Yes Coach

by S. B. Sheeran

  “You should go. I have a lot of stuff to do.”

  “Gracie-”

  “Please.” Gracie mumbled, her voice thick with tears. “I just need some time to myself.”

  Olivia slowly rose from the couch. She didn’t want to leave, but with her own confused feelings to sort through she casted one last glance at Gracie slouched over on the couch and then slipped out the door.

  Standing in the narrow hallway filled with Max’s personal items, Olivia ran a shaky hand through her hair.

  “What the fuck just happened?” She whispered out loud.

  CHAPTER 10

  The feel of Gracie’s lips on hers played on Olivia’s mind all weekend. By the time Monday rolled in with thunderstorms clouding the skies, Olivia was beyond anxious to talk to Gracie who had yet to text her or call. Frustrated with the silent treatment, especially after the past few weeks, Olivia left work two hours early after feigning a headache.

  She entered through the glass door of Spring’s Gym. The rational part of her tried to reason that this behavior was considered clingy and a bit desperate seeking Gracie out after what happened. It was the other half of her that dictated what she was doing.

  “Hi Olivia.” The girl behind the counter greeted, surprise in her voice. “You’re here earlier than normal...”

  Olivia smiled breezily as she passed the front counter. “Yeah, I have to talk to Gracie about something.”

  She scanned the workout equipment for Gracie, the gym only partially full at 3:30pm and went to the locker room. Rounding the corner, she smacked into something warm and firm that smelled of sugar. Lights danced in front of her eyes as she took a stumbling step back.

  “Ow, Olivia. Seriously watch where you are going.”

  Gracie rubbed at her shoulder, arching an eyebrow at her. An awkward silence descended upon them as they stared everywhere besides at each other. Olivia’s eyes lifted up to Gracie’s lips as she chewed on them, the tip of her tongue wetting the surfaces. She wanted to reach forward and press her lips against hers again.

  “What are you doing here?” Gracie asked.

  The hard edge in her tone brought Olivia back from her fantasies. Nervousness suddenly filled her. Taking in the tension in Gracie’s shoulders and her chocolate eyes that were hardened, it occurred to Olivia then that rushing to the gym with her thoughts that everything would be alright wasn’t the right choice.

  “I-I was concerned. You haven’t returned any of my phone calls or texts.”

  Gracie folded her arms over her chest. “So you decided to come down here and do what? Single me out when it’s obvious that we need some space.”

  The pit of her stomach twisted painfully. She blinked away the tears that were quickly gathering inside of her eyes.

  “Listen, Olivia,” Gracie said, looking down at their feet, “I think it’s a good idea if we take some time a part. I don’t know what happened yesterday besides the fact that I had too much to drink and things happened that shouldn’t have happened. It’s probably a good idea if we just stop working out and other things too. Just for a little bit. I’m sorry.”

  She brushed by Olivia without glancing once at her. Olivia turned to watch her go, speechless. The girl behind the counter, the one that she never bothered to learn her name, watched them with a puzzled frown.

  Tears began to slip out from the corner of Olivia’s eyes. She hurried out of the gym before anyone could see her crying and drove to the one person who would make her feel better.

  “So, you’re gay then?”

  Darcie arched an eyebrow at her in apparent confusion. They sat together in the backyard of Darcie’s apartment building, the dry grass tickling the back of their legs. Olivia nodded her head numbly, spent from the past hour venting to Darcie about her attractions towards Gracie, her own confused feelings, and the kiss last week.

  “Yep. Please don’t ask if it has anything do with my break up with Jack.” Olivia said, a warning lacing her voice.

  “Wasn’t going to.” Darcie said. “I’m just kinda surprised. I didn’t ever think you were the type of woman to like other women. Sounds like a stereotype, I know, but you don’t look like any of the lesbians I know.”

  “Like what? Butchy?”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  Olivia wiped her cheeks dry. A fogginess filled her vision from crying and she had to palm at her eyes several times to clear them. “I just-” she trailed off in a heavy sigh, “I just wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.”

  “They don’t have to be complicated. Screw what the rest of the world thinks. Go over and tell Gracie that if she wants to be with you than what else matters? Deal with the rest of it as it comes.”

  “Says the person who just jumps into relationships and hopes they work out.” Olivia said. She smiled over at Darcie who smiled in return as they picked blades of grass and allowed them to trickle away in a hot breeze. Darcie did have a point. What else mattered? These were one of those times Olivia appreciated Darcie’s carefree attitude and she hugged her tightly in appreciation.

  “Thanks for not judging me.”

  “Yeah, well. I know what it’s like to be judged so I try not to do the same. Now,” Darcie stood up, pulling Olivia to her feet as well. She smacked Olivia playfully on her right buttock. “Go tell Gracie how you feel and don’t accept no for a answer.”

  Olivia parked in front of Gracie’s apartment building a few minutes later. She went to punch in the code when the door suddenly opened and a man she quickly recognized as Max stepped out into hot afternoon, nearly hitting Olivia with the door. They both stared at each other in surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” Olivia asked.

  Max’s busy eyebrows furrowed at her. “I live here. What are you doing here? Aren’t you Gracie’s client or whatever? I’ve seen you at the gym with her.”

  Her heart twisted at that. Olivia cleared her throat and took a deep back, tilting her head up to look Max who towered over her by a good couple of inches. “I thought you to broke up. Are you here to get the rest of your things?”

  “No.” Max said, shaking his head at her. “We didn’t break up. Grace and I always have these spats. We’ve been together for five years so we argue over little things. Who are you exactly?”

  “I-”

  She honestly didn’t know what she was anymore to Gracie. Staring at Max with his tousled blonde hair and pale blue eyes it hit her then that she really had chance. She could never compete against someone like Max who was also physically fit.

  Olivia walked away, feeling Max’s baffled stare the whole way back to her car. She had felt lost before after breaking up with Jack, but nothing could compare to how lost and utterly alone she felt at that exact moment.

  To Be Continued...

  The Next Book in the Series of Yes Coach:

  Mental Training (Yes Coach Book 2)

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  CHAPTER 1

  THE TORNADO

  “I don’t want to do Google Calendar. I want you to write things on this calendar and put it on my desk, where it’s always been. I’ve been doing it this way for the 16 years this company has been around and the 20 before than that at the ad agency. Don’t you tell me what is, or isn’t, productive.” Harold Carson, overweight, red face
d and much older than his 56 years, stands behind his desk with a desk calendar in his hand. “If you’re going to keep working here, you’re going to have to learn to do things my way. Bridgeport Marketing has been one of the top marketing companies in West Virginia for over 16 years, and we plan on staying that way. Get with the program Carmen, or get out.”

  Carmen Hernandez, 30, is pretty in an unconventional way, slightly overweight with full lips and long dark, straight hair. Her almond eyes have a scared look in them. Even though her last two jobs were for difficult men, Harold is the worst of them. He is so demanding and condescending, but Carmen had to take this job. After rear-ending someone without insurance, she needs to pay back the insurance company and damages to the driver and it never seems to end.

  “Yes, Mr. Carson. I will order new calendars for the office.”

  “Jesus, Carmen, we already have them. I just want you to use them.” Harold takes a swig of his Coke and takes a bite of his pickle. A little pickle juice slides down his chin. “And next time tell the deli the sandwich is for me and they know I want an extra pickle.”

  “I did tell them that, but I’ll make sure they know for the next time. Sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry Carmen, I want you to do it right.” Harold picks up a small audiotape and hands it to Carmen. “I took notes on the Doller$ and Cent$ meeting and need you to transcribe them.” Carmen takes the micro tape. “Before you leave today. There’s about 45 minutes of audio on there.”

  “Yes, Mr. Carson.” Carmen inches out towards the back of the office, her high heels killing her. “Do you want me to close this?”

  “No, leave it open so the world can irritate me while I’m working. Don’t be so daft, Carmen, CLOSE THE DOOR when you leave my office. Always.”

  “Yes, Mr. Carson.” Carmen fights the urge to slam the door shut, but resists. “I really need this job.” Carmen whispers to herself. “One year and I can find something else. Just one year.” Carmen adjusts her jacket and steadies herself on her heels. She never wore heels for any job she’s ever had in her 15 years of employment but this job paid a little more than the other three she interviewed for, so if Mr. Carson wanted her to wear a Playboy bunny suit, she would. She laughs to herself, yeah, that would be good for business. Might let Mr. Carson know there was a person in front of him and not just a sounding board.

  Carmen looks across the office at the other workers. There was Richard Tanner, CFO, his door is closed, as usual. Carmen had to go in there once when he was gone. He had left his computer on, and all these “BBBW” sites were up; Big Black Beautiful Women. Carmen laughed. This mild mannered uptight white guy watched porn in his office and jerked off all day. Carmen always wonders what Mr. Carson would say about that.

  Mel Katz is staring at her from under his glasses. He thought his glasses might have hidden where his blue eyes were, but whenever Carmen looked at him, they were focused on her. She smiled at him and he looked down, suddenly flustered.

  “Yo Carmen, what’s hanging?” Kenneth Crawford, is a 24 year old African American guy who makes up the art department at Bridgeport Marketing. This was his first job out of Parson’s School of Art and he just thinks life was perfect all the time. It is for him. Great at what he did, more money than he could have imagined and no cares in the world. Kenneth spends every evening and weekend motor crossing and had just bought his 3 bike. “Did I show you my sweet new thing? I call her, Alexis.”

  Kenneth pushes his iPhone in Carmen’s face and she is forced to look at a yellow, complicated motocross bike that means nothing to her.

  “Oh yeah, it’s great.”

  “She’s great. Top of the line. $2,300.” Carmen owes $8,000 to the driver of the other car. There would never be a time when she could spend $2,000 on a bike. No, make that $2,300. “And I added a selfie stick to it. That way I can catch myself with each jump. Right on.” Kenneth makes some kind of surfer dude’s sign and turns his arms into handlebars and ‘drives’ towards his desk. Carmen thinks he’s cute but definitely unaware of the world. At least the grown up world.

  Carmen turns and sits on her chair, in a small cubicle. The opening of the cubicle faces Harold’s open office windows so he can always watch what she’d doing. Carmen lifts her head and thinks to herself, can I last a year? She bends down and finds the little dictation machine. It even has pedals. No one has used this kind of machine in 25 years, not with digital recorders, it’s ridiculous. But Harold is stuck in 1985. Luckily the computers are relatively new. 2001. Her Dell only has 2g’s left on the hard drive. One year, Carmen says to her. Then she can look for a better job. One that doesn’t include one Harold Carson.

  William Yang, 42 and Asian, walks over to Carmen’s desk and sits; perfect abs, muscular pecs and perfect ass, on the corner of it. He spends every morning and night at the gym and it shows. “Only 5% body fat. Amazing right?” He flexes for Carmen. “Found out last night and celebrated with a Strawberry Margarita. Do Margaritas make you hot?” And he said the word “hot” slowly, so his mouth was open for a lot longer than it had to be. Just enough that his bad breath came through. So did the message. No matter how many times she said she wasn’t interested in going out with him, or more specifically to his house to do the nasty on his waterbed, he always asked anyway. Who has a waterbed anymore? And what kind of guy drinks Strawberry Margaritas?

  “I have to do this dictation for Mr. Carson.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your dick-tation. I know how careful you are with your dick-tations. I like a girl who is thorough. Are you thorough Carmen baby?”

  Carmen doesn’t know what to do, so she bends down and gets the machine ready. Pedal on the left, like a car. Don’t remind me of a car. Carmen makes a face when she feels hot breath on her neck. She takes a deep breath and sits up quickly, smacking William in the face with the back of her head.

  “What the fuck? Give a guy a little warning.”

  “You shouldn’t be hovering like that anyway. Carmen has a lot of work to do.” Mel was right there, a refillable water bottle in his hand.

  “Hey Cream-Puff, mind your own business.” William grabs at Mel’s nipples and turns to walk away. “It was a nice view, Carmen.” I’m sure it’ll be even better when you’re on your knees in front of me.” Williams makes the blow-job gesture and then thrusts his hips back and forth, his tongue making a disgustingly slow trip around his lips before leaving.

  “Sometimes I wish we had an HR department, I’d report him for sure.” Carmen smiles at Mel. “Thanks for trying to protect my honor.”

  “That’s my job.” Mel smiles.

  “I don’t think you’re a cream puff.”

  “Well, thanks. I would never call you that, either.” Mel smiles at Carmen, glowing. He loves just being able to talk to her. “I was wondering though, I mean, we’re working all the time, but maybe...”

  “Hello Chumps!” A bright voice shines over the office and a woman of 22, Bonnie Carson, floats into the office. Her green tennis shoes and tight black shorts show off a perfect body and her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in a perfect bob. Of course Harold would have a perfect daughter. Carmen looked at her own extra 15 pounds and sucked in. Harold runs out of his office, a big grin on his face. He takes Bonnie’s face and kisses her on both cheeks.

  “Bonnie! You’re here. Did you call mom? We have your room all set up. When did you get in? Do you need money? Richard! Bonnie’s here!” Carmen is confused. How can this blaring man, vicious man, soften when his daughter comes into the office? Carmen never knew her father so she didn’t know what kind of affect she’d have on him but this is a total 180.

  Richard comes out of his office, slightly disheveled. His face is flushed and he wipes his probably sticky hands on a Kleenex. Carmen smiles to herself. She knows what he’s been doing in there between financial statements.

  “Bonnie. Come here, Bonnie Blue.” Richard hugs Bonnie tightly. Her nose twinkles a little bit, as though she smells where his hands
have been.

  “Richard, fine as usual. Still going strong?”

  “My 5 year chip next month.”

  “Good for you.” Bonnie turns to Mel. “Mel! No hello for the prodigal daughter’s return?” Mel waves at her and smiles. He shares a smile with Carmen and winks at her. Bonnie looks at Carmen and stops. Bonnie knows that everyone is looking at her, plasters a smile on her face and holds her hand out to Carmen.

  “Hi, I’m Bonnie Carson, the head honcho’s daughter. Just graduated from college and coming home for the summer. Who are you?”

  Carman blushes. She’s about to respond when Harold turns Bonnie towards him and hugs her again. “That’s Carmen, my new secretary.”

  “Dad, don’t be so chauvinistic, they’re executive assistants now, not secretaries.”

  “While she’s working for me, she’s my secretary. She’s been here for a month and is very helpful. Kind of. Did you finish that dictation, dear?”

  Carmen can’t take her eyes off Bonnie, so blonde and effervescent, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. And she doesn’t. Her father is rich, her mother a stay-at-home mom. She doesn’t have to work. That’s obvious. Carmen was sure she got a hefty allowance back at school and probably now, too. Bonnie was the type of girl who didn’t need to worry about having car insurance, she always would. Carmen never really liked the “Bonnie type”. They never understood real struggles, always getting what they wanted from their families, especially their overly proud fathers.