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Why?
Because she loves to stick her pug nose in my business at every turn, thinking she’s only looking out for me when, in reality, she’s only getting in the way. But I guess when I look at it like that, I kinda do the same thing to her when I guilt her into working out, right?
Oh whatever. I guess we both have our faults. The important thing here is that Laney has obviously been manipulating an i
nnocent five-year-old kiddo for information. But why?
“Earth to Healthy Lady.” Laney snaps her fingers in front of my face, which is really annoying. I have personal space issues that nobody really knows about—it’s a quirk—but she’s already grating on my nerves. My phone vibrates in my hand, but I grumble internally when I realize it’s an alert from the bank for an incoming charge. “Or, would you prefer I call you Hot as balls Trainer?” Laney laughs when I cut my eyes at her. Urgh! This is gonna be a very long hour.
“How did you manage to get out of work today? Better yet, who’s at Tybee Tots manipulating preschoolers for personal information, Lan?” She scrunches her face up at my accusation and rolls her eyes.
“Jo, I love you. You know you’re my favorite bitch.” She looks around the gym, probably making sure Bryn isn’t within earshot. “But you’re a total ball-buster somedays, ya know? Lighten up a bit.”
I shoot her a look half-resting-bitch-face, half-bored glare.
“I can take personal days just like you can. Perks of being a boss babe.” She winks. I motion for her to follow me back to the ellipticals. Laney drops her bag beside the machine then digs out a water bottle. After strapping my phone into the fit band, I set her machine then mine and start the session.
“And FYI, I didn’t manipulate Belle for information. She offered it up freely.” Laney grins at me, but I’m not buying it.
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“I asked her if she enjoyed riding home with Ken-man. Personally I think her nickname for you is freakin’ adorable, and it only proves that Madden talks about you to his daughter, Jo.” Lan stops suddenly and glares at me. “To. His. Daughter. Do you realize what that means?”
“Nooooo,” I draw out. Should it mean something?
“Girl, you’re too pretty to be so oblivious. Madden likes you. How do you not see it?”
And here we go again with Laney meddling into my personal life. “Lan, stop. Madden and I are friends. He’s a client. There’s nothing more going on between us.” My phone vibrates against my bicep, and I glance down at my watch to check the notification. Ugh, why hasn’t this man messaged me?
“Yeah, I’d be convinced if you weren’t stressed and checking your phone with every notification. Let me guess—you’re waiting for Madden to text you because he had a small panic attack at the game Friday night, and you’re worried about letting him train without his doctor’s consent, right?”
“Your argument is moot, Lan. Of course Madden would tell you and Carter about his panic attack, you’re like family to him. She continues her pace on the elliptical, probably hoping to drown out my argument. But tough tits. “If it were you, I’d want clearance from a medical professional before you continued training too.”
“Bullshit, Jo. You’re putting blinders on and building walls up around yourself. Leave the construction to the guys—you suck at it.”
“Heeey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Laney’s pace has increased to a light jog, which is kinda impressive considering her idea of exercise is Kegels or running laps around her kitchen island while Carter chases her from behind naked. Yeah, she’s painted that picture one too many times. I could probably pick Carter’s cock out of a lineup based on the vivid detail of which she’s described his man parts, down to the vein that runs up the left side of his length to the volume of his semen when he orgasms.
And I just realized, Laney shares far too much information that I should not be privy to, and I’m probably demented for imagining a cock lineup with Carter’s impressive nine inches shrouded in disguise under a black hood and Ray-bans. Damn it. My best frenemy has warped my brain, and maybe she’s right. I might need to get laid.
“Jo! Answer your damn phone!” Laney slaps at my machine, gaining my attention. I look up at her then down at my phone, Madden Davenport calling, flashing across the screen.
“Heeeeyyy, how are you feeling?” And that was probably too chipper of a greeting for Madden to only be a friend, right? But my brain is on overload with all this interrogation about my crush on Madden and imagining Carter’s dick. Damn it, my brain needs bleached!
“You sound awfully happy for a Monday morning,” he replies, and I pick up on the slight laughter in his voice.
“Meh, my current client is a bit of a twat, so not really.”
“Heeeey, Mad!” Laney yells in the background. She hops off the elliptical and slaps my ass, mouthing Bryn and pointing in the direction of the yoga studio.
“Shit, that is a rough morning if you’re working out with Laney. I’m sorry.”
I stop the machine and climb off, grabbing a bottle of spray and paper towels to clean up behind Laney and me. Gyms are hubs for germs, viruses, and infections, so disinfecting the machines is super important. I go to my office as I continue talking.
“It will be better if I get to see my favorite client today. Did you see the doctor? Everything okay?” Annnddd… I need to talk to Carter about some liquid nail or duct tape—something to stave off the fuckin’ word vomit I have with Madden.
“So I’m a favorite, huh?” Maybe this is why everyone thinks Madden is interested in me. Or that I’m interested in him. I’m sending him mixed messages. The imaginary line drawn in the sand separating us as friends has obviously been scattered about. Hell, even I’m confused about my feelings for Madden, so I definitely need to take a deeper look into the situation.
“Did I say that?”
