“You said your clothes were dirty,” he said. That time his lips quirked up on the edges.
“Oh, they were!” I was so excited that I remembered something and I started babbling again, “My washing machine is broken; It’s been broken for about a week. That’s why I looked so disheveled this week and my clothes were all wrinkled…Wait a minute…You took them off me because I said they were dirty?”
“No. You took them off yourself,” he said. He turned to the refrigerator and pulled something out that looked like a green protein shake. He shook the container and took a long swig off of it. Then he said, “Your clothes are on the chair in the corner of my room.”
My face was on fire. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so embarrassed or ashamed of myself. Here I was accusing him of taking my clothes off and I was too drunk to even remember what had happened. Shameless!
“Oh, thanks,” was all I could think of to say. I turned and did the walk of shame back to his bedroom. I found the clothes right where he said they would be as well as my shoes and purse. I was so humiliated I didn’t even know how I would go back out and face him. I was pretty sure the apartment didn’t have a back door or I would have gone out that way. I considered escaping out the window but that put me on a whole new level of desperation. I finally pulled on my clothes and decided that I needed to further explain myself. I should at least try and explain to him that I’m not really a drinker. When I got back to the living room, Victor was in the same spot on the couch but Paul was nowhere to be seen. In the room to my left I could hear the sounds of a shower running. Victor still hadn’t looked up. I started to say something but I found that I was even humiliated in the presence of the young boy. Instead I slunk out the front door like a coward. When I got to the street I spent ten minutes trying to hail a cab. I finally ended up walking to the closest bus stop and taking the bus home.
*******
My only saving grace of the miserable morning was that I wasn’t scheduled with anyone until one o’clock that afternoon. Mark was once again my first client of the day, but he always came in later on Sundays because he had a standing appointment with his masseuse Sunday mornings, and then he took his mother to church. Good old fashioned American boy. I’m so glad I wasn’t naked in his bed this morning.
Once I finally made it home on that hot, smelly bus, I called Yolanda who was kind enough to come pick me up and take me to the sports bar to get my car.
“So how did you get home last night, a cab?” she asked. I considered lying so that I didn’t have to admit the embarrassing truth. I hated lying to anyone, much less a friend. I wasn’t very good at it anyways so I decided to go with a half-truth and I said,
“Paul Delport was nice enough to drive me home.” Yolanda raised an eyebrow at his name. “What?” I said.
“Oh nothing,” she said.
“Oh come on, now you have to tell me.”
“I’ve just never heard the man even speak. Greg likes him, but I swear he goes mute when I’m around. I guess that would be a good guy to have a relationship with…”
I laughed and said, “Yeah, he’s not a big talker.” I did vaguely remember then about him telling me he’d won fighting championships…I guess when I was drunk he at least tried to talk to me.
When we got to the bar Yolanda said, “Just be careful of these arrogant athletic types, honey. I know they’re all you’re really going to meet working in a gym…but I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
I smiled and said, “Greg’s an athlete.” Greg played Triple A baseball for quite a few years before opening the gym.
“True, but he’s the exception, not the rule,” she said with a smile. I thanked her for the ride and for worrying about me. It was nice of her. They’d kind of adopted me in a strange sort of way.
After I picked up my car, I did a quick run to my place and then to the laundromat. I’d at least have clothes for another day or two until I could get the washer fixed. By the time I got home again I had time to eat a fast lunch, take a shower and then got to work. I broke a few speed laws, but if a cop doesn’t see you, is it really illegal? That is the million-dollar question.
Mark was waiting for me when I got to work and I was mortified to see that Paul was there once again as well.
“Hey, how’s the head?” Mark asked when he saw me. He was talking way too loud. As a matter of fact, the whole gym seemed extraordinarily loud.
“The head?” I asked, not sure what he was talking about. Did I hit my head last night too?
“Yeah, your head,” he said. “After you tied one on so well last night I was sure you’d have a massive hangover.” I felt my face turn red again. The humiliation was never going to stop.
“Nah, I’m okay. I wasn’t that drunk,” I lied. Mark laughed, not buying it either.
“You were putting the tequila shots down!” he said.
“Tequila shots? Really?”
He laughed again and said, “No, I didn’t see you shooting Tequila. But you must have been drunk because you were about to believe me.” He had a point, jerk. I’d just take it out on him in the gym. “I didn’t know Crown Royal could get you to dance on the tables like that.”
“Okay, let’s get started. Weights today,” I said, changing the subject. I knew by now that he was full of it.
“Shit, I hate weight-training,” he said with a grin. I just shook my head at him. I gave a sideways glance over to where Paul and Sam were working. Paul had his back to me, thank God. I had no idea what I’d even say to him if we had to talk again. At the same time, just knowing we were in the same room made my stomach flutter. I forced attention back on Mark.
Mark and I did two days a week of strength training. Coupled with his conditioning and the fact that he actually worked out with his coach once a week as well, that was more than enough. That day was day two of his strength training for the week. On day one we’d had him bench press, do pull-ups, single leg deadlift, and the Bulgarian squats. He didn’t complain as much when we worked with the weights as he did when we did conditioning. That day we were going to do the Military press, chin-ups, eccentric only pull-ups, and then some light grip and ab work-outs to cool him down.
I’d spoken too soon about Mark because that day he whined through most of it. When we got through it all except for the ab work we happened to be right next to Paul and Sam. I thought about just not making eye contact with Paul at all, but that was just way too rude considering what he’d done for me. Instead, I forced myself to make eye contact and smile. He didn’t smile back; he just continued to concentrate on his crunches. That was annoying; he could’ve at least forced a smile at the woman who’d spent the previous night in his bed. Trying too hard, as usual, I looked at Mark who had really been jumping up and down on my last nerve all session and I said, “You should be a nice guy like Paul here. I don’t hear him complaining.”
Mark laughed and said, “You don’t hear him doing nothing, he barely speaks.”
Paul barely glanced over, not missing a beat in his work-out. Mark looked interested though, and said, “Paul’s a nice guy? That’s news to me.” He smiled when he said it and looked over at Paul.
“He’s nice enough to not torture his trainer with one complaint after the other…Oh! And to look after his nephew. Do you do that?” I looked at Paul when I said it.
I could hear Mark say, “I don’t have a nephew. So there. I didn’t know that Paul had a nephew…” but then whatever else he said was a blur as I realized that Paul suddenly had a really pissed-off look on his face and it was directed toward me. I’d definitely said something wrong. Paul finished what he was doing quickly and got up and walked away. I was confused. What I said was intended to be a compliment. I wondered why it seemed to make him so angry. Men were so weird sometimes.
I finished up with Mark and was considering just going home since I didn’t have any other appointments when Sam said, “Hey, Jessie! Can you come over here for a second?”
He was still with Paul w
ho I really, really didn’t want to face again. I couldn’t very well ignore Sam, though, so I sucked it up and went over. “What’s up?” I asked Sam, trying not to look at Paul. I could feel his eyes boring into me. They felt angry…or annoyed…
“Debbie just called. Her car got a flat on the 405. She’s calling a tow truck but I’d like to be there to pick her up…I hate the thought of her out there alone on the side of the freeway…”
“Oh yeah, go get her. I’ll cover for you.” I had a flat on the 405 once and they’d sent me the strangest tow truck driver they had, I thought. I had to spend thirty minutes in the truck with him and there was one point I thought about jumping out on the pavement.
“Well, Paul is my last client so if you’ll finish up with him for me that’ll be it for the day.” Shit! Damn! Shit! I took a deep breath and looked at Paul who didn’t look pissed any longer, just completely disinterested. I preferred pissed. It at least made him look less like a sculpture and more human.
“Okay, sure…if Paul doesn’t mind,” I said. Part of me hoped he’d say no way.
“He’s okay with it,” Sam said. “Right?” I thought Paul nodded, but it was practically imperceptible. He didn’t even talk well in sign language. I said goodbye to Sam as Paul finished his reps on the thigh machine and then I tried a smile again and said,
“I’m sorry that I upset you earlier. I’m not sure what I said—”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got the bench next.”
“Okay…but I feel really bad that I upset you. Sometimes I say things without thinking—”
“I’m not upset,” he snapped. “Can we finish my work-out now?”
“Yeah, sure.” Yeah, right, he’s not upset. I wonder if asking what the hell I said to make him that way was too much to ask. What was up with this guy? We walked over to the weight bench and he sat down. I was about to ask how much weight he wanted me to put on. Before I asked him I heard a commotion at the door.
Victoria was working the desk that day and I heard her say, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closing.” I looked over in time to see a big guy barrel his way past her. He came across the floor and right up on us. By the time he got there, Paul was already on his feet. I took a step back away from them just on instinct. I could tell by the look on Paul’s face that he wasn’t happy to see him.
“Where is she?” the big guy said. He was really angry that Paul apparently knew where “she” was and he didn’t.
I looked over at Victoria. She was on the phone. I hoped that she was calling the police. From the looks of the guy, he was spoiling for a fight.
“If she wanted you to know that, she’d tell you herself,” Paul said. I looked from the man who was really not attractive in the least to Paul and I almost felt bad for the guy. If the woman he was looking for was with Paul, there was probably no chance she was going back. I felt a strange and absolutely undeserved pang of jealousy toward the mystery woman.
The man stepped closer, almost right in Paul’s face. I saw Paul’s muscles tense and his hands flex at his sides but he didn’t flinch. He was getting ready for a fight. I hoped he was as good as everyone said he was because the other guy had him in the size department. I looked back at Victoria who was off the phone now and watching what was going on. There wasn’t anyone else left in the gym…thank goodness.
“You tell her…” the man started through gritted teeth.
“I’m not telling her shit. Besides the fact that she doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say, I’m not your fucking message boy.” That was when the man went from looking for a fight to starting one. I saw his fist come up and then I was dazzled by how quickly Paul reacted. He blocked the man’s fist with one arm and threw a punch of his own that landed square in the man’s gut. He doubled over and seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. Paul said, “Get the fuck out of here and stop looking for her. You mess with her and you’ll get a lot worse than that, you fat, miserable son of a bitch.” I saw Greg coming in the front door out of the corner of my eye. That must have been who Victoria called.
“Fuck you!” the other man said in a winded voice as he struggled back upright. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. He reached out and wrapped a beefy arm around Paul’s neck like he was pulling him into a one-armed hug. Paul twisted his body with amazing speed and took a step back. He made getting out of a choke hold look like a walk in the park. He moved so quickly, as a matter of fact, that the man barely noticed he’d pulled free before he was rewarded with a kick to the upper thigh, and as he started to drop, a right cross to the chin. He hit the mat on his knees and Greg said,
“I believe that you have been asked to leave.”
“You throw me out, you throw this son of a bitch out too,” the man said, barely able to talk.
“From what I heard, you started it. Paul’s a member here. You’re not. Besides, this is my gym and I can kick you out just because you’re ugly if I want to. Now get the fuck out. You’re not welcome back either. If I see you again I’ll call the police.” The man stumbled back up to his feet and pointed at Paul. He started to say something else but Greg said, “I can call them now if you like.” The man gave Paul another look…a warning look, maybe. Then he turned and walked toward the door, not nearly as straight and tall as he had been when he came in. When he got to the door he looked back over his shoulder and said,
“You’ll be sorry, asshole!”
I didn’t know if he was talking to Paul or Greg, but neither of them looked worried. Paul didn’t even look winded. The big guy might want to rethink who he was threatening.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Hey, Jessie, I’ll finish up with Paul since I’m here if you don’t mind starting on clean-up,” Greg told me.
“Sure, that’s fine.” I glanced at Paul who still looked pissed. I wasn’t sure if it was all over the big guy, or if he was still pissed at me for whatever I had said. I’d rather have cleaned a stationary machine that I couldn’t easily insult.
I went in the back and got the cleaning product we used and the clean towels. I started near the back and cleaned each machine, working my way forward. I could hear Paul’s grunts as he worked out but nothing else. When the grunts stopped I chanced a glance over. Paul was disappearing into the men’s locker room and Greg was over talking to Victoria. I was on my last few machines when Paul came back out, freshly showered and in a clean T-shirt. He looked like a work of art once again.
“Hey, Jessie, we’re going to take off. I’ll lock you guys in,” Greg said.
“Okay, I’m almost finished. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Jessie. See you tomorrow, Paul,” Greg said.
“Thanks, Greg,” Paul called after him. Greg gave him a nod and Victoria waved at us. I waved back and watched them go. I was sitting on the machine I’d been cleaning and when I looked up, Paul was standing next to me.
“I’m sorry I got pissed,” he said. “I know that you didn’t mean anything by telling Mark about my nephew. You just don’t know the situation and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Oh…” Now that he was apologizing, I had no idea what to say. “It’s okay.” I finally managed.
“Victor is my sister’s boy. She had him when she was only sixteen and she’s really sensitive about that. She doesn’t want people judging her. I know in this day and age…most people wouldn’t, but she’s had to deal with it from people in her life that should have been the last people to judge. And now, the more fights I win, the more publicity I get, and the more people dig into my family and my past. She doesn’t want Victor to have to go through any of that. That’s why I don’t talk about him.”
I felt like a complete idiot. “I’m sorry; I have a big mouth sometimes. I was just so embarrassed about last night and this morning and I was trying to think of some way to start a conversation with you…” I caught myself and said, “There I go, babbling again. I’m sorry.” He smiled, then. It was a genuine smile…God, I loved that.
“Oh, wow. Does she have a restraining order?”
“She has me,” he said. “They go to court soon. Hopefully all of these things he’s been up to will convince a judge he doesn’t need to be raising an eleven-year-old boy. If it doesn’t and they order visitation….” He stopped himself there, but the look on his face said it all. I actually shuddered. He changed the subject then by saying, “So do you just train on these machines or do you use them yourself?”
“Wow, now I’m insulted…you can’t tell that I use them?” I was trying to flirt. I wasn’t sure if it was working or not.
He grinned and said, “I did notice you had some guns on you. How much can you bench?”
I smiled and said, “Spot me and I’ll show you.”
He moved off the bench he was on and I laid down on it underneath the bar. It had a twenty pound weight on each side. I could press my own weight and then some. “Put a fifty on each end,” I told him.
“Don’t hurt yourself showing off,” he said with a grin. My arms were shaking but that was because he was standing so close.
“Just do it, smart guy!” I told him, hoping that my voice wasn’t shaking as well. He did and then he acted as my spotter as I lifted the hundred and forty pounds without much effort. When I finished he said,
“Impressive. I’m sure that bar outweighs you.”
“Not by much,” I said.
“Well you look to be pretty much solid muscle and it’s true what they say that muscle weighs more than fat. How long have you been working out?”
“I started lifting with my dad when I was about thirteen,” I told him. “I love to exercise. It makes me happy.” He nodded like he understood that completely. Once again I lost complete control of my stupid voice and I said, “My ex-boyfriend didn’t get that. Making natural endorphins was a foreign concept to him. I always thought he’d be a lot less troubled if he learned natural ways to deal with his problems.” I suddenly realized that was way too much information. Paul wasn’t interested in my life story. Changing the subject again I said, “Hey, if things get to the point where your sister and nephew need a safe, neutral place…I live alone. They’d be welcome to stay with me.”
Shifting Gears: The Complete Series (Sports Bad Boy Romance) Page 44