Chapter Text
Somewhat reluctantly, Lyle returned to his store. He’d hoped things would start to pick up around lunchtime, but it looked like it was going to be another slow day all around.
Over the next hour, only two more customers walked in; a middle-aged woman looking to hock her ex-husbands (fake) Rolex, and an excited young couple who were looking for a pair of ‘affordable’ (a.k.a. dirt cheap) wedding rings. They looked like they were barely out of high school. As he rang them up, Lyle wondered how long they would last.
He gave it seven months, tops, before those rings were right back in his display case.
After another thirty minutes of aimless dusting and rearranging, Lyle gave up and pulled out his phone. Maybe ordering lunch would make the time pass faster. He’d just opened a delivery app and was trying to decide between a sub sandwich or tacos, when the bell over his door finally rang.
“Hello, welcome in. How can I help you to–” The usual greeting died on Lyle’s lips when he glanced up and saw who’d just walked in. “Oh god, not you again!” he groaned, laying his head down on the counter in despair.
“Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you lunch?” Johnny Lawrence smirked, swinging a large paper bag in one hand and a drink carrier in the other.
Lyle gave him a narrow-eyed glare as the door clanged shut behind him. “I didn’t order anything yet.”
“And I don’t drive for Uber Eats anymore, dickhead,” Johnny shot back, dropping the sack on the counter with a cheerful grin. “Taquito?” he asked, before pulling a Styrofoam box out of the bag and shaking it in his face. “Or perhaps I can interest you in an empanada? I didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought both.”
“How ‘bout neither.” Lyle grimaced, remembering the last time this overgrown trash panda brought him food.
“C’mon man, you’re seriously gonna turn down a free meal?”
“I’m pretty sure anything you touched will give me rabies, so yes.”
“You know, you should be thanking me. I actually did you a favor.” Johnny opened the box of taquitos and waggled one under Lyle’s nose. “That place you ordered from last time sucked ass. I had to wait almost thirty minutes for them to even get your order ready, and it was already stone cold by the time I got it to my car.”
“Which you wouldn’t have known, if you kept your grubby raccoon hands off my food.” Lyle complained, watching him flip open another container. This one was full of tortilla chips, along with sides of queso, salsa, and guacamole.
“Exactly. It’s called quality control. You’re welcome, by the way.” Johnny grinned as he dipped his taquito in the cup of queso and took a loud, crunchy bite. He moaned obscenely around his mouthful, his eyes sliding closed. “Oh my god! Dude, you’ve gotta try these!” he insisted, pushing the box toward Lyle.
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m not hungry.”
Of course, because it was just that kind of day, his stomach had to go and immediately make a liar out of him. It chose that exact moment to give a loud, insistent rumble.
The fuckin’ traitor.
Johnny gave him a knowing smirk and tapped the screen of Lyle’s phone, which was still laying on the counter, open to the DoorDash app. Lyle snatched it away and pocketed it with a scowl.
“Look, I’m not trying to poison you, man.” Johnny sighed, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not lying about the food, either. It’s really good. One of my students recommended this place. They’re like, authentic and shit. They cook everything fresh and look! They even sealed the containers with little stickers so you’d know I didn’t tamper with them on the way here.”
He pushed the unopened box of empanadas toward Lyle, and sure enough, it was still sealed, the smiling taco sticker that held it shut untouched. While that did help ease his mind a bit, he was still suspicious of the sudden show of generosity.
“What gives?” he asked, waving at the admittedly delicious smelling spread before him. “What do you want?”
Johnny grabbed one of the cups from the drink carrier and awkwardly slurped at his soda. “Well, I mean, I do owe you a meal, for one thing. But, you know, the last time I was in here, you gave me some pretty sound advice. And then this morning, the way you called out LaRusso –”
“I didn’t do it for you!” Lyle interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, I know you didn’t!” Johnny rushed to assure him. “But still, I just wanted to say… thanks. I appreciate it, all the same.”
For a fleeting moment Johnny smiled at him, small and sincere, before quickly clearing his throat and looking away. He busied himself with setting out the rest of the bag’s contents. Napkins, plastic utensils, more cups of salsa of varying heats, and a foil-wrapped burrito joined the rest of the feast.
“Um, I had two, but I gave the other one to Lynn,” Johnny explained with a sheepish shrug, pushing the burrito across the counter. “It’s yours, if you want it.”
His stomach finally won out over his good judgment. With a defeated sigh, Lyle reached for the burrito and one of the plastic knives. “We can split it,” he offered, already trying to saw it in half with the flimsy cutlery. “Go lock the door and flip the sign to closed, will ya?”
There was that smile again, the mega-watt one from that morning, except this time, the full, sunny blast of it was directed right at him. Lyle had to force himself to keep his eyes down, lest he do something foolish, like stare directly into it, or start counting the crinkles around those stupidly pretty blue eyes.
Shit! Lyle thought, biting the inside of his cheek. I’ve made a huge mistake.
There was a definite bounce in Johnny’s step as he returned from locking the door. “So, I take it things are going better now?” Lyle asked, trying for casual as he shoved Johnny’s half of the burrito at him. “Haven’t had to bust out the disposable gloves to sort through your old Playboys in a while.”
Instead of looking rightfully ashamed, Johnny batted his eyelashes with a mocking grin. “Aww, did you miss me?”
“No, I missed the business your dojo brought to the strip mall,” Lyle corrected, taking an angry bite out of an empanada. He had to stifle an appreciative moan; the blond bastard was right, they were incredible – the filling was piping hot and perfectly seasoned. “Nestor made bank on those rich kids and their fake IDs.”
“Uh-huh, suuuuure…” Johnny smirked, ignoring his half of the burrito in favor of grabbing a handful of chips for himself. “Admit it, it’s been boring around here without me, hasn’t it?”
“What you call boring, others would call peaceful.”
“Oh, wow. That bad, huh?” Johnny teased, popping a chip into his mouth with a loud crunch. “But to answer your real question, yes, I can actually afford all this. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking the bank just to buy your bitchy ass lunch.”
“That’s not what I – I wasn’t worried!”
Johnny waved off his protest. “Yeah, you were. But it’s alright, I get it. Things weren’t exactly going great for me the last time we saw each other. Or like, ever, I suppose.”
“But they are now?” Lyle asked, reaching for the burrito and the mild salsa.
Johnny nodded, slowly chewing and swallowing the bite he’d just taken. “Yeah. I mean, the whole baby thing wound up being a scare, thank god. And things didn’t work out with Carmen in the end. But I still took your advice, and my relationship with Robby is a lot better now because of it. And business is good. Really good.”
“That a fact?” Lyle asked skeptically, both eyebrows raised.
“Not gonna lie, things were kinda bumpy for a while. For a guy that’s always going on about balance, LaRusso didn’t seem to realize how unbalanced our partnership was at first. Or maybe he did, and he just preferred it that way?” Johnny said with a frown. “But whatever, we figured it out in the end. That’s all that really matters.”
“Unbalanced? Like, talent-wise, or…”
“Fuck you,” Johnny laughed, throwing a chip at his head. “Nah, we’re pretty evenly matched in that department. It just felt like he held all the cards in the beginning. Like, financially and stuff. After Kreese stole the dojo out from under me, I had nothing. He didn’t just take the space itself, but all the equipment I’d bought to fill it. Hell, he even kept my old trophies that were on display.”
Lyle nodded; he’d always thought it was suspicious that one day Johnny was there, and the next he was just… gone. The one time he’d gotten up the nerve to ask what happened to him, the old guy had taken on this greasy, faux-paternal air and claimed that Johnny had decided to take a step back for his own good, to deal with some ‘personal issues.’ When Johnny came into the shop a few weeks later, desperately trying to raise money to help the Diaz kid, it seemed to give credence to his story. But clearly, something far more sinister had been going on behind the scenes.
“Anyway, when we decided to combine forces, all I had to bring to the table were my students,” Johnny continued, idly picking a jalapeno out of his half of the burrito. “Who are badass, don’t get me wrong. I’ll take my dweebs over anyone - anytime, anywhere. But still, we were using LaRusso’s dojo: his turf, his resources, his rules. We were co-senseis on paper, but most of the time I felt more like an employee than an equal, I guess. Except I wasn’t even getting paid, since he had us teaching for free. Hence the Uber-ing.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a partnership,” Lyle observed, reaching for his Coke and taking a sip.
“Because it wasn’t. We couldn’t even agree on what to teach. We ended up splitting the class, just so we didn’t have to deal with each other. I thought his lessons were boring – I mean, they basically amounted to child labor. Meanwhile, he thought all my ideas were terrible, because they came from me, and I came from Cobra Kai, and Cobra Kai is evil and poisons everything in touches. So, therefore, my whole philosophy must be evil and poisoned, too, I guess?”
“You have a philosophy? Do you even know what that word means?”
Johnny shot him an insulted look. “Hell yeah, I have a philosophy – to kick ass!”
“And I’m sure his objections to your lessons had nothing to do with all the safety hazards,” Lyle countered with a sly smile. “Don’t give me that look, I overheard your kids talking about the cement mixer thing.”
“Anyway…” Johnny said, choosing to ignore that. “The point is, even when he said he was open to trying things my way, it felt like he was just humoring me. Waiting for me to slip up so he could swoop in, kick me to the curb and take over. Do things the ‘right’ way.”
“AKA, his way.”
Johnny nodded. “Which he eventually tried to do. Said I needed to step aside and let him take over. That he knew what was best for my students, blah blah blah. I mean, I know now that he had his reasons, and I should’ve taken his warnings more seriously. But it still felt really fuckin’ bad at the time, you know?” he finished with a helpless shrug. “I’d already lost my dojo, I didn’t want to lose my kids, too.”
Lyle chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “So, what changed? How’d you two manage to work it out?”
Johnny leaned heavily against the counter, mouth twisting in a bitter smirk. “We didn’t. Not at first, anyway. We were both so stubborn and dead set in our ways that we ended up getting a ‘dojo divorce.’ Least, that’s what the kids called it.”
The thought of his students made Johnny’s lips momentarily quirk in a fond smile. But it was quickly replaced by a frustrated scowl. “It was so fucking stupid. They begged us to let it go, but neither of us wanted to compromise. So, we called it quits. Played right into Cobra Kai’s hands.”
“Divide and conquer. Oldest trick in the book.”
Johnny hummed in agreement. “And we fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Wasn’t until we were at the All Valley and one match away from losing everything that we realized our mistake. And by then it was too late. The damage was already done.”
“Didn’t I see on the local news awhile back that they got caught cheating? Rich guy bribed a ref or somethin’?” It was Lyle’s turn to frown. “Pretty sure it was that tall, ponytailed grandpa I used to see around here sometimes? Looked like a coke dealer right out of bad 80s action movie?”
Johnny was mid-sip when he said it. He laughed so hard he snorted soda up his nose. “Oh, fuck! Terry Silver, yeah,” he wheezed, eyes watering. “The one and only. Thank god for that.”
Lyle’s eyes widened when he finally put the name with the ponytail. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? The Terry Silver? Isn’t that dude like, a billionaire?” he sneered in disgust. “He could, I dunno, cure cancer or end homelessness. Make the world a better place with all that money. And instead, he uses it to rig a kids karate tournament? What kind of loser even does that?”
“The completely unhinged kind,” Johnny replied with a small shudder. “Look, it’s a long story. Let’s just say, the guy has a massive hateboner for LaRusso. And maybe just a regular boner, too?” he added, nose wrinkled in disgust. “I mean, he’s not exactly my biggest fan, either, but yeah. He’s been obsessed with destroying Daniel since the 80s. He bought up like, half the dojos in the Valley, just to try and crush him. And when that didn’t work, he tried to crush his trachea. With his foot.”
“Kinda like what that Kreese guy did to you?”
Johnny blinked in surprise, burrito halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowered it back down, looking like he’d just lost his appetite.
“So, you heard that part, huh?” he said slowly, gulping down another sip of soda.
“Yeah, I heard that part,” Lyle admitted, softening his tone. “He really tried to strangle you to death? That wasn’t just LaRusso being a drama queen?”
The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to laugh. But then he remembered what they were talking about, and his expression shuttered. “It’s not the same. What Silver did to Daniel was different.”
“How so? Abuse is abuse.”
Johnny just gaped at him for a second, before he finally managed to pull himself back together. He gave himself a shake, then took an aggressive bite out of the burrito.
“It just is,” he grumbled, unable to meet Lyle’s eyes.
They ate in tense silence for another minute or two, until Lyle finally let his curiosity get the better of him. “So, those guys are out of the picture now, right? Kreese and Silver? They’re not gonna be coming around here again, I hope?”
Johnny wadded up his half of the burrito wrapper and threw it in the bag. He propped his elbows on the display case and leaned forward with a tired sigh. “Nah, they’re both behind bars, where they belong. And I have full ownership of the Cobra Kai name and logo now, so they couldn’t use it even if they –”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. How did that happen? I thought they pushed you out? Like, I literally just overheard you tellin’ LaRusso that you never really owned it in the first place. Which was dumb, by the way. Always make sure you’re not infringing on someone else’s trademark before you name your business.”
“Thanks for the hot tip,” Johnny deadpanned.
“You’re welcome. You can repay my generosity by finishing the story. How’d you get Cobra Kai back? And is it legally binding?”
“I won it in a bet. And yes, it’s legal. Got it in writing this time, and everything.”
For a guy who finally won something, Johnny didn’t seem all that happy about it. Nor did he act like he was going to elaborate anytime soon. Instead of continuing, he munched on another taquito so he could avoid having to talk.
“Well?” Lyle prompted after another long minute of thoughtful crunching. “You gonna tell me what happened, or not?”
Johnny glanced at his watch, lips quirking in an infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is. I’m sure a busy guy like you has better things to do than talk to me.”
He was right. Lyle knew he should probably thank him for the food and kick him out, get back to work. But the thought of spending another four hours alone with nothing to do but rearrange his inventory and dust the already spotless shelves was unappealing, to say the least.
“What can I say, you caught me on a slow day.” He shrugged, pulling up a stool and settling in. “Start at the beginning.”
“Like, the beginning-beginning?” Johnny arched an eyebrow. “‘Cuz that’s like, taking it all the way back to Vietnam, dude.”
Lyle cast another glance out at the deserted parking lot. The only car besides Johnny’s Caravan was parked way down at the other end, in front of the vape shop. Even Lynn had disappeared to god knows where. Probably searching for some meth to go with her burrito. The strip mall was a ghost town.
“I got time.”
Johnny’s nose scrunched up in a wince. “I’m warning you, it’s totally nuts. You’re not gonna believe half of it. Hell, I still don’t believe half of it, and I was there. Well, except for the Vietnam parts, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Lyle rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s totally nuts, wouldn’t expect anything less with your crazy ass involved,” he quipped, making Johnny laugh. He was struck again by the way he seemed to light up from within when he smiled like that. Trying to ignore that thought and the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest, Lyle grabbed another handful of chips and settled in for story time.
Johnny hadn’t oversold it. Over the next hour, he detailed what was quite possibly one of the most batshit stories Lyle had ever heard in his life. And he’d grown up watching All My Children every day with his Grandma Sophia. Ranging from the jungles of Vietnam to a tiny fishing village in Okinawa, all the way back to the Encino Hills and their very own, humble Reseda mini mall, it was too wild to be anything but true.
No one could make that shit up.
“So let me see if I’ve got this straight…” Lyle said slowly, when Johnny finally paused for breath. “Your old Sensei’s tried to kill you twice now–”
“Three times, actually,” Johnny corrected in a bored tone, slurping at the dregs of his Coke and rattling the leftover ice. “We haven’t gotten to the third attempt, yet.”
“And the first was when you were still just a kid.”
“I was seventeen,” Johnny mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the stool Lyle had dragged out of the storage room for him to sit on.
“Like I said, a kid,” Lyle insisted, not letting him minimize it. “Your son’s about that age, right? Would you call him an adult?”
“Probably more of one than me,” Johnny tried to joke. He quickly sobered when he didn’t get the expected laugh. “But, no. I suppose I wouldn’t.”
“So, to sum up: this Kreese guy assaulted a minor in public, didn’t face any legal consequences for that shit – where the hell were your parents during all of this, by the way?”
“It was the 80’s,” Johnny said with a dismissive shrug, avoiding his actual question. “No one blinked an eye if a kid got smacked around a little.”
Lyle chose not to push it but put a mental asterisk next to that one. “And then a year later, he and his old war buddy did it all over again. Only this time, he faked his own death so they could manipulate and terrorize LaRusso for months on end. All because their precious dojo got embarrassed at a kiddie tournament. And even now, literal decades later, they’re still in their feelings about it? Is that about the shape of it?”
“I did say it was crazy.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. Silver – an actual, real-deal billionaire – came out of karate retirement just for the pleasure of fucking with LaRusso some more? I know the guy’s irritating, but c’mon!”
“Messing with him is fun,” Johnny said, almost fondly.
“Oh, and then, just for funsies, he tried to kill you, too?”
“I mean, I don’t know if he would’ve actually gone through with it,” Johnny mumbled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Think he just planned on roughing me up.”
Lyle gave him an incredulous look. “He lured you to an abandoned building and ambushed you. You said it yourself, he was out of control and the only thing that stopped him was Kreese intervening to save you. Because I guess the only one allowed to murder you is him?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Johnny set down his empty cup with a frown. “Then he got pissed at Kreese for ‘choosing’ me over him, lost his shit, beat Stingray half to death, and framed Kreese for attempted murder. Who later used some cherry Jello to fake his own death again and escape from jail.”
“What. The. Fuck.” Lyle shook his head in dismay.
“I know, it sounds ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with these people?!”
Johnny gave a half-hearted shrug. “Kreese I kinda get. Cobra Kai was his baby. He couldn’t stand to see it succeeding without him, so he came back and stole it out from under me. Which almost makes sense, in a completely twisted, obsessive kind of way. But Silver… he had a billion-dollar empire and multiple mansions in Malibu, and he threw it all away. And for what? Revenge? To prove himself? I dunno, man. Don’t ask me to explain how that guy’s mind works, because I don’t get it, either.”
“You really weren’t kidding. Your life is completely insane,” Lyle declared in no uncertain terms.
“Told ya,” Johnny said, his trademark smirk not quite reaching his eyes. He suddenly seemed exhausted, like the events of the last few years had caught up to him all at once. Lyle wondered if this was the first time he had really talked to anyone, about any of it. It didn’t seem like he had many people he could confide in, and he didn’t strike him as the therapy type.
“Sometimes, I think I should’ve just found another handyman job, instead of opening the dojo,” Johnny said out of nowhere, interrupting his thoughts.
“Were you a better handyman than you were a delivery boy?”
“Not really,” Johnny admitted, leaning his head on one hand. “But maybe everyone would’ve been better off that way.”
“Everyone except the poor suckers that hired you to hang their new flatscreens,” Lyle teased, but his effort to get another laugh out of him failed miserably. Now he just looked plain sad, which really wasn’t what he’d been trying to accomplish.
It turned out, Johnny was surprisingly good company, when he wasn’t being a total pain in the ass. And he was a half-decent storyteller, to boot. Against all expectations, his boring afternoon had actually ended up being kind of…
Fun?
Lyle realized with a jolt he was actually enjoying himself. Or he had been, before Johnny got all mopey and started making that kicked puppy face at him.
Determined to lighten the mood, he pushed aside the bag that was now full of their trash and propped his elbows on the counter. “So, basically what you’re telling me is, all of this shit could’ve been avoided if those two old bastards just nutted up and went to therapy?”
That at least got a half smile out of him. “Silver was in therapy for a while, believe it or not. For all the good it did him. Guess he went off his meds, or something? At least, that’s what his defense claimed in court. Money down the drain, if you ask me. I dunno, their whole thing is…” Johnny trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s weird. And complicated. And really fuckin’ gay. Between you and me, if they’d just fucked it out way back in ‘Nam, they could’ve spared us all a lot of pain and suffering.”
Lyle choked on the sip of soda he’d just taken. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, Johnny’s words, or the matter of fact, non-derogatory way in which he said them. He’d expected more blatant, overt homophobia, from a caveman like him.
But then he thought about the way he and LaRusso had interacted earlier, whatever weird flirt-fighting thing they had going on, and realized maybe it wasn’t so weird, after all.
“One might say the same for you and LaRusso,” Lyle offhandedly suggested, testing out his new theory.
Johnny’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “What?! No! God, no! He’s not my type.”
“Why, because he’s got a dick?”
“No, because he’s got a wife. A smoking hot, terrifying wife. You should meet her sometime, she’s great. You’d love her. Though, word to the wise – stay away from her if she’s got a baseball bat. Just sayin’.”
“Terrifying? Mr. Badass is scared of a babe?”
“Listen, that babe walked into Cobra Kai alone and slapped John Kreese in the face. He took out a restraining order on her. Damn right I’m scared of Amanda LaRusso.”
“But if the wife wasn’t in your way…” Lyle trailed off, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“But she is, and I respect her. I’m no homewrecker. Besides, LaRusso’s a mouthy, annoying little shit. He doesn’t know when to shut up, or when to let things go. There’s no quit in him. He’s a real…” Johnny trailed off, a look of dawning, horrified comprehension on his face. “…firecracker.”
“He’s exactly your type, isn’t he?”
Johnny buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Maybe. But it would never work.”
“Why not?”
“Too much history.”
Lyle hummed in agreement. “But if you didn’t have all that?”
Johnny’s glared at him from between his fingers. “Are you a pawn shop owner, or a matchmaker?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Because it’s a stupid question,” Johnny sighed, propping his chin in one hand. “We do have history. A whole airport baggage carousel full of it. Maybe there’s another universe where I didn’t publicly kick his ass ten seconds after I first laid eyes on him or spend half our senior year making his life a living hell. But this ain’t it.”
“That’s actually a very mature and measured way of looking at it,” Lyle admitted, albeit begrudgingly.
“Yeah, guess the uptight little prick is starting to rub off on me. Just not in the fun way.”
“There he is,” Lyle chuckled, snapping his fingers and pointing at Johnny’s smirking face. “There’s the asshole I know and –”
“Love?” Johnny finished for him with a knowing smirk.
“Tolerate,” Lyle corrected with an eyeroll and a sneer. “Begrudgingly.”
Johnny rested both elbows on the counter and leaned in close. “You know, if you’re not careful, I’m gonna start to think that you actually like me.”
Lyle crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. “Yeah, well. I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say you’re no longer at the top of my shit list. You can thank your buddy LaRusso, for that.”
Johnny leaned in even closer and dropped his voice to a whisper, like he was about to tell him a state secret. “Look, if you ever tell him I said this, I’ll deny it to my dying breath, but… LaRusso’s alright.”
Lyle arched an eyebrow. “Just alright? You’re really selling me on him, here.”
“Okay, so he can be a little high strung sometimes. And judgy. But he’s really not so bad, once you get to know him. I know you’re pissed at him right now. As you have every right to be!” Johnny placated, raising his hands in surrender when he saw the unmoved expression on Lyle’s face. “But still. You should give him a chance to make it right. He’s actually a pretty good dude, when he’s not jumping to conclusions and busting down your door at 9:00 am.”
“Do I even wanna know?” Lyle asked with a put-upon sigh.
Who was he kidding? He really did want to know.
“Remember that busted flat screen I brought you?”
“Which one?”
“Ha. Funny. The first one. Anyway, his daughter got wasted at a party, right? As teenagers do. And my son, in his infinite wisdom, brought her to my place to sleep it off, since he knew her dad would freak the fuck out if he saw her like that. Sure enough, next morning, LaRusso realizes she didn’t come home and flips his shit. Which, you know, fair enough. He was worried about his kid. But then he used that Find My iChild app and tracked her phone to my place.”
“Lemme guess, he lost his whole damn mind?”
“He starts yelling at me, demanding I let him in. And you know, losing his cool with me is one thing, I can take the heat. But I didn’t want him flipping out on the kids. Especially not on Robby, he wasn’t even the one who’d been drinking. So I tried to get him to calm down before I let him in, but –”
“He got impatient and kicked your door in?” Lyle finished for him.
“And then I kicked him face first into the TV.”
Lyle shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “Christ. And you two seriously think you’re gonna make this whole partnership thing work?”
“I mean, yeah? It’s working so far. Turns out we’re actually pretty good team. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that.”
“But your common enemy has been defeated, so… what now?”
“We have more in common than just Cobra Kai. But we probably could use a good couples’ therapist. Just in case. Got any recommendations?”
“I can tell you who not to go to,” Lyle muttered darkly.
Johnny glanced down, seemingly noticing the lack of a ring on Lyle’s hand for the first time.
“Oh,” he said eloquently, blinking at his naked ring finger, the paler line of skin where a wedding band used to be.
“Yeah. Oh.” Lyle grimaced as he self-consciously pulled his hand back behind the counter.
“Was that because of…” Johnny trailed off, once again looking guilty. “I mean, like, what you were saying this morning, about the rent hike derailing your business plans. Did that put a strain on your marriage, or…”
“Not as big of a strain as my husband fucking his personal trainer,” Lyle bluntly replied.
Johnny winced. “Dude, that sucks. I’m sorry, man. Want me to go kick his ass for you?”
Lyle once again found himself holding back a smile. Seriously, what was happening? Why did he suddenly find this caveman so charming?
“Nah, my lawyer already kicked his ass in court. I appreciate the offer, though.”
And, weirdly enough, he realized he actually did appreciate it. It was almost…
…Sweet?
Oh, hell no.
“Well, if you ever change your mind,” Johnny offered, making a show of cracking his knuckles. “Seriously, though. I am sorry. That must’ve been rough.”
Lyle shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. “Rougher on our kids than on me.”
At the mention of kids, Johnny’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit!” he muttered, tugging his phone out of his pocket to check the time on his lock screen. “Hate to cut and run, but I’ve got a class to teach. LaRusso’s busy, so I’m on my own today. Should’ve been there ten minutes ago.”
Lyle bit back an amused smile as he watched him scramble to gather up all of his things. “Have you ever considered, I dunno, maybe setting an alarm?”
Johnny stopped and gave him a blank stare. “What good would that do me when I’m not at home to hear it?”
“I meant setting an alarm on your – Christ, here, give me your phone, you luddite.”
Johnny handed it over without a fuss. Lyle frowned down at the cracks spiderwebbing across the screen. “Jesus Christ, what did you do? Drop kick it across the dojo?”
“It was like that when I bought it,” Johnny said defensively.
“Who sold you this piece of crap?”
“One of my students. He works at Tech Town.”
“And what did you do to piss him off?” Lyle asked as he carefully prodded the screen, trying to get it to respond while also attempting to not cut himself on the broken glass. It took him four tries just to get into the clock app.
“Better question might be what didn’t I do,” Johnny replied absently, his attention on the screen as Lyle showed him how to set an alarm. “Lucky for me, Demetri doesn’t really hold grudges.”
“You sure about that?” Lyle muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he slapped the phone back into Johnny’s palm. “And you accused me of selling you a lemon? At least that laptop was in one piece.”
“Hey, the kid’s a dweeb, but he’s an honest dweeb,” he said, pocketing it. “He didn’t rip me off or anything like that. It was just the only used phone he had that I could afford at the time. Robby keeps telling me I should upgrade to a newer one, now that money isn’t so tight, but I’ve been so busy with all the added classes that I haven’t had time to go look.”
The words came spilling out of Lyle’s mouth before he even had a chance to think about them. “Well, if you ever do get the time, we have a wide selection of gently used models to choose from.”
Johnny didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Gently used, huh?” he said, biting his lip as he eyed Lyle up and down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you actually want me to come back.”
“As a customer!” Lyle amended, busying himself with wiping nonexistent crumbs off the counter. “A paying customer. Don’t you dare bring your box of worthless crap back in here to try and trade.”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny said, dragging out the syllables, his smirk stretching into a wide grin. “Paying. Got it.”
“Besides, you didn’t finish the story,” Lyle reminded him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You still haven’t told me about that big tournament, or how you got Cobra Kai back. Or how you survived murder attempt number three.”
That wiped the cocky smile off his face. “What’s there to tell?” he said gruffly, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. “The third time wasn’t the charm.”
He almost felt bad about bringing it up again. It was clear that something had happened, something bad. Bad enough that Johnny was avoiding talking about it. It seemed to make him uncomfortable, even thinking about it. Which was saying something, considering all the other wild shit he’d just told him.
Lyle heaved a sigh. “I’m just sayin’, you ever feel like telling the rest of the story… I’d be interested to hear it. That’s all.”
Johnny canted his head to one side, his eyes curious, searching. Like he was trying to piece together a complex puzzle.
“Do you like pizza?” he finally asked out of nowhere, catching Lyle off guard.
“What d’you mean, do I like pizza? I’m from Chicago, of course I like pizza!” he replied before his brain could catch up with his mouth. “But the real shit. None of that fru-fru, California-style, avocado and artichoke hearts crap. Deep dish or bust.”
Johnny’s lips twitched in amusement. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, his phone started ringing, Metallica blaring from its staticky, broken speaker.
“Oh, shit. It’s my kid,” he muttered, scrambling to answer it. Lyle pretended to wipe down the display case again as he listened in on his half of the conversation. “Hey, Robby. Yeah, I know. I know! I was trying to pick out a new phone and lost track of time… No, LaRusso’s not coming in today, he’s in a meeting. Something came up last minute. No, it’s nothing to worry about. And no, we’re not cancelling class, I’m on my way. Go ahead and get everyone warmed up, I’ll be there in ten. Yeah, yeah, I know. I owe you big time. Yes, we can go to the movies after, my treat. Alright, be there fast as I can. Bye.”
Johnny gave him an apologetic smile as he hung up. “Well, guess I should…”
Lyle cleared his throat as he stepped out from behind the counter. “Yeah, same,” he said, nodding to a car that’d just pulled up in front of his shop. Finally, an actual customer. “Time to get back to work.”
Johnny nodded and grabbed the bag of trash to carry out. “So, will you be here tomorrow, or…?”
“What?” Lyle paused with his hand on the door lock.
“I just told my kid I was buying a new phone. Gotta make it look real, right?”
“Right,” Lyle agreed, choosing to ignore the pang in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was hope or disappointment, and it didn’t really matter either way, because he shouldn’t be having any kind of feelings for the big, blond dufus in the first place. “I’m at the Winnetka and North Hollywood locations, doing inventory for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be back over here ‘til Monday, at the earliest.”
He finally turned the lock and flipped his sign back to ‘Open’. The older woman who had just pulled up was struggling to get a large, heavy looking box out of her trunk, so he pushed the door open, intending to go help her with it. He held it for Johnny, who paused in the doorway, a little too close for comfort.
“How do you feel about pineapple?”
“What?” Lyle yelped, unconsciously taking a step backward.
“On your pizza,” Johnny clarified, a small smile playing on his lips. He advanced a step closer, into the space Lyle had ceded. “You said no California style, but what about Hawaiian?”
“I’ll take a slice!” Lynn interrupted from her usual spot on the sidewalk, making them both jump. Lyle had been so distracted by Johnny’s story that he hadn’t even noticed when she’d come back. “A little salty, a little sweet…” she continued, leering up at Johnny. “Kinda like you, sweet cheeks. Hey, you got another one of them burritos?”
Johnny rolled his eyes but dug around in the sack and handed her the box with their leftover chips and salsa to shut her up. “You know what, forget it. Maybe I’ll just bring burgers next time,” he sighed, before tossing the rest in the nearest trashcan. “Do you like grilled onions? What about pickles?”
“I like both. Wait, next time?!” Lyle blinked, still dumbly holding the door open. “Whaddya mean, next time?”
“Hey, can I get a little help here?” the new customer asked, unable to close the trunk of her Honda with her armload off stuff.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be right there,” Lyle said, rushing to take the box from her. One glance at its contents told him this transaction was going to be another bust. Just a bunch of mass-produced garbage that some relative probably told her were precious family heirlooms.
While he was distracted, Johnny unlocked Caravan and slid behind the wheel. “Alright, well. It’s been fun, but I gotta get going. See you on Monday!” he shouted out the window, giving him a wink and a wave as he peeled out of his parking space.
Lyle watched him pull out into the street and round the next corner, until his taillights faded from view. When he finally turned back around, he found Lynne staring up at him with a shrewd, all-too knowing expression.
“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date with Blondie!” she cackled, as Lyle trailed his customer back inside.
“Shut the fuck up, no I don’t!” he snapped, still feeling off-balance from whatever the hell had just happened. What’d he gotten himself into? Was she right? Had he just accidentally agreed to a date?
Lynn caught the door before it could slam shut behind him. “Lemme give you some free advice,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically sober. “You wanna fuck him? Fine. Can’t blame you, he’s a hot piece of ass. Flexible, too. Did you ever watch him while he was teaching? Who knew a man his age could get his leg up that high…”
“Are you going somewhere with this? I’m kinda busy right now,” Lyle grumbled, trying to hide his blush.
“Word to the wise: Have your fun. But never, ever fall in love with a blond man.”
“Who said anything about… I’m not falling for… oh, just shut up and eat your chips,” he blustered, turning his back on her.
“Don’t believe me? Suit yourself. But how do you think I wound up here?” Lynn shouted in warning, before finally letting the door close behind him.
Feeling rattled (and more than a little seen), Lyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath to center himself. Then he plastered on a smile and turned to face his customer. “Sorry about that. So, how can I help you to –”
“She’s right you know,” the lady said, cutting off his friendly greeting. “You should listen to her. Blond guys are nothing but trouble. Now, about these commemorative plates. I was watching Antique Roadshow last weekend, and I think they might be worth a lot of money…”
Lyle set her box of junk down on the counter with a sigh. As she prattled on about her dead aunt and her worthless collectibles, he wondered... was it too late to switch careers?
Or to at least switch his schedule, so he wouldn’t be there on Monday?