“I’ll fake an injury worthy of an Academy Award,” she promised, craning her neck upward in an effort to kiss him.
He moved his head up farther, deliberately keeping her from reaching him while probing deeper within her cleavage with his middle finger. “And finally, if some ’roid-raging insomniac starts going crazy because he didn’t pay his monthly dues and still wants to come in, you won’t do anything stupid and will instead call the police?”
“I’ll let him in like he owns the place and patiently wait for the cops to come and Taser him,” she vowed, beginning to squirm provocatively beneath him.
“That’s my girl,” Logan said, right before letting go of her wrists, wrapping his arms around her, and sending his mouth crashing down onto hers.
Chapter Nineteen
In the end, Logan knew he had little choice. He certainly didn’t own Holly. They hadn’t had any sort of conversation about exclusivity. She had never pushed the issue with him; she was always available and willing to accommodate his schedule or his mood. And he wasn’t done playing with her yet, his new fun toy. He hadn’t finished touching and tasting and arousing her yet. It was something he had taken for granted. He took advantage of the fact that she had no friends, except the Walkers, so he never had to compete with anyone for her time. Deep down, Logan knew he was being unreasonable, and if he was being honest, he would have admitted he didn’t like the idea of sharing his shiny new obsession.
But as days turned into weeks and Holly began to tell Logan more anecdotes about the people she worked with—her regular early-bird customers and her goofy new trainer, Nick—dislike began to resemble flat-out disdain. It was when Amanda mentioned to him that she was joining Bodyssey for afternoon cardio dates with Holly that he realized he needed to make a change. The ensuing irrational discomfort was a clear indicator that Logan had to take back some control before his emotions got the best of him.
The first order of business, he told himself, is to know your enemy and face your fear. He played around with his schedule for a Thursday and moved all his early-morning clients to later in the day, leaving himself free until ten. Then on Wednesday night, he set his alarm for five. He awoke that morning, took a quick wake-up shower, put on his workout clothes, and made the drive to Bodyssey.
He arrived just before six. The sun was beginning to come up, but gaudy colorful spotlights illuminated the building’s façade, a beacon calling out to all local gym rats. The parking lot was already half-full and he could hear the cliché hip-hop music blasting from speakers installed outside. He parked his car on the outskirts of the lot and, grabbing his towel and his water, jogged his way to the front door. He was halfway to his destination when the music suddenly stopped and was replaced by Holly’s voice, sounding more like a carnival barker than anything else.
“There’s three bikes left for the six A.M. spin class up for grabs,” she announced. “First come, first served. And remember, I do not take threats, but I will accept cash.”
Logan burst out laughing and picked up his pace.
He opened the door, stepped through a small atrium, and then was inside. She was behind a long counter, looking fresh-faced and adorable. On the other side of it, in front of her, were no less than three men, all either getting ready to go work out or already finished. They were laughing, appearing to hang on her every word. It looked to Logan as if Holly was holding court. As soon as she caught sight of him, her smile grew wide.
“Hello, handsome,” she told him, beaming. “Welcome to Bodyssey.” All the heads turned in his direction.
“Oh man,” one of the heads, a man in his forties with red hair graying at the temples and a faded Mets shirt, announced boisterously. “We have a new guest. Shift over, everyone! Make room on the couch! Key up the music!”
“New guest!” the remaining men repeated cheerfully.
Logan stared at the group blankly, feeling left out of the joke as they moved over to allow him access to stand directly in front of her.
Holly turned her attention briefly back to the heads. “Not this one, guys. This one’s a special guest. A first-timer.”
“Newbie!” the heads sang in unison, laughed again, and then one by one meandered off either into the gym or out the door, telling Holly to have a great day or that they would catch up with her later.
“What’s all this talk about a couch?” Logan asked warily as he approached.
“Oh, that’s just Joe.” She laughed, giving a haphazard wave in the general direction of where the Mets-shirt-wearing man had headed. “He likes to think of our morning front-desk conversations as the Conan O’Brien show. He’s the Andy Richter. What brings you here?”
“I just wanted to check the place out,” he told her truthfully, but withholding his motive. “See what I’m missing. Maybe get some new tips. What’s a day pass cost?”
“Sure, like I’m going to charge you,” she said, reaching behind the desk for a carbon copied piece of paper. “Here, sign this waiver. And don’t hurt yourself or I’ll get in trouble for not writing down your phone number and scheduling a tour for you.”
“Well now, I wouldn’t want to see you get in trouble,” he lied, taking the pen she offered. He would’ve liked nothing more than to see her lovable ass fired. Let Andy Richter find a new gig.
“Hey,” Holly said, switching topics excitedly. “You want to meet the personal-training manager, Michael? I’ll bet he would love to meet you. He came in early today. He wanted to bring back the defibrillator. He took it home last night to replace the batteries.”
Logan looked up from reading the waiver. “Replace the batteries? Just how many people nearly drop dead here?”
Holly gave him a look of reproach. “Logan. Stop it. They replace the batteries every six months whether the machine needs it or not, just like you do. You’re starting to sound like a snob. Do you want to meet him or not?”
Logan smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I’ll knock it off. Do you mind if I meet him next time? I just wanted to get in a quick workout, check the place out, get an idea of what you’re talking about when you tell me stories.”
“Sure. Of course. Not a problem. Next time,” she replied, trying to mask her disappointment at his refusal. What were the odds that there was ever going to be a next time? And then she brightened. There could only be one reason that Logan would ever set foot in Bodyssey, and it would be to see her. And he was a fine-looking sight first thing in the morning, as if she needed reminding.
Logan went back to reading the waiver and other members came through the doors, greeted by cheerful good mornings from Holly and scanning their key tags. There were blatant looks of appreciation and interest at the perfect specimen of fitness in the basketball shorts and baby-blue tank top. A few of them lingered at the counter to share tidbits of information with Holly, obviously following up on prior conversations they’d had with her. Logan kept his head down, overly interested in the waiver, as he gleaned that Holly knew almost everyone who walked in by name and that they knew hers, without needing to look at the lanyard name tag dangling from around her neck. Holly gave no indication that she even knew Logan, much less that they had an intimate relationship, until they were once again left alone and she leaned over the counter to whisper in his ear, “Did you have to go with a wife beater this morning? I think we may end up needing the defibrillator after all, the way I just caught Mrs. O’Malley checking you out.”
Logan looked up again, gave her one of his disarming smiles, and scribbled his signature on the paper. “Anything I need to know before I get in there?” he asked, looking casually past her and into the gym.
Holly was about to warn him that under no circumstances should he go into the sauna, because it was a badly maintained, fungus-infested sweat pit where it was rumored that several known perverts went to meet and jerk off for each other. But just then her attention was drawn to the door. Suddenly, it was as if Logan didn’t exist.
“Good morning, Leslie!” Holly smiled brightly.
“I’m so happy to see you. I know today’s the big day.”
Logan turned his head and tried not to react. Leslie wasn’t just morbidly obese; she had easily passed that grade and would be considered super obese, a classification made recently by the World Health Organization to address the growing epidemic of obesity. She must have weighed close to four hundred pounds, this woman whom Holly was so happy to see. Leslie’s movements were stilted, her legs struggled to bear her weight, and she lumbered from the entrance to the counter. Her outfit reminded Logan of what Holly had worn on her first day of training—sweatpants and a T-shirt that she made sure were loose fitting, although Leslie’s shirt appeared to be the size of a blanket and stretched to accommodate her stomach, which hung down to the middle of her thighs. Leslie’s breathing was labored and her eyes downcast. She refused to even acknowledge Logan.
“Hi, Holly.” She heaved, placing her purse, towel, and water bottle on the counter after scanning her membership key tag. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Holly continued to ignore Logan and instead walked to the section of counter where Leslie was standing and immediately laid her hand on top of hers. Logan stayed glued to his spot, resisting the professional urge to jump in and try to inspire the woman, fully aware that he wasn’t even sure where he would begin. He pretended to read the fitness class schedule.
“No, you’re not,” Holly told her assertively, lowering her voice so that even Logan had to strain to hear the exchange. “You’re going to get in there and do whatever Michael tells you, one agonizing second at a time. You’re going to sweat and hurt and maybe even cry, but you are going to take this baby step and save your life. And I take back what I said before; you may actually get sick, but you won’t be the first, last, or only person who ever puked in a gym. In fact, some trainers consider it a badge of honor.”
“But he’s going to try to kill me, I just know it,” Leslie whispered back, wide-eyed and frightened.
“Michael is well aware of your limitations. And trust me, if he kills you, he loses a paying customer. No way is he going to let that happen.” Holly smiled reassuringly and Leslie started smiling as well. “You can do this.” Holly squeezed Leslie’s hand, patted it one final time, and released it. “Now, go warm up. Remember, baby steps. You didn’t get this way overnight. The only way for this to work is one minute at a time.”
Leslie lifted her head up, and Holly nodded purposefully at her. Leslie nodded back, and giving Logan nothing more than a passing glance, she plodded her way into the gym.
Holly watched Leslie leave before turning back to Logan.
“That was very well done,” he told her, smiling with what he could only define as genuine pride. “Who taught you to give that kind of pep talk?”
“I picked up some stuff here and there,” she replied, wanting to kiss the smile right off his face.
“It’s a cosmic stroke of luck that you’re the first thing she sees when walking through that door. I can’t help but wonder how successful she’ll be if she has even half the chutzpah you do.”
“She has a long road ahead,” Holly responded, shaking her head, completely missing the compliment. “She’s so scared and scarred. She’d been housebound for almost two years, after her husband left her, taking their three children with him. It was decided that Michael needed to handle Leslie himself, at least for a while, until she’s built up some endurance and confidence.”
“That’s probably a good move,” Logan said in agreement, and then his grin turned devilish. “And who knows? Maybe in the end, Michael will end up falling for her.”
“That’s not likely to happen.” Holly was quick to oppose the suggestion.
“Why not?” Logan raised his eyebrows in real surprise at the thinly veiled reference to their own relationship being met with such skepticism. “Stranger things have happened.”
“True,” Holly responded, looking very serious, but with merriment in her eyes. “But that would be really strange. Michael is totally gay.”
“Oh.” Logan pursed his lips together, once again reminded of just how out of his element he really was. “Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth.”
“It’s okay.” Holly giggled, taking a sip of what had recently become her lifeblood, the 7-Eleven coffee she bought on her way in. “Why don’t you go get your workout in? I’m sorry I’m going to miss all your flexing. By the way, I really am happy to see you.”
Logan walked away from the counter and into the gym, picking a quiet corner to do a quick preworkout stretch and survey the layout of the establishment. There were two levels to the gym, with the second floor housing mostly cardio equipment that looked down onto the main gym floor. The second floor also had rooms for both yoga and spin classes. Each of the treadmills, stair climbers, stationary bikes, and elliptical machines had its own individual small television. There were multiple weight-lifting machines, each grouped in their own stations. Free weights and benches took up the entire back corner of the space, which Logan estimated to be about four thousand square feet in total. Logan had to admit, the whole setup was rather impressive.
The joint was jumping with a vast array of humanity, representing all levels of fitness. There were young people and older ones. There were the tight and sometimes vascular swollen physiques of serious bodybuilders, who were working mostly in pairs to spot for one another. There were also the neglected, overweight bodies of those just starting on the road to fitness. But the vast majority was made up of the average bodies of those who were merely serious about maintaining good health and leading a balanced life. People mingled in groups, chatting it up, and Logan felt the whole establishment had an air of cheerful morning camaraderie. With curiosity, he watched Leslie on a treadmill as she slowly yet resolutely took step after step, her hands firmly grasping the sides of the treadmill and her body virtually reverberating with every footfall. Her trainer arrived a few minutes later. It was easy to spot the personal-training manager, Michael. Not only was he wearing a lanyard much like Holly’s, but he was dressed exactly the same, in the gym’s standard uniform, black gym pants and the matching long-sleeved T-shirt that he’d just seen Holly in. Michael had emerged from one of the offices that lined a wall of the gym. He was short and compact, lean but muscular, and carried a clipboard. He made his way over to Leslie’s treadmill and, after greeting her with an encouraging smile, checked the time elapsed on it and stood alongside her a minute or two more, chatting with her and making notes on the clipboard he had with him. He then pushed the STOP button, took her water bottle out of the holder with one hand, and offered her his other, helping her down. They ventured off into the gym and out of Logan’s sight line.
By the time he finished stretching, Logan began to feel others inspecting him in much the same way he’d been doing to them. The looks he received, however, were along the lines of open stares of lust from women and competitive sizing up from men who recognized the level of Logan’s dedication and training. Wishing he hadn’t forgotten his iPod, Logan picked a treadmill at the end of a line alongside a wall on the main gym floor and turned it on in preparation for a run. The music from the stereo system would have to suffice, and Logan found himself beginning to pound his feet to the beat as he went from a fast walk to a full-out jog. The music was once again interrupted by the sound of Holly’s voice piping through the speakers.
“Okay. You’ve been asking. It’s horoscope time. Today’s astrology is courtesy of the New York Post.”
Logan couldn’t decide if he was amused or pissed that the music had stopped. He had just begun to find his groove and now he was being forced to listen to her. He made a mental note to talk to her about it later.
“If you’re a Virgo, ‘It’s time you realize that most things turn out better if you do them yourself. Don’t believe everything you hear.’ ”
Logan shook his head, thinking he had a long way to go before she got to his sign—Aries—and noticed two men in their early thirties getting onto the two treadmil
ls next to his.
Holly continued. “For Libra, ‘If there’s confusion in your romantic life, it’s only because you aren’t asking the right questions. If you feel there’s more to know, you are probably right.’ Well, duh.”
Logan caught himself laughing, and with another quick look around saw that other people throughout the gym were chuckling as well, including Michael and Leslie, who was working on a lateral pull-down weight machine about twenty feet away. Several people even took their headphones off to listen. Apparently, Holly’s show was nothing new.
Holly pressed on. “Hey, Scorpio! ‘If business isn’t booming right now, don’t worry. The stars indicate that you are about to receive some news.’ Gimme a break.”
The man closest to Logan addressed his friend, louder than he probably would have liked in the effort to be heard over Holly. “Holly has issues.”
Logan rolled his eyes. Jesus, was every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the building on a first-name basis with her?
Holly’s voice, now with an edge of annoyance, resonated once more though the building. “Does anyone else find these things ridiculous and not the least bit helpful? They all sound the same. Let me sum it up with: Good luck with making it through the day. Stuff is going to happen to you. Now get out there and do the best you can! Anyone who absolutely needs to hear the horoscope for their own zodiac sign, stop by the front desk for your personal reading.” The music switched back on.
“Thank God,” the man a treadmill away turned to say to his friend. “I thought she was never going to shut up.”
Logan, overhearing again, snickered, thinking he felt pretty much the same way, and picked his pace back up with the music again.
“Oh, I don’t know,” the man closest to Logan responded. “I think she’s pretty funny. And she’s not wearing a ring.”
Logan’s ears zeroed in on the conversation and he cast a sideways glance to get a better look at the men.
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