Dirty Cowboy

by Alycia Taylor

  I made him do that for ten minutes and after he got a drink of water, we moved on to his neck. I tossed him the stability ball and he put his arms out and held it against the wall. Once it was stable against the wall, he leaned forward slightly and pressed his forehead into it. “Keep your feet stable,” I told him. He wiggled to adjust them a bit and when he was in position he started his Isometric holds. He was up to six seconds on the clock this week and as he worked, my stopwatch and I counted for him. When he finished that one he told me,

  “I think I hate that one most of all.”

  I smiled because I knew he was just trying to get me riled up now, telling me he hated every one of my choices for strength training. It wasn’t going to work, I was a slave driver and Mark knew it. I wasn’t even sure why he tried.

  “Well, it’s good that we have it out of the way, then,” I told him. “We’re onto grip training.”

  “You know, I don’t really “grip” anyone. I’m more of a throw the punch and step back kind of guy.”

  “A strong grip helps you hit harder.”

  “I don’t see the correlation,” he said.

  “Seriously? Or are you just being a butthead?”

  “A little of both,” he said.

  With a sigh I said, “Grip strength is a game changer, trust me.” He rolled his eyes like he didn’t believe that was a satisfactory answer, but he walked up to the rope and took hold of it. “Okay, lean back,” I told him, and then, “Walk your hands down, now up…keep your feet flat.” He did that for a few reps and then I said, “Okay, pull-ups.”

  “Shit!” It was said under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. Again, I smiled. Mark grasped the rope above his head so his arms were fully extended. I counted for him as he pulled up, held for three seconds, rested for one and repeated for twelve reps.

  When he finished I said, “Get some water and chalk your hands.”

  “You’re gonna make me climb it?” he whined.

  “Yep.”

  He whined again. While he was getting his water I searched the gym again for hot guy. He was in the back now talking to my coworker and one of my supervisors, Sam. They shook hands and I stood mesmerized as hot guy pulled on his tank top, every muscle in his back and arms rippled as he did. Then he threw his towel up on his shoulder and his bag on the other arm and headed for the front door. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t watching, but he wasn’t that subtle. He was staring at me again over his shoulder and he didn’t look away. Geez! I can count at least five people in the room that look worse than me. I wonder why he’s singling me out.

  “Are we done?” I heard Mark’s voice behind me. I turned to him and smiled.

  “Not even close,” I told him.

  Chapter Two

  After I finished up with the three clients I had scheduled for that day, I helped Sam with his. He was the one who hired me and he was awesome. I never worked with him and not learn something new. After his last client left, Sam, Debbie, and I cleaned up. We wiped down all the machines and emptied the trash cans into the big metal one out front. I cleaned up in the locker rooms and showers, holding my nose against the stinky boy smell in the men’s. Debbie cleaned the glass up front and wiped down the counters. She was the front desk girl and Sam’s girlfriend. We were almost finished when Sam got a phone call. I heard him say, “Hell yeah, I can use a beer.”

  After he hung up he said, “Jeff and Victoria and Greg are over at Sunset Sports Café watching the game. You girls want to go over with me for a bit?” Greg owned the gym where we worked and Victoria and Jeff were two of our other coworkers who had the day off that day.

  “Sure, as long as you’re going to feed me while we’re there; I’m starving,” Debbie told him.

  “I don’t think so, thanks. I’m just such a mess…” I couldn’t imagine going out looking the way I did; it was bad enough that I’d worn dirty clothes to work.

  “Oh come on, you look fine,” Sam said. He was a big liar. He probably couldn’t even describe what I was wearing that day.

  “Yeah, even when you claim to be a mess I have a hard time not hating you for being gorgeous,” Debbie said. It was a nice compliment and I appreciated it, but I didn’t believe her either. I just felt so disheveled. But, I really did want to hang out with my friends for a while so I said,

  “All right, you guys go on. I’m going to just freshen up a little bit and see if I can do something with this hair. I’ll lock up here and meet you there.”

  They took off and I went in the back, hoping I’d accidentally left some clean clothes in my locker. I wasn’t that lucky of course. I found a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt that I’d left crumpled at the bottom. I took them out and smelled them. They were wrinkled too of course, but they didn’t smell too bad. I showered off really quickly and dressed in the jeans and T-shirt. Then I flipped my head over again and ran my fingers through my wet hair. The only time in my life when I was glad for the naturally curly hair that I usually had to spend hours taming was when I was in a hurry. I found a half-full bottle of hair gel in my locker and put some on my hands and rubbed it through. That would at least keep it from drying in a ball of frizz. I had a compact in my purse and I put a little of the foundation on my pale face and some mascara on the pale red lashes that framed my green eyes. I looked at myself and made a face. My clothes were still dirty, so no matter what I did really, I wasn’t going to feel good about myself. I put on a little bit of lip gloss and decided I’d just stop in for a quick drink and head home. Maybe I could get home in time to run to the laundromat that night.

  When I got to the sports bar, my friends were easy to find. They’d claimed a big table in the corner. I went over to join them and to my hormones delight I saw that hot guy was here. He was wearing clean clothes and damn if he didn’t wear them well. He and Sam were at the bar talking. I sat down with the others and gave the waitress my order. She brought me my drink and I leaned over to Debbie and said,

  “Who is that guy that Sam is talking to?”

  “Seriously? How does a girl who is so into fitness for athletes never seem to know when she sees one?” I shrugged. I was very interested in physical fitness. The actual game they played in after I got them fit…not so much.

  “Is he a football player?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No.” She was going to make me guess. I thought about his nice round butt and said,

  “Baseball?”

  She laughed. “No. His name’s Paul Delport. He’s an MMA fighter…one of the best around. Haven’t you ever watched any of his You Tube videos at least?”

  “Maybe, I thought he looked familiar…” I lied. I never watched You Tube videos of the fights. Mark was always trying to get me to watch his and I always declined. Debbie knew I was lying and she laughed and picked up one of the fries on the plate in front of her.

  “You did not think he looked familiar,” she said. “You thought he looked hot.”

  I looked back over at him. I didn’t think I could lie about that. It wasn’t like she’d believe me anyways. “Yeah, that’s true too,” I said. “It is hard not to notice.”

  Debbie laughed again and said, “Have Sam introduce you. I think he’s single.”

  “And out of my league,” I said.

  “Please! It’s hard to imagine why you can’t see yourself the way the rest of us do. You’re freakin’ gorgeous!”

  “You’re sweet,” I said. I looked back at Paul Delport and said, “Maybe Sam can introduce us another time, when I have clean clothes on.”

  Debbie rolled her eyes and pushed the basket of fries over in front of me. I tore my eyes away from Paul and took a fry. I didn’t want him to see the disheveled girl staring at him again. I drank the Crown Royal and Seven-up the waitress brought me too quickly and ordered another one. Then I focused my attention on my friends. Mark Fox had shown up and I saw him and Paul shake hands before he came over to our table and sat down.

  “Well there she is,” he said. “The devil
in disguise.”

  “Has she been picking on you again?” Greg teased. He and I had just been talking about what a big baby Mark was for a “tough” guy.

  “She’s mean, Greg. You hired a mean girl. She takes great pleasure in torturing me.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll thank her the next time you stay on your feet in the cage while the other guy is sprawled on his ass, “Greg said.

  Mark looked at me and smiled. “Maybe,” he said, laughing. “But I’m sure as hell going to cuss her when I try to get out of bed in the morning.”

  “If you’re that sore, she’s doing a great job,” Victoria said. “Maybe she needs a raise.” I held up my glass to her and drained the rest of what was in it.

  “At least buy me another drink,” I told my boss. He signaled the waitress and bought us all another round. It was fun working for people that you also had a lot of stuff in common with. It made going to work every day a heck of a lot easier. Greg was married to a nice lady named Yolanda who wasn’t there that night because she had to work. I liked her a lot and she was a little older and wiser than me so she was always a good one to go to for advice. “Where is Justin tonight?” I asked Greg. Justin was his and Yolanda’s six-year-old son.

  “He’s at Grandma and Grandpa’s for a few days. My dad bought him a little bitty Honda 50. Yolanda has a conniption every time he rides it and usually thinks of an excuse why he can’t. So now, he wants to live at my parents’ house.”

  “Oh wow, I think I’d be a little nervous about that too.” Justin was a tiny little thing. I couldn’t imagine putting him on a motorcycle already no matter how small it was.

  Greg shrugged and said, “He’s got all the protective gear and my dad coached him a lot before he let him ride. It’ll only get up to about 50mph…”

  “Only! He’s six!”

  Everyone at the table had to weigh in their opinion on that. It was pretty much a split verdict with the women on the side of caution and the men on the side of motorcycles and speed. After that, the football game on the big screen got exciting and we all turned our attention to it. The excitement in the air was palpable as everyone cheered for their team and I’d all but forgotten that I was only going to have one drink and then go to the laundromat. I stole a glance at Paul every chance I got, drank too much and ate too little. In the final quarter of the game the score was something ridiculous like forty to seven and the bar started clearing out. My friends disbursed one by one or two by two. That was when I started telling myself that I should leave too. My inner self was looking at Paul and telling me to throw caution to the wind and go talk to him. I was a little drunk…I needed one more drink first…

  “Hey, Jessie, I’m taking off. Are you going to be able to get home okay?”

  “Sure.” I looked up at Greg and smiled. He smiled back and said,

  “Have the bartender call you a cab, honey, okay? If you need a ride back for your car in the morning, Yolanda or I will bring you, just call us.”

  “Sure,” I said again. He leaned down and kissed my cheek.

  “I mean it, do not drive.”

  “I won’t,” I said. I watched him go, once again thinking about how lucky I was to work for such nice people. After he was gone I looked over and saw Sam talking to Paul again. I told myself it was now or never. I went over and casually said, “Hey, Sam.”

  “Hey, Jessie, this is Paul Delport. Paul, this is Jessie Cooper. She’s one of the assistant trainers at the gym. You might be lucky enough to work with her sometime,” Sam told him. “She’s great.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. Paul’s pale blue eyes gave me a quick once-over, probably still wondering why my clothes were such a mess.

  His face was impassive as he said, “Yeah, you too.” He turned back to the television and as Debbie came back from the bathroom, Sam said,

  “Hey, Debbie and I are going to take off. Are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” I told him. I gave him a hug and Debbie a kiss on the cheek and watched them go. When they were gone I turned back to where Paul was now sitting alone at the bar. I sat down on the stool next to him where Sam had been and ordered another drink. When he heard my voice he turned and looked at me. He still didn’t say anything. It was slightly unsettling.

  “Good game?” I asked. I knew it was a terrible game. That was why all of my coworkers had given up on it and gone home…but it was a conversation starter.

  “No,” he said.

  Okay, so I guess you have to be talking to someone interested in conversing in order for a conversation starter to work. I wasn’t quite ready to give up though, so I said, “So are you new to the gym? I hadn’t seen you there before today.”

  He proved that he was the king of one-word answers. “No,” he said, before returning his attention to the big screen. It was obvious that he’d rather watch the end of a terrible game than make conversation with me. I wasn’t the type to try and force myself on a guy. I stood up off the stool and the room spun a little. Damn it! I was going to have to get a cab. I fished into my bag for my phone and realized the week just got better and better. I remembered running out of the house like a crazy person that morning…without charging my phone, still. Shit!

  “Excuse me,” I said to the bartender. He was at the other end of the bar tending to about ten young college types that had just come in. “Hey! I was just wondering if you could call me a cab!” He acted like he didn’t hear me at all. “Hey!”

  “You need a ride home?” I heard Paul’s smooth, masculine voice behind me and turned back toward him. He was standing up, looking at me, waiting for an answer I suppose.

  “I was just going to have the bartender call me a cab,” I told him. “I didn’t charge my phone last night and that was why I was late to work today. I was so frazzled about that and wearing dirty clothes that I forgot to charge it again.” I stopped there because I realized once again I’d given too much information and his eyes were beginning to glaze over slightly. “Anyways, I just need to call a cab. I had a little too much to drink.” I was trying hard not to slur my words and sound like a drunk. I didn’t think it was working.

  He shrugged and said, “All right. It didn’t look like the bartender was paying much attention. I’m leaving so I thought if you want a ride…”

  I suddenly wanted a ride very badly. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” The man of many words just shrugged again. That could have meant anything, but I took it as an “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, accepting before he took back his offer. “I only live a few blocks from the gym.” He acknowledged that with…well, nothing. He just headed for the door and I followed him.

  I followed him out to the parking lot. He didn’t look back to see if I was there even once. I could’ve been lying passed out in the doorway of the bar and the guy would’ve never known. I was not even a little bit surprised when he stopped next to a big, black Ford F-350 with a lot of chrome. I couldn’t imagine him in anything else.

  “Nice truck,” I said. He unlocked my door and pulled it open. He didn’t say “Thanks,” but I thought I saw a miniscule trace of a smile playing around his lips. Lucky smile, I’d like to play around those lips. Geez, I’m drunk. Hopefully something stupid like that doesn’t slip out on the ride home. I reached up to grab the pull bar and haul my drunken ass up into the truck. Once again I was humiliated as Paul had to take me around the waist and practically lift me in.

  “Thank you,” I said. He responded to that by closing the door and going around to his side and getting in. I slipped on my seatbelt as he started up the truck. As we pulled out of the lot he asked, “Have you worked for Greg long?”

  Wow! Conversation! “Not long,” I said. I was getting sleepy now, so it was even harder to manage my words. He seemed to suddenly be interested in talking to me though, so I was going to do my best. “I graduated from USC this past June. Greg had given me an internship while I was still in school, so between that and my permanent job now, it�
�s been about a year I guess.”

  He nodded and said, “Greg’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he is. I got lucky.” My head was beginning to feel almost too heavy for my neck to hold up. I only prayed that I wouldn’t get sick. “Sam was actually my savior. He was one of my part-time instructors at USC and he introduced me to Greg. I love working there and they’ve all become really good friends. I owe him a lot.”

  “Yeah, Sam’s the best conditioning trainer that I’ve ever had,” he said. “He definitely knows what he’s doing. He knows the difference in his athletes too. He doesn’t try to train me like a baseball or soccer player.”

  That was actually one of the most valuable things I’d learned from Sam myself. “How long have you been fighting?” I asked him.

  “About eight years,” he said.

  “Eight years? Were you in middle school when you started?” He laughed. The change in his face that the laugh brought about was enough to send my stomach rushing up into my throat. He was gorgeous.

  “I was eighteen when I started. I was a wrestler in high school.”

  As I was doing the math in my alcohol soaked brain, I felt my eyelids trying to close. No, no no! That would be just too embarrassing. I could see it now, passed out, drooling and in dirty clothes to boot. I had to fight it.

  “So are you any good?” I said, realizing that no matter how hard I tried my words were still running together.

  He laughed again. I liked it a lot. He really should do that more often. “I’ve won a few championships and tournaments,” he said.