Full intensity. As hard as I could. My heart rate through the roof, and totally out of breath.
Then, no rest. Back to the weights.
We did that for a full godforsaken hour.
My heart was still racing as I laid there, my shirt so soaked in sweat I’d have to peel it off of my torso later.
“Damn!” Layla said as she walked over, her cheeks just a little pink from her kickboxing class. “You weren’t playing around today.”
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” I asked.
“For the moment,” Layla said. “I think Jag went to the locker room. And from the looks of it, you could sure use a shower.”
“I don’t want to move…”
“Want a shake?” Layla asked. “I have the powder in my bag.”
“Yes…please…”
Something fell on my face. It was hard.
I reached up to grab it.
“A Dum Dum?” I asked.
“Told you,” Jag said as he approached my sweat-soaked self on the floor. “We’d eat lollipops together when you were done.”
I snorted. “This is a Dum Dum. It’s so small.”
Jag cocked his head. “You prefer to suck on big things?”
Layla cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m just going to go make those shakes now, and you two can do whatever it is you’re planning.”
I shook my head, braced myself, and managed to slowly return to an upright, sitting position. “That workout was brutal.”
“A little sugar right after a workout that intense is helpful. Causes a small insulin spike that helps your body absorb the protein in your shake.”
I nodded as I unwrapped my sucker. “I’ll just take your word for it.”
Jag sat down beside me. We both faced the gym mirror, lollipops hanging out of our mouths.
“A couple of badasses,” Jag said, nodding.
I snorted. “I’ve never sweated so much in my whole life.”
Jag nodded. “You’ll probably feel a little warm all day. That kind of workout turns up your body’s thermostat. You’ll be burning fat all day.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Any clue at all what’s in store for tonight?”
Jag replied, “The drow have the whole place to themselves today. Haven’t even tried to stop by.”
“I just wish there was something I could do to get ready,” I said. “Layla is going in a different direction when we leave. Said she has to get supplies for my disguise.”
“We should probably stretch,” Jag said.
“People do that?” I asked.
“The smart ones do. You work out like this, if you don’t stretch, you’ll have all kinds of problems. Right after a workout, your muscles are warm. More pliable. Best time to stretch.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. Jag extended both his legs in a v-shape in front of his body and leaned to one side.
I imitated him, feeling the pull across my lower back and hamstrings. Then, following his lead, I switched to the other leg.
Our lollipops were still dangling from our mouths.
“What flavor do you have?” I asked.
“Piña Colada. My favorite.”
“What’s mine?” I asked. “Butterscotch?”
Jag nodded. “I don’t like that kind, so I gave it to you.”
I chuckled as I tucked one leg under my body and tried to do whatever odd stretch Jag was doing. This one worked on my hips. It felt kind of good. “So, you just give me the ones you don’t like?”
“Do you dislike it?” Jag asked.
“No, it’s delicious,” I said, slurping on my sucker as I talked.
“Then be grateful,” Jag said. “I’ve been hauling these around in my gym bag for weeks.”
I snorted and removed my Dum Dum from my mouth. “In your gym bag? The same one you throw your nasty gym socks in?”
“And my briefs,” Jag said.
I gagged and, I think, threw up a little in my mouth. “And this sucker was in there all this time? I knew there was something funny about this butterscotch flavor.”
“Mine tastes great to me.”
I quickly grabbed my water bottle and gargled. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a place to spit the water out, not in the middle of the gym floor. I pointed at the locker room, grunted, and stood up, the blood rush making the facility spin a little as I struggled to maintain my balance. Stumbling into the locker room, I spat the water into one of the sinks.
Jag came strolling in.
“Nice work today, Casp.”
I was still rinsing my mouth out in the sink, one cupped handful of water after the next.
“Taste like my balls?” Jag asked.
I shook my head. “How the hell would I know? It tasted fine. It was just the idea, knowing that these were in the bag with your nasty socks and briefs.”
Jag nodded. “It’s all in the mind, bro. I mean, I had them in zip locks.”
I grunted. “Still. Yuck.”
“Mind over matter,” Jag said. “Even if I rubbed your sucker on my crotch.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t,” Jag said. “I’m not a total asshole. I didn’t put your sucker there either. No worries, buddy!”
I shook my head. “I appreciate it.”
“The point is,” Jag continued to explain, “it’s all in your head. It’s only gross after you know the truth. That means if you change your thinking, you can get through it. Light weight, baby!”
“Like King Coleman?” I asked.
“You remembered!” Jag said, smiling. “When you look at a barbell, you don’t let the weight on it intimidate you. You go after it. Tell yourself it’s light, and somehow, it feels lighter.”
I nodded. “I’m trying to master all this magic. A lot of it is in the mind, too. I have to visualize what I’m going to do. Somehow when I do that, my body just figures it out. Not exactly sure how it works.”
“What I’m saying is more than that,” Jag said. “I’m saying if you force yourself to believe something, it’s almost like you can change reality. At least your experience of it.”
“Maybe that will change my experience of this prophecy,” I said, laughing as I followed him out of the locker room. “Layla isn’t thrilled that Aerin thinks we’re supposed to get married.”
Jag was about to say something, but Layla showed up with our protein shakes and gave me mine.
Instead, Jag just smiled kindly and nodded, then tilted his head. “I don’t think anyone knows for certain what is going to happen or what must happen. I mean, I was told when I was growing up that I was a small-framed boy. That was my lot, destined to a lifetime of being a pussy.”
Layla laughed. “Looks like you defied nature, Jag.”
Jag nodded. “I don’t think that was it. I just learned how to give nature what it wanted so my body would naturally respond the way I wanted it to.”
“Like steroids?” I asked.
Layla backhanded me on the shoulder. “Caspar!”
Jag smiled. “A lot of people assume that, but nothing I’ve done is illegal. The supplements I take help, but none of that is an excuse for hard work, learning how the body responds, and how my body reacts to training. You have to listen to your nature and give it what it’s asking for. Some people see me and say I’m not natural. But what is natural?”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “Technically, it isn’t like anything we have that we call artificial is supernatural. It has to be natural on some level. I mean, it all comes from the Earth somehow.”
“Twinkies are not natural, Caspar,” Layla added. “Stop trying to justify it.”
She added, “That’s not even what I’m saying. I just mean, why do we assume that sitting on our asses and getting out of shape is a natural body? The human body, or elf body, was never meant to be sedentary. We were meant to work. Doesn’t the Bible say that too, Caspar?”
“Actually,” I said, “it does. In Genesis. God told Adam and Eve to wo
rk the ground. To tend the garden of Eden.”
“That’s my point,” Jag said. “I bet they had better nutrition, too. So to be natural, we have to force ourselves out of our artificial, easy lives. We have to work out, not because we have to put food on our plates, but because our bodies are designed for it. We have to feed ourselves properly because the food we buy, even our produce, is mass-produced and isn’t natural the way it is. Supplementation gets us closer to what’s natural than people usually assume. Our culture’s lifestyle, doing nothing, eating fast food and drinking soda? That’s not natural. But shakes and workouts? A few extra supplements to counteract the damage our lifestyles do? Much closer to nature.”
I nodded. It was jarring to hear Jag get philosophical. If it didn’t involve getting huge, shredded, or winning over chicks with a chiseled physique, I hadn’t heard him discuss much that required deep thought. Not that those things are particularly ethereal subjects, but when it came to such matters, he knew what he was talking about. He had thought about it a lot. I guess I shouldn’t have sold him short when it came to other matters. He’d joined the Elf Gate Cult for a reason, probably the same reason a lot of folks join religions. He was looking for meaning. For significance. Something to give him a purpose beyond crafting a swoon-worthy body and building bigger biceps.
“That’s interesting,” I said, smiling. “Hadn’t thought of it that way before.”
Jag nodded. “I don’t think the idea applies just to exercise and fitness. It fits a lot of what we assume about how things are supposed to be.”
I nodded. Jag was trying to tell me something about the significance of the prophecy and how Aerin and Layla understood it differently. How they each assumed what must be and what was destined to be by prophecy. Similar to how we assume that what is natural is whatever is most obvious or convenient based on our limited experience. At least, that’s what I gleaned from it.
Not saying that Jag’s idea wasn’t helpful. It was, sort of. I mean, the elven prophecy came from an ancient druid, a fellow named Taliesin. What did he intend? Presuming the ones held by the elves, the giants, and the drow were all the same prophecy, there had to be a single meaning unless this Taliesin dude was wildly inconsistent. Maybe he just wanted to create relationship drama in the chosen one’s life.
At least the elven giants hadn’t brought me a princess to consider, too. I hadn’t met any of their females yet, but even if they were smaller than B’iff or Brag’mok, they’d dwarf me. And with those massive bottom incisors that overlapped their upper lips, kissing one would probably be hazardous to my health. My dental health, at least.
Layla handed me my shake.
Jag slapped me on the back as I was taking my first sip. I almost spit it all back out.
“See you tonight, bro,” Jag said. “If you kick that trial’s ass the same way you did today’s workout, you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, taking another gulp of my Greenberry shake.
“I’ll meet you back at the apartment,” Layla said. “I’m going to go pick up some supplies for your disguise.”
“All right,” I said. “I have to get ready for work anyway.”
I still worked a part-time bartending gig at O’Donnell’s pub, which was on the ground level of the building where my apartment was. It wasn’t the best-paying job, and with everything else on my plate, I’d thought about giving it up. But since the O’Donnell family owned the building, as long as I worked there, I had free rent.
Not to mention, it was nice having a job that didn’t involve saving people or saving the world, or doing anything of world-changing significance. All of us, I think, need a dose of normalcy to keep our heads on straight.
“We’ll get you all fixed up after your shift,” Layla said. “Don’t stress it. I’ve got this covered.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Layla.”
I kissed her on the cheek as I went to the locker room to change. I had a few extra shirts in my locker for days like these when my sweat-soaked workout clothes just wouldn’t cut it for the bus ride home.
Not that the Metro had a dress code.
But since my whole body smelled like a foot, I was trying to keep the other Metro riders in mind. You know, common courtesy.
By the time I made it to the locker room, Jag was gone and more than likely a set or two into his workout.
I walked past him on my way out of the gym. He was squatting what looked like at least five hundred pounds. I just shook my head. The guy was a beast.
I chugged the rest of my shake and went to the bus stop to wait for my ride home. The bus Layla was taking had already picked her up.
With my gym bag containing my nasty workout clothes slung over my shoulder and my shake in my hand, I boarded my bus.
“Reverend!” someone said as I walked down the aisle, looking for a seat.
“Cecil!” I said. “Didn’t realize you took this route.”
“Have a seat, Reverend,” Cecil said. “It’s good to see you.”
Chapter Seven
“How’s Grace doing?” I asked as I sat down.
“Fantastic, Reverend. Getting stronger every day. Barely needs her cane anymore.”
I smiled. Cecil had shown up, to the chagrin of some of the church’s members, at one of our services after hearing rumors that I’d healed one of our members. After he pressed me, by drawing on a little magic, I’d somehow managed to cure his daughter of spina bifida. After that, dozens of other members of the community had started crowding our pews. Not all of them wanted healings, but it had changed the dynamic of the congregation.
“I’m glad to hear it, Cecil,” I said. “She’s a special girl.”
“You changed her life, Reverend,” Cecil said. “And so many others.”
“How’s Shanda? Is your wife adjusting to all these changes well?” I asked.
“Now that Grace is better,” Cecil explained, “she’s been able to take a part-time job. We’re saving up to buy a house!”
I cocked my head. “That’s wonderful, Cecil. Congratulations.”
“Praise the Lord, Reverend. I don’t know where you came from or how you do what you do, but you’ve changed our lives.”
I tossed my gym bag under the seat and folded my hands in my lap. Something about this conversation made me uneasy. Don’t get me wrong. I was thrilled for Cecil and his family, but I was hardly the saint he wanted me to be or the holy man he was convinced I was. I was divorced. I was a recovering alcoholic. And not all of the church’s members, much less the authorities in the church, were thrilled by the changes.
“I don’t know what to say, Cecil,” I said. “I’m excited for you, but I’m nothing special.”
Cecil cocked his head. “You don’t see it, do you? The hand of God on your life?”
I shook my head. “I’m a broken man, Cecil.”
“Aren’t we all?” Cecil asked. “I’m not so learned when it comes to the Bible, but didn’t God speak through an ass once?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Balaam’s donkey.”
“If God can use an ass to do his will, why do you think he wouldn’t use you?” Cecil asked.
I scratched my head. “You know what, Cecil? That’s brilliant. I hadn’t thought about it that way before.”
“All I know is that if God didn’t use broken people, he wouldn’t have much to work with, would he?”
I nodded. “Again, that’s a great point.”
“A lot of people are afraid of change,” he said. “I know I am. I mean, it’s scary to think about it. Owning a house? Really? Just last week, we depended on the soup kitchen for meals, and now we can put food on the table. Food we’ve paid for. And when we get into a new neighborhood, we can put Grace in a better school.”
“And that change scares you?” I asked. “It’s amazing. Don’t give me the credit. You and Shanda, you’ve seized your opportunity. I’m thrilled for you.”
“But will the new school accept Grace?” Cecil asked. “Or our new n
eighborhood? A family like us moving in next door?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A black family,” Cecil said.
I shook my head. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about that.”
“We have to think about it, Reverend,” Cecil said. “Every day. I know a lot of folks, white folks, I mean, who are good people, say that they don’t see color. But they do. Everyone does.”
I bit my lip. “I can’t imagine what it must be like.”
Cecil waved his hand through the air. “It is what it is, Reverend. This is the world we’re in. But don’t think I’m not grateful.”
I shook my head. “The world shouldn’t be that way.”
“I agree,” Cecil said. “But even in the church, we aren’t oblivious to the way the people there look at us.”
“I’m hoping that involving them in the soup kitchen will help with that,” I said. “But I’m sorry if they haven’t made you feel welcome.”
“I know you’re taking some heat,” Cecil said. “I’m sorry for that.”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to be, Cecil. It isn’t your fault.”
“Just know this, Reverend,” Cecil said. “If your church won’t have you, if they decide for whatever reason that it’s too much, we’ll still be there. Wherever you go, we have your back.”
I smiled. “Thank you for saying that. It means more than you know.”
We sat there in awkward silence for a good minute. There was so much about the situation with the church I hadn’t had time to think about.
But I wasn’t ready to write off that chapter of my life. I had gone into ministry to give people hope.
“This is my stop,” Cecil said as the bus’s brakes squealed. “First day, new job. Wish me luck!”
“New job?” I asked. “Congratulations, Cecil!”
Cecil nodded. “It isn’t much. Just changing folks’ oil. Fixing flat tires. But it’s a step up.”
I bit my lip. “You said tires?”
Cecil nodded. “Tire and lube.”
“I’ve got a car in need of four,” I said. “You don’t happen to know if they have a tow service, do you?”
“Where’s your car at?” Cecil asked.
Three Dogma Night (The Elven Prophecy Book 3) Page 5
