Garrison strongarms me to the counter to get my guest pass. The whole time, she stays against me while her left tit rubs against my arm. Normally, I’m immune to Simone, except for a couple blunders. I look but would never touch. This isn’t even a middle school gym. Yet, here I am, fighting a goddamn boner that’s her fault. Shit. And it doesn’t matter if I scoot away because she just follows. It also doesn’t help when she’s constantly moving her right arm on the counter, which jostles her left tit, rubbing it on me. Wearing a thin bra, her fucking nipple teases me through my long-sleeve shirt. I’m either close to pushing her away or jizzing in my pants. There’s no gray area.
Waiving the tour the perky woman at the counter offers us, Garrison once again drags me through another set of doors, where we immediately walk into treadmill hell. As far as the eye can see, treadmills and stair climbers abound. Simone asks, “You want to try one?”
“I don’t know. I have to change first.”
“Okay. Do you need help?”
“Changing? I think I can manage. I’ve been doing it myself for over 20 years.”
She rolls her eyes. “I meant help finding the locker room, titwad.”
I make a face but laugh. “Nice. There’s a huge sign over there. I won’t get lost. If I do, send the coast guard.”
“Fine. You’re on your own.” She crosses her arms and impatiently nods to the locker rooms. “Go. We don’t have all day.” That’s because Tesco has an expiration date, as do all douches.
The locker room is carpeted in the locker section while marble composes the bathroom part. Jesus Christ. The bathroom alone is bigger than my apartment.
Changing, I avoid the creepy leers of stragglers in the locker room by hopping from one empty locker aisle to another. This place is busier than the other one. When I return to Simone, she smiles. “That was fast at least. Nice legs. I like your shorts.”
“Shut it. I’m not wearing sweats here.” I pull at the front of my Styx T-shirt. “And I don’t fuck around.” Sighing but not hearing myself over the treadmills, I ask, “Where would Tesco be? Do they have a whore section?”
Simone laughs, moving closer to me as we look around. I guess I’m officially on, having a role to play. “Um, there’s a huge weight room through those doors on the other end. Maybe he’s in there.”
I nod, but there’s no way in hell I’d embarrass myself with struggling to bench press 50 pounds. Ricky and Simone would never let me escape that one, making it even worse when they tell Wilder.
She starts walking to the weight room, and I pull back. “Let’s just stay out here. Maybe we’ll see him.”
“Okay. Let’s walk, then.”
Practically hogtied, Simone holds onto my wrist, her fingers playing with my bracelets as she escorts me to two empty treadmills. On the way there, we pass floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the gigantic indoor swimming pool. I try to avoid seeing the scantily-clad archaic biddies flapping around as they follow an instructor, but they’re hard to miss. Haven’t I fucking suffered enough in my life without that dumpster fire permanently seared into my brain?
TVs hang all over the place showing different channels, so at least I have that as a distraction. Simone takes the treadmill on my left. She studies the controls like she’s selecting the best cut of beef. Already a pro at the treadmill, I start out at a faster speed than Garrison, who whines as she pushes buttons. “Are you serious? You’re just leaving me in the dust?”
Looking over at her, I roll my eyes but laugh, watching her trying to keep up with me. “Give up,” I taunt, kicking it up a notch. She pouts, but she does it. That was easy.
“I can’t go fast on one of these!”
“Not my problem. Never told you to.” I crank up the speed to a jog and Simone grips her rails, running faster than really is necessary.
“Slow down!”
“Speed up!”
Breathless, she keeps up somewhat. And I have to admit, she’s giving a valiant, if not fucking hilarious, college try. But the more she runs, the more that college try turns drunk and disorderly.
Garrison squeals, slamming her hands on the control panel until she stops. “I can’t! You win!”
I laugh, still jogging. “Look at that. I won a race running in place. Give me a medal.”
“Up your ass,” she complains, and I laugh at her hopelessness. Who knew I’d have fun at the gym?
“Not on the first date,” I tease, borrowing her joke she threw at me at The Grind.
Simone drapes herself on the side rail, and I reach over, smacking her arm as I turn down my speed. “Look alive.”
“What?” Garrison lifts her head as Ricky walks over to us. His Richmond PD tank top is sticking to him, as Simone will soon be.
She pushes already sweaty hair from her face and grins. “Ricky! You’re just who I wanted to see. And of course, you catch me during a workout.” She ran for three minutes.
Tesco laughs, and I hate him just for the muscles. “It looked like you were dying over here.”
“I was just hanging out with Greg.”
Ricky glances at me. His hair is both messy and attractive I guess. I don’t see the appeal. “How goes it, Rodwell?”
“It goes.” Right down the toilet.
He asks Simone, “Finn said you had questions about illegal narcotics?”
“Uh, yeah. But...” She repeatedly tucks her damp, short hair behind her ears while tilting her head from side to side. More than odd, but I’ve noticed she does it when she’s nervous.
Owning my role, I say, “But she left her notepad of questions on my bed.”
Both of Ricky’s eyebrows punch the ceiling. “Say what?”
Garrison swings her head my way, stunned at first. When I smile at her, keeping up the façade and urging her to keep it going, she grins back at me. She then turns to Tesco, but instead of answering him, she says, “I only remember a couple questions.” What the hell is she doing? He gave her an opening. Is she playing hard-to-get or is she denser than I thought?
Tesco cautiously laughs, eyeing us back and forth. “And I have a ton. You two a thing?” He’s already biting? Damn. The slut pool must be slim pickings.
Simone stalls and I again answer, “Oh, you know Simone. Nobody’ll tie her down.” No. She needs to be chained to a wall in an underground bunker. “We’re just messing around.” I can’t believe those words erupted from my mouth.
Garrison outright laughs, snorting even. She then puts her hand on my arm, squeezing me. “I told Greg I like to keep my options open.”
“And I like sleeping alone.” That statement didn’t sound as pitiful in my head.
Ricky analyzes both of us like he just busted us for drugs. “Really, Simone? I never thought you and Rodwell would make a good pair.” It’s a good thing the dickhead isn’t armed since I’d pistol-whip him with his own gun.
Simone’s grin slightly dims. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”
Chomping on his gum like a cow at a trough, Ricky then smirks, shooting his gaze my way. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with you.” I need to learn a martial art.
Garrison glances at me and then turns back to Officer Asshat. “There’s nothing wrong with Greg.”
Tesco’s grin remains as he leans closer, whispering some shit to Simone. The dumbfuck doesn’t need to whisper. We’re in a goddamn gym. Even so, I hope he’s making it worth her while, which would make her entire while wasted on him.
To break up their clandestine convo, I say, “Did you know Tesco is a grocery chain in the UK?”
His grin trips up like he’s confused by my random thought. “Uh, yeah. Everyone knows that.” Pardon the hell out of me for not having better last-minute trivia.
Seeing that they’re talking for longer than I care to hang around for, I leave the treadmill to explore some of the main floor. Off to the side is a smaller room with mats hanging on the walls and piled in a corner. I stop at the lists of class offerings, searching for a class where I can learn h
ow to take out smartass, manwhore cops. A class with nunchucks and those balls with spikes would be preferable.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Simone looking at me and then turning back to Ricky. Not that I want Garrison, but she seriously could use an upgrade. Not him. He’s all looks and no substance. Okay, so he has the body and a gun. But he’ll not only fuck her, but he’ll fuck her up. Whatever. Not my problem.
“Why’d you leave me?” Simone asks, bumping into me harder than she anticipated because she loses her balance and nearly falls on her ass.
Chuckling at that, I check the treadmill as she readjusts her tank top strap. Turdco must’ve had nothing else to make fun of me about. I could give him a few more things he’d laugh about for years.
As I return to the class lists, Simone asks, “Why are you mad?”
I look at her and realize I’m frowning but don’t know why. “What did McGruff have to say?”
She shrugs, bouncing her boobs. I still feel her nipple on my arm, and the more I think about it, the more it causes me problems. “Ricky was just talking about drugs.”
“Delightful.”
“You didn’t have to leave, Greg.”
“My services don’t include having to listen to him.”
“You still left me.”
I throw out my left arm, frustrated with this whole scenario. “What do you want me to do? He’s your goal, right? I am irrelevant.” Irrelevant. That’s exactly what I am. I really am an addendum. An epilogue. To absolutely nothing.
“You’re not!” Simone puts her hand on my arm, and I shake it off. “You’ve been helping me. I’m grateful.”
“Yeah. I’m helping you score that cunthound. That’s all you would be to Ricky. You know that, right? Or do I have to remind you again?”
“Aren’t most men?”
“Who in the fuck told you that? Do I look like one?”
“Well...”
“Shasta was a mistake.”
“I know.” She does the hair thing again and looks away from me. Her nipples are fucking hard, and I hate that I noticed.
Simone glances up at me. “Ricky was married. Twice. He does have it in him to settle down.”
“Maybe you should ask his ex-wives that.”
“Why do you care who I date?”
“I don’t. I just...” I step back from her. “I’m going back to work.” Pivoting, I head toward the locker rooms.
“Greg!”
She trails me, squawking amidst the metal echoing. “What’s wrong with you? If you don’t want to help me anymore, then fine!”
I keep walking, not giving a shit right now. I don’t mean to take it out on Garrison, but everything with Hadley, and now Birdy is crushing me. Especially now.
As I round the corner and head for men’s locker room, a familiar face stops me. Garrison slams into my back, bitching about it, but I don’t really hear her. Without thinking, I go over to the intruder, demanding, “Look what the hell the cat dragged in. What’re you doing here?”
Morgan Yates Kammer. While she used to be Hadley’s best friend, she has always been my mortal enemy. Yeah, Wilder ranks up there as still an asshole, but he’s atoned for most of his errors regarding Hadley. Not Morgan. She surpasses him, treating me far worse than Wilder ever has. She treated me like dog shit. Just like those fuckers in Durham did.
“Rod?” Her dark brown eyes are scared, which I’ve never seen her look at me that way before. It was always disdain and degradation. She’s no Halle Berry.
“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.” She may have shackled me with that name, but she lost the trademark to it after what she did to Hadley. I only put up with Morgan for her. “And I asked you a question. What’re you doing here?”
She rolls her eyes. “Attending a quilting bee. What do you think I’m doing here?”
I cross my arms, searching for her boytoy, Brain-Dead Ken. “Oh, shit. That’s right. Your ex-husband owns the other gym, so of course, you would avoid it.”
Simone screeches, “But by coming here? He fucking doesn’t need you around him!”
Morgan makes a face at Simone. “You’re the rebound? Right?”
Simone puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m his girlfriend.”
Morgan is dubious, judging us as she eyeballs us. “Since last year? Jesus. Props to you for sticking it out with him.”
I snap, “And speaking of sticking it out, shouldn’t you be ready to hatch Shane’s spawn?”
Her snotty attitude drops with her gaze as she studies Simone. “Um, no. You assumed wrong about me.”
“Really? You didn’t sleep with your husband’s BFF and get knocked up? You know, I totally expected that from you.”
She regards me like I’m yesterday’s tacos. “No. That’s not accurate. It’s called a false alarm. Honest mistake.”
Simone slides past my arm until she’s against my chest, forcing me to drape my arm around her shoulders. She wiggles, rubbing her right tit against my chest this time. Fucking shit. She sneers, “But the sleeping with that other guy wasn’t a mistake?”
Morgan narrows her eyes, hating Simone. It’s obvious. It’s the same look she gives me. “And what’s your name again?”
“I didn’t give it.”
“Well, Rodette, it’s none of your business.”
Before Simone responds, I say, “Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” On my back, Simone’s fingernails dig into my shirt. I know she wants to kill Morgan for insulting her. But sidenote, those nails are another turn-on I don’t need right now. And never again from Simone Garrison.
Morgan laughs, slow clapping. “Damn. Greg Rodwell. Always the punchline. Never the challenge.”
“Yeah. You have a lot of fucking nerve to spew shit like that.”
“Is it really? But it’s nice to see you moved on after you...lost.”
She side-eyes Simone, who asks, “Lost what? Greg never loses.” Simone must have smoked one of the illegal narcotics Ricky mentioned.
Morgan holds up her hand, mouthing to me behind it, “Hadley. You love her.” She again glances at Simone, as if she’s threatening to tell her.
Shit. How did Morgan know? Damn Amos Vaughn was right. Everyone knows.
Except Simone.
I frown at her, making sure to double my efforts. “I don’t.”
Morgan glares back at me. “I’m guessing it’s on the down low.” She then smiles at Garrison. “I wish you all the luck in the world with this one. I just hope you’re okay with second best until he dumps you for his number one spot if she’s ever available again. And I’m sure she will be.”
“What the fuck does that mean, bitch?” Simone seethes, not giving a shit who hears her. I do like that about her.
“Pardon your language!” Morgan faux scolds, grinning, which only angers Simone more. Enraged, her body shakes against me. And since we’re in a public place with witnesses, I have to keep her in check. So, I pull her tighter to me. Maybe it’s also to prevent me from strangling Morgan. I’d love to dismantle her. Ripping out her tongue would be first on my list.
Morgan smiles into a giggle. “It was so great seeing you, Rod.”
This time it’s me Simone has to hold back. Her arms go around my torso even before I realize I sprang forward. I could totally take Morgan. I just don’t have a bucket of water to throw at her to make her melt into the floor.
Morgan laughs with a gleam in her eyes. “She’s a rare find!” She turns to Simone. “Run now before he knocks you up. We don’t need more Dick Rods.”
Morgan stumbles back as Simone leaps after her. I dive, catching her arm as she shouts, “Fuck you, thundercunt! I’m having all his babies!” Jesus Christ. Talk about submerging yourself into a role. She should win an award for this performance.
Giving up the torture, Morgan disappears into a room with a theater-size movie screen. Probably spinning class. I hope she falls off and smashes her pristine teeth.
Unexpectedly, I laugh, still yanking Simo
ne back to me. “Easy there, Garrison. Don’t go grabbing assault and battery charges. She’s a lawyer.”
She’s still wound up, so I tighten my grip. “I don’t care! She’s a fucking idiot!”
“I know she is. Come on.” I take my turn dragging Simone to the locker rooms to get our gym bags.
“How can you be so calm about her?”
“I’m not. I’m more pissed off than you, but what am I supposed to do?”
Simone pulls on my arm, making me stop. I look her up and down, confused. “What?”
Her anger recedes, now seemingly sad. “You’re none of those things she said. Do you hear me?”
Inhaling, I say, “I’m heading to back to work. See you later.”
“Greg, wait.” I hear her, but I don’t stop. Not having time for a shower now since running into Morgan and not really working out anyway, I grab my gym bag and leave. Thankfully, Simone gave up on me. Like she should.
Outside the main entrance, I text Nico, letting him know I’m here.
I showed up.
I gave up.
As I go inside, the polished concrete, bright lights, gritty air, and the beeping of a forklift overwhelm me. Can’t wait for the migraine I’ll have tonight from this noisy, fucktastic day.
“Hey, Greg!” Hearing my name, I see Nico walking down an aisle. When he reaches me, he asks, “You on your lunch break?”
“No. I skipped out early. I have to pick up Birdy soon.”
His grin slips. “You’re really doing this then?”
“Yeah. I have to.”
“Okay. Well, there’s no shame in it.” He pulls out a phone from his pocket, letting someone know I made it. Hanging up, he nods to the aisle in front of us. “Follow me.”
Sighing, I go, resigned. All this time and I just now hit it. Rock bottom. In the form of a concrete floor.
Ushering me into a hallway, we hang a left, and he knocks on a door. It’s quieter back here, so I hear the faint answer to come in.
We step into the small office, not much bigger than my closet. A man with hair only on the sides of his head and resembling Morgan Freeman smiles at both of us. “This must be your friend, Greg. Nico has told me good things about you.” He stands, offering his hand and wearing my big boy pants, I shake his hand like a normal adult. “Phil Fox.” Say that twice as fast. Also, it’s unfortunate he sounds like Morgan Freeman on helium. “Have a seat.”
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