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1
BROOKS
‘Harder! Faster! That’s it. Just like that. Hit me!’ As I fire the words, sweat beads form on my temples.
‘Fuck, Brooks. You’re riding me like a bitch!’ Kit is barely comprehensible through his panting breaths.
‘Yeah, well, if you hadn’t waited all your goddamn life to start coming to my gym, it wouldn’t feel like you’re dying right now.’
‘Christ, you sound like Madge.’
I laugh. Kit’s wife and I have been telling him he’s been piling on the pounds for months. Correction: years.
Our good buddy, Drew, is leaning on the ropes of the boxing ring, watching me put Kit through his paces in the center. I hear his deep chuckle from across my shoulder. ‘Just pretend Brooks is six feet four inches of pizza, Kit. Tear into him like you would a meat supreme.’
‘Shut the fuck up, Drew. You know, I’d probably exercise more if I wasn’t still scarred from last time.’
Drew holds up his hands. ‘Hey, it wasn’t me who shot a puck in your nose, buddy. Blame the man you’re sparring with.’
Kit turns back to me, sweat pouring down his face and arms, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his training top saturated. His eyes narrow.
‘You want to hate me over that game of hockey, that’s fine,’ I tell him. ‘Put it behind your punch.’ I raise the training pads that are strapped to my hands. ‘Come at me. Give me three more. Left, right, left.’
When he’s done, Kit accepts a bottle of water from Drew and slips out of the ring. I switch the training pads for boxing gloves and stand in the center, waiting for Drew to come and give me a real workout.
‘You did good, Kit,’ I say, as I fasten Velcro around my wrists. ‘A few sessions with me in the ring, and a couple sessions in the gym each week, and we’ll have you shifting pounds and fitter than ever.’
I’ve been a fitness trainer and gym owner long enough to know that some people need praise. Others need to be pushed harder. Kit is definitely the kind of guy who needs a little ego massage.
‘I could murder a pizza,’ he says, after downing a bottle of water. ‘That’s your fault, Drew. All I can think about now is an extra-large meat supreme.’
I shake my head and bounce on the spot, warming up for Drew.
‘I don’t remember seeing pizza in your nutrition plan. I should know. I wrote it.’
He growls. ‘You and Madge are going to have me wasting away. I’ll look like the skinny assholes on the front cover ofMen’s Health and Fitnessor whatever those magazines are that you all read.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, huh, buddy?’
With that, Kit storms out of the boxing room and into the main fitness suite, leaving Drew and me smirking at his back.
‘I think I’m going to enjoy training Kit,’ I tell Drew. ‘All right, loosen up those shoulders.’
Drew follows me, rolling his shoulders up and back, limbering up his arms, rotating his torso to stretch out his lower back. The dark, tired eyes I too often see on my best bud aren’t showing tonight.
‘You look relaxed, man. Being promoted to named partner at the firm obviously suits you.’
One side of his mouth quirks up. It’s a facial expression that makes me smile inside. We were always told to smile properly for cameras when we were kids. We both had this half-smile thing going on at school. I vaguely remember we thought it was cool back then. I guess old habits die hard.
‘It’s not just the promotion, Brooks,’ he says. ‘I feel like I’ve got everything I always wanted. I got my name on the door at the firm and I’ve got the best girl I never knew I needed. Everything feels too good to be true.’
I tap a gloved fist against his shoulder. ‘I’m happy for you, man. If anyone deserves it…’
‘Yeah, I should say the same to you. I’d like nothing more than to see you happy.’
Happiness. There’s a concept. One that died for me a long time ago, and one I’m definitely not in the mood to talk about. Contentment, though. That’s a goal I might achieve, one day. That’s something to strive for.
‘All right, fists up. Show me what you’ve got. I’ve been waiting for this workout all day.’
