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“What if I have a hot date?”
“You don’t.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Click.
Rhett braced himself for the cold, which he felt in both knees and his left shoulder. He ran his hand over the right thigh, which took the drop in barometric pressure hardest. He didn’t need a weather report to know a cold front had moved in overnight. His battered body told him everything.
Just as he cracked the front door, the booms shook the house again. Rhett leaned in the door frame, closed his eyes and waited. Once it passed, he cleared his throat, opened his eyes and watched his breath turn to steam. All good.
No big deal. He was all good.
Rhett grabbed the headphone cord near Samuel’s ear and yanked the bud out. “Hey.”
Samuel took out the other side and let it dangle down his chest. “What’d you say?”
“I said, don’t wear this shit in my class. This isn’t open gym.”
“All right, man.” Samuel spread open his big hands and took a step back. “Chill.”
“Don’t tell me to chill.” Rhett pointed a finger at Samuel’s chest. “You came to me, remember? You want me to get you ready for your next meet. You want to increase your jerk by fifty pounds. You have all these goals. None of which are going to happen if you’re not serious.”
“I am serious, man. Shit. Sorry.” Samuel’s pale face went ruddy from ears to chin. He pulled his phone, attached to the earbuds, from his pocket and set it down on the jerk blocks. “Let’s go. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Good.” Rhett pointed at the phone. “Get that shit off my jerk blocks. This ain’t your living room. Grab a barbell. That’s what’s supposed to go there.”
“Yes, sir.” Samuel stripped off his hoodie and tossed it on the bench. He thought better of it, grabbed the hoodie, folded it up neatly and laid it on his gym bag.
As he went to grab a barbell, Rhett saw Hobbs in the corner, laughing. “What’s your problem?” Rhett shot at him.
“Just glad I’m not one of your PT clients, Santos.” Hobbs walked over, iPad in hand, his chuckles dying down as he watched Samuel put on his wrist wraps, his face solemn.
“People need to get in here ready to work. Don’t waste my time.” Rhett’s voice rose at the end, to ensure Samuel could hear him.
Samuel sniffed, his teeth holding the strap while he wound the fabric around his wrist. He was a good guy actually. Just young. Late twenties, college-educated, never had to care about anything but himself. He was strong and worked steady, but lacked that edge Rhett desired in a client. Old or young, man or woman, Rhett didn’t care. But give him a client with fire in the soul and a hungry heart and he was a happy man.
“Just leave the customer relations to me, man,” Hobbs said. “You’re a bit abrasive.”
“The gym is thriving,” Rhett shot back. “I’ll run my gym my way.”
“Settle down.” Hobbs spread his hands open. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk holidays. So, you’re going to be around all Thanksgiving weekend?” Hobbs let his humor die away, reluctantly, and tapped on his iPad.
“All Thanksgivingweek,” Rhett corrected. “And Christmas, too.”
“Even better.” Hobbs tapped the screen with his stylus, a lazy smile on his square jaw the only remnant of his mirth. “I guess. Kind of lame actually. You’re not going home?”
“No.” Rhett watched Samuel warm up his jerk, using the racks for what they were meant for. “But that doesn’t mean I want to cover everything.” He gave Hobbs a sidelong glance. If he hadn’t known Hobbs since basic training, he doubted he could put up with that easy-rider attitude. Then again, Hobbs was right, about Rhett staying out of the customer relations. He turned back to Samuel. “More speed under the bar!”
“Liar.” Hobbs flashed that easy smile again, the one all the ladies went crazy for. It was genuine, but not special. Any woman with a pulse was treated to that grin. “You’d happily cover every single class if I fired every last coach and turned in my key. Anything to keep your heartbeat up.”
“Go home to Nebraska,” Rhett said. “I’ll be here for the holidays.”
Hobbs was quiet a second while they both watched Samuel, who was adding weight too quickly, load up his bar. Rhett let it happen. Experience was the best teacher.
“You know what you need?” Hobbs’s grin was back.
