“If I let you keep the penny, will you tell me?”
I feel shy, strangely, at his blush as he asks the question, but I slide the penny back and say, “I’ve already told you, actually. Finding Will.”
He pockets the penny and I find myself wishing I’d kept it for some stupid reason. “Yeah. It’s not going well?”
I shake my head and tell him about all my phone calls, ending with, “But I won’t give up. I’ll make it happen.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says softly, and looks down at the table where the penny was.
Realizing he’s probably disappointed that I’m going after Will when I didn’t go after the video contest, I say, “I do want to go after the promo thing. I did, anyhow. But I missed it. I’m sorry.”
He looks up. “You don’t need to apologize to me, you know. I’m only bothered you didn’t do it because I know you wanted to.”
As I take a breath to respond to this, although I’m not quite sure what to say, he says, “Hey, are you positive you can’t still enter?”
“Deadline was yesterday.”
“Sure, but things change. Might be worth asking them. Couldn’t hurt, anyhow.”
Somehow it feels like it could, but I pull out my phone and send an email to the Videvideoo guy who invited me to the contest.
“Now we wait,” I say, setting the phone down. “We wait, and I tell you how sorry I am for wasting your time on something so stupid.”
He leans back in his chair and stares at me.
“What?”
“Why do you keep calling your videos stupid?”
“Keep calling-- have I?”
“Yup. On several occasions. Do you really think that?”
I bite my lip, searching my thoughts, then say, “Honestly? Yeah, I guess I do. Come on, they’re about hair. Braiding hair. It’s the only goal I’ve got, other than finding Will, and it’s ridiculous. I want to succeed but... think about it. How could it be anything but stupid?”
He stays leaning back. “My squat goal...”
“Yeah?”
“Is that stupid?”
“No, of course not.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Why not? Or are you just saying that?”
“No, I really don’t think it is.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a physical challenge. A lot of work, and no guarantee of success, especially after you got hurt. And it’ll make you stronger. Prove you’re stronger. I think it’s cool.”
“Your videos are a kind of physical challenge since you’re physically in them. They’re not easy to make, and there’s sure no guarantee of success when you’re promoting something online. And you have trouble releasing them, so doing it will make you stronger and prove you are. I think that is cool. Why don’t you?”
I stare at him, not sure how to answer, then am saved by the beep of my phone. I scoop it up and check the newly arrived email, then say, “I can’t enter the contest. Jimmy says he’s sorry but the deadline was firm.”
Sam nods slowly. “Makes sense, I guess. I’m sorry.”
I am too, but I’m also relieved that I can’t try. And I don’t like that much.
Chapter Twenty-One
That same evening, Sam and I meet again, this time at his gym. I had changed the subject from my failures by asking him about the gym where he works, and he said he was going there for his own workout after dinner and offered to give me a tour and work out with me. I haven’t done a workout since the run with Brett the night he died, and I hadn’t planned to do any more either, but I didn’t feel like spending my evening in another useless search for Will so I accepted his offer.
My shorts and t-shirt are both tighter than I remember them being the last time I visited a gym, so it’s probably just as well that I did. I actually feel better physically than I have in a while after the salad meal with Sam, so working out might make me feel even better still.
Though he’s never shown signs of it before, I wonder whether Sam might wind up being one of those annoying ‘me man so me lift heavy weights, you girl so here your tiny pink dumbbell’ types I so hated at the other gyms I visited with Brett.
Not at all. He shows me all of the equipment, even the heaviest weight plates for the squat bars, without so much as hinting that he thinks I can’t handle any of it, and when we begin working out he’s the same way. I like it.
I hadn’t been sure what he’d meant by his statement of “we could work out together if you want”, but we end up staying together for every exercise, spotting each other and cheering each other on. He’s far stronger than I am, not a surprise given what I saw of his fierce physique on the island, but he tells me without sounding condescending that he’s never trained a woman who could lift more than me. For such a mild compliment, I feel amazingly good.
I did hope I could beat him in at least one exercise, but when we get to the squat and he has to take most of the weight I used off the bar and still can barely manage it I don’t feel any satisfaction in my victory. He’s clearly trying so hard, but his injured leg just can’t handle anything more.
Pretty soon I can’t handle more either, since it’s been so long since I worked out. “I think I’ll go for a little treadmill run, if that’s okay. Emphasis on little.”
He smiles. “Absolutely. Mind if I keep on with the weights?”
I don’t, of course, so I cross the few feet to the nearby row of treadmills and am soon finding out that my aerobic fitness has disintegrated nearly as much as my strength. So aggravating that I worked so hard to build it up and it’s gone in a second. Yet another way life kicks me in the head.
As I plod along I see a guy sidle over to Sam, who’s busy removing a little more weight from his squat bar. “That’s it?” The guy shakes his head, looking ever so sympathetic. “I know squats have never been your thing, Sam, but really? That’s all you can do?”
Sam stands holding the ten-pound plate he just removed, and I think he’s considering shoving it back on the bar and maybe adding another to prove he isn’t the wimp the guy’s tone is calling him. That’s what I’d do. I want him to. But instead he sets it down and says, “Yup, Hugh. That’s it. Leg’s not right still.”
Hugh, who I now remember is Sam’s cheating ex-girlfriend’s brother, pats him on the back, in that ‘pat that’s more of a slap’ way. “I just hope your clients don’t decide to bail out for a trainer who can actually lift more than they can.”
I have a feeling this guy would be the ‘use your pink weights, honey’ type. Again I want Sam to fight back, but he just settles the squat bar on his shoulders again and starts another set.
He works hard, managing to lower his thighs to parallel each time though I can see the pain in his face as he does, but on the ninth rep he can’t push himself up to a standing position again.
For a moment I can’t decide what to do, since saving him in front of Hugh would humiliate him and probably make him angry at me but he must be hurting his ankle, then he gasps, “I’m stuck,” and I slap the treadmill’s stop button so I can go grab the bar from him and then punch Hugh in his stupid grinning face for not helping.
Before I can move, though, a tall bald guy with the broadest chest I’ve ever seen races over and relieves Sam of the bar.
As Sam pulls himself to his full height, his face red from exertion and probably from embarrassment too, the guy says, “Hugh, if I ever see you not help again you are out of here.”
Hugh blinks. “I didn’t think he asked.” He turns and moves forward so he’s right in Sam’s face. “Did you ask me for help?”
I can tell Hugh knows perfectly well he wanted help, even though he didn’t specifically ask, and that makes me furious. Sam doesn’t seem to know how to answer, and a flash of anger at him joins my previous rage. He shouldn’t be such a doormat.
“He didn’t need to ask,” the tall guy says firmly, his eyes locked to Hugh’s face. “As a trainer, you should have been able to tell.”
Hugh looks like he’s trying desperately to find a response, and his discomfort makes me smile inside. At least it’s a bit of the revenge Sam should have gotten.
“You’re needed at reception,” the tall guy says when Hugh doesn’t answer. “Get over there and I’ll spot Sam.”
“Probably a new client,” Hugh says with a vicious smile. “You haven’t had one for a while, have you, Sam?”
He turns before either man can answer and walks to the front, giving me a disgusting assessing look up and down as he passes me, then disappears into the office area Sam showed me on our way in.
As I look back to Sam, the tall guy pats him on the shoulder with none of the unkindness Hugh showed earlier. “Did it hurt? Or just stop working?”
Sam grimaces. “Yes. Bit of both. I was going through the pain but then it crapped out.”
The guy shakes his head, looking sympathetic. “You know it’ll take time. Patience, grasshopper.”
Sam blinks as if something had surprised him, then says, “Yeah, I know. Just sucks, that’s all.” He glances at me, and I feel embarrassed to be caught not running, but he smiles and waves me over.
I hop down off the treadmill, not at all sorry to be leaving it, and when I reach them Sam says, “Ashley, this is Billy. He trains me.”
“Gives you occasional advice,” Billy puts in, smiling.
“Whatever you want to call it, I need it. And Billy, Ashley was on that show with me. Opposite team, though.”
Billy holds out his hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I say, shaking his hand and realizing he could crush my fingers into pulp if he chose. Unlike that awful Chuck at Christmas, though, he doesn’t seem to feel the need to prove his strength to me.
When we release each other, Billy looks at Sam’s squat bar as Hugh had, but his expression holds happiness instead of Hugh’s rudeness. “Hey, that is better than a few weeks ago. I know, not where you want to be, but it’s improving. Keep hoping.” To me, he adds, “And you know your way around a gym, don’t you? I saw you guys earlier and you’ve got great form.”
If Hugh had said that to me I’d have slapped him, but there’s no sleaze in Billy’s tone so I say, “Thanks. I used to work out a lot.”
“Well, you’re always welcome here,” he says, smiling at me. Then he chuckles. “I assume you wouldn’t want a job, right?”
I start to agree without thinking then say, “Well, actually...”
His face lights up. “Really? I’m in desperate need of a receptionist and admin assistant for the other location. Don’t happen to have any experience or training in that sort of thing, do you?”
Sam and I burst out laughing. Billy smiles politely, then laughs too when Sam tells him about the course I’m working on. “Well, that’s perfect,” he says. “I only posted the job an hour ago, but I was dreading interviewing so I’ll pull it down.” To Sam, he adds, “She’d be okay, right?”
Without hesitation he says, “She’ll be perfect.”
My throat tightens at the confidence in his voice. I haven’t done anything to deserve that confidence. A little part of me tries to warn the rest that he’s probably just setting me up, but I simply can’t believe he would. He means it.
“Then...” Billy holds out his hand to me. “Welcome aboard.”
I can’t quite believe this is happening, since nothing good like this ever happens to me, but I stretch out my hand though it’s trembling and shake his.
He pulls a business card from his pocket and passes it over. “That’s the other site’s address. Can you come in tomorrow morning to fill out the paperwork, and can you start work Friday night?”
“Yes,” I say, still stunned. “Yes to both.”
He grins at me and Sam claps me on the shoulder, then Billy says to Sam, “Want to do one set for me with just the bar? I wasn’t sure about your form from across the room.”
Sam glances at me. “Okay with you?”
“Yup. I’ll go check out the showers.”
I head off, but from the door to the women’s locker room I look back and watch for a few moments as Sam does a squat with the unladen bar across his shoulders then listens to Billy before trying another one. I know he’s frustrated, but it doesn’t show. His steadiness, and his willingness to try again and again though he can’t do anywhere close to what he did before and realistically has no chance of reaching his squat goal, impresses me. On one level I think it’s kind of stupid to risk so much pain and frustration, but I still admire him.
I admire his hope and his determination, and as I enjoy a hot shower I find myself with unusual hope too: hope that his attitude will rub off on me.
*****
When Sam and I meet outside the gym after our respective showers, I say, “Thanks for the tour and the workout, and of course for getting me a job. I think I’ll like it.”
“I hope so. The other employees are pretty nice.”
He takes a breath to go on and I think of Hugh and say, “Most of them, anyhow?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I was going to say. Well, I was wondering if you’d--” My phone signaling an email cuts him off. “Need to get that?”
I shrug. “I’ll do it later. You were saying?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something. I can never go straight home after a workout. I get all revved up.”
“Ditto.” There’s nothing for me at home, except Silver and I took care of my bird buddy before leaving. “Sure. But I’ll check that email quick if you don’t mind.”
He doesn’t, so I pull it up. Then I stand staring.
“Problem?”
I blink at the phone. “I’m honestly not sure.”
I pass it to him, and stand next to him rereading it as he checks it out.
Dear Ashley,
Bad news for us, but good for you! One of our finalists in the columnist contest has just been kicked out for copying other people’s work. We don’t want to re-open the contest to everyone so we thought of you. If you can have a brand new video to us by midnight tonight you can take that spot. I know it’s zero notice, but we have to announce the finalists tomorrow.
If you can’t make it we’ll just go with four finalists instead of five, but we like your stuff and hope you can come through.
Thanks,
Jimmy, Videvideoo Promo Dude
Sam hands back my phone. “Suddenly I wish I hadn’t made you upload all of your videos. Do you have any new ones made?”
I shake my head, feeling sick.
He glances at his watch. “It’s not even ten. Would you have time to go for it?”
It isn’t the time that’s the problem, really. It’s the antibiotics I’m still taking. With them, I can’t have wine. And without wine... well, I’ve never made a video without a glass sitting off-camera to help me wash away my mistakes. How can I start now, when I don’t have time to screw up like I always do?
“Ashley?”
I look up at him, wondering what to say.
His forehead creases. “What’s wrong? I know it’s a rush but it’s worth a try, right?”
My heart hurting, I shake my head slowly.
“It’s not?”
Still shaking my head, I say, “I won’t be able to. It won’t work.”
He moves a little closer. “Tell me why. No ideas?”
Actually, I have lots. “That’s not it.”
“Then... I think you can do it. If you want to.”
I look into his eyes, filled with confusion but also a belief in me I don’t think I’ve ever seen in anyone else’s gaze but Brett’s, and my heart skips a beat. “I do want to,” I admit. “It’s just--”
Someone honks a car horn, and we look up, startled, to see Billy waving.
We wave back, and as I do I blurt out, “I always do them with wine and I can’t drink.”
Sam snaps his attention away from Billy. “You... oh. Okay. How much wine?”
“No
t that much,” I say, feeling defensive. “A glass or two. Just to relax me. But I’ve got an infected tooth and the dentist said no drinking with my antibiotics and...” I sigh. “I can’t imagine how I’ll do it all by myself sober.”
Sam considers this, then says, “I can’t help with the sober part, but you don’t have to do it by yourself if you don’t want to.”
I stare at him, surprised that I said ‘all by myself’ when it’s really the ‘sober’ part that worries me. At least, I think it is.
His neck reddens. “Of course, if you don’t want me there, that’s okay too. I can be moral support from a distance.”
Feeling my face getting hot too, I say, “Actually, I’d like having you there,” picturing my empty apartment as I speak and realizing how much I would. “It’s scary. It shouldn’t be but it is.”
“Sure it should be,” he says. “Makes sense to me. Lots of people will see it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is that supposed to help?”
“Yeah, but I said it wrong.” His tentative hand on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, and he smiles at me. “But the important part is that I’m fine to hang out with you while you make the video if you want.”
“I do want,” I say, feeling awkward but also happy. “And I can make coffee for us there.”
“Okay,” he says, sounding how I feel.
He drives behind me to my place, and once we’re inside I get the coffee pot going and say, “I usually work at the dining room table. Better lighting.” Now that he’s here I’m not sure I like the idea of his presence any more, so I add, “You can maybe sit over there?” He’ll be in the room, but not facing me, and that feels more comfortable.
“Anywhere you want,” he says, and heads toward the couch as I’d indicated. “I’ll sit right here and watch a movie on my phone. With headphones, of course. Okay?”
“I can’t make you just sit here while I ignore you,” I say, regretting the whole project now. “It’s not fair to you.”
He smiles at me. “I’m fine. Give me coffee and a movie and I’ll sit anywhere. It’s okay. Do your thing.”
I smile back. “Thank you. You’re too nice.”
Bad Will Hunting Page 15
