by Julia Derek
“I, uh, was hiking and fell off a cliff,” I said finally. Falling off a cliff didn’t sound quite as pathetic as tripping while doing lunges.
Patty’s green eyes and thin lips turned into big O’s. “Really? Oh, my God, that sucks so bad! Where did you go hiking?”
“In the Santa Monica Mountains.” You’d think the girl would at least pull out the chair for me while asking all these questions, which we both knew were only in an attempt to kill time, not because she actually cared. “Hey, any chance you could pull out my chair for me?” I nodded toward my crutches. “It’s kinda hard to do it with these.”
Before she could answer, a male voice I recognized far too well said, “Let me do it.”
Somehow, Aidan had managed to saunter up beside us without me noticing and was now pulling out my chair for me. My stomach twisted as I turned to say, “Thanks.”
He was wearing his usual button-down shirt, a checkered one in muted blues and greens today, and khaki pants. His shaggy hair with all the golden highlights was as always perfectly ruffled without seeming messy, and his chiseled jaw was closely shaven. He looked at me with those big baby blues with something like trepidation in them—which should have turned me off, but failed to do so. As sad as it was, this inconsiderate creature managed to retain his hold on my heart. And the more he looked at me with that boyish Hugh Grant face, the more it felt like someone was driving dozens of big needles into my chest. I clamped my teeth together to stop the little sob-like sound that wanted to come out of me.
As I sat down, I tried to convey to him with my eyes not to hint at anything about what had happened between us. The last thing I needed was for Patty to find out that we had not only been dating, but that it was now over. Miraculously, I’d managed to keep this a secret to her, even though Aidan and I had been talking a few times while at the office since we’d started going out. And now that it was suddenly over between us, I definitely didn’t want Patty to find out. Just the thought of having her probing for every detail about what had happened was unbearable.
He must have picked up on what I was trying to convey because all he said was, “I’m sorry you hurt yourself. Let me know if I can assist you with something. It must be tough getting around on those crutches.” Then he swiveled around and returned to his cubicle in one of the far off corners.
Patty leaned closer to me, enabling me to get a whiff of her very potent perfume, something with lots of roses in it that stung my nostrils. For once she spoke almost quietly, a conspiratorial little smile on her lips. “I think he likes you.”
I stared at her, unable to respond to that.
“Don’t think that I’ve missed seeing the two of you talking lately,” she continued. She pinched my arm playfully. “I bet ya it’s only a matter of time before he asks you out.”
“Right,” was the only thing I could make myself say to that.
“And you’ll say yes, right? I can tell you like him.”
Tears burned the back of my eyelids then. In order to stop Patty from talking about Aidan and my upcoming romance, I made myself start coughing. Hard. Patty’s smile faded and a look of concern on her face took over. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some water?”
I finished my cough attack and wiped my mouth with the tissue I’d grabbed from the holder on my desk to cover my mouth. Then I dabbed at the tears that supposedly were the result of my coughing.
“Yes, that would be great,” I said. “Thanks.”
To my relief, Patty left my desk and headed toward the water fountain. I needed to find something to do to before she returned with the water, wanting to keep talking. Finding a number related to someone with work would take too long, so I found my smartphone and dialed Nina’s number. Out of everyone I knew, she was the most likely person to pick up.
So when a satin-smooth male voice said, “Hello, Ricki. What a nice surprise,” I almost dropped the phone. I looked at my phone screen and saw that I’d accidentally dialed Dante’s number, which was the person my phone said I’d interacted with right before Nina.
“Hey, Dante,” I said, seeing how Patty was making her way back to my desk with a cup of water in her hand. By the time I’d told Dante I’d misdialed and tried to call Nina instead, Patty would be here, eager to keep talking. So I might as well keep talking to him until she realized I was not about to hang up the phone any time soon. Telling him I’d misdialed would sound like a bad lie anyway.
“Everything okay?” he asked before I got a chance to say anything else.
“Yeah, I just had a few minutes to kill and thought I’d say hi. And give you an update on how my foot’s doing. You know, to save you the trouble of calling me later today.”
“It’s no trouble,” he replied. “I hope you don’t think so. I have to say you have good timing, though. You caught me just as I was heading for my morning break.”
Listening to his cheerful, warm voice instantly put me in a better mood, and I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips.
“That’s to be expected,” I said as my smile grew wider. “I’m psychic. I didn’t tell you?”
He laughed. “Not as far as I can remember. Then again, I’m pretty dense… How’s your morning going so far?”
“Not too bad. What about yours?”
“Can’t complain. I’ve already trained four people, so it’s been hectic.”
“Four. Wow.” My mouth had dropped open. “But it’s only nine.”
“Yeah, well, my job starts early. I had my first client at five.”
“You poor thing. That must’ve been rough having to get up so early in the morning.”
Dante exhaled. “Yeah, to be honest, I wouldn’t have minded staying in bed a while longer. But enough about me. How is it walking on those crutches, querida?”
My stomach flipped at the way he’d said that last word. Querida. I think that meant honey or something similar in Spanish. How had he meant it? In a serious way or in a friendly way, the way some people said “I love you” to every other person they met? I wasn’t that kind of a person. When I said “I love you,” I truly meant it. I quickly decided that he’d meant it in a friendly way only. He was in a line of work where you needed to be super-duper friendly to everyone. Nixon had told me all about how that worked.
“I don’t really mind them,” I said, totally lying, as I could launch into a rant that would last several minutes about what I’d had to endure so far due to those damn crutches, but that wasn’t happening. I doubted Dante wanted to hear about the minutiae of my life anyway. More importantly, though, Patty was standing at my desk, giving me glances that told me she hoped I was about to hang up soon. I pointed at the phone and made a face that I was not about to do so for a while. She got the hint and left finally. I let out a silent sigh of relief.
“And how’s the foot feeling?” Dante asked. “Any improvements?”
“Yes, it’s much better. I could use it to drive this morning, so that was a relief. It makes me feel less like I’m an invalid, that’s for sure. I’m really looking forward to beginning our training sessions again. When do you think we can start?”
“Are you seeing the physical therapist today?”
“Yeah, at noon.”
“He’ll be able to give you an idea how long it’ll take before you can start training. But my guess is it’ll be about two weeks or so.”
I sucked in a breath. “Oh, no! I really hoped you’d say like at the end of this week or something.”
Dante laughed. “Well, let’s see what he says. If you tell him you really, really want to start training, maybe he’ll find a way to make you start sooner.”
I grinned. “I’m definitely gonna make him find a way so I can start sooner… A lot sooner.”
Dante
As we hung up, I wondered what had prompted Ricki to call me. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since we’d last spoken. I didn’t buy for a second that the reason was only to “say hi and give me an update on her foot.” Not that I m
inded talking to her. The more I spoke to this chick, the more I liked her. I no longer doubted that she was in fact a nice girl and that her behavior during our session had been due to her being nervous. A lot of people acted defensive and weird when they were nervous. I was definitely looking forward to training her again, unlike the woman I had just finished training. The way Ricki’s sweet voice had sounded in my ear had soothed my insides. God only knew they needed soothing—and not just because of my latest client’s unreasonable demands and temper tantrum. Last night’s demons had been particularly bad, so bad I’d woken drenched in cold sweat when my alarm had sounded this morning. Listening to Ricki talk now was what had made me suddenly call her querida, a term of endearment I only used for people close to me in my life. She’d made me feel that good. But then I spotted my latest client leaving the club and my anxiety returned.
This woman, who I’d only trained a couple of times before, had thrown a fit when I told her she needed to work out a lot more often and eat less if she wanted to lose twenty pounds in two months. Shedding that much weight was no easy feat even for people who worked out on a daily basis and ate a healthy diet. But my client had refused to listen and started yelling instead, claiming her schedule allowed her to work out no more than twice weekly. And she was already eating a healthy diet, thank you very much. According to what she’d told me, her diet needed significant adjustments.
When I made it clear that she’d never reach her goal using her current approach, she’d stared at my tattooed arms, turning more and more sour with every minute that passed. At the end of our session, she’d barely said good-bye and told me she’d get back to me about training next. Now I was worried she’d complain that I was trying to make her train more than what was necessary and generally giving her bad advice. It wasn’t a big deal if she went to Tonya; Tonya had been a trainer herself before going into management, so she’d back me on this one. Anyone who knew anything about getting in shape would conclude the woman’s complaints were ridiculous. But if my client chose to turn to corporate, I was in deep shit. Especially if she said she had a problem with all my tattoos, suggesting they meant I must be some kind of lowlife.
Fortunately, the rest of the day went without additional hiccups, and when it was time for me to head to the restaurant where I was meeting with my probation officer, I was in much better spirits. My angry client had texted me and apologized for being so unreasonable this morning and asked me when I’d be able to train her next—and how many calories she should cut out from her diet.
I entered the little Italian place right off Wilshire Boulevard and slipped into the booth where I usually met with Ms. Donaldson. She already sat at the other side of the table, her red curly hair bunched up in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. She wore an ill-fitting green suit, ugly glasses, and no makeup; yet, it was easy to see that she was an attractive woman, who couldn’t be many years older than my own twenty-five. Thirty tops. Each time I saw her I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like all dolled up. I had a feeling she’d be almost unrecognizable and smoking hot.
There was no ring on her ring finger, which suggested she was single. I used to wonder what her story could be, but she’d soon made it clear that she wasn’t sharing any of her personal life with me.
She stuck the pencil she’d been chewing on behind her ear.
“Good evening, Davila,” she said as I slid into the booth.
“Hello, Ms. Donaldson,” I replied and gave her a nod.
She eyed me for a long moment, her face blank. “How have you been?”
I shrugged. “Not too bad. Except that I’m having to work my ass off lately.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because some dickhead at the board of directors at Crunch found out I was sentenced for burglary and that I used to be a gang member. So now they’re trying to get rid of me.”
She narrowed her grey eyes. “How are they trying to get rid of you?”
Before I could answer, a waitress came by to take our food orders. When she left, I explained the situation to Ms. Donaldson. She nodded slowly. “That’s too bad. Well, as long as you fulfill their wishes, you can stay, correct?”
“Yeah. As long as I fulfill their wishes. Let’s hope there won’t be others.” I smirked at the thought.
“Do you think you’ll be able to fulfill their current wishes?”
“Probably. Fortunately, my manager is on my side and is helping me out with clients.”
Ms. Donaldson inhaled, chewing at the tip of her pencil again. “That’s good.” She scribbled something on her notepad before meeting my gaze again. “And you’ve still not been contacted by anyone in the gang?”
“No, they’re keeping their distance. After the beating I gave them, they know better than to mess with a hardass like me.” I laughed to make light of the situation. While I’d held my own during my jump out, claiming I’d done so easily was a gross exaggeration. And my body still bore scars from all the blows I’d taken. One of my legs was slightly crooked from when they’d broken it in two places, the hearing in my left ear was impaired, and my torso carried marks from badly healed wounds. Fortunately, my leg’s crookedness was only obvious when you saw all of me naked, like in the shower. When guys asked what had happened, I told them it was an accident from playing soccer. And they believed me without so much as blinking, despite the scars on my upper body. Maybe that was because they didn’t really want to know. I didn’t think I’d believe it if someone had told me the same lie.
Then again, being pounded into a bloody pulp was nothing new to me. It was because of being attacked so often while growing up that I’d taken up boxing and begun working out. The Latin Devils had been aware of my skills, which was why they’d been extra hard on me, making sure they got me drunk before my jump out started. I’d been so plastered I’d barely been able to walk straight. In hindsight, I realize I should have known why we’d been drinking so much. It had been my good-bye party in every sense of the word. Except, I’d survived, which they hadn’t counted on. But as much as I knew it annoyed the shit out of the boss I’d gotten away, he had no choice but to honor their code and leave me be. Well, as long as I didn’t mess with them. Which I was doing by preparing Jose for his jump out
They’d take it easier on Jose, probably use fewer guys to jump him since no one expected him to know how to defend himself. That’s why it was so important that no one ever found out what we were up to, or he’d be a dead man for sure, no matter how well he learned to fight. They’d find some ingenious way to disarm him before, the way they’d done to me, getting me drunk.
I wasn’t too worried that Ms. Donaldson would find out about Jose. All she and I ever did was meet once a week here at Gianni’s, her favorite Italian restaurant, so I could give her a rundown of my life. As long as I stayed out of trouble and kept my job, I didn’t have anything to worry about. She was really pretty cool and I didn’t mind my weekly dinners with her. Only problem was, lately, I didn’t have time for it. I’d made plans to see Jose tonight—before I remembered that I had my meeting with Ms. Donaldson. He had yet to reply to my text telling him I couldn’t meet until much later, so he mustn’t have gotten it. I was pretty sure he was sitting at the Whiskey now, wondering where the hell I was. Either that, or something had happened to him. I pushed the thought away, preferring not to think about that possibility.
Our food came and I slurped down my Spaghetti Bolognese as quickly as I could without it being obvious I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Ms. Donaldson gave me one of her long, appraising looks. “Don’t choke, Davila.”
I swallowed the big chunk of food in my mouth and gave her my best grin to appease her. “I’ll do my best.” My plate was almost empty now.
“You have somewhere to be?” she asked.
I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Uh, no. But I have to get up early to train clients, so I should get out of here. Remember how I told you they want me to work twice as hard at the
club?” I gazed at her with as much innocence as I could muster.
She nodded as she elegantly rolled up some of her own spaghetti on a fork and stuck it in her mouth. She kept watching me as she chewed her food and I finished the last piece of food on my plate. When she finally swallowed, she said, “Well, then you should get going. Don’t want you to screw up at work. I’ll take care of the bill.”
She always did. As she said when I protested, the state paid for it really, so I better save my money. I was going to need it later. Ms. Donaldson was great about making guys feel like they’d suddenly been castrated.
“See you next week then,” I said as I got to my feet.
“Yes, I’ll see you next week.” Before I could turn around, she added, “And don’t do anything stupid now, Davila. I’m watching you more than you think.”
Ricki
Almost three weeks had passed since the day I sprained my ankle and I was no longer using the crutches to move around. The physical therapist had told me it was okay to walk on the foot, even preferred since that would help strengthen it, but to stay away from any kind of activities that involved jumping. I was walking into Crunch now to have my next session with Dante, whom, by now, I felt like I knew almost as well as I knew my friends. He’d kept calling me throughout my recovery, to cheer me up and hear how I was doing, see if there was anything he could do to help me, being generally supportive. I hadn’t once taken him up on his offers, but it sure had been nice to know he’d been there for me.
I was convinced talking to him so often had helped me move on from Aidan much quicker than I would have done otherwise. Yesterday, as I’d accidentally pulled up Aidan and my string of text exchanges on my smartphone, that crushing sadness when I realized what I was looking at hadn’t overwhelmed me. In fact, I hadn’t felt much of anything. When Dante called, on the other hand, I felt plenty. Just the way he said, “How are you doing today, Ricki?” in his sexy voice had a way of making my insides flutter, and after we hung up I couldn’t get him out of my head for hours. Not good. I could only hope the crush I was developing on him would go away the second we laid eyes on each other again, or I might be so self-conscious I’d trip and twist my other ankle just from walking next to him. Surely it would go away, I told myself. Eventually. While he was hot and nice, he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy I’d ever date. It might not be part of his tattoos, but the word “heartbreaker” was written all over him, and I didn’t need any more of that in my life.
