by Shey Stahl
But I attempted to do as he said, only he had to demonstrate. I knew exactly what was about to happen. He was going to touch me. My entire body tensed in anticipation.
My nipples hardened. And he was in a prime spot to get my full on high beams right in his face.
Destry got down beside me on his knees and with no hesitation, he reached out and placed two fingers under my chin to raise it up, rough skin sliding across mine. Then he took his palm and placed it on my shoulders. “Cross your arms over your chest,” then he moved to hold my feet kneeling between my legs.
Oh God, he’s at my feet. If I opened my legs right now his head would be between my legs.
Open your legs!
No. Don’t.
His voice was low and controlled. “Tighten your stomach muscles by drawing in your belly button.” His eyes lifted from my stomach to my eyes, a moment of silence fell over us. Then he moved his hand to my stomach and flattened it.
Sweet Jesus. Move your hand lower. Lower, damn it!
I felt every single finger on my skin with just the slightest pressure.
Just a little lower and keep that pressure.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Keep your stomach tight, feet on the ground, then slowly lift your head followed by your shoulder blades until you’re at a ninety degree angle.” He put his other hand on my feet as I raised my body up. “Hold that position for a minute and then bring your torso back to the floor.” He watched me, his impassive eyes dark concentrating on my form. When I did as he said, he smiled. Actually smiled. “Good. Do that twenty more times and then I’ll show you another set.”
I did, and then he proceeded to show me five different kinds of sit-ups. Who knew there was more than one?
Thirty minutes into that we stopped to drink some water before he was going to show me back exercises. I was silently hoping there was more touching. I could only gather that this mental change in my previous thoughts of him being an asshole to now wanting, hell, silently begging for him to put his hands on me had something to do with lack of food and the lactic acid that was being released from my screaming muscles. It was messing with my brain.
We were standing near the wall of weights when he looked over at me, his eyes examining my face, as if he was trying to decide on what he wanted to say. “Ordinarily a person wouldn’t go through this much just for one night.”
Everyone thought I was crazy for doing this but I had my reasons. They were just that. Mine. As in, I shouldn’t have to explain myself.
“What if one night gave you an answer that finally made sense?” I asked, shifting my weight and leaning into the wall as I tried to stretch my calf muscles that were cramping up so bad.
He didn’t give my question any thought. At least I didn’t think he did. “So what, you win tickets or something to be a groupie?”
“No.” I snorted, trying to appear annoyed. I didn’t have to try very hard. “I used to date him in high school.”
Destry raised an eyebrow, a small twist of his lips, then shook his head without saying anything, his eyes focused on the water bottle in his hands. Standing straight, he motioned toward a bench near the wall and retrieved a pair of free weights.
“You don’t believe me?” I took the weights from him and sat on the bench.
He lifted his eyes to mine considering the question and then wiped the back of his hand over his jaw as if he had an itch. Motherfucker didn’t have an itch.
“I don’t care.” His eyes then dropped back down to my hands.
My jaw dropped. Literally. “What?”
When he shrugged, I wanted to once again, shove this weight in my hand up his ass. Here I am trying to reserve judgment about him and be nice for today, but the more I’m around him, the more I understand this guy is just an all-around dick.
“I said I don’t care.” He kept his head down as he spoke. “I don’t give a shit that you used to date him, fuck him, follow him around like a stalker, I don’t really care.”
You’re an ass.
Now I didn’t say this, only because a guy like Destry already knew this. There’s absolutely no sense in telling him.
I just continued with the workout. I had a goal, I didn’t need his opinions or his judgment. Fuck him and his high horse.
Before my work out on Sunday, I met Marcus for brunch at Tilikum Place Café. It was one of my favorite places to eat. My morning started off good. It’s a given that I was sore but when I pulled on a pair of jeans, they suddenly didn’t feel too tight. How cool was that? It had only been a few torturous days but this definitely made the pain bearable.
I took the bus to the restaurant. When I walked in, Marcus was already seated at a table in the corner. Sunday’s were always busy here, crowded and usually an hour wait. Luckily Marcus was always prepared and had made reservations.
I smiled as I approached him. He did the same, stood and wrapped his skinny arms around mine. Marcus was tall but had a lanky build, brown eyes and dark hair that fell in his face. Very different from the man I was hanging out with these days.
“So, Tallan,” Marcus took a seat folding the napkin on the table on his lap, “what have you been up to?”
“Not much.” I did the same, sitting across from him and then raised my water glass to my lips and took a drink. A few drops fell down my chin as I gracefully attempted to rid my face of the fact that water wasn’t my drink of choice. “Hired a personal trainer to get my ass in shape.”
Marcus laughed as I wiped away the water. Only he wasn’t laughing about me being in a constant state of disarray and always spilling everything. By the bright-eyed look, he was entertained by the idea that I was working out. I didn’t really think this was funny.
Why did people laugh when I said this?
“You look fine to me. Why would you do that?”
“Denial. You’re in denial.” I motioned to my ass barely fitting in my jeans. “I didn’t get like this by accident. Anyhow, I’m meeting Silas in a few weeks and I wanted to look good.”
He looked down at the menu one last time. “You’ve been talking about him for years, that’s good to finally get closure, right?”
“That’s my hope anyways.”
We ordered our meals. I kept myself under control and ordered a veggie omelet and orange juice. I wasn’t sure I could have orange juice but I was dying for some. Marcus gave me a look because he knew when we came here I devoured a plate of pancakes. Not now though. I’m a woman on a mission.
Marcus shook his head brushing his brown thick hair from his eyes. “So what have you been working on?”
“Lunges.”
He smiled his crooked smile. Marcus could be considered cute but I’d never really given much thought to it. Kind of like Jared. It was just never going to happen. “I meant on your articles.”
“Oh, that.” Of course he was talking about work. He’s a very task oriented person. This is so funny to me because he’s good friends with Jared now since they met in college, his complete opposite. “Mostly city council articles. Just finished up an article on the Seattle Light Rail Project. I’ve got two articles I’m working on for various blogs but what do you have in mind?”
“What do you know about Destry Stone?”
I sighed. Somehow I knew the conversation would go this way. “Jared told you, didn’t he?”
His head tipped back from laughing. Jerk. “Yeah, well he said you were working out with him.”
“See, he’s worse than a fucking girl. Can’t keep his mouth shut. I bet he told you about cutting me out of my jeans too, didn’t he.”
Marcus smiled, still laughing but looked down at his food that had just arrived. “He may have mentioned something like that.”
“He’s such an asshole.”
“Who, Jared or Destry?”
“Well, both really. But Jared right now.” I leaned forward resting my hands on the table. “I’m going to kick his ass. And now that I’m getting in shape, I’m just the per
son to do it too!”
And then like a switch was flipped, something he’s so good at, his face is suddenly serious. “About Destry… how well do you know him?”
I took a moment to think about the question and cut into my omelet. How well did I know him?
I didn’t.
“He’s my personal trainer but he’s about as closed off as a safe.”
Marcus frowned, squinting his eyes. “I know you. A challenge is good. How do you feel about writing an article about him? Something to profile him as a local guy.”
“Good or bad? I’ve heard mixed feelings about him and after spending a week with him, I’m understanding the bad.”
“That’s the thing, Tallan.” Marcus relaxes in his chair taking a drink of his coffee. “No one knows for sure what happened with that fight.” He set the cup down and stared at me. “Only Destry. I’d kinda like to leave it up to you on this one. Write the article on how you see it flowing once you find out more about him and what happened.”
Write the article? How the hell am I going to do that? It’s not like the guy has said more than five words to me that don’t involve the words reps, squats, lunges, and don’t waste my time.
“So basically do the research, talk to him and write what I feel happened to cause him to not get in the boxing ring professionally anymore?”
“Yeah, I’m certain you’ll find the answer everyone’s looking for.” Marcus reached for the check when the waiter brought it by. “He won’t talk to reporters and knocked out the last person who tried to do a story on him.”
I started digging through my bag for money. “Oh fabulous, that makes me feel better.” I handed him a twenty only to have him push it back at me.
“He’s not going to do that to you.” He held up his credit card. “And I’ve got this.”
“So you say, have you met him?”
Marcus laughed again. “I can attest to his left hook, yeah.”
“So you’re the one he knocked out?” I laughed so hard causing a new pain in my ribs to emerge. I don’t know why Marcus’ revelation about him being the one who got tagged by Destry was so funny to me. And it wasn’t the first time Marcus had been knocked out trying to get information out of people. But, yeah, that was hysterical.
“Sadly, yes. Down for the fucking count.”
Part of me, okay, all of me wasn’t thrilled about getting to know Destry better for the simple fact that he’d been such a douche to me so far. I was okay with working out and not venturing into the friend zone with him. Writing this article meant I’d have to ask him questions in roundabout ways and judging by the interactions we’ve had so far, this wasn’t going to be easy at all.
I decided to walk back to my apartment and not only get a little exercise since my legs were so sore, maybe warm them up a little and it was a beautiful day in the city. Felt like it was at least in the sixties and not a cloud to be seen.
When I got home from brunch and my walk, Catie was in our apartment, with the door unlocked, and Jared was apparently in the shower. If I was in here, Jared would have went ape shit to know the door was unlocked.
“He bitches at me but yet the door is unlocked yet again.” I locked the door behind me when I got inside the apartment. “What are you doing here?”
Catie rolled her eyes but continued to watch whatever movie she had on. She was sitting in the chair closest to the balcony with the door open. The breeze was actually nice for once. Kind of felt good to have fresh air in the place. Spring in Seattle was one of my favorite times of year, when it wasn’t raining, which was more often than not. Seattle natives had to take advantage of days like this as much as we could.
After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I sat next to Catie. “Hey, you remember that sports editor I knew in college, Marcus?”
“Yeah, I think.” Catie thought for a moment. “Yeah, I do. Jared’s friends with him, right?”
“Yes.” I glared. “Anyways, he was asking around about a story on Destry. He suggested I do a story on him. Help him get his name back.”
“You hate him.” She pointed out when Jared appeared around the corner without a shirt. “Why would you want to help him?”
“I’m not even sure. There’s just something about him that I find… interesting.” I looked over at Jared and then stood to jam my finger in his chest. “And you, asshole. Why did you tell Marcus you had to cut me out of my jeans?”
“Because that shit was probably the funniest thing I’ve participated in all year.” Jared stepped back and pulled a t-shirt over his head. “You ready to go, Catie?”
“And here I thought you were my friend, instead you’ve probably blabbed to everyone about my skinny jeans fiasco.”
“Ummmm…how many people count as everyone? And they can only be classified as skinny jeans if you can get them on and off and, well…”
Oh, holy hell, Jared is a dead man!
“Where are you two going?”
“Lunch.”
“Dating, huh?”
Jared glared at me. “No, just going to get food.”
“Fucking each other and food.” I smiled at them, both watching each other to see if one was going to react. “That’s considered dating in some cultures and in other cultures it’s just considered friends with benefits …so which is it?”
Jared reached out and pushed me. I didn’t have great balance and fell back on the couch. “Says the girl who is thinking about her personal trainer in dirty ways.”
Catie laughed as they headed for the door. “Should I start looking for a place to stay? Are you moving in together soon?”
Jared flung his arm up behind his head and flipped me off when he got to the door. Then he stopped before closing the door. “Yeah, ask the champ. I’m sure he’s got room in his ring for you.”
Ask the champ, my ass.
Shit. How the hell am I going to write this article?
Ordinarily I have no problems writing whatever. I’m good under pressure and digging into topics that aren’t covered too often. Lately I’ve been more on the political side of news. This would be entirely different. In a strange way, I was looking forward to the challenge of it. If there’s one thing I knew for sure, Destry Stone was the biggest challenge of all.
I met Destry at the bar around five that night. He said we had to be finished by seven so he could meet someone. Part of me wondered if he had a date but no way was I going to ask that just yet. I’d have to work up to this with him.
“I’m down an entire jean size,” I said, almost conversationally to him. “How’d that happen in a week?”
Destry shrugged as we stretched out our muscles on the mats. “Water weight probably but sometimes the first ten pounds come off quickly.”
“I’ll be a size six before I know it!” Reaching forward I pressed my chest into my leg to stretch out my calf that had been bothering me.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a woman who wears a size ten, Tallan.” Destry said, shaking his head and standing. “Real woman have curves. They shouldn’t be limited and defined by a fuckin’ number.”
“You shouldn’t be in here.” Danny said following a blonde babe down the stairs. I watched her walk toward Destry with a slow strut.
Destry, who had finished stretching was over by the weights and turned to look over his shoulder, his body immediately tensed.
“Stay out of it, Danny.” Destry glared at her immediately, taking one step toward her. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to give you your key back.”
He smiled at her, that full on grin he had. The one I’d only seen once. Only it was clear it was forced. “Nice of you.”
She sighed and I could tell their parting wasn’t pleasant. Her hand went to her hip. “Don’t be an asshole.”
Destry held up his hands, smiling in a condescending way that I recognized. He was getting ready to be an asshole. “I said, nice of you.”
He held out his hand to take the key and she dr
opped it on the floor. “Have a good day, champ.”
He winked at her, picked the key up and threw it against the wall. It pinged as it made contact and then fell to the concrete floor. “You too,” he turned to walk away, “Stella.”
Oh God, that was Stella? Holy. Shit. Look at her!
When I saw Stella, a few things went through my mind. Again, why would anyone name their daughter Stella Summer? Were they high?
And then my next thought was damn, I wasn’t even on the competition radar compared with a girl like her.
But Destry was right. He liked women. Real women. Stella was a woman. Long legs, huge tits, curves, just downright stunning.
He walked back over to me when she left, his posture and mood much like it was last night, different and tensed.
“Who is that girl?”
“Ex-girlfriend.” He mumbled staring at his phone now in his hand.
“Oh, wow, she’s pretty.” I was trying to be kind, but I failed to realize that wasn’t what he wanted to hear right then.
He glared, eyes flashing with annoyance that I even spoke to him right then. And by glare I mean he looked like he wanted to murder me for saying that.
Okay, well apparently we don’t talk about that.
His stare made me nervous. Made me want to run from him before I even knew anything more about him based on the anger behind that stare. Somewhere, somehow, someone had fucked this guy up emotionally. In fact, emotionally damaged doesn’t do this guy justice. Emotionally devastated might.
“We’re done for the day.” He said, still staring at me.
“What? All we did was stretch.” He couldn’t be serious, could he? No workout all because of that girl?
“I said we’re fuckin’ done.” By the way he spoke to me, it was as if I wasn’t even worth his time to explain. “We’ll pick up tomorrow.”
That pissed me off. “I’m paying you to train me, not blow me off.”
Destry laughed and walked toward the stairs, leaving. “Then don’t come back. Wouldn’t bother me at all.”