In the Name of God. Stephen J. Gordon

She was dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt and had long blonde hair that was held together by a silver barrette. She was keeping up with Jon’s vigorous count.

      “Okay, relax.”

      Everyone moved into a sitting position and the few students who attempted the knuckle push-ups gingerly opened their hands. The blonde college girl with the barrette was one of them. Now that she was sitting up I got a better look at her. She was, indeed, a looker. Young, slender but curvy, she had beautiful clear skin, high cheekbones and dark eyes. Her face was red with exertion and beads of sweat had formed on her upper lip. I could also now make out her T-shirt. It had a beautiful depiction of Chinese zodiac symbols, from dragon to tiger to snake, and all signs in between.

      I moved behind her so she couldn’t see me. I caught Jon’s attention. Out of her line of sight I pointed to her and he discretely nodded. I smiled.

      Jon continued with crunches and more leg stretches. Finally, he turned to me and said, “Okay, Sifu, they’re all yours.”

      The class turned to me and I headed to the front of the room. “Good afternoon, everyone.” I was dressed in a pair of black military-issue BDU pants and a turquoise T-shirt depicting an Oriental mountain scene. Very untraditional for a martial arts class. “Anyone ever hear the expression, ‘Your money or your life’?” I looked the group over.

      There were a few murmuring acknowledgments.

      “Well, it’s not true...not anymore. I know of a young man who was on the “A” train in New York a number of years ago with his girlfriend. They were headed to a movie when two guys came up and demanded his money. He gave it to them. Guess what happened next. They wanted his watch...then his ring...then his girlfriend.”

      I paused for effect.

      “And today,” I scanned the faces as I spoke, “even if you give them everything, they might just shoot you for the hell of it...just because.”

      I turned to Jon and waved him over. He hustled and stopped right in front of me.

      “Reach for me, please,” I said to him.

      Jon took a step forward, reaching for me with an open right hand. I parried his arm, side-stepping his grasp. I simultaneously swiveled his far shoulder backwards toward me and swept his right foot. He collapsed to the ground. Jon lay there for a moment, and then sprang to his feet.

      “A fight’s over in less than three seconds, one way or the other. If you want to be the one standing, you better be good. Let’s get started.”

      I began with basic fist and horse stance. With Jon’s assistance, we circulated through the ranks to make sure everyone was on the right track. I noticed he often returned to the blonde college girl to adjust her arm and hip positions.

      In what seemed a matter of moments, the sixty minute class was over. I gave them my homework expectations and then wished them all a good evening. For the most part, the students both young and old left the room, buzzing about what they had just learned.

      As the last of the students filed out, Alli walked in. She was wearing white slacks and a green polo shirt that had a white “Northwest Physical Therapy” logo above the left breast. “Hi there,” she smiled.

      “Hi there.” I leaned in and kissed her.

      “Good class?”

      “Yeah, pretty good. Jon has his eye on a very attractive new student, a college junior he says.” I looked around for my senior student but didn’t see him.

      “I saw him outside, talking to this awesome-looking blonde.”

      “That’s her.”

      “No policy about dating students?” she asked smiling. I didn’t know if she were serious or not.

      “For me, yes. Him, no.”

      “Sounds fair. So, where do you want to go to dinner?”

      “How ‘bout Little Italy? Haven’t been there in a while.”

      “Okay, nothing too fancy, though. I’m not dressed for it.”

      “Fine with me.”

      “And why don’t we ask Jon to come along. He’s never joined us.”

      “Sure, but the boy is busy. He may already have plans.”

      No sooner had I said it, then Jon came back into the room with a huge smile on his face.

      “Don’t tell me,” I said. “You have a date.”

      “Tomorrow night,” he beamed.

      “Jon, Jon, Jon,” I said. “You must be losing your touch.”

      “What?”

      “Not tonight?”

      “I guess she needs the time to dump whoever she’s currently with.”

      “Uh huh.”

      “So since you’re free,” Alli said, “you can join us for dinner.”

      “Definitely,” he looked at me, “If it’s okay with Sifu.”

      “Oh, I suppose.” I smiled, then turned to Alli. “Let me just change my shirt and I’ll be ready to go.”

      “Me too,” Jon said.

      With that, I headed to my office to change while Jon went to the men’s room to quickly wash up. Once in my inner sanctum I pulled off my T-shirt and changed into a blue polo that I kept around. My black cargo-BDU pants would be fine for a casual evening. Besides, I didn’t have another pair of pants. When I returned to the main hall, Alli was checking her cell phone. Jon soon joined us — he had changed into Dockers and a sport shirt — and we were off.

      Alli and I rode in my Jeep and Jon followed us in his Mitsubishi Eclipse. We headed down I-83 — the same road I took last night to Alli’s — but instead of heading to Federal Hill, I turned left onto Eastern Avenue.

      Little Italy, just east of the highway, is just a few square blocks of narrow streets, row houses, eateries, and minimal parking. Curb-side spaces are all but impossible to come by, particularly at dinner time. We circled the block a few times until we came upon a middle-aged couple just getting into their late-model Audi. I waited patiently and then pulled into their spot. Jon, in his Eclipse, drove past, continuing his search. He turned a corner and disappeared.

      Alli and I got out and walked toward where Jon had disappeared. Before we made it to the end of the block, Jon came

      sauntering around the corner. “There’re three spaces just up the street.”

      “Naturally,” I said.

      As we crossed onto High Street, I scanned the area we had just left. A number of pedestrians were walking in our direction. Several were dressed up: sport coats or semi-dressy skirts and nice blouses.

      I stopped for a moment, letting Alli and Jon continue on ahead. I looked back toward where we had parked, and I saw a group of four boys, hanging out at the line of cars. The kids were probably about sixteen or seventeen, and for the most part were dressed in jeans and T-shirts. They looked out of place among the young marrieds and professionals. I could see that one of the boys had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and he was on crutches...not the wood version, but the aluminum type. Every few seconds the quartet looked over at me. I watched them watch me.

      Jon and Alli came back for me, thinking I was just taking in the scenery, and the three of us returned to the task of picking out a restaurant. We settled on a new place called Testa’s, and stepped inside. By now it was 6:30 and the restaurant was moderately full. I was glad to see that they were busy so early in the week. A tall, balding maitre d’ dressed in a black dinner jacket met us, and inquired as to the number in our party. As he checked a seating chart, we looked around. The place was relatively small, but filled with booths along the perimeter and

      tables