The Trainer

by Shey Stahl

  Bring it on.

  Having a chin, whiskers or granite like jaw means having the ability to absorb punches when you get hit with a big shot and stay standing, to remain on your feet despite seeing black flashing lights, blurred, double or triple vision and feeling a buzz that goes all the way to your toes. Some say you are either born with a good chin or not. Others say it's a mental toughness that when your brain tells you to go down to the canvas you will yourself to stay on your feet.

  The next morning I was sitting at my computer working.

  Lie. I was Googling Silas Cade.

  What I found out was his string of women he’d been spotted with between strippers, actresses, models, you name it, he’d been with them. He was now covered in tattoos, had a few piercings, rumored to have his dick pierced and what some would say an unsustainable sex drive.

  And then I started in with images and trying to find the best one I could of him. I went through his Twitter and Instagram pages, all filled with him in exotic places in a variety of poses with beautiful women.

  Eventually I found one of him and a beautiful woman that was perfect for cropping. I cropped her out of the photo and placed myself beside him to see if I even looked good anymore next to him. And after just a moment of dissecting everything I hated about my body, I realized I looked like hell next to him. Not even comparable. I looked like I ate part of him for breakfast or that I could have been his mom with the way I hovered over him.

  “My precious.” I grumbled in the best Gollum voice from the Lord of the Rings’ movies that I could muster all the while petting the screen.

  That’s when I realized I could resize the photo on the screen and minimize myself to a more natural height. There’s also this feature that makes you look skinnier.

  So I sized myself down a bit more, looked like a stack of bones but I still didn’t look right next to him. He was perfection with his jet black hair, brown pleading eyes and marked skin.

  “Wow, you really trimmed down.” Jared said, resting his chin on my shoulder. I hadn’t even heard him come home.

  I reached up with my fist and punched his throat. “You’re on duty, asshole. Why do you keep showing up here in the middle of the day?”

  He coughed grabbing at his throat. “I left my phone here.”

  “Do you do anything at work? How do you have time to just stop by your apartment?”

  “Part of my job is patrolling. All of my job is patrolling.” Creating a few feet of distance between us he looked back at the door. “Why was the door unlocked? We’ve talked about this. When I’m not here it needs to stay locked.”

  “Because I forgot to lock it.”

  “Yes, clearly you were preoccupied.” He motioned to the screen with a half-smile and walked into the kitchen. “Seriously though, Tallan. Lock it. There’s assholes out there.”

  I rolled my eyes and closed the Photoshop program. “Whatever, Jared.”

  “Don’t whatever me. You won’t be saying whatever when a guy shows up to rob us, sees you’re here and kills you after he rapes you for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You’re right.” I smiled. “I won’t be saying that. Because I would be dead.”

  I followed him out of the kitchen when he found his phone. He held it up when he got to the door leaning against the frame. “Just lock the door.”

  “Fine. I will.” Taking the hair-tie from my wrist I put my hair up in a ponytail.

  Jared gave me a funny look and I knew where that was going. “Why did you do that to the photo?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make yourself look like that. I thought we talked about that last night?”

  “Go. To. Work.”

  “Fine.” He sighed reaching for the door knob. “I’m going.”

  “When do you get off tonight?”

  “Probably when Catie comes over later.” He said suggestively, winking.

  “Gross. Stop sleeping with my friends. It’s weird.”

  Jared stepped out the door and smiled, twisting around to walk backwards down the hall. “Just keeping the city happy.”

  “I’m sure.”

  When he got to the end of the hall, he yelled over his shoulder. “Lock it up!”

  It wasn’t ten minutes after Jared left, maybe ten minutes, and my phone rang. It was the call I was waiting for.

  “Tallan?”

  “Yep.”

  There was a slight pause before he cleared his throat. “It’s Destry. My Uncle Danny said you were looking for a personal trainer?”

  “Yeah, yes, I am.” I was stuttering through my words.

  “Okay… ” I could hear what sounded like music and commotion in the background, and then a door slamming closed.

  “Do you work out at a gym I could meet you at?”

  Please say no.

  Jared had said the session would either be at our house or his house but I didn’t want to assume anything.

  “No. We can do it at my Uncle’s bar. There’s a basement.”

  A basement? I could do a basement for sure. Low lighting, probably no mirrors. Even better.

  “Come by the bar around six?”

  My eyes went wide and I nearly dropped the phone. “Today?”

  “Yes.”

  I started to panic just a little. Tonight was so sudden. I had to mentally prepare for these types of things. It took me weeks to mentally prepare myself to call and make a gynecology appointment. And then the appointment had to be set for at least three weeks after the call so I could do some more mental acrobatics. Tonight to start training was throwing me in a tailspin.

  “Okay, see you then.” I finally said when I realized he was waiting for a reply.

  “Yep.” And then he hung up. That was it.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon looking through my closet for something to wear that wouldn’t make me look huge. I ended up going for black yoga pants, though I hadn’t done yoga a day in my life and a loose fitting t-shirt. Around five I headed over to Alaskan Way. The cab driver dropped me at Pier 57 so all I had to do was cross the street over to Danny’s Bar.

  That’s when I got nervous to the point I thought I was going to vomit. I’ve been to the gym before. No way did I want that guy who banged the weights around and grunted like he was fucking someone with each chest press. Or the ones who flex in the mirror and spend more time checking themselves and the women out.

  I knew this experience was going to be completely different but I wasn’t sure how. Could be bad, could be good.

  You’re doing this for just six weeks. You can do it.

  Once inside the doors, the bar was smoky and smelled like someone pissed outside the door. Thank God I carried hand sanitizer. The smell alone made me gasp. Urine and smoke just isn’t a good combination.

  To the left of the door were four pool tables, to the right, about ten cocktail tables surrounded by flat screen televisions. In the middle of the room was the bar, black wood surrounded by old metal chairs. On the back wall was a floor-to-ceiling mirror with glass shelves that housed the liquor.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I looked up, my eyes drawn to the man before me. He was standing behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest, green tired eyes met mine that seemed too dull for this time of day. It’s not from the dim lighting that his eyes looked that dull either. It’s clear he’s lived beyond his years. A thick golden beard hid the lines on his face. “Drink?” he asked again.

  “No, I’m meeting someone.”

  “They all are, sweetie.” He cracked a smile but then turned toward the man next to him. “Good to see you, Larry. What’ll it be?”

  “Blue Moon.” The man said spilling immediately into conversation about the baseball game on the TV behind the bar.

  Though the voices around me kept grabbing my attention, I couldn’t focus on any one in particular.

  I kept going over what I was going to say to Destry and why I was doing this in the first place. Here I was about to meet a h
eavyweight champion boxer. Well, former heavyweight. He’d lost his title this past winter to a boxer from Canada, Ray Lucas.

  Just the thought of meeting Destry was nerve wracking. Imagine how I’ll be at the concert and seeing Silas again.

  “Are you Tallan Spencer?” Someone asked from behind me. I spun around on the stool to face the voice.

  Holy. Shit. Look at him.

  Wearing a dark gray t-shirt and black shorts was probably the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I’m not kidding you. He’s even better looking than Silas and Jared combined.

  This guy was the one you had your fantasies about. And they would be just that, a fantasy because men like this just don’t exist in real life.

  Only he did. He was tall, perfect tanned skin and muscles that seemed to bulge in all the right places.

  A pair of bright green eyes drifted my way, or maybe I drifted their way. I wanted to walk away right then. No way was I sweating around this guy. Extreme amounts of self-consciousness set in right then. I even stood up a little straighter.

  With a nod toward the back of the bar, he took me down a dark staircase with black walls and concrete steps. We went down what seemed like forever and then through another door. He motioned to the right. “That’s the bathroom.”

  Nothing in this bar screamed sanitary. There was absolutely no way I was ever using that bathroom. No fucking way.

  I understood the smell outside. I would gladly relieve myself on a crowded street during Mardi Gras before I’d step foot in that bathroom right there.

  I laughed, trying to make light of the room. There was no equipment that I could see. Just a boxing ring in the center of the room.

  “Is this like a fight club down here. Is the first rule we don’t talk about it?”

  He didn’t even look back at me when he spoke, instead he turned away even more so and turned on a series of lights. “I’m not here to make jokes.”

  Okay. So no sense of humor at all. Got it.

  “They said you were looking for a personal trainer, yes?”

  “Yes.” Shaking my head I tried to get myself to focus around him. “I am.”

  Leaning against the wall his arms crossed over his chest. My eyes immediately went to his forearms and how it was possible to have so many different muscles in your arms. I never even knew there were that many. “What are your goals here?”

  I swallowed trying to focus. “My goals?”

  “Yeah, what the hell do you want to accomplish? You want to lose weight? Want to wear the matching outfits, what? Danny said you needed to lose weight but I’m not seeing it.”

  “Yes. Twenty pounds and I have a very tight six week deadline.”

  “That’s not exactly healthy to lose that much weight in that short of time. Why six weeks?”

  “Because I’m meeting a friend and I don’t want him to see me like this.”

  “And ‘like this’ you mean what?”

  Jesus. Was he really wanting me to say it? To voice that image that almost every woman in America has?

  “Fat… ”

  “So you’re doing this for someone else, not for your desire to get healthy on your own?”

  “Well, yeah… ”

  His face was blank as he spoke, no emotion at all. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  His brow scrunched in confusion. “Why do this for someone else.”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want him to see me out of shape. I used to have this tight body in high school and then… well, now I look like this.”

  “This isn’t yoga, you know that right?”

  I nodded, not sure how else to respond.

  “I’ll have you screaming for me to let up.”

  Oh God, why was I thinking something dirty right now?

  He gave me this once over, as if he was judging me and deciding on a plan. Or checking me out. Could have been either one at that point. Regardless, I was nothing short of uncomfortable. Being scrutinized like this, by someone who so obviously lived and breathed inside of a gym at least four hours a day, every day, made this once over even worse.

  “What do you do for exercise now?”

  “Stairs?”

  “That shouldn’t be a question.” He noted, barely making eye contact with me.

  “Well, it’s not exactly exercise but I walk up three flights of stairs every day.”

  “That’s all? Just stairs? And you think you can hang with the likes of me training you?”

  What was he expecting me to say?

  “Yes. I heard you were the best and I need the best to keep me motivated.”

  “I’m not your fucking cheering squad or your pep rally, you either want this or you don’t.”

  I felt completely ridiculous around him. Like I wanted to cover myself up and never let him see an ounce of my skin in fear he’d be so disgusted with my slightly overweight body compared to his physique.

  I bet that’s why his last name is Stone. He’s carved from stone, like the fucking David statue, oh my God, I wonder if he’s truly sporting all of David’s stone-like features? Focus, Tallan, focus and don’t let your mind go there…like ever!

  “What about your diet?”

  “Uh… ”

  “To me diet isn’t nearly as important as exercise. You need to get your heart rate up every day. Most disagree and think you can just control your weight by dieting but I’m a firm believer in exercise and cardio.”

  “So, like running?”

  “Not necessarily. Cardio. That can be anything that gets your heart rate up every day for a set amount of time. The longer your heart rate is up, the more calories you burn, your muscles become more efficient, it’s all tied together.”

  Immediately, and I do mean immediately, with the look on his face I was thinking about sex and that damn David statue again and being tied together. I couldn’t help it. He was talking about getting your heart rate up…among other things…and, well, look at him. Anyone in their right mind had those thoughts about this man and him getting my heart rate up had me jumping right into bed with him. I’m not in my right mind. Well, at least I wasn’t right then.

  I bet he was good in bed. I bet he was fantastic even. All sweaty and muscular. He shifted his stance right then to scratch his head and I got a little sneaky peek at his abs.

  Oh yeah, he’s good in bed. You can’t be ripped like that when abdominals were formed as perfectly as his were and moved like they did and not be amazing in bed. It was a given.

  Looking around, I tried to focus on anything but him. I had to. That’s when I noticed there was no gym equipment around.

  “What do you work out with?”

  “I’m not the one working out. You are. And you don’t need all that fancy shit. Just stick to the basics. Add some weights and you’ll be good.”

  “Okay, so what’s basics?”

  “I told you, cardio. And then you’ll do lunges, squats, pushups, sit-ups.” He gave me a look, one that knew I was overwhelmed easily by his presence. “We’ll start with some upper body and then tomorrow we’ll work on the lower body. Alternate a different group of muscles.”

  Everything he was saying wasn’t making much sense but judging by his body, he knew damn well what he was doing.

  He gave me a nod toward the wall. “Start with some upper body. Choose a set of dumbbells and I want you to do ten reps each. Three sets per exercise.”

  “Okay… ”

  “You’re going to do a hammer curl, tricep kick back, incline curl, overhead tricep extension with your palms down, overhead curl, and then an overhead tricep extension with your palms forward.”

  He was speaking Greek. Was David Greek? Oh damn, I gotta get focused.

  Destry must have known I had no idea what he was talking about. Rolling his eyes he proceeded to demonstrate each exercise with the free weights. “Hammer curl…” With his hands hanging loosely at his sides, he widened his stance and straightened out his body. With the weights pointed vertical, he lifted th
e weights so his forearms curled up against his biceps.

  After that he leaned one knee on the bench, placed his left palm flat against the leather padded seat and then took his right arm and extended it back coming in line with his side. “Tricep kick back.”

  Adjusting the bench, he seated it at an angle, sat down with his back pressed against the bench and curled his arms up. “Inclined curl.” Sitting up again, he took the weights over his head, let them fall back so his elbows were bent and then straightened them out over his head. “Overhead tricep extension with your palms forward.”

  I’m not sure I followed all that but it was fun to watch.

  “Are you going to just stare at me or are you serious about this? If you aren’t serious then stop wasting my fucking time and your money.”

  I was speechless, like really at a loss for words. Of course I was serious, I was here putting up with this humiliation wasn’t I?

  “I’m trying to understand all the terminology…did I mention that my go-to form of exercise is walking up stairs?” I tried to hide my smile when I noticed he wanted to grin as well but instead it showed itself as a condescending smirk.

  “Just don’t waste my time, I’m not helping you for my own entertainment, I’ve got more important things I could be doing.”

  Alrighty then.

  “So why lifting weights?” I was trying to lighten the mood seeing that he acted as if this was a total waste of his time.

  He set the dumbbell on the concrete floor and stood up straight, his hands on his hips. “By increasing your muscle mass you will increase your metabolism meaning you’ll burn more calories.”

  My eyes were probably a little wide but he never said anything about it. Hell, he wasn’t even looking at me. “Get started, you’ve got five minutes.”

  And then he disappeared.

  In front of me on the brick wall was a mirror covered in dust so I wiped that down with my towel and then grabbed a set of weights. The ones he gave me were way too heavy so I reached for the lighter ones. I can honestly say right now was the first time I had ever lifted weights to exercise. That seems pathetic but in high school my weight was never a problem. In college I took the whole “Freshman Fifteen” to another level. If it didn’t involve beer or pizza or beer, I wasn’t part of it. Hence why I’m here right now.