Personal Trainer

by Mia Carson

  The sexual assault case brought by Vanesa didn’t feel right as the end game, not if Ed told her she could keep whatever she won. If he’d wanted her to split the winnings with him, maybe, but not like this.

  There was more to the story than I knew, but I’d certainly screwed up Ed’s plans by knocking Vanesa’s story down so quickly.

  By the time I reached home, I’d convinced myself that Vanesa was the second act of a multi-act play. I was going to recommend to Neil that I keep digging. This wasn’t over and a payout to Vanesa wasn’t the goal.

  I hurried into my house and changed out of my suit into something more comfortable, jeans and a less formal blouse. I dug in my fridge and came up with hamburger and a pork loin. I decided on pork because I was afraid Neil would have a heart attack over hamburger.

  Ten minutes of flipping through recipes on the internet uncovered many delicious, low calorie dishes, but the only one I had the ingredients on hand for was Orange-Teriyaki Pork Medallions. I was going to have to do a little substituting for ingredients, packaged orange juice instead of fresh squeezed, for example, but I could make it work.

  I was putting the two boil-in-the-bag brown rice packages into the water when my doorbell buzzed. I gave the pork one more quick stir, wiped my hands, and hurried to the door, my face breaking into an involuntary smile as I did.

  Neil

  Tanya was standing there in jeans and a pastel green, short-sleeved, blouse as her door opened.

  “Come in,” she said, stepping back and opening the door wider.

  The thing that caught my eye were the leather laces across the wide gap in the shirt, from the middle of her breasts to the neck. The laces crisscrossed back and forth, like on boots, but appeared to be doing nothing to hold the gap closed…which was fine by me.

  “Hey,” I said as I stepped in, and she closed the door behind me. She offered a kiss, and I placed my hand behind her back as I pulled her in to caress her lips with mine.

  “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” she said as she glanced at the plastic grocery sack in my hand. “You can toss those on my bed,” she added as she waved a hand in the general direction of her bedroom.

  “Something smells wonderful! What is it?” I asked as I moved through the kitchen to her bedroom.

  “Orange and Teriyaki Pork.” I tossed my clothes on her bed and returned to her small kitchen. “You do eat pork, right?” she asked as I appeared.

  I smiled at the slightly panicked look on her face as I hung back to stay out of the way. Her kitchen was barely big enough for one to work in, much less two.

  “Sometimes. Find anything out?”

  “Vanesa positively identified Ed.”

  “So we’ve got him?”

  “For coercion, maybe. But I think there is more to this yet.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But you heard Vanesa. He told her she could keep whatever she won. That means it wasn’t about the money, not for Ed anyway. So if he isn’t after money, it must be about something else. Something we don’t know.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I think it does, for a couple of reasons. One, Vanesa isn’t willing to testify if you sue him, so that really cripples any chance of that going anywhere. Second, even if you win, you still haven’t addressed the rumors. There is nothing connecting him to those, and the Vanesa story is already dead. Reputation wise, you’re simply beating a dead horse. So, even if the rumors end up withering and dying, and you sue him over Vanesa, what’s to prevent him from coming at you again? Think about it, there is no limit to the number of things he can start rumors on. Drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, AIDs, theft of intellectual property, you name it. We need to link him to the rumors and shut him down permanently. That way, if he tries this shit again, people will know it’s more of the same.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “I’m all in.”

  She gave me a playfully annoyed look. “You haven’t heard the idea yet.”

  I grinned. “It doesn’t matter. If you think it’s the way to go, I’m in.”

  She smiled. “Brave man. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Her kitchen was too small for me to be much help, but I did get two glasses and add a splash of wine from the opened bottle in the fridge as she told me her plan. I didn’t know if the wine was what she had intended to serve, but she enjoyed a glass of wine with her meal.

  “So, you want me to call him now? The other day, you didn’t.”

  “Well, not now. After dinner.”

  “No, I mean tonight.”

  “Oh! Yeah. Then I didn’t have anything tying him to anything. Now I do.”

  I shrugged and smiled. “Okay. You’re the boss. At least on this.”

  “I’ll tell you, I’m breaking one of my cardinal rules by doing this,” she said as she placed our plates on her tiny table.

  Her table was just big enough for two. The chairs were side by side, with half the table’s width folded down and tucked against the wall to free up space, and its counter top height allowed it to double as an additional work space. Her entire place was no more than half the size of my apartment, but what I’d originally thought of as small now seemed intimate and cozy.

  I felt a tingle of concern. “What?”

  “No working at home.”

  I sighed as I relaxed. “Oh. Want to wait until tomorrow and do this at my place, or your office?”

  “No. I want you to try to meet him tomorrow, so that means calling him tonight. Besides, I’ve decided your place is a work-free zone too. For me at least.”

  I smiled as I cut into the pork. “Good. I can think of things I’d much rather do than work when you’re there.” I popped the bite of meat into my mouth and toasted her with the fork. “My compliments to the chef.”

  “Me too,” she said as she cut off a morsel and stabbed it with her fork before she pulled it from the fork with her lips. She wasn’t even trying, but I found the simple act of her pulling the food from the fork slightly erotic. She looked slightly surprised as she chewed. “Say, this is pretty good!”

  “You didn’t know?”

  She grinned as she looked down. She was an interesting mix of in-your-face brashness and chaste shyness. “No. First time making it. I tried to find something healthy for you.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “What do you normally fix?”

  She shrugged. “Stuff you probably wouldn’t want to eat. Meat and potatoes type things, usually.”

  I leaned closer like I was about to impart some great secret. “Do you make meatloaf? I love a good meatloaf with the red ketchupy sauce on the top. Mom used to make it when I was a kid.”

  She looked at me, her eyes playful. “You eat meatloaf?”

  “Hell yeah!” I said as I sat up. “Who doesn’t like meatloaf?”

  “Next time you come for dinner, I’ll make meatloaf. I have a good recipe for one. It has garlic breadcrumbs in it. With mashed potatoes?”

  “Oh my God, I think I love you!”

  I liked the way she smiled at me. “And you’ll eat that? What about all that healthy stuff you normally eat?”

  “Man cannot live by fish alone,” I intoned as if I was holding court, but I became more serious. “I try to watch what I eat. You can’t outwork a bad diet, but I love a good old-fashioned greasy hamburger as much as the next guy. So long as I don’t do it all the time, it’s all good. The only thing I avoid completely is soda pop. There is no redeeming value in that at all.”

  “Meatloaf it is,” she said, looking slightly sad.

  “What?”

  “Dad and I used to have lunch together every Sunday. He’d cook one week, and I’d cook the next. He liked my meatloaf.” She looked at me. “I think he would have liked you.”

  I smiled at her. “I didn’t know him, but if h
e raised you, I’m sure I would have liked him.”

  She smiled, her eyes sad, and I leaned to the side and gave her a quick kiss. We talked about other, more pleasant things for the rest of dinner.

  We swapped stories from our childhood. I had her in stitches telling her about the time me and some of my high school buddies thought it would be funny to make crop circles in a corn field…right up until the time we stomped on a yellow jacket nest. We’d run around in the dark, screaming and yelling as the pissed off wasps stung the shit out of us. The worst of it was we got turned around and separated in our mad flight from the wasps. Unable to see anything but stars in the head high corn, we’d first called to each other until we linked up, and then we’d agreed on a direction to the road. We were wrong and walked deeper into the field and away from the road for a long time. When we’d finally figured that out and reached the road, we still didn’t know where we’d parked, and typical for our luck that evening, we’d guessed wrong and walked in the wrong direction again. It was almost dawn before we finally found our trucks and made our way home, sweaty, tired, thirsty, and covered in wasp stings. Needless to say, that was the end of our crop circle forays, and it was a miserable few hours afterwards.

  “How many times did you get stung?” she asked when her laughter subsided enough for her to talk.

  “I don’t remember exactly, but a lot. Fifteen, twenty times maybe. One stung me right on the damn nose, and damn did that hurt! Another stung me on the knuckle of my pinky, and that nearly ruined me. It took years for that to stop hurting completely.”

  “Years?” she asked, her skepticism clearly on display.

  “Yeah. For a long time afterwards, if I made a fist, that joint would hurt. The pain wasn’t intolerable, but I could feel it. It was like I had arthritis or something in it, but I suspect it was that damned wasp sting. It could have been worse. Phillip, one of the guys with me, took one on the nut sack.” I began chuckling in memory. “It flew up his shorts and nailed him good. I don’t know what hurt him worse, the wasp stinging him or the fact he punched himself there to try to get it to stop stinging. By the time we got back to the trucks, he wasn’t walking so good and his nuts were the size of his fist. I should probably mention that Phillip was six-two or six-three and had hands the size of a bear’s paw.”

  That started her on another round of giggles. “Did you go to the doctor?”

  “For a wasp sting?” I spluttered in teasing annoyance. “If I had, I’d have never heard the end of it.”

  I shook my head in teasing disbelief as I rose from the table and took my plate to the sink. City-slickers like Tanya had no idea what life was like outside the big city. There, bug bites, stings, scrapes, cuts, bumps, and bruises were just part of life. Unless you were going into anaphylactic shock, going to the doctor for a sting would have branded you as a pussy for the rest of your life. You’d never be able to live it down.

  After the kitchen was tidied I picked up my phone and dialed Ed Harnette’s number. I put the call on speaker and placed it on the table we’d just cleared so Tanya could listen in and coach me. I was out of my element on this, and her help was welcome.

  “Hello?”

  “Ed? Neil Gibson,” I said, my voice hard.

  “Hey, Neil! I haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you?”

  I clenched my jaw in annoyance. He sounded perfectly normal even though he was trying to knife me in the back. “Not so good. I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure, man. What can I do for you?”

  “Why are you trying to fuck me?”

  There was a pause. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Ed. Vanesa Pierce? You hired her.”

  “Don’t put that one me, man. I just run the—”

  “Cut the shit, Ed. I know it was—”

  “You don’t know shit, Neil!”

  “Bullshit! You hired her, and you know it! I showed her a picture of you and she said you were the one that gave her the five grand!”

  There was another long pause. “She’s mistaken. She probably said that just because you showed her the photo.”

  Tanya waved her hands and I glanced at her. I showed her five pictures she mouthed as she held up five fingers.

  “She picked you out of five different men, Ed. It was you. You know it, and I know it. What I want to know is why.”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.”

  I glanced at Tanya again for guidance. “Tell him you want to work something out, otherwise you’re taking what you have to the cops,” she whispered in my ear.

  I repeated what she said into the phone. I knew the plan from there. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow, or you can take it up with my lawyers.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Because if you don’t I’m going to sue your ass off, that’s why.”

  There was another pause. “Where?”

  Tanya had told me where she wanted us to meet. Ed wasn’t stupid, and we were stacking the deck in our favor as much as possible by meeting out in the open so if it came to it, my lawyers could argue that he had no expectation of privacy to get around the hidden camera problem.

  “EatRite Delight on Hacienda. Three o’clock. They won’t be busy and we can sit outside where we’ll have some privacy,” I said, trying to lure him in.

  “This is a complete—”

  “So that’s a no? Fine. You can talk to the cops.”

  “Wait!” he called, thinking I was going to hang up on him. “Fine. For old times’ sake. But I’m telling you, you’re wrong about this.”

  “I’m not wrong, and you know it. If you don’t show, my next stop is the cops,” I sneered and hung up. I looked at Tanya. “Well?”

  “He’s scared. You can hear it in his voice.” She looked at me. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said as I rose from the table.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said to my back.

  I turned to face her, and she stepped in close. My arms closed around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I held her but said nothing.

  “Tell me what’s bothering you,” she whispered.

  “Ed,” I finally said. “I don’t understand why he would do something like this to me.”

  “You think I’m wrong?”

  “No, but I still don’t understand why. What did I do to him?”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “Then why is he doing this?”

  She pushed out of my arms and looked up at me. “Maybe he doesn’t need a reason. This is LA, Neil. People will piss on your head and tell you it’s raining if they think it will get them ahead or get them what they want.”

  “I don’t understand people like that.”

  “I don’t either, but LA is like that. Maybe all big cities are.”

  “That’s just sad.”

  She nodded, a sad smile playing at her lips. “Yes, it is, and that’s why I’m still in business. People are constantly fucking each other, either literally or metaphorically.” She touched my face and I took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Don’t let it get to you. He’s an asshole, we’re going to shut him down, and we’ll show these rumors for what they are, a smear campaign.”

  I nodded. She was right, and I knew it, but I still couldn’t understand why Ed would do this. We were friends…or were once.

  “Yeah, okay.” I forced a smile. “He doesn’t know who he’s messing with. Nobody messes with the Gibber and gets away with it.” My smile became genuine. “Especially when I have ace private eye Tanya Jacobs in my corner.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. He done did mess with the wrong person.”

  I chuckled at her mangled syntax. “Yeah. He done did messed up.”

  We settled on her two-person couch and watched Miss Congeniality as she snuggled in close with my arm draped over her.

  Like most guys, I was more into skimpily clad women, gun fights, explosions, and fast cars, but
I had to admit, the movie was pretty good, and I laughed out loud several times. Besides, Tanya enjoyed it, and that made it worth watching for that reason alone.

  “Ready for bed?” I asked as the end credits began to roll.

  She sat up and unfolded, her eyes heavy and her smile slow. “Yeah.”

  I had to wait my turn to brush my teeth. There was room for only one at the sink, but she had an amazing shower, a pie-shaped affair unlike any I’d seen. As I stood to the side and shaved, I idly wondered what it would be like to take her in there. My lips twitched. I was going to have to cancel my workout with Rob tomorrow so I could meet with Ed. Maybe I’d find out in the morning.

  I flipped out the light after brushing my teeth. She was already in bed with all the lights out. It was never truly dark in LA, not like at home on the farm, so after only a moment, my eyes had adjusted enough that I could find the bed without worrying about kicking a piece of furniture.

  I slid into her bed, and she was right there. Where my bed was a king, hers was a queen, and it was kind of nice not having to chase her all over the bed. I pulled her to me and found her lips.

  She kissed me back, but not with the abandon she normally did. I said nothing and began to kiss her jaw to under her ear, then down her neck to her throat.

  “Stop,” she whispered, gently pushing me away.

  “What?” I asked, feathering kisses over her lips.

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “I can’t go tonight.”

  I stopped my kisses and held her gaze. The bedroom was dim, but not so dim I couldn’t see the apprehension in her face. “Why?”

  “I’m sore. You—”

  A chill surrounded my heart. “Have I hurt you? If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  She smiled and touched my face. “No, you haven’t hurt me. It’s just that I’ve made more love in the past three days than the past six months or so combined. I just need a day to recover. Are you mad?”

  “Mad?” I asked, surprised she even asked. “No, not mad. Concerned that I’ve hurt you. Why didn’t you say something if I was hurting you?”