BEAST

by Pace, Pepper

  Christopher did a load of laundry, and changed Mag’s litter box. Then he pulled out his guitar and played for a while. He wanted to perform tomorrow and hadn’t practiced all week. Friday was Karaoke at The Madd Crab and he generally brought his guitar whenever he sang. He liked the music selection there as well as the people. They were a bunch of rednecks but it was a neighborhood bar with the same rednecks. Sometimes a dumb asshole would come in or a drunken girl. But most knew to leave him alone. And if they didn’t learn it the easy way they learned it the hard way. His cousin had introduced him to the place because she had wanted him to sing. She used to be a bartender but had quit for a better paying job at a different redneck bar. He’d stuck around; people knew him already and they liked his singing. Plus they tended to warn the newcomers not pick fights with him.

  As he ran the treadmill that night he was pretty certain that he’d gotten back down into the two hundred weight range. But he decided that he would continue to go to the subbasement gym in the mornings--and it had nothing to do with the lady who smelled like pink flowers even after she was dripping with sweat.

  Christopher heard the door to the gym open. He was surprised. He half expected her to change her workout time though he no longer expected her to give up. It hadn’t been a week yet but there was something in her face that drove her and somehow he didn’t think she’d be easily swayed from her unknown goal.

  He still wore the hood but he didn’t allow it to cover his face as completely. He glimpsed her through the mirror going through her stretching. She was moving very gingerly. He hoped she understood that her muscles had to tear down in order to rebuild themselves even stronger. He hoped she didn’t take the pain as a sign to give up when it was actually a sign that her efforts were working for her.

  He saw her get on to the recumbent bike. She was wearing grey sweats and a t-shirt that was too big. Her hair was concealed by a cap but he was willing to bet that she hadn’t combed it this morning. He liked that she didn’t come in wearing make-up, though that could just be an indication that he wasn’t counted into a category of someone that she would wear make-up for. Crap, why would he even care about that?

  Aerosmith’s Janie’s Got A Gun was playing. When he was selecting the music to play this morning he wondered what she thought of the music. He wondered if she wished he would cut it down. Well she could wear a headset if she didn’t like it…but she never did.

  Ashleigh placed her hands on her knees and concentrated. Don’t stop, girl. Keep going, girl. But she couldn’t. Her butt muscle hurt! And then Bad Reputation by Joan Jett began playing and Ashleigh made a squeak of pleasure. Ooo! That was her song! She grit her teeth and squinted her eyes into slits and she kept pushing as she listened to the words sang by the baddest girl in Rock and Roll!

  She got to the end of her rep and collapsed with her back against the seat, head tilted back. The song suddenly stopped and she looked up quickly.

  “Good song,” She said quickly as the man moved to the door. He hesitated and glanced at her.

  “It is.” He put his hand on the door and then stopped. “If…you can listen to it if you want. Just leave it in the boombox.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He returned it to the boombox, pressed rewind and started the song from the beginning.

  “Thank you,” she said as he walked out the door. He raised his hand briefly in acknowledgement.

  When Beast reached the monitoring room TK punched him playfully in the arm but it still hurt a little.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  “Making me loose ten bucks. The fat girl came back AND she talked to your ugly ass.”

  He shrugged and hoped he had hidden his smile. “Oh…well I didn’t scare her off, that’s for sure.” TK clapped him on his back to show that he was just kidding. Christopher felt kind of good. When everyone had returned to their work he flipped the monitor back to the gym.

  She was on the treadmill that he used. She tended to go for that one for some reason and she always ended her work-out on the treadmill. She was running, not walking. It wasn’t fast and she looked like she was in pain but she kept going.

  Over the next few days, Christopher noted the girl’s endurance improving. She had a crappy workout routine though. Her reps were too long and she didn’t pause long enough between them. She worked much harder than she had to and he was surprised that she didn’t pull something with her cool down.

  He knew where she worked. He’d monitored her while she left the lockers—she spent an ungodly amount of time in there. But he couldn’t deny that the effort had been worth it. She always looked wonderful afterwards. She’d get on the elevators for the Federal building and he’d flip screens until he saw her head into the cafeteria. The eyes in the sky were amazing things. He watched her take her breakfast back up to one of the offices on the 7th floor where his camera had no access.

  Christopher knew when she went to her bathroom breaks and had seen her leave for lunch. Once she carried back a bag from a fast food restaurant and he zoomed in on it and shook his head. Bad if she’s dieting. Maybe it was just a salad; he hoped so. He had seen her in the company of a white guy and black female. Sometimes they went out to lunch together.

  Whenever he had to do sweeps or lockdown for prisoner transport he’d make sure he got back by 4:30 so that he could watch her leave each evening. At first she used to limp but not anymore. He would flip cameras until he saw her disappear into her car at one of the outdoor pay lots. As he watched her drive off, he wondered who she went home to.

  CHAPTER 3

  This second week of Ashleigh’s workout, she hurt a lot less, but she was still exhausted at the end of the day. Sometimes she had a quick salad or opened a can of soup but most days she showered, packed her bag for work the next day and fell into bed. She prayed she would build her metabolism up soon.

  However she did discover that she actually looked forward to her daily torture session. Though not because she enjoyed working out. No, she enjoyed the music. Every day the man brought something cool to listen to. When one song ended she anticipated the next one never knowing what to expect. Sometimes it was Def Leppard; Pour Some Sugar On Me. Sometimes it was Harry Connick Jr. Once he’d played Summer Madness by Kool and the Gang and Ashleigh had just stared at his back for the entire song.

  The man never spoke. But he’d leave the tape or disc—whichever one he brought. Most times she’d leap up as soon as he was gone and would hit rewind to a particular song and start her workout anew. By her third week she could see a transformation in her body. There was definitely more room in her clothes, yet whenever she undressed she still saw a round belly and a big butt. She’d sigh and bypass the delicious pastries in the cafeteria and would get her soup, salad or sandwich at lunch.

  Ashleigh felt weak and tired when she dragged herself out of bed Wednesday morning; two months into her workout. She’d again skipped dinner the night before and her stomach hurt because it was so empty. She grabbed a banana and ate it as she drove in to work. God, she was tired.

  She put her things into the locker room and headed for the gym. She was so tired that she didn’t even pay attention to what song was playing, only happy that it was something with a heavy bassline so that she could get motivated. She glanced at Mr. Mysterious, as always, pounding away on that treadmill. He never used the weights or anything else, just the treadmill.

  She plopped down on the recumbent bike, too tired to even think about the elliptical. Then she began pedaling. I’m getting skinnier, she thought. Each pedal I’m getting skinnier. Each bead of sweat is a drop of fat melting off my body. Push it girl, push it…

  Her ears began to ring and her body began to tremble as black dots began to form in front of her vision. She stopped pedaling and tried to stand up, but suddenly it was as if the floor had come flying up to meet her and then there was nothing but blackness.

  Christopher heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. It was a pretty distinct sound; one he was famil
iar with since he’d caused a lot of bodies to hit the floor. The woman who smelled like pink was laid sprawled out on the floor. Christopher leaped from the treadmill, and was knelt at her side in seconds. He swept back his hood. Shit! Was she having a heart attack? He quickly checked her pulse. He could tell that it was weak. He quickly placed his hand behind her neck and made sure that her airway wasn’t obstructed. She breathed fine.

  Christopher looked up at the camera and gestured for someone to bring smelling salts. Very gently he touched her cheek. Her skin was like silk and his hands were so rough.

  “Hey?” He said softly. “Wake up, sweetheart. Open your eyes.” Roddy and Carlos were suddenly there with the first aid kit. “Get the salts!” He commanded. TK located them and broke the caplet under her nose. The woman twitched and tried to turn her face away. She brought her hand up weakly and pushed the TK’s hands away. Her eyes opened and she looked up into the Beast’s face.

  He watched her eyes blink and try to focus. “Wha--?” She muttered in confusion.

  “You blacked out, Ma’am.” She kept blinking rapidly and he suddenly realized that one of her eyes was brown while the other was hazel…She’d lost a contact.

  Ashleigh sat up. Three men were hovering over her and she felt instantly foolish. She’d fainted! She tried to stand and the man in black kept a hold of her arm.

  “Careful Ma’am. You’re not ready to stand up yet.”

  “I’m okay.” She said in embarrassment. She touched the back of her head, and felt a lump forming. The Man in black’s hand was instantly there. She looked up at him but had double vision and couldn’t seem to focus. His fingers gently touched the lump forming.

  “Ma’am?” His hands suddenly gripped her. “Ma’am!” and then the world went black again. Christopher caught her and swept her limp form up into his arms.

  Bruce was suddenly there. “Get her inside,” meaning into the secure zone. Civilians were strictly prohibited from entering it. But Christopher didn’t hesitate. He carried the limp woman into their headquarters after Roddy scanned them in.

  Christopher headed for the commissary. The woman’s body felt soft in his arms. Her head was propped on his shoulder and he could smell her distinct aroma, beneath the flowers—fresh like baking bread. He sat in one of the metal chairs; there were no cots, no infirmary here. He propped her up on his lap carefully as everyone trailed in. They had a 16 man crew and every one of them was present and watching intently as if he carried a rare specimen.

  “Ma’am?” Christopher slipped his hand behind her neck so that his thumb gently stroked her cheek. “Wake up, Ma’am. Open your eyes.” He spoke softly and as if on command her eyes began to flutter open. A slow gasp filled the room.

  He saw her eyes open and she squinted up at him. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as if waiting for her to scream and runaway. Instead she started blinking rapidly. When she tried to stand, Christopher gripped her gently but firmly.

  “You’re not ready to stand yet.” She had a confused expression on her face as she looked out at the room full of men wearing fatigues. Bruce came forward.

  “Ma’am, when was the last time you ate?” He demanded.

  She pressed back against Christopher as she looked up into the mean face of the army guy. The man holding her rumbled. “Let me handle this sir.”

  She turned to Christopher when he spoke. “Have you eaten anything?” His voice was gentle.

  Ashleigh was so confused and still half out of it. She didn’t realize that she was sitting on a strange man’s lap. She was just so tired.

  “I think she just crashed, Sir.” Christopher spoke to his Supervisor. Bruce nodded and sighed.

  “Well, someone get her some orange juice. Beast, you are not to let this civilian out of your sight. Follow protocol. The rest of you; OUT!”

  Everyone grumbled but left. Someone pressed an orange juice into his hands before retreating. Christopher shook it quickly and twisted off the top.

  “Drink this, Ma’am.” He pressed it to her lips. She squinted at him but took a sip of the offered beverage. Her stomach suddenly began to rumble and groan.

  “You’re hungry,” he said. “Your body crashed.”

  And then it hit her. She’d fainted. And she was sitting in a man’s lap. And where the hell was she?! Again she tried to stand but couldn’t because he was holding her.

  “You shouldn’t try to stand. You’re going to blackout again…remember? I mentioned that the last time?”

  “Yeah…” She said distantly. Why couldn’t she see? She rubbed her eye and gasped when something foreign caused her discomfort. She kept rubbing until she rubbed it out.

  Christopher leaned forward. “Wait. You rubbed out your contact.” He reached forward and gently grabbed the delicate lens from her cheek.

  Ah. Her contact had rolled up behind her eyelid. She tried to take it but her hand was too unsteady. She looked at her uncooperative appendage in surprise.

  “Look up at the ceiling. I’m going to put it in for you.”

  She nodded her agreement. Once she wasn’t looking, Christopher quickly placed the lens into his mouth to re-wet it and then placed it on his fingertip. He had never done this before but had seen it done. She tried to peek at him and he waited patiently for her to look at the ceiling again. Then he pressed the lens into her eye and she quickly blinked it into place.

  “Better?”

  She looked up into his face, now able to see him clearly. “Better.” She managed to smile. He pressed the juice to her lips and she took a longer swallow. Then she took the drink from his hands, her hands covering his for a moment and then she gulped down the orange juice spilling some down her chin. When the container was empty she belched. He hid his smile. She was still half out of it but the sugar would bring her around fairly quickly.

  Ashleigh closed her eyes and placed her head on the man’s massive chest. She smacked her lips and then promptly fell asleep.

  Christopher was unsure what to do but he wasn’t going to wake her. He settled back in his chair and held her. She felt so damned good in his arms. He looked down at the top of her head. She was so little…well she was a big girl, but in his arms she was dwarfed. He wanted to…

  His arms tightened protectively around her.

  Ashleigh felt a sense of relief that she hadn’t felt in months. She didn’t remember what all had gone wrong but so much had been wrong for so long and now it was all right. She snuggled deeper in to DeAngelo’s arms. She’d missed him so much and it felt so good the way he held her in her sleep. Sometimes she knew that he’d think she was asleep and would hold her tightly against him and that’s how she knew that deep down he loved her; because if he didn’t why would he bother to hold her while she slept?

  “DeAngelo…” She muttered softly and sighed. Christopher watched her face. He instantly hated this ‘DeAngelo.’ He wanted to kill DeAngelo. Some other man got to hold her and she spoke his name in that way. But then her head snuggled against his chest again and all thought left him. Damnit, why did she have to feel so good in his arms? All softness and curves…

  TK walked into the commissary then. He eyed the two of them and then gave a lascivious grin. He gripped his crotch suggestively. Christopher put on his meanest expression and gestured with his head for TK to get lost. The other man silently went to the vending machines and got himself a soda. He could tell that their wordless conversation had tickled the black man who raised his ever-present sunglasses to look at the two of them and then blow him a quick kiss.

  Christopher scowled but it disappeared as soon as he looked down into the woman’s peaceful face. She was beautiful, she had a teeny little peanut nose and perfectly formed lips. He used to look at pictures and photographs of lips; ones with perfect cupid bows; like hers. Her face was round and girlish. He figured that she was in her late twenties. Her long lashes left dark shadows on her golden brown cheeks. She wasn’t pink, she was gold and brown like hot buttered toast.

  H
e wished that she would sleep like this forever.

  Ashleigh sucked in a loud breath as if she had been drowning under water. Her hands flung out and her eyes popped open; all at the same time. She was awake. She looked up into the wary face of the man and let out a squeak of surprise. Oh my god. His face…she could see it up close and clearly now. There were scars criss-crossing his face. His nose was flattened but his upper lips wasn’t exactly three separate pieces as she had first thought from her brief glimpse of him, but it did have deep scars as if it had been sewn back together; badly sewn back together. His hair was cut into a very short military cut but she could tell that it was red, just like his sparse eye brows and lashes.