Strip for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  Men, I should say.

  There’s nothing boyish about the six-foot-plus men alternating turns with deadlifts. Emma and I stand close by, taking turns on the squat rack.

  The guys like to train at Gold’s Gym Venice when they’re in LA, and I’ve only been here a couple times, so Emma and I jumped at the chance to come back. Even at twenty dollars for a day pass, it’s worth it to train at the Mecca, the gym where so many celebrities work out, from actors to bodybuilders to the everyday folks like us.

  And it was comical, to say the least, watching Ty try to sweet-talk the receptionist into free passes, his compliments about her pink streaks in her hair not working in the slightest.

  Naturally, the first thing I did once I stepped foot inside was look for Samantha Ray. She likes to train here and posts a lot of her videos here, but there’s no sign of her. Not for lack of looking… and Insta-stalking. It’s too late in the day for her—she normally comes early in the morning—but a girl can dream.

  Emma always teases me about what a big fan I am, but she agrees that the woman is an inspiration with her positivity and advocacy for women to do more strength training.

  That’s what attracted me to her and the whole fitness industry, why I wanted to become an influencer myself—to inspire people. Weight training has empowered me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s made me feel strong, physically and mentally.

  I shake my head, thinking about all the reasons I wouldn’t be successful as an influencer, that it’s all just a fantasy, and set up the barbell for my set. I breathe in and out, letting the world around me fade away. It’s just me and the weight. I plant my feet shoulder-width apart and dig my heels into the ground as I lower my body. On the exhale, I raise up slowly and controlled, the way Emma instructed me when I was first learning.

  I’ve gotten even better, my improved flexibility allowing me to sit at a right angle more easily.

  My seventh rep is shaky, and sweat runs down the back of my neck. The garage door is open to the outside workout area, inviting the LA heat in to suffocate us. I take a deep breath and go for my eighth rep, while Emma spots and coaches me to do one more. Then she eggs me on to do one more.

  And one more.

  Until I get to thirteen and can barely walk the bar back to its place.

  “Nice form, Gray.” Sebastian high-fives me while his gaze trails down my chest following the line of sweat hiding there.

  It’s too hot, so I’m only in my sports bra like many of the women in here. But with Sebastian looking at me like that, I suddenly feel exposed and inappropriate. Shivers run down my spine before I swat him. “You’re going to get me pregnant with that look.”

  Sebastian kisses my cheek, staying close to me as Emma gets into position. I stiffen, my body too sweaty to be this close to another human right now. But Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps his arm around my waist, even when I try to pull away.

  He kisses me on the cheek again like he can’t help it, and it makes me smile. The gesture is sweet and natural, like we’re already at the stage in a relationship to be completely comfortable with each other.

  “Did you not have enough last night? Jeez, I could barely sleep,” Emma says to us, getting ready for her set. She’s in her sports bra as well, her black hair perfectly in place. She doesn’t even seem to be sweating. Rather, she’s glowing, her bright green eyes twinkling against her porcelain skin.

  “What’s wrong, Emma? Sad you didn’t get any last night?” Ty winks at her in the mirror, but Emma rolls her eyes and pushes up to release the barbell from its hold.

  Walking backward, she breathes in as she settles down into her squat and exhales as she raises up. She squats 115 pounds for ten reps like it’s five pounds, and even glares at Ty in the mirror the whole time. The woman is a badass.

  When she’s done, she walks past him, bumps into him purposefully, and turns her nose up at him.

  I raise my eyebrow at the way Ty eyes her and then share a look with Sebastian, who just shrugs.

  We stop for lunch afterward, a place the guys swear has the best tacos. It’s not Tuesday, but I can never turn down a good taco, let alone the best one I’ll ever eat.

  We’re halfway through lunch when Emma says, “So how do you guys know each other? What do you do?”

  Sebastian wipes chipotle sauce from his mouth, distracting me from Emma’s question with visions of me licking it off him. Ty answers, “We’re dancers in Vegas. Been together for several years now.”

  “What, like hip-hop? Backup dancers?”

  He smiles, but my whole body stiffens. The urge to throw up rises inside me, but instead, I blurt, “Yes, hip-hop. They’re really good too.”

  Sebastian chuckles at me but draws his eyebrows together in confusion. “Well, we dance to hip-hop songs during our show, but we’re part of Naked Heat.” When Emma stares blankly, he lays it out more plainly. “We’re strippers.”

  Emma chokes, and I have a flashback of the time I told her I wanted to go swimming with sharks together. Diet Coke squirted out of her nose in protest. “Strippers?” She looks at me with an expression of amusement and disbelief, like I told her they’re wizards from Hogwarts.

  Like she’s saying, “That’s cute, but seriously, what do you do?”

  Emma recovers quickly, with the help of Ty patting her on the back. “Well… no wonder you’re the best Kendall’s ever had.” She smirks at me, and I know it’s her way of getting back at me for not telling her they’re strippers. She knew her comment would embarrass me in front of Sebastian.

  And it definitely worked.

  As if Sebastian didn’t already hold all the power, he now has another excuse to do so.

  He turns to me, after hesitating with Emma’s news, as if he doesn’t know how to take it. “You said that? Best sex you’ve ever had, huh?”

  I roll my eyes, playing it off. “Don’t make me regret it.” I nod at them then, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “Everyone ready to go? I have to be at work in a few hours, and I could definitely use a shower. That’s why you wanted to sit on the other side of the table from me, isn’t it?” I tease Sebastian. “Because I smell, don’t I?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat, but the robotic tone doesn’t escape me. “You guessed it. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  Chapter 27

  Sebastian

  She tells Emma everything, but she didn’t tell her the most basic thing about me—my occupation. Why I’m even in LA. Where Kendall met me in the first place.

  Why would she hide that?

  She’s embarrassed.

  I went along with Kendall’s jokes at lunch, thought it’d be more polite than confronting her in front of her friend. But the truth is, it stings.

  Fucking hurts, actually.

  The realization sinks into me like fifty shark teeth.

  And a severe case of déjà vu overcomes me, though not because of the last time Kendall and I were in Vegas.

  Because of her.

  Joelle.

  “What are you going to do the rest of your life, Sebastian? Get naked for other women when you have a wife at home?” Joelle spat. “What if we have kids? Not a chance in hell I tell them their father’s a fucking stripper.”

  “What’s wrong with that? I make a good living, at least. It’s better than being a nagger. Should I tell them about you too someday?” I returned.

  She scoffed. “Great. That’s great, Sebastian. I’m trying to have a mature conversation. This is what stripping does—kills your brain cells to where you can’t even comprehend how to be an adult.”

  “You’re not trying to have a conversation with me. You want me to just lie down and let you step all over me. Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  “No wonder your uncle isn’t sure of doing business with you. You can’t handle even a grown-up discussion.” She continued folding clothes on the couch in our apartment that we shared. She continued like her words didn’t cut through me. Like she
wasn’t voicing my fears that I’m not good enough to do anything other than strip. “You should take some pointers from him, you know. He’s offering you a real opportunity here.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right. Running a hotel with my uncle was one step closer to my dream—my dream of owning one myself someday.

  Taking her attention away from the clothes and holding her hands in mine, I said, “I don’t want to fight, okay? I have a show in an hour. Will you just come, have a drink, and we can talk afterward?”

  She glanced sideways in avoidance, not just from our conversation but of me. “I have a lot of work to do around here, and for the wedding. I’ll just see you after.” She shrugged out of my hold, and the mature, adult conversation we were having was over. Just like that. With her avoiding what was really going on.

  Real mature.

  But when I kiss Kendall goodbye at her apartment, a kiss full of desire and promise, I can’t believe she’s the same as Joelle. Not when she smiles her genuine smile. I can’t believe she’d be embarrassed by me, of what I do. She’s never mentioned it before, not during any of the times we’ve talked, or this weekend.

  I convince myself that she’s nothing like my coldhearted ex.

  But the nagging feeling that it might be true stays with me the rest of the day.

  At practice a few hours before the show, I text her to ask one more time if there’s any way she can make it. I want her there, but I need her to convince me that her absence isn’t because she’s ashamed, that she legitimately has to work and couldn’t get someone to cover for her.

  When all she says is Sorry, have to work or I would, I start to panic. But then she immediately sends another.

  Kendall: But I’ll make it up to you after, cross my heart.

  That message puts me at ease. For now, at least.

  Me: Let me take you out for a late dinner, after the show.

  Immediately I get a response. She says okay, and I nod like she can see me. Instead, Ty can see me, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to make fun of me. “Dude, the bobblehead move isn’t in the routine. You should pay attention.”

  I flip him off, then shake my head because he’s right. I have to focus on our practice for tonight. It’s short but important. Leo wants to go over a few things that we missed last night, and I need my head here.

  Not in the way Kendall cried my name while she came for me this morning.

  Not in the realization that it might be coming to an end just when I thought our relationship could turn into something real.

  Leo snaps his fingers in my direction. “Ready? Let’s take it from the top.”

  I go through the motions with the other guys, determined not to let them down. I take practice seriously, just like the shows. If I don’t, then it’s pointless being here. These guys, my brothers, were really there for me when Joelle left me.

  They took me back in with open arms afterward, even though I was a mess and couldn’t keep up as well. They were patient with me and helped me through it all. I owe them so much—the least I could do now is to stay on beat.

  After practice, Leo slaps me on the shoulder and follows me to my car. “Everything cool, man?”

  I nod, but I know it’s in vain. Leo’s known me for years, knows my past. I can’t lie to him.

  “Tell me the truth, Sebastian. What’s going on in here?” He pokes my temple but doesn’t laugh. His features are torn, his lips twisted. It looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t, like he’s trying to gauge my mood first.

  “I could say the same to you, man. What’s up?”

  Leo picks at his hand, and I want to shake him to spit it out. Because I know him just as well as he knows me.

  But when he finally speaks, I wish he wouldn’t have. “They’re getting married. Joelle and—”

  “Jesus.” I know whom he’s referring to, but don’t know who’s worse—her or him, so I just wish a silent curse on both of them.

  Leo hesitates. “My stepdad heard it from one of their mutual friends. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I felt guilty knowing and not saying anything. Please tell me I did the right thing now?”

  If I were a religious man, I’d pray for strength and patience in this moment to keep from punching Leo, but I remind myself that he’s just the messenger. He didn’t do anything wrong.

  They did.

  And I’ve tried every day since that wretched night to get away from it all.

  I shake my head and grip him by the shoulder as we stop in front of my car, the LA heat beating down on us, driving the rage within me. Nothing like Vegas, though. If I can handle Vegas, spring in LA is nothing.

  Joelle is nothing. As Satan’s mistress, she emits more evil heat than both cities combined.

  “Nah, man, you did good.” I flash him a smile. “I’m past all that, anyway.”

  He nods. “Right. You have Kendall now. She’s cute. I see the way you smile at your phone when it’s her. Everything good, I guess?”

  This morning I would’ve told him everything was fucking perfect with Kendall. As perfect as the beginning of anything new gets. But now I hate to say that it might end here, before our story can really begin. “Yeah, everything’s good,” I say instead.

  “Does she know? About Joelle?”

  I laugh him off; he’s always taking on the fatherly role with us, even though he’s only four years older than me. “We’re still new. Don’t want to scare her off with all my drama.” For good measure, I add, “Besides, I’m over all that bullshit. Haven’t heard from either of them in a year and haven’t wanted to. I’ve moved on, brother, thanks to you and the guys.”

  The way he studies me, unwavering, tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he still says, “Glad you came back. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck hiring another newbie, and I just can’t handle the young people jargon anymore. What the fuck is lit? Why is that a thing?”

  “Careful, your old colors are showing, and gray really doesn’t look good on you.”

  He laughs and runs a hand through his black hair, his broad shoulders uncontained by his black tank. For a large guy, he’s managed to find a tank that swallows him.

  On my way to the hotel suite to relax by the pool with the guys before the show, I again consider being a religious man, but this time to thank Him for the guys. Even when they give me news that makes me want to vomit. Or punch a hole in the wall. Again.

  I have other things on my mind, anyway.

  About who will help me get over it.

  Kendall and I may not have a tomorrow, but I meant what I said about tonight, taking her out and showing her a little more of me.

  In hopes that she stays at least a little while longer.

  Chapter 28

  Kendall

  “I can’t live this life,” I whine, my eyes moving back and forth between the cottage cheese and Greek yogurt. I make myself dizzy doing so, and also from trying to figure out which is worse. I toss my hands up and turn to Emma. “I want ice cream.”

  “It’s only been a couple hours since our workout with the guys, and you’re already looking for the dessert?” Emma sits on the couch with her wet hair falling freely over her right shoulder. She types away at her laptop, and I wonder what she’s writing.

  But I focus on the task at hand: ice cream. A cookies ’n cream masterpiece with hot fudge. I groan and go back to my options.

  “You don’t have to live like this, you know,” Emma says after she stops typing and looks at me. “It’s not a human requirement.”

  Even though she’s right, I refuse to admit to her why I do it. That I want to be in good shape. That I like being lean. I need to stay this way if I ever decide to take the jump and attempt the fitness influencer route.

  I’ve talked to Emma about it before, and she was encouraging. She thought I’d be great at it, actually, but we haven’t talked about it since. Instead of getting into it now, I change the subject. “But if I quit, then we won’t be gym hoes together. You’ll just be
a gym ho, and that’s sad.” I pout in her direction from where I stand in the kitchen. With the apartment so small, I can almost reach out and touch her in the living room area.

  “We are not calling ourselves that.”

  “Gymster duo?” She visibly cringes and moves the laptop from her lap. “Double gymbos?”

  She rubs her face, but over the next twenty minutes and a couple glasses of wine—because it’s Saturday and we’re young—we throw more names out, only to be vetoed. We even say Dynamos from Mamma Mia!—Emma’s favorite—but we’d need a third person.

  “Margo?” Emma suggests.

  “Yeah right. I’d like to be there when you ask her to join our gym team. She’d wipe that optimism right off your face with just a glare.”

  We continue arguing like we’re middle schoolers coming up with a name for our fake tribe.

  I throw my hands up in defeat. “I don’t see you coming up with anything good.”

  “Well, you were close with Gym Heroes, but not quite right.”

  “And what is?”

  She turns to me and actually smiles, something she doesn’t often do, so this must be good. “How about this. I teach classes for my job, so what about Gym Class Heroes?”

  “Ah, so logical. As always.” I stare blankly at her as the wheels in my head turn. “Isn’t that a band, though?”

  “No. There’s no way. Don’t take this away from me.”

  Emma only listens to musical soundtracks and yoga tunes—mountain flutes and all—so she wouldn’t know if that’s a band or a cult. I run my hand through her hair in pity. “Okay, I’ll let you have it.”

  She makes an obscene gesture with her hand, indicating a dick spewing. “Boom.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  She rounds her back and sinks into the couch, pulling back into her shell. The couch swallows her small frame, and she looks vulnerable. “I only drank one glass of wine. I had to. Your names were embarrassing.”

  “That’s all it takes to loosen you up?” I grab a pencil and paper from the end table, the ones Emma put there to make grocery lists.