Personal Training

by M. L. Sapphire

“I know you said Chad's a jerk and all but, sweetie, you may wanna reconsider going out with him. You said he was good looking but you didn't tell me he was that good looking! Damn, Emma! It's like if Ryan Reynolds, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Robert Pattinson, and Channing Tatum somehow had a baby and that baby grew up and lifted weights everyday for ten years, you'd get Chad Taylor. He could be the biggest dick on the planet and I'd still go out with him!”

  “You already did go out with the biggest dick on the planet. I'm sooo glad you finally got rid of Jeff.”

  “Me, too.” Chomp,chomp. “But we're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you and the Greek god that asked you out today. There isn't at least a little part of you that wants to go out with him?”

  “I mean, maybe a little. Claire, would you please chew with your mouth closed? You're driving me nuts.”

  “Sorry. I'm just so hungry since I started this all-salad diet. I need to eat as much as I can to fill me up for the rest of the night.”

  “Claire, I've told you a thousand times: There are much better ways to lose weight. I'm a registered dietitian. Let me help you come up with a healthier way to get rid of the little bit of fat that you have. You don't even really need to lose weight, if you ask me.”

  “Well, no offense, sweetie, but I didn't ask you. Eating only salad has worked for me in the past and it'll work again. Now stop changing the subject. Don't you think it would be like, I don't know, satisfying to go out with him after he ignored you all throughout high school? Does it at least make you feel good that he asked you out?”

  “I mean, it does, yeah. But if I was still fat, I bet Chad wouldn't even look at me.”

  “But you're not. That's my point. You're gorgeous, girlie! Embrace it. All I'm saying is, think about it. It's Friday night. You're not gonna see him until Monday, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, mull it over this weekend. If you still don't wanna go out with Chad come Monday, then forget about him. But, I don't understand how you or anybody could say no to that face. That body!”

  Claire holds up her phone again, showing me a shirtless photo of Chad leaning up against some kind of farm vehicle. I'm not gonna lie: Every time I see Chad, I get a goosebumps – just a little bit. There's no denying that the man is as handsome as the sky is blue. Maybe Claire's right: Maybe I should give Chad a chance. It's only one date. Maybe he'll be different when it's just me and him. I don't know. I have to think about it. Good thing I have all weekend to myself before I’ll see him again.

  —————————

  Monday mornings, no matter where you go, always have a certain feel to them. I first noticed it in high school, then in college, at the different minimum-wage jobs I've had, and now here at Fit World. Everyone seems a little more optimistic – a little more full of life. Maybe it's the afterglow of having two days to yourself without having to worry about clients, customers, bosses, and employees. By Tuesday, though, reality sets in and everyone's usually back to their normal I-hate-my-job, I-hate-my-life selves.

  My morning is busy and goes by quickly. I start looking for Chad in the late morning, early afternoon when he usually strolls in. It must be nice to come and go as you please. Lunchtime comes around and I go out for food, expecting Chad to be in by the time I get back. When I return from lunch, though, he's nowhere to be seen.

  The afternoon goes by slowly, much slower than the morning. It's almost the end of my work day and Chad is nowhere to be found. I go on the computer and check to see if I can pull up his schedule. All the employee schedules are there, including his. Hmm. It looks like he usually works Mondays but, for some reason, has today off. My curiosity gets the best of me and I ask someone where he is on my way out of work.

  “You're a trainer here, right?” I ask a woman wearing a shirt that says “Fit World” on the front and “TRAINER” in big letters on the back. I'm guessing she's a trainer here.

  “I am, yes,” she replies. “Samantha. You're the new dietitian, right?”

  “That's right. I'm Emma. It's nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Emma.”

  “I was wondering if you know why Chad Taylor's not here today?”

  When I mention Chad's name, Samantha's face lights up. She has the same look in her eyes that every woman around here seems to get when his name is mentioned.

  “Chad? He flew out to L.A. for some fitness expo. He does that a lot. Chad's famous, you know. I'm sure he'll probably be back tomorrow. Why? Are you trying to get with him?”

  “No. No, nothing like that. I was just wondering. I've known Chad for a long time. We went to high school together.”

  “Oh. That's cool. I was gonna say, if you're into Chad, take a number. Every woman in this place wants a piece of him.”

  “You don't think he's a bit...um, rude?”

  “I guess. But have you seen his abs? And he's got like a million followers on Instagram. I don't care how rude he is. I'd go out with him in a heartbeat and so would just about every other woman I know.”

  “He is a good-looking guy. Well, thanks Samantha. I'll see you around. Nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too, Emma.”

  I get home from work and have the apartment to myself. Claire's out on a date for the evening. After making myself dinner and getting comfortable, I curl up on the couch and put on the TV. There's nothing good on but I can't focus anyway. No matter how hard I try to think about anything else, my mind keeps finding its way back to Chad. I remember what Samantha told me about him being at a fitness expo in Los Angeles. I'm sure Chad's posted tons of pictures and videos all over the internet.

  Social media isn't something I care much about. I use Facebook to stay in touch with family and friends, but that's about it. I don't use Instagram or any of the other million social media apps. Not until now, that is. With no roommate to talk to and nothing good on television, I decide to download Instagram so I can see what Chad's up to in L.A.

  While the Instagram app is downloading, I remember that he said he's got a YouTube channel, too. That's something I use all the time. Whether I'm looking for healthy recipes or videos of cats getting involved in funny catlike mischief, YouTube's got it all. I open the YouTube app and search for Chad Taylor. His channel comes right up.

  The first video was uploaded just a few hours ago. It's of him in Los Angeles, meeting fans. I watch the video and I have to admit, I'm impressed. It's of Chad sitting at a booth at the fitness expo with one young man after the next thanking him for inspiring them. Chad's fans really look up to him. Teens, men in their twenties, thirties, and even forties, thanking him for the informative and motivating videos he's put out. For the first time, I'm seeing Chad in a whole new light.

  I watch a few of his videos and I can certainly see why Chad's got so many fans. He comes across as both knowledgeable and inspiring. And it goes without saying, Chad looks immaculate in each of his videos. Maybe I've been too quick to judge him. I mean, Chad has helped a lot of people. He's basically doing what I'm trying to do, just on a much larger scale. It's obvious that Chad has a knack for helping people.

  Perhaps I should give him a chance. What's the worst that can happen? It's been a long time since high school. Maybe Chad has changed. He still comes across as kinda rude but it's not like he was back at Massasoit High. I think I will let Chad take me out on a date - one date.

  Bing!

  A notification pops up on the top of my screen telling me that Instagram has finished installing. Now I can see what all the fuss is about. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person on the planet that isn't on Instagram. I create an account and agree to the terms of service without reading them. Does anybody read the terms for apps like Instagram? Okay, let's find Chad. Chad Taylor. Ahhh, here is is.

  I scroll down Chad's Instagram page and am disgusted by what I see. It's littered with pictures of him with different women - a lot of different women. There are pictures of Chad grabbing w
omens' asses, pics of him with his face buried in womens' tits, and a variety of equally disturbing photos. And the captions are some of the most sexist things I've ever read in my life. It's not like there are only one or two - there must be hundreds of pictures like this on his page.

  My heart is pounding out of my chest. I can't believe I was actually gonna go out with such a pig. I can't believe that I was even considering going out with such a macho jerk. Chad hasn't changed. He's still the same douche bag that he was in high school. I wanna scream, I'm so angry at myself. How could I be so naive? People like Chad don't change. If anything, they get worse.

  I've seen enough. After scrolling through dozens of pictures of Chad and a bunch of random bimbos, I close Instagram. Just as quickly as I installed it, I delete it permanently from my phone. Gradually, my heart beat returns to normal. I can't stop thinking about what a jerk he is. Why do I care so much? This shouldn't be bothering me as much as it does. I can't help it, though. I really wanted to believe that Chad is a decent guy. Like, really wanted to believe it. But now I know better than ever that he's not.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chad

  What a great fucking weekend. I flew out to L.A. on Friday for one of the biggest fitness expos in the country. Not only are fitness expos a great way to promote myself, but I get to meet a lot of my fans. Nothing's more important to me than my fans. Well, besides me, of course. But that goes without saying.

  As always, there were tons of gorgeous women at the expo. Nothing but a sea of girls who do squats and hip thrusts seven days a week. My kinda girls. Usually, I hook up with at least a couple chicks when I go to an expo. This weekend, though, I didn't hook up with anyone. The whole time I was thinking about Emma.

  I don't know what it is about her. Since I saw Emma for the first time last week, I haven't been able to get her off my mind. Technically, it wasn't the first time that I saw her. We went to high school together, but I barely remember her. I vaguely recall a really big girl with a really pretty face that used to sit next to me in a few classes. Other than that, I don't remember much about her.

  It's Tuesday morning – early afternoon, actually – and I walk into Fit World with my chest out and a smile on my face. You always gotta present yourself a certain way in this business. No one wants a mopey, hunched over personal trainer. It's all about confidence, just like everything else. The more confident you act, regardless of whether you actually are or not, the further you'll go in life. You'll get more clients, more women, and more respect.

  I walk past Emma's office on the way to mine. Her blinds are down and the door is shut. She must be in with a client. All weekend long, I couldn't get Emma out of my mind. There's just something about her. And the fact that she turned down my offer to take her out on a date - my first offer - only makes me more interested. I like a challenge and this girl isn't making things easy for me. I'll get her to go out with me, though. When I want something, I get it. Always.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I keep an eye on Emma's office while I'm training my clients. I see her come out every so often, bringing her clients to and from the front desk. Emma looks so fucking good. And the thing is, it's obvious that she's not even trying. The girl's barely wearing any makeup. She's dressed modestly enough that her outfit leaves a little bit to the imagination. I can still tell that she's got a really nice body under there, though.

  “You seem distracted today, Chad,” my client says. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Everything's fine. Don't worry about me. Just focus on the exercise.”

  I'm doing my best to train this client but can't stop thinking about Emma. The client that I'm training – Melissa's her name, I think – has a smokin' body. Usually, I get up close and personal with her during out training sessions. It's fun for me and I know she enjoys it. Today, though, I have no desire to even look at her. She's bouncing her firm ass all around in front of me, trying to get my attention, but it's just not working.

  “You're doing great, Melissa,” I say, seeing Emma out of the corner of my eye. “Do another set. I'll be right back.”

  “Okay,” she replies. “Sure. Oh, and Chad?”

  “What?”

  “It's Marissa, not Melissa.”

  Melissa. Marissa. Who the fuck cares? Not me, that's for sure. What I do care about is getting Emma to go out with me. I see her walking toward the fountain to refill her water bottle. It just so happens that I could use a little hydration myself right about now. I walk up behind Emma but she doesn't see me. Not at first.

  “Oh, Emma!” I say when she turns around. “I didn't know that was you. How are you?”

  “I'm fine, Chad. Excuse me.”

  “Give me a minute. I want you to reconsider my offer to take you out. I promise you'll have a good time.”

  “I actually did reconsider, Chad. Then I reconsidered again.”

  “Oh? And what changed?”

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “It matters to me. You reconsidered, which means you decided you wanted to go out with me. But then something happened to change your mind again. What was it?”

  “You really wanna know?”

  “I asked, didn't I?”

  “I saw your Instagram.”

  “And?”

  “And I saw hundreds of pictures of you groping one fake-titted bimbo after the next. You're a misogynistic asshole and I don't go out with assholes.”

  I can't help but laugh. Usually when a girl sees my Instagram, it turns them on knowing that I get so many women. Emma, like with everything else, gives me the exact opposite reaction. And that turns me on.

  “Something funny?” she asks, obviously upset.

  “Emma, those Instagram pictures are all about publicity. I'm not even the one who posts them. My social media manager does it for me. He handles all that stuff.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You think I go around grabbing girls' asses and sticking my face in their tits all the time? Those are all manufactured situations. My social media manager has cultivated a certain persona for me – a successful persona, I might add – that I need to maintain.”

  “Keep talking.”

  “I make a lot of money selling supplements and workout plans. In order for me to do that, I need to grow or at least maintain my following. And to do that, I need to put out a certain image. An image that other guys look up to. The musclebound party boy that gets all the chicks image. That's not the real me that you see on Instagram. You can't judge me based on my Instagram, Emma. It's not fair.”

  I can tell she's reconsidering once again. The look in Emma's eyes is a look I've seen before. She's not the first girl who's mind I've had to change.

  “So you're telling me that all those pictures of you with all those women were staged? All of them?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. My social media manager sets all those photos up. He's the one that uploads them and posts the captions, too.”

  Emma doesn't say anything for several seconds. Neither of us do. I can tell she's mulling everything over in her head. Our eyes meet and I reach out and take one of her hands into mine.

  “Emma,” I say, “let me take you out on one date. If you don't have an amazing time, I'll never bother you again. Promise.”

  After another moment of silence, Emma finally says, “Fine. One date. But if you're at all rude to me, I'll get up right then and walk out. Don't think I won't.”

  My heart starts beating much faster, like I'm in the middle of an intense cardio session. I can't remember the last time I had this reaction to a girl. Actually, I don't think I've ever reacted like this. What the fuck is it about this girl that's driving me so crazy? Normally, I'm as cool as a cucumber around girls. With Emma, every time I talk to her, every time I'm near her, I get this weird feeling in my stomach. I don't know what it is and I don't know if I like it.

  “Cool,” I reply, doing my best to hide my enthusiasm. “How's Friday nig
ht?”

  “Friday night's fine.”

  I can tell by the tone of Emma's voice that she's excited – or at least wants to be – but is trying not to show it. This girl's defenses are way up and I need to tear them all down, carefully. I'm really gonna have to try to be on my best behavior. Without sacrificing who I am, that is. I'm still gonna be me.

  “Awesome. I'll pick you up at seven?”

  “I'll meet you there. Where are we going?”

  “Damn, Emma, you're really fighting me on this, huh?”

  “Don't push it. You're lucky I'm going out with you at all.”

  “Fine. Do you like Italian food?”

  “Yeah, I do. It's actually one of my favorites.”

  “I know a place. Best Italian food in the city. It's called Gustoso Italiano. Ever been?”