Page 31 of Encounter

“Hey.” Using a lower, softer tone of voice, he caught my attention. “You just started. Don’t give up now, keep tryin’. I said it won’t be easy. Practice makes perfect—nothin’ else matters.”

If this was Dad, he would have already told me I’m useless, that I should give up and walk away. Or he would have given methatlook. That look of disappointment and resentment.

Instead, Chast... supported me.

Taking in a deep breath, I lifted my arms up again. It was a stupid worry, but I didn’t want to see that look on Chast’s face. “Okay.”

?

Almost one hour later, I could barely move my limbs. Sitting down on the edge of the boxing ring, I tried to get myself together, clumsily taking off the sweaty gloves. Thankfully, Chast saw how quickly I ran out of steam andfinallytook mercy on me.

Standing next to the heavy bag, he tilted his head. “Need to bring some bottled water next time. Ain’t as easy as you thought, huh? You sure you wanna keep goin’ with this?”

Now with my hands free, I took my glasses off and wiped a few trickles of sweat running down my forehead. “Yeah. I do.” I nodded firmly, even though I wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to be able to stand up again. And we barely didanything. I was hoping Chast was at least appreciative of my effort and lack of complaining—though in my head, I was crying and bitching the entire time.

“Really,” he uttered, halfway between a statement and a question, with heavy sarcasm bleeding into his tone. “You’ll have to train regularly, you know? Can’t do this half-assed. You’ll need some protein. Start eatin’ right, so we can put some muscle on you.” He made a few long steps toward me, his boots echoing through the room, and squeezed my arm where the biceps should be.

Suddenly, I felt... light. Comfortable. Like we were two old friends and everything was alright.

“I’m... the one who’s supposed to eat properly?” I blurted out, too confident and casual to realize who I was talking to. It was probably the endorphins, making me happy and dumb. “When you were watching me, you ate almost nothing but takeout and pizza. I don’t... I don’t really understand how you can be in such a good condition at your age with a diet like that.”

Chast let out a deep, hearty laugh which surprised me. “How old do you think I am?” Taken back by his genuine, amused question, I blinked and looked away as I felt my cheeks burn up again—this time not from the exercise.

“I, umm... I don’t know. You said so yourself that you’re... not the youngest. I’m not good at judging this kind of thing. Forty-five, maybe?”

“Ouch!Come on!” Slapping me over the shoulder with a little too much power, Chast nearly shouted it with another bout of laughter. “Jesus, I don’t lookthatbad, do I?” Thankfully, he seemed genuinely amused and not offended as I feared, but I also sensed a pinch of disappointment hidden underneath it all.

Feeling like I had done something wrong, like I had to apologize for it, I met his eyes and hesitantly darted over his face, fidgeting with my hands. “You don’t look bad. You... look good,” I noted softly, and only later realized how it sounded.

Opening my mouth, I paused as the blood rushed up into my cheeks while Chast’s lips turned into that mischievous, confident grin.

I’ve never known a macho man like him to enjoy a compliment from a gay guy. Surely, the aggressive ‘no-homo’ bullshit is coming any second.

“I’m only thirty-nine, just so you know. Still goin’ strong,” he said playfully, walking toward the large cabinet, only to throw a towel from there in my direction. “You’ve had enough. Not to mention I’ve got work tonight. Need to get a nap in beforehand—it’s better to do it with a clear head.” The dismissive, light tone he used to talk about it nearly mademeskip over the actual meaning of his words. Feeling a little jolt in my chest, I rubbed the towel over my face. “I’m not sure when’s the next time we’ll be able to do this. I’ll text you when I can.” Taking out a cigarette and holding it between his lips, he stopped in the middle of the movement with his eyes glued to me, waiting for my answer. When I nodded, he continued. “Get changed. I’ll wait outside and take you home.”

Left sitting alone in the empty gym, I looked around. Everything in my life had been mind-numbingly normal up until a few weeks ago. Now, I was on a bench in a gym that would probably be filled with criminals if it was open; tired and sweaty and Chast—a man who I didn’t really know—was spending his free time with me. Helping me in between killing people for money.

None of this seems real.

After changing and leaving the dirty clothes on the floor, I walked outside, welcoming the somewhat fresh air. Even over the exhaustion and pain in muscles I didn’t even know I had, I felt a profound sense of a job well done. I didn’t actually progress much, and I knew I was about to forget all of his advice about form and stance by the evening. Still... I was proud of myself.

I really forced myself to do something for once and pulled through.

Chast waited next to the door, nearly done with his cigarette. After he squashed it with his foot, he turned off the lights in the gym, locked up and got back in the car with me.

I found it strange. The way we could simply sit next to each other and be quiet. Usually, my mind would be racing, high on anxiety... but once I sat in the car with Chast, the silence felt calming; right.

For the first time in probably ever,Iwas the one to speak as we made our way toward my neighborhood. “Who... Who are you going to kill later?” Even though I knew the answer was going to bring me nothing but negative thoughts and paranoia, the morbidly curious part of me couldn’t help but ask.

“Does it matter?” Chast muttered, uninterested.

It did matter. It was someone’s life—though the double standards I had about the value of it didn’t escape me. Sure, I was glad the men that kidnapped me were dead. I wasn’t happy about it, or wanted to see it or think about it, but... it was done. One could call it self-defense, like with the ones outside the strip club. But when Chast spoke about killing someone in such a trivial way, like it was the same kind of job as stacking shelves, it rubbed me the wrong way.

“Why are you supposed to kill them?” I kept pushing, though my voice was low enough for him to ignore me if he wanted to.

With a snort, he rolled his eyes and ran his hand through the longer hair on the top of his head. “It’s some girl. Girlfriend of a guy who pissed off some other guy. Her boy did somethin’ he shouldn’t have... so the others want to show him he made a mistake.”

Staring at him without a word, I opened my mouth several times before I managed to push words out. “So, you’re just... going to kill her?”

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