Page 56 of Resistance Training
Hiya, hun. It’s Cindy here with Vivian’s phone. As you can see, our girl is busy entertaining us all with a very spirited duet of Summer Nights. Y’all should join us here at the tiki lounge. ;) Looks like this gal’s gearing up to put a large portion of unsanctioned meat in her mouth.
Also, y’all should know that she enjoyed a very large serving of strawberry daiquiri and one third of the loaded nachos we ordered for the table. This is Cindy again.
“Shit.”
This is none of my business.
This literally has nothing to do with my business.
Except that four of my clients are out together and the one who’s dating a future investor in my business is insinuating that I should pick Vivian up and save her from that terrible piece of singing meat.
So I will do the professional thing and drive to a tiki lounge to retrieve a client at around midnight. It’s a rescue mission. I won’t even talk to her.
After brushing my teeth and changing into a pair of jeans, putting a minimal amount of product in my hair, and also using a little cologne—because I am not human garbage—I return to the door of the guest bathroom to let the cat know I’m leaving. “Hi. I’m going out for a little while, to pick up a client. To prevent her from putting someone else in her mouth. To make sure shedoesn’t putanyonein her mouth, I mean. I am not abandoning you. I will return. Do you need anything?”
I take a deep breath and slowly open the door. The lights are off in there and I just hear a lot of hissing from inside the kennel, so I immediately shut the door.
“Great. See you later.”
I do not drink much anymore, and the only time I came to this bar before tonight was for Dolores’s birthday party last year. It was a rager, and I left early because I couldn’t keep up. But I have to say, as soon as I walk in here, I am reminded of just how much fun I haven’t been having. I enjoyed about three weeks’ worth of debauchery when I first moved to Portland, and then I got straight to work, staying focused on my goals. There’s no room for partying in your twenties when your ambition is to be an invincible top-tier personal trainer who owns more than one profitable gym before turning thirty.
But damn, this place is fun.
And loud.
And what the fuck does that guy think he’s doing putting his hand on Vivian’s shoulder when she clearly isn’t into him?
I walk right up behind her, touch the small of her back, and say into her ear, while looking at the guy, “You ready to go, Vivian?”
The guy unhands her, but it takes Vivian a few seconds longer to react. When she does, it’s like she has no idea that the guy is still standing there or that there is anyone else here besides me. She slowly turns around, slow-blinks, nearly loses her balance. When I steady her by grabbing her hips, she placesher hands on my chest and then slides them up to my face, strokes the stubble on my cheeks as she stares at the beanie on my head.
Her lips are glossy and full and parted, and I hate the idea of them being on or around any other guy. I hate that idea so much it scares me. Even more than it scares me how badly I want them on and around various parts of me.
“Fuck me, you look hot in a beanie,” she finally says, and she sounds angry about it.
“Yup. Let’s get you home.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Whose home?”
“Your home. I’m going to drive you home, and you’re going to go to bed. By yourself.”
She frowns at me, places one fist on her cocked hip, and pokes me in the sternum with her index finger, like an old-fashioned cartoon bad guy. “No,youare!”
“Yes. I am also going to go to bed by myself in my own home after I drop you off.”
Her face lights up and she wraps her arms around my neck. “After you get me off?!”
I remove her hands from my neck. “Drop.I’m going to drop you off at your house—let’s go!”
“Stop bossing me around, Coach! How’s the kitten?!”
“Fine.”
“Good! Hang out here with me!”
“No! Come on!”
That guy who’s still standing behind her says, “So are we still hanging out, or what?”
