paper. Zach glanced at it and noticed it was the same as the one posted on the bulletin board. The class coming up in a half hour was called “Victorian Vixens.”
“Our rate sheet is on the back.” Laverstock looked Zach down and up. “You’re good. Even good with that cane when you don’t know much of what you’re doing. Get some sturdier orthopedic shoes and braces for your left foot and ankle. These are the best folks.”
