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Holly has tried to set me up before, but I’m not interested. One, I don’t have time. Two, I maybe organized an arrangement for regular orgasms, so I think I’m sorted there.
“Spa session! Drink up. They have a spa here.”
Okay. I could have a massage. The memory of Jimmy’s fingers moving inside me is replaced by the memory of those same fingers kneading my poor, tight shoulders. That was almost as good as the orgasm. I am interested in a proper massage.
Holly chats about the differences between Jimmy’s way of running the Bootcamp classes and her usual trainer, Mike.
“Mike doesn’t do as much boxing. His classes are more weights and bodyweight stuff. They’re a workout, for sure. But I don’t mind the change up until Mike comes back.”
“Is Jimmy another trainer here?” I keep my voice nonchalant as I sip my latte. That’s a normal question to ask, right?
“No.” Holly shakes her head, finishing her coffee and placing her cup to the side. “He’s the owner.”
“Wow. He doesn’t seem that old.” Good for him.
“I think he’s in his early thirties. Close to Artie’s age.” Holly eyes my mug again, and I quickly take another sip. “You’ll love the spa here. It’s one of my favorite places. They do all the usual massages and things but also mani-pedis and everything. Not what you expect from a gym.”
Holly and I eye my plain nails at the same time. Holly’s nails are alwayson point. Mine, not so much. No time for hooking up, no time for spa sessions, and no time for manicures.
Wow, my life sounds lame when it’s laid out like that. Oh well, at least I can cross off the no hookups from that list, and I’m starting my boxing sessions, so that gets me out of the office and my condo.
The second my mug is empty, Holly drags me out of the coffee shop and up to the third floor. The spa is exactly what I need right now. Dim lights, white walls, cream carpets, soft, calming music piping from somewhere. Two beautiful women with wide smiles and loose, pale yellow outfits move toward us, gesturing for us to follow them.
I am so ready for this. After an hour, I’m expecting to be boneless and struggling to stay awake. I need to do this more often.
JIMMY
Trey has a table near the pool tables, waving me over as I walk into the sports bar. I beeline for the bar, get two beers, and make my way over to him, setting his beer in front of him and sliding onto a chair.
“What did I miss?” I ask, turning my eyes to the basketball lighting up the large screen above the bar.
“Not much. We’re getting pumped.”
Nodding, I turn back to him, saluting with my glass and taking a large sip of beer. After my enjoyable sign-up session with Thelma Rampwood, my day went to shit a little.
Mike called to ask for another two weeks – it’s family, so of course, I said yes – which means I need to continue taking his Bootcamp classes. I’m going to have to change my methods. I have had a few suggestions that boxing is becoming repetitive.
My afternoon was eaten up with acting as a mediator between two female trainers, arguing about whether one poached clients off the other. I never had to deal with this shit when I was only a trainer. I love owning my gym, but sometimes I can think fondly about my time before.
“How was your day?”
Trey makes a face at my question. I give him my full attention. My twin brother is the most laidback person I have ever met. A look like that – telling me his day wasn’t great – is unusual enough for follow-up questions.
“What happened?”
Trey shrugs, exhaling a long sigh and taking a pull of beer.
“Just school politics shit.” Scrubbing his dark stubble, he rolls his eyes. “Ibarely care about it. You’re not going to give a shit.”
“Course I give a shit. Talk it out.”
Groaning, Trey shrugs again. “They’re going all out factions and shit.”
Jesus. At a middle school? “About the allergy thing?”
The last time Trey was bitching about work troubles, the teachers were all taking sides about whether to ban common allergens from teachers’ lunches in their staff room. He nods, drumming his fingers on the side of his beer glass.
“It’s all they fucking talk about. I want to teach gym. I don’t care what someone sitting on the other side of the room is eating.”
