Page 21 of Drawn to You
My cheeks flush as I register the meaning of the title. Besides the lady who’s filling out a membership application, there are quite a few people milling around in the front desk area, and they’re glancing our way. I’m not used to the attention even though they might be looking at Mason, not me.
Mason isn’t aware of the attention at all, and he starts to sing as if no one is around us.
“There’s a gym on Hollywood Blvd., /And it opens fifteen hours a day/ Lonely guys pass the time away/ And build up their bodies for no particular reasons
There’s a girl in this boutique gym/ And she works at the front desk / She says Good morning, Welcome to the gym/ And she throws everyone a lovely smile
The lonely guys say to her, “Brittney, you’re a pretty girl”/ “What a good lover you would be?”/ “Yeah, your eyes could steal a star from the sky.”
Brittney wears a ponytail / red and silky / When she whips around / It whips with her
The lonely guys are fascinated by her ponytail./ And they long to kiss it and grab it. / But the most they can do is to sniff her ponytail / And to imagine how it feels like to yank her by it
Because Brittney, her heart belongs to only one lucky man, and he alone can do all the things he wants to her and her ponytail.”
The crowd claps their hands and sway with the music. I’m so flattered I cover my face with my hands. No one has done anything so outrageous for me! Mason Meyer really lives up to his reputation of being talented and eccentric.
“Wow,” a middle-aged man says. “What a beautiful song. It reminds me of the seventies.”
“Awesome,” Darrell, who’s also a musician, says. “Did you write it for Brittney?”
Mason grins as he glances at me. “She definitely inspired me.”
Oh God. Although I should be flattered, All I want is to find a place to hide. “Wow,” I mumble. “Thanks.”
“How long did it take you to write it?” Jennifer asks the musician.
“A couple of hours,” Mason says with a shrug. Taking the guitar strap off his shoulders, he grabs his duffle bag and turns toward the exercise room. Before he walks away, he asks me, “Brittney, would you be helping me out with a few poses before my trainer comes in?”
I hesitate. Considering what he’s just done, I really can’t refuse him. And honestly, I still don’t understand why Andrew made such a fuss about it last time. But then, I don’t want to make Andrew mad again. Although he isn’t around, he might still find out. “I’m sorry. You see, I’m not a trainer, and I don’t want to get in trouble…” I stutter.
Thankfully, Darrell volunteers. “I can help you, Mason.”
“Great!” Mason says, and the two of them walk away.
“Wow,” Jennifer whispers to me with an envious tone in her voice. “He must have the hots for you!”
I chuckle. “Don’t be silly. He’s just being Mason Meyer, an eccentric musician.”
Despite the excitement and distractions, I manage to focus on work and finish a few more items on my to-do list in the next hour or so.
I say goodbye to Jennifer and get ready to leave when Mason steps out to the reception area of the gym. “Darrell and I are going for a drink. Want to join us?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. I don’t go to bars often mainly because I can’t drink alcohol. The last time I went to a bar was for a classmate’s birthday party.
“Come on, you’ve got somewhere to go to?”
“Not really,” I say.
“Then come with us, have some fun.”
I’m still feeling flattered by the song he wrote and sang for me, and also a bit guilty for not helping him out earlier, so I agree to go along.
Mason presses his remote car key when we enter the garage. As we approach a bright green Lamborghini, Darrell whistles. “This is your car? I should’ve guessed it.”
I’ve noticed the car a couple of times too because it isn’t possible not to. Besides its shiny green paint, it’s got some yellow stripes around its bumpers and sills that shout for attention.
After speaking proudly of his car for a moment, Mason urges us to get in the vehicle.
