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Overhead, something crashes. Clover and I freeze in place, listening. When there's not another sound, Clover leaps to her feet and runs for the stairs.
I follow behind, because I'm going to help her whether she likes it or not. When she hits the bottom of the stairs, her run clearly lopsided as she tries to protect her injured knee, I scoop her up into my arms.
"What are you doing?" she yells at me. "Barley might be hurt."
"I know," I yell back. "I'm getting you up the stairs so you won't hurt yourself."
I run up the stairs with her in my arms.
"I'd think you'd want me hurt so you can win the gym," she mutters.
I ignore her and put her on her feet at the top of the stairs. When I open the door, Barley scampers over to us like nothing happened.
He trots right up to my feet and I bend down to pet the little guy.
"Don't love on him, Barley," Clover says. "He's a clam tease."
The laugh that bursts from me is so loud Barley skitters backward and runs over to Clover.
"I'm not a clam tease. I just wanted a kiss. You're the one who took it to the next level."
Clover glares at me, looking truly angry, which makes no sense. "Now you're slut shaming me?"
"I would never." And I mean it. I don't judge anyone. I'm certainly in no position to. "I just know myself. I get attached easily and sex speeds up the process. I'm not looking to get my heart broken."
She stares like she's trying to figure me out. "Why do you keep kissing me if you get so easily attached?"
"Because you're going to get attached too." I start into the large space, looking for whatever fell down. "It's just a matter of time." I sound a lot more confident than I feel. But I've always been an optimist.
She snorts and hooks Barley back up to his leash and harness. On the other side of the big room it looks like the pallet bridge we built for Barley is on its side. It wasn't very high and I'm not sure how it made such a big bang, but it's the only thing that's changed in the room.
"Oh, wow," Clover says from the other side of the room. "Is this what fell, Barley?"
I turn and cross to her. She's standing in front of three kettlebells and a forty-five pound plate that are arrayed on the floor next to a worn-out cardboard box.
"Where did these come from?" I ask. There's an old set of lockers against the wall and a pile of stuff draped in a tarp.
Clover inspects the tarp. "It looks like Barley might have been chewing on this. Maybe the box of weights was on top of this pile and came down when Barley jerked on the tarp."
I shake my head. "We underestimated you, Barley. We thought you couldn't get into any trouble up here."
I pick up a kettlebell and flip the cardboard box back over. It's in rough shape, but it'll hold the weights for now.
Clover whips the tarp off the pile and gasps. "Holy wow, these are classic eighties' era steppers."
"What the hell is a stepper?" They're colorful plastic rectangles about four feet long.
"It was a big aerobics craze in the eighties and nineties," she says. "And it's making a comeback. I could totally see teaching a step class and inviting everyone to dress in eighties style workout gear." She looks genuinely excited by the idea.
"Is that what you want to do to the gym? Make it all about aerobics classes and get rid of the free weights?"
She rolls her eyes. "I'll keep the free weights and the punching bags for the folks who like those things. But the main area should be accessible to everyone, with weight machines and more cardio equipment. And, yes, I want to add spin classes and aerobics classes, as well as yoga and pilates."
"And you think that's what people want? You think that's what Russ wants? This is his baby. He'd hate the idea of you killing the old school vibe of this place." Which is why I'll be changing things slowly. I'll make the gym more accessible, but I can't ever see myself adding classes of any kind.
"Russ just wants to be sure this place doesn't become a shop or restaurant," she says but she doesn't look entirely sure. "At least, that's what he said when I approached about buying Fighting Fit." She tosses the tarp back on top of the steppers. "I'll clean up any messes Barley made, and then I'd better get going."
I'm not ready for her to go, but if she stays, I can't guarantee I won't try to kiss her again, and she's right, I've been sending mixed signals.
