Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One

by Adam Knight

  I hate when people notice me. Makes me uncomfortable.

  Donna McNulty was the HR Specialist for Canada-Pharm. Early forties with a pinched face, short cropped bottle blonde hair and petite. Dealing with her was always so formal. Most people that get into Human Resources are usually very personable, sympathetic and genuine in their ways. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by people who’ve worked for other offices. Donna was exceedingly professional. Like she had learned all of her lessons step by step, knew precisely what it was she needed to do in every situation and followed it to the letter of the HR Manual. Asking just the right questions. Smiling just the right amount. Pretending to be interested just the correct amount. It was very peculiar every time you needed to deal with her.

  In this case it worked perfectly for me. I had forms I needed signed for my time away and for the insurance companies and Donna knew exactly what was needed from the company’s end.

  It still took over an hour for me to get into her office, get everything put in order and filed away. When we were all done she stood up stiffly, put just the right sized smile on her face and shook my hand robotically wishing me a “speedy recovery” in the most bland tone possible.

  Bizarre. Woman was a fucking robot, I swear.

  Still, it wasn’t quite as bizarre as having the Canada-Pharm CEO Dr. Stephen Balustrade track me down in the pharmaceutical lab.

  I had been speaking with the techs about Mom’s prescriptions, getting the updates added onto her patient profile and having her refills prepped. Of course it took me a few minutes to get the kid to stop messing around with his smart phone, but once I had his attention he got right to work.

  Suddenly - like a ninja appearing out of the shadows - fifty year old Dr. Balustrade was there, pumping my hand like a water well and smiling hugely. Welcoming me back, congratulating me on my recovery and saying tons of overly positive things while giving my first name a real verbal workout. So stunned by this barrage of forced friendliness I didn’t even notice Donna off to the side with an older Canon camera until the industrial sized flash went off and completely blinded me.

  By the time my vision had cleared, Dr. Balustrade and Donna had disappeared and the pharmacy tech was complaining about having to reboot his phone.

  I managed to sneak out of the lab without getting ambushed by any other members of the senior management. Tiffany waved at me as I passed through the front lobby, obviously recovered from her surprise. I gave her my small smile and slipped out without saying a word.

  By the time I fired up my rusty old girl and got her rumbling my stomach began to growl.

  I stared down at it incredulously even as I reached for a sandwich.

  Both sandwiches were gone by the time I made it back to the bank to drop off the last of my forms to Kevin. Getting home I checked in on Mom, set the slow cooker onto high to finish the roast and generally went about my business for the rest of the evening until I fell asleep watching the Kings try to sweep the Canucks out of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

  My stomach woke me up just after midnight.

  Starving.

  Friday morning I woke up with the sun, an occurrence I am all too familiar with though normally it is my crummy early nineties digital clock doing the waking with its piercing buzz. Not this day however. Light peaked in through the window well of my basement bedroom and landed gently on my face and instantly I was up. Refreshed. Alert.

  And starving.

  Mom stumbled out of her bedroom into the kitchen as I was preparing another jumbo sized breakfast and stared at me for a minute before going back to bed. I put an egg, some bacon and toast on a plate, covered it with a lid and put it aside for when she woke up proper.

  It was the weirdest thing. Sure, I’m a big dude with a big appetite. And occasionally when on crash diets or “nutrition plans” I would have hunger at this level. But that was always accompanied by huge fatigue and diminished energy levels. Which only makes sense when you think about it; lower your intake while increasing your output and you’ll have lower energy levels.

  But this … this was ridiculous.

  I guess I was tired given the surgeries and all, but nothing too severe. And being extra munchy because of the healing process made a bit of sense I supposed. However it was getting to the point that I was eating full meals every three to four hours just to keep my stomach from rumbling painfully. The hunger of the completely empty belly.

  Strange.

  By nine thirty a.m. I was in the washroom examining my stitches and giving them a bit of a pull. The edges were sealed tight with only a faint redness and some bruising remaining. The bandages showed no sign of leakage whatsoever. Dr. Beasley had remarked about how well I was healing and was planning to take out the stitches next time I saw him. But after rolling my shoulder and wind milling my right arm carefully, I noticed no pulling or tugging sensation anymore. So I shrugged, grabbed Mom’s nail trimmers and cut the ends off both stitches.

  For the record, pulling thread out of your own body feels weird.

  I puttered around the house for another twenty minutes looking for something to do.

  Then I threw some clothes into my gym bag and headed out the door.

  Chapter 13

  “Did someone call in a bomb threat?” I muttered incredulously.

  I’d been going to the downtown YMCA on Vaughn Street for almost ten years. It’s very central, attached to Portage Place mall and is freaking huge. It has an average membership of over ten thousand people (not including families), over one hundred different pieces of cardio equipment, as many pieces of resistance training machines, an entire floor dedicated to free weights, a racquetball court, a two hundred meter track, a full sized basketball court and an eight lane pool.

  And in all the time I’ve spent in this gorgeous facility I had never – ever – seen it this quiet before.

  After parking my baby in the mall’s underground lot I made my way through the back hallways to the gym’s main lobby. The staff at the front desk were unfamiliar to me but that wasn’t a shock. I usually make it in after working at Canada-Pharm in time to see the evening crew.

  The three story locker room was sparsely populated at best. A couple of older gentlemen relaxing in various states of undress were watching the golf channel on the huge flat screen TV’s as I got geared up. I had my pick of lockers which was a true rarity.

  Heading down the hallway past the basketball court there was a small group of children with the “Little Y-Ones” daycare program being corralled by a few younger employees. Walking in tandem and being cajoled with promises of snacks and juice boxes. At the other end of the court a small class of seniors were being led through a low impact aerobics class to some Michael Buble remix.

  Rounding the last corner and facing into the main facility I stepped up to the fitness desk and gazed slack jawed out into the barren wasteland.

  Ten. Maybe fifteen other people. In the entire facility.

  Tops.

  “Well,” I continued muttering to myself. “Looks like I’ve got the run of the place.”

  I meandered through the machines aimlessly, trying to decide how hard I wanted to push myself. Sure I was putting on a brave face to Mom and might not actually have been in any real pain the last little while. But I wasn’t an idiot.

  Three GSW’s to the upper chest was no laughing matter. The fact that I was even able to walk into the gym wasn’t something to joke about.

  So with that in mind I opted for the treadmills in the back row to take a brisk walk.

  None of the machines had the dreaded “Out of Service” sign sticky taped to them. So I picked the one off in the corner, furthest away from the main entrance. It gave me the most privacy and the best few of any one coming in to work out in front of me. Preferably some hotties for inspiration.

  And ogling.

  Yeah, like you’re never done that.

  Setting the treadmill to a steady but brisk walk, I plugged in my ear-buds and went channel sur
fing on the inset TV.

  “ … to CTV Mornings, with Caroline and Jordan. We’ve got an exciting last hour for you.”

  “Absolutely Caroline. We’ll be talking with members of the Winnipeg Police Service about the upcoming summer season and proper road safety procedures for the warmer weather.”

  “Later on we’ll be getting cooking tips to prepare the barbeque grill master in all of you.”

  “But before we get too ahead of ourselves let’s check in with Cathy and see what’s happening outside.”

  “Thanks guys! As you can see by the gorgeous sunlight I am out on the CTV News rooftop enjoying a balmy spring morning …”

  Shit.

  I increased the speed slightly on the treadmill to the lightest jog possible. I’d forgotten about my promise to meet with Cathy that afternoon for our in camera interview at the studio. So of course I’d spent the last couple of days eating my face off.

  Time for some frantic last minute fat loss.

  That works, right?

  Sigh.

  “It sure does look gorgeous out there, Cathy. Got any big plans for the weekend you’d care to share with our listeners?”

  “Well the weekend’s pretty packed up, but this afternoon I am getting the chance to conduct a very special interview.”

  Thanks for trying to downplay things, Cathy.

  “That’s right, you’ll be speaking with the nightclub security guard who …”

  For fuck’s sake.

  Click.

  “… Come on down! You’re the next contestant on the Price is Right!”

  Much better. Though Drew was no replacement for Bob.

  My heart rate and breathing responded well to the increased tempo and my knee seemed to be holding up to the pounding. Heck, nothing seemed to be hurting. So I bumped up the tempo again and settled into my stride, watching fools try to guess how much a box of macaroni is worth for another Plinko chit.

  Some time passed. Some supersized southern grandmother advanced to the Showcase Showdown and seriously scared Drew silly before anyone else came into the fitness centre.

  A pair of ladies in full on Lululemon finery made their way across the children’s play area to take up a pair of treadmills ahead of me, but just off to my left. Still in a position to be ogled - which is clearly what you’re wanting when you get dressed up provocatively to go to the gym - but not in an obvious fashion. They were a number of years older than me. The overly tanned, teeth whitened and face stretched type that often come into Cowboy Shotz looking for attention from the younger dudes. I didn’t recognize either of them but the way the taller one filled out her sports bra made me want to shake hands with her surgeon.

  I ignored the not so subtle over the shoulder glances they gave the fat guy jogging away in the corner and kept my eyes on the screen in front of me.

  “… You won a new car!”

  Loud, piercing female screaming right into the microphone.

  Click.

  Enough of that.

  “ … and coming up next after the break we’re gonna start your retro rock block with some Bon Jovi, right here on Much More Music.”

  Well, I didn’t want to miss that.

  I took my ear-buds out and tucked them into my shirt while the commercials took over.

  Nobody likes commercials. But since they’re only two minutes long it’s a good amount of time to push your pace. So I bumped up the treadmill another mile per hour and prepared to sweat hard until my classic hair metal music returned.

  “Excuse me.”

  I blinked, sweat bouncing off my eyelids.

  Off to my left the surgical sexpot was looking over her shoulder at me. So was her friend.

  She waved. “Hi.”

  Odd.

  I waved back mid stride. Seemed the polite thing to do.

  “Do I know you?” she asked, her head tilted quizzically.

  I considered it, then shook my head.

  “I tell you, he looks familiar.” Said the shorter one with unnatural red hair. She raised her voice to me. “Where do we know you from?”

  Yeah, like I’m supposed to know.

  So I shrugged slightly, gave my small smile and checked the TV screen. Something about a paper towel brand. Nothing awesome yet.

  The tall one looked at me thoughtfully a moment longer then gave up and turned back to her friend. They began talking amongst themselves, too softly for me to make out.

  Like I cared.

  Maybe she was used to being hit on more overtly by dudes in the gym. Not much I can do about that. I’m one of those guys who goes to the gym to workout, sweat and not be bothered.

  “I know where I know you!” The little faux-redhead exclaimed. “You work at Cowboy Shotz!”

  I managed not to stumble in my surprise, turning the lurching movement into a longer stride. Didn’t even lose the ear buds tucked into my shirt.

  “Yeah!” The taller one agreed. “You’re a bouncer there.”

  My stomach sank. Being recognized by causal people for being shot wasn’t something I was really …

  “Wow, that was crazy the other week. With the shooting. Were you working that night?”

  I blinked again.

  “Uh … What?”

  “The night of the shooting. With those gang guys, were you there?”

  Okay, maybe I was over thinking things.

  “Uh … No. Night off.” I replied.

  The tall one put her hand to her enhanced breast, a look of horror on her made up face. “Oh. My. God. You are so lucky.”

  “Yeah,” put in the shorter one, equally horrified. “It was a nightmare.”

  I just kept jogging.

  “There we were, waiting in line for like … An hour?”

  “Almost two.” Faux-Red looked quizzically at me. “Why don’t they provide VIP to regulars?”

  I shrugged.

  “Anyways,” Chesty McGuillicutty went on. “We were out there freezing when like twenty native guys walked past the line.”

  “At first I thought they were looking for change, or smokes. But I quit two months ago.”

  “So they walk by, looking all tough. Dangerous.”

  “One of them kept staring at us, just crazy. With an ugly old tattoo under his eye. I mean I have tattoos and I like them, but this one was uh-gly.”

  “They’re all shouting and swearing. Wanting to get let in. Yelling ‘bring my sister out’ and stuff.”

  “As if anyone related to those guys would be allowed into Cowboy Shotz.”

  “Exactly, there’s no way Aaron would allow it.” She paused significantly then, giving me a knowing smile. As if knowing my boss’ name made her special.

  “Then they started fighting! Shoving at people in the crowd and with the bouncers.”

  “It was crazy. We’d just come from the hockey game and none of the fights on the ice were this bad.”

  “And then they all pulled out guns!”

  “OhmyGod! That was crazy.”

  “All that blood.”