Page 10 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
“Huh,” Imogen says. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
Jesse’s eyes slide to me—he knows Franco and I left together last night. “Yeah, well, I think someone kept him up past his bedtime.”
“Who, me?” I say, and then try to look busy drinking too much wine too fast.
“Yeah, you.” He quirks an eyebrow. “You guys hooked up last night, yeah?”
I shrug. “Um. We hung out for a while.”
He snorts. “Hung out. Right. Which is why he had circles under his eyes and was wearing the same thing as yesterday, and was acting like someone pissed in his Wheaties.”
I frown. “I can cop to us staying up late, but the rest is on him.”
“Staying up late, or not going to bed at all?” Jesse says.
I sigh. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable having this conversation with you, Jesse.”
“Well, if hooking up with you is gonna make him act like this all the time, I’m not sure I’m down with it.”
I roll my eyes at that. “We don’t need your permission, Jesse.” I shrug again. “But it’s a moot point. We won’t be seeing each other again.”
“Why not? Didn’t go well?”
“Actually, according to the emergency call this morning, it went too well,” Imogen says, in a betrayal of my confidence. “Which is why they won’t be seeing each other again.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That was between you and me, Imogen,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not cool.”
She frowns. “You have to know I share everything with Jesse at this point, Audra.”
“Even confidential girl talk?”
She shrugs. “Well, I don’t tell him everything, but the big stuff I share with him, yeah.”
Jesse holds up his hands palms out. “What Imogen shares with me stays with me, so don’t, like, get all upset thinking I’m gonna go relaying everything straight to Franco.”
“There’s nothing to relay,” I say, going for light and carefree. “We hooked up, it was good, there won’t be a second time, the end.”
Jesse shrugs. “Whatever. None of my business.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“So.” Imogen brings over the pot of spaghetti, now mixed with the sauce; she dumps a monster portion onto a plate for Jesse, and a more rational portion for me, and the same for herself. “Anything interesting happen with your clients today, Audra?”
I shrug. “Not really.” I laugh. “Well, there was this one thing. One of my clients is new, not just to me as a trainer, but to working out in general. She just had her first kid and is all gung-ho about not just losing the baby weight but getting into better shape than before. Which is great, right? She’s super motivated, great attitude, gives it a hundred percent, never complains when I say one more rep or ten more reps or whatever. So, I’ve got her doing burpees as a warm-up, and she’s rocking it, right? I’m encouraging her, telling her to get one more, blah blah blah, the usual. She’s got, like, maybe three more left in the set, she does the jump, the drop down, the push-up, and she’s getting ready to jump to her feet. Instead of finishing the jump up, though, she makes a weird squeak noise and drops down to her belly. And I’m like, Kelly, what the fuck? You’ve got three reps, let’s go, let’s knock them out.” I suppress a laugh. “And she’s just like, no. Nope. I’m staying down here.”
“What, did she poop herself or something?” Jesse asks.
I laugh. “Not quite that bad, but almost. She peed herself.”
Imogen laughs, covering her mouth with one hand, and then groans in sympathy. “I’ve done a few rotations in the maternity ward,” she says. “Apparently that’s a thing after you have kids.”
“What, you just pee yourself?”
I nod. “I don’t mean, like, oops a few drops leaked out. Everyone’s had that happen at some point.”
“If you’re a guy, it happens a lot,” Jesse says. “I call it the post-shake dribble. It’s annoying as hell.”
I bite my lower lip. “No, you don’t understand. The poor lady just…whoosh. Peed everywhere. Like, I’m talking her bladder just gave out.”
Imogen is sympathy-laughing. “Oh god, the poor thing. That had to have been mortifying.”
“She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.” I shrug. “Fortunately for her, all the sweat towels were gone when I got there today, so I was using one of the full-size shower towels. She wrapped that around her waist and just claimed she’d had a female problem.”
“Which is true enough,” Imogen says.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Glad I’m not a chick,” Jesse says.
I laugh. “Me too! Well, I mean, I’m a chick, but I’ve never had kids, so I won’t be peeing myself anytime soon.”
Imogen just quirks an eyebrow at me. “Do I have to remind you of freshman year of college?”
I glare at her. “No. You most certainly do not have to bring that up. EVER.”
Jesse’s interest is piqued, now. “Do tell, do tell.”
