“Not tonight,” I replied.
“Booo. If you change your mind, text me.”
“I will. Have a good night. Love ya.”
I hung up and imagined Matthew's face above me, his solid, muscular body weighing me down. My hand made its way south, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. As I remembered all those fantasies I'd had as a teenager, all those times I'd lain exactly like this with my hand between my legs thinking of him. I thought I'd never find anyone as sexy as him.
Matthew
I entered Bob's gym and was instantly hit by the masculine smell of old school gyms I hadn't caught a whiff of in years: sweat, testosterone, gym mats, and dirty socks.
I prided myself on having the cleanest, most up to date establishments with free toiletries in the locker rooms and a team of cleaners that kept the place immaculate every day. Bob's gym, on the other hand, looked as though it hadn’t seen even the sweep of a broom in years.
Walking into the main room, I noted the boxing ring sat in the center below a sky light. I watched as young boys sparred in each corner while in the center, a young fella no older than sixteen was attempting to knock seven shades of shit out of another kid who was built like a tank. The sound of gloves smacking skin and their grunts filled the room.
"Yo, Matthew!" Bob called from the doorway to his office. "How's it goin’?"
"Good, man. Good. Still up for a beer?"
"It'll be a quick one. Got a ton of shit to do around here."
Entering his office, I saw a boxy room filled to the brim with gym equipment, sweaty clothes, and empty tins of protein shake. Among the clutter lay his cheap plasterboard desk that was covered in piles of paper.
"Whoa," I mumbled.
It had only been a few months since the last time I'd been there, but the mess had grown exponentially. Pulling a banana peel off the seat, I tossed it in the trash and sat down. Bob landed heavily in his creaky office chair and turned to his computer. Like everything else, I had the best computers money could buy, but Bob? His old, grimy PC looked as though it might have been an original.
"Bob?"
"Uh uh..."
"What the fuck is that?"
"What, this?"
"No, that," I said, pointing to the sheet of plastic sticking out of the computer's tower.
"It's a floppy disk."
I paused for a second and let my brain process what he'd said. "I'm sorry, Bob. For a second there I was sure you just said the words floppy disk."
"That's exactly what I said. What's wrong with still using floppies?"
"I don't even have the words to tell you all the things wrong with that," I laughed, shaking my head and holding my face in my hands. "Look, first thing tomorrow, I'm sending a guy down here with a new computer and—"
"Don't bother. I'm all sorted with this one. Plus, you know how I hate handouts."
"It's not a handout,” I assured him. “It actually hurts my soul watching you work on this heap of garbage. Seriously, will you please let me buy you a new computer?"
"No."
"Fine. Whatever. I'm doing it anyway. Now come on, let's go get that beer."
I stood back up and kicked a pile of trash out of the way and walked to the door. Looking out over the gym, I watched the raw energy of the kids and stood in awe at their determination, their ambition, their pure hunger to perform at their best. I may have had celebrity clients, but their wealth often meant they thought they were too good to put in the effort. Most of them, including Gigi, thought they just had to turn up and look pretty. These guys, on the other hand, they were working their fists down to the bone.
"They're all real firecrackers, aren't they?" Bob asked as he joined me at my side.
"Absolutely."
"That dude there, Dylan," he said, pointing to the boy in the ring. "I got him pinned down as the next heavyweight champ."
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
We both watched him for a moment. His technique wasn't perfect, and his moves were a little sloppy, but his eyes... They showed his real promise. A fire burned in them. He knew he was going to be the best.
"Hey, boss, where you goin'?" Dylan asked as he saw us walking toward the exit.
"I'll be back soon," Bob called out across the ring.
"I got some new moves to show you!"
"You hang on right there. I'll be back later to see 'em."
As we stepped outside, I couldn't help but envy the bond Bob had with his clients. Except they didn't seem like clients. They were more like family to him. I noticed the way Dylan talked to him, like he was more like his son than some random customer in the gym.
"So, where we headin’?" Bob asked as we walked across the parking lot.
"I was thinkin’ that new place on Main Street."
"That fancy as shit new bar? I don't think so. How about Gad's?"
"Gad's? That old dive?"
"Hey, it used to be good enough for you."
I had loved Gad's and spent many an evening screeching my heart out to the karaoke machine while knocking back tequilas. It was the kind of place that still had sawdust on the floor and only a single swinging light bulb above each table.
"You're right. Gad's it is."
Bob looked around for my car then stop in the middle of the lot when he couldn't find it. "Where's your Mercedes?" he asked, looking puzzled.
"Didn't bring it today. I'm in the Porsche." I pointed toward the blacked-out Cayenne still sparkling from its last valet service.
"Fuck," Bob breathed when he saw it. "When did you get that thing?"
"About six months ago, I think."
"Jesus, I can't keep up with your cars. Seems like you've got a new one every month."
That was only a slight exaggeration. I was a big boy and loved my big boy toys. Besides, what was the point in working hard and earning a fuck-ton of money if I couldn't enjoy myself and spend it on what I liked? Cars were my weakness, and there was little I loved more than getting behind the wheel of a brand new, luxury vehicle.
As we climbed inside, I noticed Bob running his hands over the leather upholstery.
"Nice, right?"
"Gorgeous," he said.
"You know, I could probably get you a new car if you like. Something to replace your truck?"
"Nah, I'm cool. I love my truck."
"I know, but wouldn't you want something newer?"
"She is new! Only got her last year."
"Second hand."
"What is it with you today? Is my stuff not good enough for you or something?"
"Hey, you know that's not what I meant. I'm just trying to help a buddy out. I’ve got money to spend, so why not spend it on you?"
The energy in the air thickened, and as I drove away, I realized I'd probably hit a nerve with him. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's cool. I know you're not a dick."
"Well, that's good to know."
We shared a chuckle as I rounded the corner onto Main Street. A few moments later, we were gliding up outside Gad's.
"Christ, it looks as dingy as it always did."
The same red light that had been there for decades glowed out from the brown stone, except the letter A flickered in and out sporadically.
"Still got sawdust on the floor?" I asked as we stepped onto the street.
"Yup!"
As I approached the door, I could hear the faint sound of blues music filtering out from the jukebox along with the garbled sound of mingled voices. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and instantly the voices stopped. I stood in the doorway for a second, feeling the burn of dozens of eyes on me.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Fancy Breeches Matthew Banks," laughed the barmaid.
I was surprised to see the same old girl who'd served my beers years ago. Time hadn't been kind to her, and her face had developed thick lines and a leathery texture. She smiled, revealing yellowing teeth inside lips painted firetruck red.
Gr
adually, people turned back around and resumed their drinking, and I approached the bar.
"What'll it be?" the barmaid asked.
"Couple of beers."
She grabbed two Budweisers out of the fridge and slid them down toward me.
"Never thought I'd see you in here again," she said with a flirtatious smile and a lick of her lips. "I see your commercials on TV all the time, you know. I'd join one of your gyms myself if I won the lottery."
"Yeah, you keep dreamin', Nancy," Bob laughed as he took the beers and walked over to a nearby table. Behind it, a baseball game was playing, but no one was watching.
I followed him and sat across from him, reaching for my beer and taking a sip.
"Think she's got the hots for you," Bob commented as he sipped his beer.
"I think I'll pass."
"What? You don't like the old hag look?” he scoffed sarcastically. “You're such a snob these days."
"Ha!"
"Anyway, she'd be a damn lot nicer to be with than Olivia, even if she ain't perfect in the looks department."
"That's true." I took a sip of my beer despite the fact it was slightly warm.
"What's that old witch up to these days?" Bob asked.
"What the fuck do I care what she's up to? The bitch cheated on me. I don’t give a flying fuck what she gets up to anymore."
"Fucking idiot," Bob sighed as he looked up at the TV. "I can't believe she did that. I mean, did she not realize how good she had it? And with that little runt Simon?"
"Whatever. I don't wanna think about her anymore. We're done. And as soon as she signs the divorce papers, I won’t have to think about her ever again."
"Wait, she hasn't signed the divorce papers yet?"
"Nah. She's giving me a real run around. Just playing games."
"She's pure drama. Don't know what you ever saw in her. I mean, apart from the obvious."
As I thought about it, I tried to remember what I’d found attractive in her in the first place. If I was being honest, I'd have to admit her looks had drawn me in. She was beautiful, all right, but what really hooked me in was her kindness and her compassion toward people. Of course, the second we were married, she dropped the façade, and with each passing year she grew colder and more hardened.
It took a long time for me to realize who the real Olivia was, and when I did it was too late. She had her paws in my bank account and her claws deep into my heart. But I really thought things could work out between us. I longed to have children, and I thought she wanted them too. And I always thought if I just work harder, she'll be happy and everything will be okay between us.
But nothing would ever make Olivia happy, not even my vows to love her for all eternity or my never-ending devotion, support, and money.
I'd never forget the day I knew it had ended for good.
I'd been on a business trip to LA when I decided to return home a day early to surprise her with VIP tickets to a concert she wanted to go to. When I pulled up outside the house, I noticed a Mercedes in the driveway that wasn't mine. But thinking it was just a friend's car, I'd happily entered the house expecting to see Olivia where she always was, the sunbed. Or as I called it, the second love of her life.
But as I walked down the hall, I was aware of her giggling coming from upstairs. Slowly, I'd made my way up, listening to her voice as it echoed down the spiral staircase. Call me naive, but it still didn't click that anything was wrong, so I'd lingered outside the door for a second listening.
"Ooooh, Simon," I'd heard her say sensually.
Then a second later I heard a long sigh and a groan.
"Olivia!" I'd raged and burst through the door. I saw the one thing that would cling to my mind like a virus. The one image I would never forget as long as I lived. Lying in the center of our bed was a tiny guy wearing nothing but his socks, his brown suit crumpled on the floor beside an opened condom wrapper. Straddling his hips was Olivia, buck naked and staring at me like a rabbit caught in headlights.
“Matthew!” she'd screamed, scrambling off him. “It's not what it looks like!”
“So you’re not fucking him in our bed?” I'd instantly seen red and reached for the little prick on the bed. “Who the fuck are you?”
But he was too shocked to answer. The little bastard was half my size, above and below the belt. He cowered beneath me, ready to pass out. Grabbing him by the ankles, I yanked him off the bed and punched him hard in the face. He yelped like a puppy as he hit the floor. Then he fumbled for his clothes and ran full speed out the door Scooby Doo style. I was ready to go after him, but Olivia stood in my way.
"What did you do?" she cried. "You hurt him!"
"What did I do? What the fuck were you doing?"
Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip started to quiver. "I'm so sorry. I never thought you'd find out. Can we just forget about it and start again?"
"You've got two hours," I replied. She stared at me, puzzled. "Two hours to pack your shit and get the fuck out of here."
At first, she thought I was joking. She was actually so stupid she believed I would just forgive her and everything would return to normal.
"You don't mean that, do you?"
I glared at her. "Two hours," I repeated. "You're fucking dead to me."
After that, I'd never laid eyes on her again, and the only contact we'd had was through our lawyers. That suited me fine.
"Forget about her," Bob said, returning me to the present.
"I pretty much already have. Anyway, I'm sick of talking about her.”
I looked across the bar at all the colorful faces, some pretty, some weathered, some familiar.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “Becca. Her interview went well.”
“She said she was nervous,” Bob replied.
“Really? It didn't show. She was impressive,” I told him, watching as he smiled proudly. “I gotta say, Bob. You've done a terrific job raising her. Her mom would be proud."
"She gets more and more like her every day,” he mused, shaking his head. “So she did good?"
"She did great. Had a lot of ideas about how to expand the company, which I gotta be honest with you, is a first for an interview. Most people come in all meek looking to impress me. But she was just straight ‘Listen up, I got all these ideas’."
"Yeah, she's never been much of a wallflower,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyway, you think she'd fit in at your company?"
There was a hopeful look in his eye like he was eager for me to say yes.
"I'm sure she would do great. It's just that..." I took another sip of my beer that was growing warmer by the minute. "She's awesome. Really, she is. But she's fresh out of college. She's full of that youthful optimism we all get when we're young and think we can take over the world."
"You make that sound like that's a bad thing," he said with a frown, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottom of his bottle.
"It's not a bad thing, but I need someone a bit more experienced."
Bob's gaze dropped to his bottle. I could tell he was disappointed, and I wondered if in some way I had betrayed him. Loads of people would happily give a job to their best pal's kid just because of who they were, but that wasn't my style. Just because she was Bob's daughter didn't mean she could waltz on into my office and get any job she liked. She had to prove herself like everyone else.
"Besides," I continued. "Her ideas are awesome, but I'm not sure if I want to implement them. I'm not sure they're right for Banks Fitness."
Visibly annoyed, Bob slammed down his bottle and stood up. "I'm getting another beer."
"I thought you were just staying for one?"
He said nothing and stalked to the bar. Looking over my shoulder, I saw him chatting with the barmaid.
Are you really being such a dick for not hiring her on the spot? Or are you just doing what's best for business? I wasn’t sure of the answer, but Bob was heading my way.
He slid another beer my way, and we sat in
silence for a second. I could see from the look in his eyes he was chewing something over in his mind, so I remained quiet as I drank my beer and gave him time to think.
"I get it," he finally said. "She has limited real world experience, but I really think she would be a good fit at your place. And she'd work her ass off too. You know that."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"I'm serious. I ain't ever known anyone to work as hard as her when she wants something. I remember when she was six, it was impossible for her to slam dunk. So you know what she did?"
I shook my head and shrugged.
"Practiced day and night. Literally. I remember hearing the thud of her ball hitting off the garage wall in the middle of the night and going outside to find her in her pajamas throwing the ball like her life depended on it. She's no quitter."
As impressive as that story was, I couldn't exactly hire her based on something cute she did when she was six years old.
"I can tell you're still not convinced," Bob commented. "Look, I can't force you to give her a job, and I know you think I'm biased because I'm her dad, but I promise you, you won't find an employee that works as hard as she does. Plus, with the holidays coming up, you know you’ll be getting all those new people wanting gym memberships for their New Year’s resolutions. It’s a great time to have someone young and vibrant behind the scenes that can help drive new clientele your way."
He had a point there. I looked up at the TV where the baseball game was still playing. But I could feel the heat of Bob's eyes on the side of my head. When I turned to face him, there was a look in his eyes that gave me a rush of warmth. It was the look that showed true belief he felt for his daughter. A look of true unconditional love and support.
If he believed in her this much, then why didn't I?
I could feel myself beginning to crack, and before I knew it, I was letting out a sigh and saying, "Okay fine. I trust you, Bob. I know you wouldn't suggest her if she wasn't up to it. I'll call her and ask her to start tomorrow."
"Aw, man thanks. You won't regret it."
And as he grinned and slapped his hand gratefully into mine, I had the strongest feeling that I wouldn't.
Knocked Up by Daddy’s Best Friend Page 4