Page 20 of More To Us

"Oh, yeah? Like how?"

"I know you're not interested in sales or negotiating contracts, but I think you'd be a big help on the marketing side."

"I don't know anything about marketing."

"You don't need a degree in it. You're already good at it. You've promoted your band to the point that almost everyone in Chicago knows who you are."

"Not everyone," I mumble, thinking of Kira.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying that it wasn't just me who promoted the band. Dylan does most of our promotions."

"Austin, don't sell yourself short. That benefit concert you put on for Ivy's father was a huge success and you did all that yourself."

Last spring, I organized a concert featuring local bands to raise money for Ivy's dad who needed help paying his medical bills. We thought maybe a hundred people would show up, but we ended up with almost a thousand and raised a ton of money.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Come up with some events for the fall and next year. I'd like us to do some more charity events. Give back to the community. I'd rather get our name out there that way than with TV and radio ads. We can talk more about it later, but just give it some thought."

This isn't just an idea he's tossing out there. He wants me to do it. He keeps hinting for me to get more involved in the company, but so far I haven't agreed to it. Although he hasn't come out and said it, I know he wants me to spend less time on my music. He's always supported my decision to be in the band, but he sees it as a hobby. In his mind, construction should always come first and the band second. But I'm not sure I see it that way. Right now, construction pays my bills and I don't mind doing it, but I'd like to at least try to make our band be something more than just a hobby.

He yawns and gets up from the chair. "I need to get to bed. I have to be up at five."

"That's only a few hours sleep. You need more than that."

"I could say the same about you." He smiles as he gets up from his chair. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

For the most part, my dad and I get along well, which is why I don't mind living here. But he does have rules, like no bringing girls home for the night. That's one reason why I need to move out. A big reason.

I go to bed and a few hours later I hear my dad getting up for work. I go back to sleep because I have the morning off. I'm working for Nash this week but he called last night and said I didn't need to be there until noon. Something about the supplies we needed not being delivered on time.

At ten, I head to the gym. I go to one across town because I know the owner and he gives me a deal. I like that it's a local gym and not one of the big chains. I also like that it's not a meat market. You don't see girls wearing skimpy outfits parading themselves in front of guys. The people who go here are serious about working out. It's not fancy. It's no frills. It has the equipment I need and it's never too crowded. It's basically the perfect gym for me, which is why it's worth the drive.

"Hey, Austin," Mike says as I pick up my water bottle. He comes over to me at the weight bench. I just finished working my arms and chest. My muscles ache but in a good way, a way that proves I've worked my body to fatigue.

"Hey," I say. "You're late today."

Mike is one of the trainers here. He usually lifts weights before work, around six or six-thirty. We got to be friends when I was in high school and used to do early morning workouts. Now I have to fit in workouts around my construction job and gigs with the band.

"One of my clients had to meet early," he says, "so I moved my schedule around." He walks over to me. "You ever thought about being a trainer? We're looking for someone to hire."

"I can't." I grab a towel from the stack by the water cooler. "Between the band and my job, I barely have time to sleep."

"You get commission on each client and you wouldn't have to take on a lot of clients to start."

"I'll give it some thought," I say, but I'm not really interested. I like working out, but I don't want to train someone else. Being a trainer isn't easy. I've seen Mike training some of the guys here. They always think they know more than him so don't follow his instructions and then get mad when they don't see results.

"It's a good way to meet girls." Mike smiles at me as he grabs a towel. "But I guess you don't need any help in that area."

He glances at a girl on the treadmill who's smiling at me. She's here a lot and we've talked a few times but I have no interest in going out with her. She's one of those girls who's all muscle, no curves, and she's way too thin. She doesn't even look healthy.

Mike takes off for the free weights while I fill my water bottle at the cooler. Throughout the week, I alternate working my upper and lower body. Today was upper body, so I'm done and heading to work soon. As I'm drinking my water, my eyes catch a flash of orange shorts as a girl darts around one of the weight machines to adjust it. She's bent over so I can't see her, except for her legs, which are tan and shapely and solid muscle. She stands up, her back to me, and moves her neck side to side. She's wearing a white tank top, the kind girls work out in, with narrow straps at the top and a stretchy fabric that clings to her body. My eyes go to her bare shoulders and arms which look strong, her muscles flexing as she adjusts her long dark hair in her ponytail.

She's facing the wall but takes a step back and leans forward, placing her hands against the wall as she stretches the back of her legs. Seeing her bent over like that, her tight round ass on display, I feel a twitch in my shorts. I glance over at the TVs suspended above the treadmills and take a drink of water. I'm dying to look back at the girl but I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those guys who stares at girls at the gym.

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