The crowd laughed loud, real laughter. Some people clapped along. A man in row
four shifted uncomfortably. A woman in row eight covered her mouth, but nobody
stood up. Nobody said stop.
Tyler kept going. He was warming up now, finding his rhythm. Look at this outfit.
Long sleeves in October. Sweetheart, this is California. Are you cold?
You hiding track marks under there? He grabbed her right wrist. He yanked her
sleeve up two inches. Whitney pulled back calmly, firmly. Her sleeve dropped back
down.
Tyler's eyes flashed dark. Nobody pulled away from him on his own mat. Oh, she's
got fight in her. Look at that. The little black rat's got fight.
He turned to his two students. He snapped his fingers twice. They moved in fast.
Each one took an arm. They pulled them back hard behind her shoulders.
Not hard enough to dislocate, hard enough that she couldn't move. Whitney counted