The Trainer

by Shey Stahl

  I reached down and patted his shoulder, winking at him. “I definitely will.”

  My heart broke for James. The way he couldn’t remember anything about right now. In many ways, he’s stuck, never moving on from the memories he had. That had to be depressing because everything you ever did wrong would always haunt you. There’s no moving on.

  I shouldn’t have went there but something made me go see James. I felt like to understand Destry, I had to see his father and see what Destry saw every day. It only complicated it for me. It made me feel something more for him.

  Whenever Destry said his dad’s name, there was a tiny glimmer of pain he tried so hard to keep hidden, but I saw it. It was in the way his hands shook when he talked about him in the ICU and the distant look that took over his eyes when he said his name.

  As I was leaving, I looked back at him and he smiled. Just smiled.

  I’ll never understand this, but why was it that people who were dying constantly thought about living? They wondered what they could have and what they would have done differently.

  I believed people could be living, but really dying—depression, disease, or just miserable for no reason.

  Then there were people dying but living. They were living their last days to the fullest, because they know they have to, experiencing and believing they had given it everything they had to give, knowing inside their heart they’d never truly die.

  That was who I wanted to be. I wanted to have the dying but living attitude.

  When I met Destry, I was living but dying. And that had gone on for years for me, because I had let it. Too many years if you asked me.

  After meeting James, I walked away with one thought…I understood that you don’t have control over your life. But you do have control over how you live it.

  It was nearing workout time when I got back so I grabbed some food on the way to the bar. Luckily we were working on arms so I didn’t feel like I would throw up if I ate before working out my legs.

  Adam had just left when I saw Destry still standing in the ring, no shirt on, black shorts and black gloves. With his hands draped over the top rope, his eyes lifted to find mine.

  He didn’t say anything, not that I expected him to. I’ve been curious about his training. What gets me is the ferocity and accuracy he puts into just throwing a punch. There’s no down time when a boxer is training either. He’s literally in the gym every day. He has to be.

  I stepped toward him and set my bag down. He watched me as I stepped inside the ring with him. Standing, he turned to face me letting his gaze linger in all the places his mouth assaulted my skin last time.

  “Teach me.” I said when I was finally standing before him.

  “Teach you what?” His tongue swept over his lower lip, purposely, and I wanted to bite it.

  “How to box.”

  He laughed. “Again?”

  “I’m serious this time. No sex. Just teach me how to throw a right hook.”

  Destry searched my face and then gave me a half smile. “I’m left handed so it’s gonna be weird but I’ll try.”

  “Okay.”

  “A hook is a semi-circular punch thrown with the lead hand, in your case, the right.” He moved to stand behind me, positioning my arms with my left one defensively held up in front of my face, then pulled my right arm back, my elbow raised. “In the guard position, which you’re in, you draw your elbow back, knuckles forward,” he shook my left elbow, “keep your guard hand tucked against your jaw. Always protect your chin.” His hands slid down my hips, firmly and then twisted them. “Rotate your hips and torso and then propel your fist through the air in an arc connecting with your opponent.”

  I was panting by the time he was done telling me all that because his verbal instructions always got me.

  Destry stepped back letting go of me. “Come on, let’s workout.”

  I turned and placed my hands on my hips. “What’s the matter, too much for you?”

  He gave me a challenging stare and stepped toward me, his head burying in my neck. His lips ghosted across my skin sending a shiver through my body. His fingertips dug into my hip bones. “It’s not too much, unless you want me to fuck you against these ropes.”

  Believe me when I say I wanted to. I did. But once that started, I was one step deeper in this whatever we had here. It was going to do nothing more than make it harder when these six weeks were over.

  As I started in with the weights, I noticed a difference in a weight I chose. Where it once seemed heavy to lift the ten pound barbells, they seemed light now.

  During the workout, Destry looked tired, it wasn’t necessarily a physical exhaustion but more like a mental one. Despite our earlier teasing, he wasn’t firing on all cylinders right now.

  “What’d you do today?”

  “Had to help Danny. Fuckin’ guy’s a mess. Trying to get him straight.”

  “Why do you have to help him?”

  “He’s the only family I have, Tallan.” The way he said that struck me as odd. Like he was assuming I wouldn’t understand if he explained. His eyes dropped to the weights in my hands. “Look at you, tough girl.”

  I laughed continuing my reps. “I know. Never thought I’d be in shape.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Still doing it for him?”

  “I don’t think I’ve been doing it for him for a while now.”

  Destry nodded, his eyes on my form.

  “I think that first full mile I ran made me realize that this was about me and changing me for me before I could ever consider changing me for someone else.” I said that with the confidence of a woman who had stepped out of her comfort zone and met it head on.

  Destry just smiled. I know he knew what I was talking about.

  We worked out in silence for a bit longer when I’d just finished my second set of chin-ups and asked, “Have you ever lied to anyone, Destry?”

  Destry was in the middle of doing a set of chin-ups as well. He’d been participating in exercising for the last week right along side me. I watched his arms as he pulled himself up and down, his shorts hanging low enough on his hips that I could see the muscles in his hips when he lifted himself up. Letting go of the bar, he jumped down on the mat. “I suppose I have. I think I lied to my dad once.”

  “About what?” Destry didn’t strike me as the type of guy who would lie about anything. Or needed to. He was brutally honest at times.

  “I went to a party with a friend he told me to stay away from.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Well, I went, got head, then left.” He chuckled rubbing his stomach.

  “That’s… honest.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Destry shrugged, finding it hard to keep a straight face, jumping up on the bar to do another set of chin-ups. “You asked.”

  “And she’s part of the five?”

  That made him chuckle again. “Six.”

  “But you said Stella and four others.” Had I got that wrong?

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Then it finally dawned on me what he meant. “Oh… uh… me. I would make six.”

  Destry smiled. “Have you?”

  “Have I what?”

  “Lied.” He finished with his third set and jumped down on the mat again.

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  I shrugged. This wasn’t where I wanted the conversation to go. Destry made me nervous. I did my set as he watched, then winked at me.

  “You can finally do those with good form.”

  “I feel great.” I said with a deep breath. “These workouts are really helping.”

  Destry grinned raising his hands over his head and clasped them behind his head. “Maybe it’s the after-hours conditioning.”

  I looked at him from head to toe. “Mmm… could very well be.”

  He smiled, again, and moved toward the bench press. Hesitating before lying down, he looked over at me. “Are you doing that guy you live with?” he asked,
changing the subject, his forehead creased in deep concentration.

  “Jared?”

  He nodded and then laid down taking a firm grip on the bar.

  Standing beside the bench, I watched as he lifted it up and then began a series of reps. “No way. We’re just friends. He’s doing my best friend anyway and that would just make it very weird.” And then I asked, “Are you dating anyone?”

  He finished the set and then replaced the bar and sat up, his palms flat against the bench. Staring down at his feet, he answered quietly. “I suppose I’m not dating anyone in the sense that I was referring to.”

  Oh God, what if I’m not the only one he’s sleeping with? How come I’ve never considered that until now?

  “And this Silas guy… you loved him?”

  “I did, back then. I wasn’t lying when I said we’d dated in high school. Then he left and I hadn’t heard from him until a few weeks ago.”

  Again, he only nodded and laid back down for another set.

  “Did you love Stella?”

  It was a few minutes before he answered. For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to. “I did. Very much so.”

  “Have you thought about talking to her and seeing if you could make it work?”

  Stupid idea. Never talk to her again.

  His shoulders tensed as he sat back up again. “No. We’re done.” He stood then and gave me a nod to sit down. He took the majority of the weight off so I could actually lift it.

  Just when I thought he’d turn away, maybe I’d asked too much, too private, he surprised me. As I laid down on the bench he straddled the bench, keeping his weight off of me and then placed his hands on the bar hovering over me. He leaned in slowly but just before his lips met mine, he whispered, “I don’t want her.”

  If my heart could have melted, it did right then.

  It’s strange to me that Destry was a total dick when I met him, and now there’s this side of him. It’s easy to see why he was that way. He was protecting himself.

  When the workout was finished, he tilted his head toward the door. “I gotta get going, sorry.”

  Please don’t be meeting another girl!

  “Oh, yeah… uh, me too.” I reached for my bag on the floor.

  “I gotta meet someone tonight but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He started walking toward the door and then stopped when I didn’t follow.

  “You go ahead. I’m just gonna stretch and then head out.”

  I sat there staring at the wall after I got my shoes on. My mind was all over the place jumping from Destry back to Silas again, and then back to Destry and what he was doing to me.

  And where he was?

  Why did I even care?

  We skipped a workout on Sunday so we made up for it on Tuesday night. Usually Tuesday and Wednesday I didn’t work out and it did throw my schedule off a little. I had three articles for the Seattle Times to get finished this week but when I was lying awake all night or researching Destry, I had very little time for anything else.

  “You wanna go get some food?” he asked as I was changing after our run. “I’m starving.”

  “Oh, uh, well I already ate. Every Tuesday Jared and I have tacos.”

  He shrugged reaching for his bag and turned to leave, as if this was no big deal to him. “That’s cool.”

  I reached out and touched his back, stopping him. “But I did work up an appetite.”

  “If it’s the sort of appetite I’m thinking of, there won’t be any food involved.” He grinned like a kid in a candy store. I love it when he lets all of his defenses down like he was doing now.

  “I need food…anything past that won’t happen without feeding me!” I laughed on my way out of the basement.

  We ended up going to Shiro’s Sushi on 2nd street. I loved that place even though it cost me an entire week’s salary to go there.

  As we ate, Destry looked restless again. As if something was bothering him, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. I wanted to take away his pain and his burdens. I wanted to help him.

  “How’s your dad doing?” The thought of James made me smile. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to see him but I didn’t regret it.

  “He’s about the same.” His eyes fell to the table, chop sticks in his hand. He stirred the soy sauce around mixing it with the wasabi. “He doesn’t remember me. And my fucking uncle… he’s draining me. I can’t keep taking care of him and still look out for myself.” Right now, with that vulnerability laced in his words, I could understand why it was so hard for him to be around most people. Why he wore that constant state of anger like a coat of arms. He always had to worry about people’s intentions and whether or not they were pure. That didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy.

  Right then was when I wanted to quit writing that article and tell Marcus again that I couldn’t finish. I knew he would immediately assume my intentions weren’t pure. Nothing was farther from the truth.

  But if I didn’t get this side of Destry captured in that article, people would always have this perception of who they think he is, not who he really is. I think the misconception was displayed mostly in the articles about him. Which was where I wanted to make the difference and show him in a different light.

  Sometimes I wondered how a man like him could doubt anything. No matter what he said though, he believed that inside the ring, he was the greatest despite losing that fight. I watched a video last night of him that explained his thoughts after the fight.

  He was quoted saying, “So what? I lost. He’s the better fighter. Big deal.”

  The thing was, it was a big deal to him. I could tell. He wanted people watching to believe his words. At least that was my theory.

  Just when I was about to say something, anything, he placed his napkin on the table, his voice turned serious again. “Back to my place?”

  We went back to his apartment and didn’t even wait to get inside the door before we had sex. Did it against his door first and then moved to the kitchen. I thought Destry was rough before but have you ever had sex for two hours straight without stopping?

  He had me bending in directions I didn’t think was humanly possible.

  You know you’ve had good sex when you have a fan on you and you drink a gallon of water in the span of an hour afterwards. His sheets were soaked from sweat. I mean, fuck, it was insane. As gross as sex sweaty sheets sound, it was totally worth it.

  I’d just gotten to sleep, sadly in my own bed, but it was the type of sleep where I could have easily been woken up.

  And I was. By the rattling of our front door.

  Never did I think Jared was serious when he said we had shady neighbors. I mean, I’m not naïve but I didn’t think someone would break into our apartment with Jared here. Everyone knew he was a cop. Are they that stupid?

  There was more banging around and my heart started to pound. My entire body pricked with a coldness, my eyes frantically searching darkness. What time was it and where was Jared?

  I was so sore at that point I actually contemplated just lying there and pulling my blankets over my head. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me type of deal.

  What do I do? Run? Run where?

  They got the door open and that finally woke Jared up. I heard him rustling around in his room after he fell out of bed, probably searching for his gun.

  There was an uproar of noise, both from the robber, and Jared, and it was probably just some kid because one look at Jared and his gun and the person bolted.

  “That’s right, asshole!” Jared yelled.

  When I came around the corner holding my unplugged lamp in my hand I was met with Jared’s white ass as he stood in the hallway stark naked.

  He screamed like a goddamn girl when I tapped on his shoulder. He spun around pointing his gun in my face. “Tallan? Jesus! I’m naked! I could have shot you.”

  I pushed the gun away. “I see that. And that gun is loaded dumb shit.” I smiled and brushed my hair from my fac
e setting my lamp on the floor. My eyes drifted south between his legs. “Hello, old friend.”

  “The safety is on.” Jared shook his head, covering his crotch with his left hand, but still smiled. Scratching the side of his head with the barrel of the gun, he drew in a deep breath trying to calm his nerves.

  I motioned to his crotch, and then the gun. “I’m curious. What were you going to do, sword fight him or shoot him?”

  He wasn’t amused and turned to walk into his bedroom to put clothes on.

  I went and closed the front door, locked it, and then for good measure moved the bookcase beside the door in front of it. We were both pretty jumpy after that.

  “Should we call the police?” I asked as we cuddled on the couch. I refused to allow any space between us.

  “Hello?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “What am I?”

  “A patrol cop.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t handle this.” This time Jared shifted to look at me. “And I’m a cop. Just because I’m assigned to patrol right now doesn’t mean I’m not a real cop.”

  “Okay.” I held up my palms. “My bad.”

  “Damn straight, woman.” He snorted, turning back around and facing the television. We were watching SpongeBob.

  When he turned around, that’s when I noticed his shoulder had a large gash on it. “Jared, you’re bleeding!”

  I don’t like the sight of blood. At all. Instantly I felt nauseous.

  “How’d that happen?”

  “Actually?” His face went pale, almost disgusted.

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  He groaned running his hands over his face. “That happened at work today. I tried to be nice to this lady crossing the street and she fucking stabbed me.”

  I covered my mouth, shocked. “Did you arrest her?”

  “No.” Jared rolled his eyes, pouting a little. “I was screaming in pain. She fucking stabbed me. Her fucking cane doubled as a ninja sword!”

  I started laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe and then I was reminded of my evening and moaned in pain.

  “Rough night?” He mocked, not really caring if I was in pain. Especially not after being stabbed.