Thrive

by Jonathan Yanez

  Chapter 3

  “Should I cancel your appointment this afternoon Jor—ummm—Miss Shepherd?”

  “It’s okay, Kelly,” Jordan said over the intercom in her office. “You can still call me Jordan and no. I only have one client scheduled this afternoon. I can still see him.”

  “Okay, I’ll buzz you when he arrives.”

  “Thank you.”

  The intercom clicked off. Jordan sat in the chair behind the desk wondering how anyone could be comfortable sitting in the seat for more than a few minutes.

  The computer hummed barely above a whisper in front of her. Her fingers flew across the keys answering emails and reviewing her new goals. The email, sent from the Director himself, showing her what was expected of her for the month was daunting but Jordan had faith she could surpass her quota.

  Nothing you haven’t done before. You’ve been preparing for this all your life.

  Jordan closed the email that laid out her goals and clicked back to the files containing the department’s previous numbers, trends and projections. It seemed as though there was a report for everything. Jordan’s eyes scanned page after page of graphs, pie charts and diagrams all supposedly color coordinated to make it easier for someone to read.

  Jordan zoned out on the different screens flickering across the computer monitor. Her brain was firing synapsis at a dizzying rate as she determined where the department could make improvements and how she would not only meet her goals for the month but exceed it.

  Oblivious to the time Jordan practically jumped out of her seat as the intercom on her desk beeped again. Kelly’s voice came over the speaker, “Jordan. Your four o’clock is here.”

  Jordan struggled to understand how time could have flown by so quickly. She tore her eyes away from the screen, “Thank you, you can send him up to the cardio room. I’ll meet him there.”

  “Will do.”

  The intercom clicked off again. Jordan stood up stretching from the torture rack that her previous boss had called a seat.

  Massaging a kink in her lower back Jordan walked across the bare room to the glass door.

  The maintenance man had finished scrapping off Robert’s name, her own now stood on the glass. White lettering in bold words spelled out her name. Jordan knew she should be proud of this moment. She knew that she deserved to pat herself on the back but there was something there. There was a reason she couldn’t. It was Robert’s face. His tear-filled eyes looking at her for help.

  Jordan shook her head as she released a breath of air she didn’t know she was holding. No. This wasn’t her fault. Robert had made his own bed. She had no reason to feel guilty or worry about him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. On the contrary, she had done everything right.

  Grabbing the cold metal handle she let herself through the door and walked down to the cardio room, one floor below.

  “So should I start calling you boss now? Or is ma’am the appropriate title?”

  Jordan could feel a smile already spreading across her lips even before she turned to look at her friend behind her. Jerrick Jones was the perfect specimen of male anatomy. His dark toned skin and energetic friendly personality made him the most requested physical educator from the female citizens in the city.

  Despite his female allure a male client stood behind him now, dripping sweat. His once light blue exercise clothes giving way to a darker, soggier tint as perspiration poured from his face and under arms.

  “Jerrick, please don’t be silly we’ve known each other for years now—you can just call me, sir.”

  Jerrick’s grin broke even wider as he made an extravagant salute, “Yes sir.”

  Jordan’s gaze moved past the large man to the citizen behind him, “How are you holding up, Chester? You look good. Lose a few pounds?”

  Chester was still trying to catch his breath, “Yeah, Jerrick’s killing me.”

  “Every session I try,” Jerrick said. “But you keep on coming back. You just won’t stay down. Speaking about exercise, a few laps in the pool next?”

  Chester rolled his head as he followed Jerrick, “If you never see me again you know what happened.”

  Jordan laughed out loud, “I’ll send a search party for you. Make sure to get plenty of fluids and stretch when you’re done.”

  In seconds the two men were gone. Jordan continued down to the cardio room greeted by other physical educators with smiles and waves. Those who had already heard the news of her promotion expressed their congratulations. Not a single person mentioning what had happened to Robert, despite his tenure as their supervisor the past five years.

  Jordan was starting to get irritated at herself for thinking so much about Robert’s review with the Director and his impending release outside the city. She entered the cardio room with a resolve to move on and have a great session with her favorite client.

  The cardio room was separated into two sections. One side was a large open space filled with dark blue mats and stretching equipment. The other side was a huge area sporting every kind of machine to raise one’s heart rate imaginable. There were treadmills by the dozens, row machines stood in lines like soldiers at attention and an army of stair climbers rounded out the section.

  Citizens were dispersed throughout the room accompanied by their physical educators. Every brow was slick with sweat and every educator engaged with his or her citizen.

  Jordan searched the area, hands on her hips. This was her responsibility now. As thoughts of her new job and the pressure it brought began to make their way to the forefront of her mind again she spotted her client. In a few long strides she was beside her four o’clock appointment as he stretched on one of the large mats.

  “Mr. Li. How are you doing today?”

  “Jordan, how many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Buie I think you’ve earned that much after all these years of putting up with me,” the elderly Asian man said with a tilt of his head.

  “Sorry, Buie it’s a bad habit I’m working on breaking.”

  “It shouldn’t be that hard; I hardly act my own age. Here,” Buie extended his right hand forward with a closed fist. “Pound it.”

  Jordan burst out laughing, “What are you talking about? What is that?”

  Buie scowled in mock indignation, “It’s what the kids used to do, to be cool. Hit my fist with yours.”

  Jordan shook her head but followed the elderly man’s instructions. Buie was the head of the city’s historical branch. As a result he was always discovering new things about the past.

  Clenching her right hand she punched Buie’s outstretched fist with hers. Their fists collided bringing a dull thud to their ears. A look of shock crossed Buie’s dark eyes.

  “Owwww! What are you doing?” Buie brought his hand back to his chest, wincing as he shook his wrist from side to side.

  Jordan opened both her palms in sign of surrender. “What? You told me to hit you.”

  Buie examined his right hand as he massaged it with his left. “You were supposed to bump me in a sign of friendship, not hit me like a MMA fighter.”

  “Like a who?”

  “Oh, never mind—an athlete from our past. I see now why that trend dissolved into the passages of history.”

  “How’s your hand?”

  “I’ll live,” Buie opened his eyes wide in a moment of clarity. “Maybe I am getting old.”