Taking a few steps in her direction, with a glare, I snatched the button from her grasp. Leaning forward so I was almost nose to nose with her, I said, “The thing is, I may be ever so slightly overweight but I can do something about that if I choose to. A bitch is a bitch and always will be. Next time you want to comment on how someone looks, or think it’s okay to bully someone because they aren’t a flake like you, take a long hard look in the mirror first and redirect those comments.”
Her startled expression left me with an element of triumph despite my blood boiling with pure fury at her comments.
I turned on my heel and strode out of the shop keeping my head held high, my left hand discreetly checking that my zipper wasn’t slowly creeping downwards.
***
I forced my way through the doors of the Ashworth-Moore building and stomped my way back towards my office. I was fuming. The short walk back had done nothing to ease my temper, and I was sure if anyone had so much as looked at me the wrong way, I would have ripped their head off. I was a bit like the Hulk, in that you wouldn’t like me when I was angry. I might not turn green, but I certainly roared loud enough. People who knew me had learned that lesson the hard way. So, as I stormed through the open plan area, heads ducked and people quickly moved out of my way. It was for the best. I didn’t fancy getting fired for slapping one of the admin juniors.
Back in the sanctuary of my office, I tossed my bag down beside my chair and heard the clattering of items spilling out onto the tiled floor. “Oh for God sake,” I yelled into the stuffy humid air, staring down at the lip balm, mobile phone, bag of Jelly Beans and travel sewing kit scattered across the floor. At least I’ll be able to sew my button back on, I thought snorting a sardonic laugh. I was so angry at the audacity of the airhead in the coffee shop that I’d probably need valium to calm me down, or at the very least a large, stiff drink.
I was crouched down, scooping up the strewn items and cursing ignorant bitches and crap computer systems, when Adam poked his head around my door.
“Liv?” he questioned apprehensively. Adam knew better than anyone to stay out of my way when I was clearly pissed off. He had suffered the backlash of my shorter than short fuse many times over the years. “Is everything okay?” He was also the only person alive who could calm me down with a couple of words and a gentle look.
All of a sudden, the anger and fight in me drained away and I fell onto my backside with a sigh and a gentle thud. “Why are people so nasty, Ad?” I asked, tipping my head back to look up at him as he walked into the room and towered over me.
He gave me a small sympathetic smile and reached his hands out to help me to my feet. “What happened?”
I allowed Adam to pull me up and then pinched at the extra skin around my waist. “This… and this!” I slapped my right arse cheek.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that my rolls and love handles seem to have offended the general population of London.”
He frowned. “What love handles, and who is offended by what?”
I sighed and stepped over to my desk, plopping my offending backside on the corner. “When I was in the coffee shop I had a run in with Barbie.”
Adam paused for a moment, seeming to rake through his memory bank trying to place who I was talking about. “Who’s Barbie?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Long blonde hair, plastic looking, perfect tits but no hoo-ha. You know… Barbie!”
The light bulb behind his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips twitched upwards. “Oh, that Barbie!”
“Yes, that Barbie! How many fucking Barbies do you know?” I slipped off my perch and walked around to my chair. “Anyway, Barbie-the-bitch pointed out rather rudely that my excess bulk is the sole reason the NHS is so overstretched right now.” I sat down and tapped on my keyboard, hoping for signs of life that would distract me from the misery of my situation.
“She what?” Adam barked incredulously. “What the hell?”
I put a hand in the air to stop him from going off on one of his ‘Adam-knows-best’ rants. “She has a point, Ad. I think I ate far too many chocolate oranges at Christmas and they stuck to my tummy and arse like glue.”
He rolled his eyes and looked me up and down. “There is nothing wrong with you, Liv. NOTHING!”
“Yeah, thanks for that, Mr. I-can-eat-whatever-I-like-and-never-put-on-an-ounce. I know I’ve put on a few pounds, but her comments were just cruel. She said I was obese,” I whined. How was it that the remarks of one pathetic, ignorant individual and the sympathetic ear of my best friend could send me into petulant eleven-year-old territory? I slumped back in the chair and looked up at him with a pout.
Adam chuckled. “You are not obese, Liv. I wouldn’t even say you were overweight. To me, you are perfect. However, if you are so worried about having put on a few extra pounds, why not come with me to the new gym I’ve just joined? I’ll help you do something about it if you like.”
I gasped and blinked rapidly at him. The gym? Was he fucking kidding me? Oh no, no, no, that was so not going to happen. Treadmills and I just did not get on. I still had the scar on my left knee to prove it.
“Yeah, like that is going to happen.” I snorted.
“Oh come on. It will be fine. I can show you the ropes, get you started on a simple plan, and before you know it, that chocolate orange belly and butt will be well gone. Just think how hot you’ll look for the Christmas party this year.” He wiggled his eyebrows making me laugh. “Look, just think about it, Liv,” he said, retreating to the doorway. “I usually get there at seven. Meet me there if you want to give it a try. Oh… and Gary said the network should be fully operational again very soon, so you should be able to get back on with your work.”
As Adam walked out of my office, I shouted, “Hey, Ad?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks! I knew I could count on my best friend to cheer me up.” He gave me a slight nod of his head and left.
I slowly spun my chair around, pushing off the edge of my desk as it came around to keep me spinning, and mulled over the events of the past thirty minutes. What was it that had pissed me off the most? Was it the way Barbie-bitch had called me out in public, embarrassing me in front of the coffee shop clientele? Or was it the fact that, deep down, I knew she was right? Okay, I wasn’t as overweight as she made me out to be, but I wasn’t your typical slim and beautiful book heroine either. I had curves. I knew I could do with losing some weight, or at least toning up and getting fitter.
I planted my feet firmly on the floor to stop spinning. Looking out of the small glass window into the comings and goings of the main office floor, I saw a tall, slim woman walk past. She was dressed immaculately in a navy blue shift dress with matching suit jacket and an elegant, ivory scarf. Her shoulder length, black hair framed her face perfectly. I could see from the way she was holding a stack of files that her nails were manicured and painted to perfection. She was stunning.
I sighed and looked down at my hands resting on the arms of the chair. My nails were not elegant; they were bitten to the quick and ugly. I caught my own reflection in the window as I peered up again. My dull, dark brown hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail, my face looked plain without a hint of make-up and the puffiness and podginess from too many caramel lattes and chocolate oranges was evident in my slight double chin.
There was no denying it, I was Loathsome Liv and the lady in the office was Stunning Stranger. The question was, did I want to do something about it or was I happy being me regardless of a few extra pounds?
Barbie-bitch’s words came back to me. ‘Obesity is a growing epidemic and puts too much strain on our health service.’ Whilst her bitchy words about weight were insensitive and uncalled for, she did get me thinking about my general health. I had lost members of my family due to heart disease and other illnesses associated with poor diet and lack of exercise. Did I want to continue the trend of putting on an extra pound here and there and risk i
llness? The answer was no. It was as simple as that. I needed to do something and I needed to do it now.
As my computer pinged back to life I made the decision to take Adam up on his offer and join him at the gym, starting tonight.
~CHAPTER TWO~
The parking lot was rammed when I arrived at the gym. I’d been driving around for a good five minutes looking for a space and had begun to think it might be midnight before I’d find one. Shaking my head, I cursed Barbie-bitch yet again. If it wasn’t for her obnoxious comments, I would have been at home, happily munching on a pizza and enjoying a beer or two while I caught up on the latest episode of my favourite series.
I sighed again and continued edging forward at a snail’s pace, hoping I’d spot someone leaving. A horn blasted from behind me ratcheting my ire up a notch further. Peering through my rear view mirror, my gaze settled on an idiot with a scowl so deeply ingrained on his forehead I was sure he must have a permanent scar there, a tell-tale sign to the world that he was a miserable bastard. He frantically waved his fists at me, like that was going to miraculously help me find a spot I could pull my car into. Extending my arm out of the open window, I gave him the one finger salute, which rewarded me with another blasting of his horn. Whatever! Jackass!
“Finally,” I yelled, slamming my foot on the brake and hitting my turn signal. A skinny, middle aged lady in the pre-requisite Lycra yoga pants and tight t-shirt had walked past me and stopped by a fancy looking car. I looked down at my baggy, grey sweatpants and plain, white t-shirt that had seen better days. Not for the first time did I fear I would not fit in at this establishment. It looked too classy.
Miss or Mrs Lycra pulled out of her bay and my tyres screeched as I gunned the gas to make sure no one stole the spot. It’s mine, all mine. I laughed to myself as the words played in my head like an evil exclamation that wouldn’t have been out of place in a horror movie.
With my car safely parked and Mr. Impatient still driving around looking for somewhere, I wandered towards the imposing gym, taking in the expertly clipped hedges and well-kept flower borders.
“I was beginning to doubt if you would actually come,” Adam said as I walked up to the front entrance, heaving my ridiculously heavy bag onto my shoulder.
“Don’t start with me, Ad. I’m here, aren’t I?” I grumbled, tilting my head back to take in the huge building in front of me. The place was enormous. From the outside, it looked as though it spanned two or three floors, and it was easily as wide as any major supermarket store. The front was constructed completely out of frosted glass, with a steel overhang covering the main entrance. Etched into the windows of the ground floor were the words ‘Golden Oakes Sports and Leisure.’ The place was clearly a high-end establishment and, even from outside, reeked of money.
I also recognised the logo. How had I missed the connection before? Golden Oakes just happened to be owned by one N. Oakes, owner of GO Sports & Leisure, the company I had been working with and would be submitting final design plans to tomorrow. I knew part of GO was a chain of gym and fitness facilities, but up until now, I hadn’t realised Golden Oakes was a part of that conglomerate.
I let out a whistle. “This is some swank place. I bloody hope you’re paying, Adam, because what’s left in my bank account each month won’t get me in.”
Sure, I had a well-paid job, but when I had rent, student loans, credit cards, utility bills, car loans… I was barely left with enough each month to feed my daily caffeine fix. A posh gym membership was definitely out of the question.
Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulders and started walking us towards the sliding glass doors. “You’re covered for the month. I managed to get you a free trial.”
I snorted and elbowed him in the side. “Yeah? And how did you manage that? Am I going to be embarrassed when we walk in and the girl on the front desk looks at you like you’re about to marry her because you let her suck your cock?”
Music pounded through speakers and the tell-tale sounds of weights clanking against each other drifted through the air as we entered the building. “You will be happy to know, I got you in the bona fide way.”
“Oh yeah?” I eyed him suspiciously.
“Absolutely. What do you take me for?”
A player man-whore who wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘relationship’ even if you were given nursery-style flashcards.
I shrugged. “It’s just your usual MO.”
Stopping mid-step, he turned to face me, clutching his chest and batting his lashes. “Olivia! You wound me deeply with your cruel words.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and began walking towards the large stainless steel reception desk behind which a large brushed-steel banner stating ‘Welcome to Golden Oakes’ was hanging proudly on the wall. “Are we going to do this or what?”
Adam signed me in with the blonde receptionist who was, sure enough, watching him like she wanted to eat him. With another roll of my eyes, I turned away to inspect the rest of the bright reception area. As I stared at the numerous pictures of some bloke who appeared to be a fighter of some sort, I couldn’t help but think that this was probably a waste of time. I never managed to go back to the gym more than a couple of times in any fitness streak. There was never anything there to keep me interested long enough to want to go back.
***
I’d entered the building with no expectations and no idea of what I would do. My sole focus had been on getting through the front door—anything else would be a bonus. I stood in the middle of the first floor, looking around with wide eyes and a sense of panic. The large room was full of treadmills, cycles, cross-trainers, vibrating plate things that looked like they belonged in a BDSM club and God knows what else. I wanted to turn around and leave. Never in my life had I felt so intimidated. Nearly every machine was in use by men and women alike who were giving it their all but also barely looked like they were breaking a sweat. I had to fan the front of my t-shirt just to cool off from the anxious sweat dripping between my rather ample breasts.
Standing next to me, Adam asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, Liv? You look a little pale. Maybe I should just take you around and show you how to work the machines today?”
“I’m fine. I think I can manage to press a start button and walk, don’t you?” I twisted my head to look at him with an arched brow.
He raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Okay, I get it. Miss Independent strikes again. You’re gonna do this your way, I get it. I’ll be downstairs in the weight room if you need me.” He backed away with a grin on his face until he rammed into a rather bulky and bald dude who didn’t look too happy. At that point, Adam gave me one last wave and turned away.
Chuckling to myself, I skirted the outer edge of the room, trying to decide what to try first. As I passed a few rooms that were obviously studios for various classes that would no doubt kill me, I came to a stop in front of one with a ‘Private’ label plastered across the wooden door. Being a nosey bitch, I chanced a peek through the semi-frosted glass pane. The room looked like it was some kind of boxer’s paradise with several punch bags and speed balls hanging from brackets lining the walls, along with racks of pads, skipping ropes and gloves. What caught my attention the most, though, was the imposing ring in the centre of the room. From my vantage point it appeared that the ring was almost circular in shape and wasn’t edged with ropes but some sort of mesh. I was no expert, but I was almost positive that boxing rings were square and edged with three horizontally lined ropes.
Realising I was wasting my time looking into a lifeless room, I ambled over to a free treadmill. Luckily it was at the end of a row, against the wall, and, as if the treadmill gods were looking down on me, the one next to it was also vacant. Result! It meant I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of any treadmill pros.
It'd been at least two years since I’d last graced a gym with my presence, and it showed. I stepped on that evil black belt and froze. I was almost positive that all I’d done on the machines at the
tiny university gym was press the button and away you went. As I looked down on the black touch screen in front of me, it was clear I needed a degree to get these machines started. I should have gone to NASA and learned astro-physics. The machine must have, at one point, doubled up as a flight deck for a shuttle. Tentatively, I hit the screen where it said ‘START,’ and I was amazed that the belt actually started moving. It was only when I started rolling backwards that I remembered I was also supposed to move my legs with it. Putting one foot in front of the other, I was soon congratulating myself on not falling off.
Okay, Liv, time to crank this bad boy up a notch.
Slowly, I increased the speed on the machine until I was walking fast but not so fast that I would end up sprawled on my arse with everyone laughing at me.
You’ve got this, girlie.
After a few minutes of acclimatising myself to the new speed, I gathered up my courage and let go of the hand rail. I was on a roll. I was breathing heavily but not like I was about to keel over in cardiac arrest. Sweat lined my forehead and dripped down my back, but I felt good. I even managed to nudge the speed up just a little higher.
The TV monitors hanging from the ceiling near the cross-trainers were showing various sports, music and news channels. I made a mental note to make sure I brought headphones with me the next time so I could listen as well as watch. If there was a next time.
“Is this one taken?”
“Huh?”
“Can I use this machine? Is it taken?”
I twisted my head to look at the muscled giant stepping onto the machine next to me. “Help yourself,” I mumbled through the breaths I was fighting to take.
“Thanks! Do you come here often?” he asked, tapping away at his screen.
Prepared to Fight Page 2