by Julia Derek
Nina tried to stifle a giggle. “Sorry… It just sounds kinda funny. But I’m sure it wasn’t. Well, if you really want to switch trainers and gyms, you should. We can probably get a refund for the sessions. Or transfer them somehow. But I honestly don’t think it’s that big a deal. For sure no one saw what happened except for the hottie trainer.”
“It’s enough that he saw me. Besides, I really don’t think he wants to train me again anyway the way I was questioning everything he told me to do.”
“Why did you question him? Did he ask you to do weird stuff?”
“No, not really.” I thought about Nina’s question for a moment, why I had questioned him so much. “I guess I just didn’t like the way he was ordering me around. And I always get defensive when I’m nervous.”
“Yeah, that’s true. You do have a tendency to get defensive.”
Outrage filled me. “No, I don’t!” Then I realized what I had just done and we both started laughing. “Okay,” I said when I finally contained myself. “Maybe I do.”
Nina inhaled. “So he was ordering you around, huh? Sounds kinda hot, if you ask me… At least if he’s as good-looking as you said. Mmmm…”
I scoffed. “It wasn’t hot at all. Trust me, just super annoying…” But then an image materialized in my mind of him telling me what to do, his arms crossed over his chest, gazing at me in that way that made me feel like I was on fire. Electricity rushed up the insides of my thighs and my stomach did flip flops, suggesting that maybe Nina had a point. She was a lot more sexually experienced than I was. I had only ever slept with three guys while her number was somewhere in the high teens. And, apparently, she and her soon-to-be-husband, Dylan, had the most amazing sex life. I wasn’t at all surprised when she told me she was pregnant, even though she had been on the pill. As often as they seemed to be doing it, it seemed like it had been bound to happen. I, on the other hand, couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had sex, it was so long ago. Which was probably why I was feeling turned on right now, not because Dante’s behavior had been so incredibly sexy.
Two beeps in my ear told me I had an incoming call.
“Hey,” I said. “Someone’s calling me. I talk to you later, okay?”
We said good-bye and I switched to the incoming call.
“May I speak to Ricki, please?” asked a male voice that managed to be velvety and throaty at the same time, a combination that sent a shiver of pleasure through me. Now I was really feeling turned on…
“Um, this is she.” Who could this delectable man be?
“This is Dante from Crunch. We had a training session earlier today.”
Oh, God. Not him. Any thoughts of sex were replaced with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. What could he possibly want? I must have forgotten something at the gym.
“I just wanted to call and see how you were doing and make sure you got home all right,” he said. “Did everything go okay with Gabi?”
“Oh, hi. Um, yeah, she was really sweet. Thanks for hooking me up with her.”
“It’s my pleasure. How’s your ankle feeling?”
“It’s okay. I’ve been resting all day and put ice on it like you suggested, so it hasn’t really swelled up or anything. I haven’t tried to walk on it because I was scared that would hurt too much. So when I go to the—” fortunately, I caught myself before I could continue my nonsensical rambling and tell Dante about my toilet habits. He didn’t have to know that each time I had to go to the bathroom—or anywhere else in the apartment for that matter—I had to jump on my good foot to get there. I cleared my throat and said, “Anyway, I think it’s feeling a little better. Thanks for asking.”
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I feel really bad our session ended on such a low note today. I hope I can make it up to you on our next session.”
I frowned. On our next session? Was he crazy? Did he actually think I’d train with him again? Well, he must or why else would he have said that. But we weren’t. Unfortunately, as I was about to tell him this, I realized I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. They just sounded so incredibly rude now that he was calling me and being so nice and I wasn’t a rude person. At least I hoped I wasn’t. So I ended up saying nothing.
“Is there anything I can do to make your recovery time more pleasant?” Dante said in that sexy voice of his, and suddenly all kinds of naughty things—which I was very sure he hadn’t been referring to—popped up in my head again. Oh, God, I’m a sad, sad person. Who obviously needed to get laid very badly.
“Um,” I said, annoyed with myself that he affected me so much. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“I’m absolutely sure you’ll be more than okay, Ricki. But, really, if there’s anything at all I can do to make your downtime more pleasant, don’t hesitate to shoot me a text. Or call me if you prefer. You can just use the number I’m calling from now. This is your cell, right, so you can see my number on your phone?”
I removed the phone from my ear to see if I could see his number on the screen. There it was, a number indicating that he was from the Downtown L.A. area.
“Yeah, I can see it.”
“Great.” It sounded like Dante was smiling big. “I know how tough it is when you’re down with an injury, so I want to make sure you contact me if you need help with anything. Anything at all. Driving you, picking up groceries, fixing stuff at your house. Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me. If I’m free, I’d be happy to make your life easier.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. And very sweet of you. Thank you.”
“Don’t even mention it. If I hadn’t asked you to do those lunges, you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”
I smiled. “It’s not your fault. I’m just very uncoordinated.”
“Oh, no, it could have happened to anyone.”
I highly doubted that, but out loud I only said, “Really? Thanks, I feel much better now.”
“I’m glad. Well, if you think you’re all right at the moment, I’m going to go. But I’ll check in with you tomorrow to see how you’re doing, okay?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Wow, is this guy for real? I couldn’t help but wonder. He was so incredibly nice.
“Talk to you tomorrow then, Ricki. Remember to keep icing your ankle for 15-20 minutes every couple of hours and you should be fine sooner than you know it.”
“Okay, I sure will. Talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for calling!”
We said good-bye and disconnected. I kept the phone pressed to my chest. Wow, that sure was unexpected. Maybe I will keep training with him after all. He obviously cares very much about how I’m feeling.
I sat a little taller in my bed. Well, at least I’ll give him one more chance before I make up my mind. When my ankle is better and I can walk, that is. I really hoped that wouldn’t take too long.
Dante
I looked at the phone after I had finished my conversation with Ricki. Talking to her had not been as painful as I’d imagined it to be. In fact, she’d been pretty nice. Who would’ve thought so? Maybe I wouldn’t mind working with her after all. We’d see. I wouldn’t train her for another couple of weeks anyway, which sucked since that meant I wouldn’t get more than a couple of sessions out of her this month. I sighed. Oh, well. She’d hopefully make up those numbers for me in June. I made a few more phone calls to set up meetings with new clients. Then it was time for me to head to the Whiskey and train Jose.
I stuck the phone back into my athletic shorts and walked to my Harley that I’d parked in the underground parking complex in the mall. Ten minutes later, I left it on the street outside the Whiskey. Jose should already be at the bar there, waiting for me. I walked into the dimly lit establishment and found him seated on a stool far away from other patrons. Wearing a baseball cap, his gaze was trained to the floor and his arm was on the bar counter. He must have sensed me approaching because he suddenly raised his gaze in my direction. As I got closer, I thought it looked like
his face was swollen and bruised, and only then did I notice that he was slightly bent over as though his gut hurt him. What the fuck?
I strode up to him.
“Are you okay, man?” I asked him. He seemed badly beaten up.
He nodded at the same time as he tried to press out a smile. It looked more like a grimace.
“No, you’re not okay,” I said, taking in all of him. He was dressed in his regular baggy shirt and jeans, but the clothing didn’t look as neat as it usually did. In fact, it looked like he had rolled around on a dusty dirt road with them. “What the hell happened to you?”
I already had an idea what must have happened, but I wanted him to tell me himself.
“The boss lost his wallet and Carlos told him I’d taken it. So a few of the guys beat me up to make me tell them where I’d put it.”
He was struggling to talk. There was no chance in hell we’d be training when he was in this condition. Frankly, I was surprised he had managed to get over to the Whiskey as beaten up as he was.
“You should see a doctor,” I said.
Jose shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. It looks worse than it is.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll live.”
Yeah, but not for long if this shit keeps happening, I thought, gritting my teeth. After the misunderstanding with his girlfriend, Carlos seemed determined to make life hell for Jose any way he could. I looked around the dark insides of the Whiskey. It was best that we didn’t hang around here talking. I didn’t think someone had followed Jose—that was not how the Latin Devils operated. If they felt the need to discipline you, they’d take care of it right then and there—the way they had just taken care of Jose—not stalk you like some passive-aggressive chick. Still, you could never be too careful. Even if it was unlikely, someone from the gang who knew both me and Jose could potentially spot us. And if they did, they wouldn’t let Jose get away with his life intact already not thinking highly of him.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I told him.
Jose slid off the stool with great difficulty. Then we headed downstairs to the basement gym, he limping next to me, groaning every now and then.
When we reached the empty gym, I nodded to a workout bench. “Sit. I won’t take you to a doctor, but you’re not working out, either. We’re just chilling today, you and me.”
Jose nodded, like he was too dazed to even talk. I went over to where there was a stack of carts containing beer bottles and pulled out two. I opened both bottles and handed one to Jose. Then I sat on a bench opposite him and had a huge sip of my beer. There wasn’t much I could say really that hadn’t been said.
“How did it end?” I asked him finally. “Did they believe you?”
Jose raised his head and met my gaze. He seemed more like a man in his mid-thirties as opposed to one in his early twenties this evening. “Yeah, cause the boss found it eventually. His kid had taken it and hidden it.”
“Was that during or after they’d beaten you to a bloody pulp?”
“Some time after.”
“So they believed you finally?’
“I don’t know.” Jose rubbed his neck. “I think the boss just thought I’d had enough after a while.”
“Did they do anything to Carlos? Did the boss order him to be disciplined for lying?”
“Nah. Carlos claimed I’d found it and given it to the kid instead of to the boss like I was supposed to and they believed him. The kid’s too small to contradict him.”
I shook my head in disgust. This situation was just getting worse and worse. What the hell had happened with the gang since I’d left? As fucked up as it used to be being part of it, members always had solid rules they needed to follow. No one ever got disciplined unless there was good reason for it. One guy’s accusation against another didn’t use to be considered good reason. Clearly, things had changed. Or Carlos was wielding more and more power. As I thought about it some more, the latter seemed most probable.
“How many were beating you up?” I asked.
“Three.”
I took a deep breath, but quietly so Jose wouldn’t be able to tell. I had thought he’d say four or five maybe. If Jose got this way from three members pounding him—I assumed he’d at least tried to block some punches the way I’d taught him—he would never survive five jumping him. We definitely needed to up his training. He needed to improve his fighting skills even sooner than planned. We couldn’t count on him getting through the jump out only by taking them by surprise.
“You need to lay really low,” I said. “Avoid getting into conversations as much as possible with anyone. And stay the hell away from Carlos.”
“I’m already laying low, man. And I don’t talk to Carlos if I don’t absolutely have to.”
Yeah, I was pretty sure he didn’t. There wasn’t much Jose could do to avoid getting into fights unless he was physically removed from the gang. Not with a psycho like Carlos breathing down his neck, hell-bent on destroying him. It suddenly hit me what we could do to buy some more time. Now that I was going to be working so much more, we’d use the extra cash to bribe someone to protect him.
I told him what I thought needed to be done.
“Really?” he said, glancing at me as though he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You’d actually do that for me? What about you? What are you gonna live on?”
I smiled. “Don’t worry, man. I have enough money to get by. Besides, I owe you, remember? If it weren’t for you, I’d be a dead man today.”
It was true. I owed my life to Jose. If he hadn’t found me when I lay passed out on the ground about to choke to death on my own vomit, I’d have died. But he rolled me onto my side and cleaned me up, then sat with me to make sure I was still breathing until I woke up hours later. I had accepted a challenge from one of the guys to see who could drink the most tequila and remain standing. From what I could remember and was told afterward, I won, but I had also passed out minutes after the other guy. Only Jose had returned to see to it that I was all right.
Jose nodded and smiled a little himself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” He shook his head and chuckled. “You were so fuckin’ plastered that night, man…”
“Yeah, I know.” I laughed. “Don’t think I ever downed that much tequila in a week even. My hangover lasted, like, three days.”
“Yeah, it did.”
I thought about that night for another couple of seconds and shuddered. Then I turned back to Jose. “So, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you cash and you pick someone to protect you. A fifty a day should do.”
“Yeah. Better to play it low in the beginning.”
“Definitely. Is Paco still around?” Paco was known to be as ruthless as Carlos, but he’d always been one of the boss’s favorites, which meant he was pretty much untouchable. And because he was so ruthless, no one wanted to mess with him. What was even better, Paco loved using hookers several times a week. With another fifty a day, he could either go more often or visit higher-quality girls. It would be a great arrangement for both Paco and Jose.
Jose had a long sip of his beer. “Yeah. Still alive and as crazy as always. Boss loves him. You think I should ask him?”
“Yeah. He’d be the best choice.”
“I agree. I’ll ask him as soon as I see him.” His hand with the beer froze mid-air. “What if he asks where I’m getting the cash from? He might. What should I say?”
That was a good point; Jose needed to have some explanation in case Paco got curious. Paco was a moron, but we couldn’t count on him never wondering. “Haven’t you been part of some major hit in the last few months?”
“Yeah, I was the lookout in a couple.” Being so frail, Jose was almost always the lookout.
“Was Paco part of them?”
“Only one. The most lucrative one. The other two were small potatoes.”
“Well, for all he knows, the other hits were as lucrative and you saved your cuts. That’s why you have mone
y to spend on him now and he’ll be more than happy to take it.”
Ricki
I was going nuts not being able to walk properly, so I followed every instruction Dante had given me to a tee. I kept my ankle wrapped snugly with gauze and iced the aching part every two hours. I made sure I kept the foot above heart level pretty much all the time, and whenever I needed to move, I used my good leg to jump to get to my location. Luckily, my studio apartment wasn’t very big. Three days later, a Sunday, Nixon and his boyfriend came over with a pair of crutches so I wouldn’t have to rely on jumping on one foot when it was time for me to get back to work. I was lucky I had twisted my ankle during a rare Thursday and Friday off, which meant I had a few extra days to recover. The less pressure I put on the hurt ankle, the sooner it would heal, Dante had promised.
I double-checked his instructions with Nixon since he was a trainer, too. Nixon said the advice was spot-on.
Even though one of my best friends was a trainer, Nixon and I couldn’t train together. We had way too much fun when we saw each other to get much training done. I needed someone I didn’t like as much and, more importantly, who wouldn’t crack up because I looked like a spastic foal doing an exercise. In that case, we would both end up rolling around on the floor laughing instead of working out.
Dante had called to check in on me both Friday and Saturday, just as promised. He’d been as sweet then as the first time he called, so now I was beginning to look forward to the phone ringing. I had been wrong about Dante; he was obviously a lot nicer than I’d thought. Nixon, being in the same business, thought I should definitely use him as my trainer since he cared so much about how I was doing. If you asked Nixon, that caring was the most important quality in a good trainer. Neither of us could imagine any other reason he was calling than that. I mean, it must be very easy for a guy as nice and good-looking as he was to get clients, even if he sort of looked like a gang member. In fact, knowing how so many women loved bad boys, that look might work in his favor. I usually went for more wholesome-looking men like Nina’s Dylan. But I definitely preferred talking to Dante.