Page 18 of Interning For A Billionaire

“Oh, come on!” I begged her. “Let’s go tomorrow morning!” I wanted to see more of the city outside of work.

I wasn’t joking about the lack of gyms in Nolan. If anyone wanted to exercise, they usually went for a run. Or you jumped on a bicycle. Some kids had punching bags strung up on the back porch or in their garages, or they bought weights in the city. I couldn’t think of anyone who would be caught dead wearing yoga pants or the cute exercise clothes I had seen in shops here.

There were no Pilates or yoga classes in Nolan. I’d once joined a stretching class for pregnant mothers at the high school gym. Everyone thought I was expecting. When I got home, my aunt sat me down at the kitchen table for a serious talk. I told her I just wanted to try out a class. I wasn’t pregnant!

“Oh, all right,” Samira begrudgingly agreed, sending me the name of her gym and a location pin.

“Class starts at eight o’clock!”

The next morning, I left my place early and caught a bus to her part of town. I walked the rest of the way and was at the gym at the right time. Samira didn’t make it, but I didn’t even care. I told the instructor Samira had invited me and this guy, who looked like some kind of ex-navy SEAL stared at me with his arms, and bulging muscles, on his hips.

“Let’s see how you do,” he said. He made it sound like a challenge I couldn’t possibly meet.

But I was up for it. I threw punches and focused on my kicking, trying to make each foot land exactly where I wanted it to. I could feel my muscles straining and I loved every minute of it. Being in the city was about stretching myself and testing myself, pushing every boundary. As the sweat started pouring down, I imagine Michael Greer’s face in front of me.

Take that, Naked Guy, I thought and punched.

How do you like this? I thought as I kicked high and imagined him falling with a satisfying thunk.

I was aware of the fact that this guy was beginning to mess with my head. I didn’t like it. I wanted to be able to punch his lights out. Maybe with some extra kick boxing training, I’d be able to do that?

“Ok, you can join,” the instructor said in passing to me after the class. “It’s thirty dollars a class.”

I would be maxing out my credit card in no time at the rate I was carrying on now. But the thought of smashing Michael Greer’s face in was simply irresistible.

“See you next week!” I said to him as I left the gym.

Chapter 8

Michael

I meet my college friend Hassan for dim sum over the weekend.

As we catch up over steaming hot dumplings and sips of jasmine tea, Hassan talks about his job and how things have changed since college.

"Remember when we used to pull all-nighters studying for exams and surviving on instant noodles?" Hassan laughed. "Now I have a corporate job that has me pulling all-nighters for presentations and surviving on delivery sushi."

“Not much has changed, right?” I said, jokingly.

“Actually,” Hassan says, growing serious. “A lot has changed. Carmen wants a baby.” He pulled a face.

“Shit,” I said, sitting back in my chair.

“Exactly.”

Hassan’s face was troubled. I remembered Carmen, a lovely Spanish girl with a heart-shaped face and a Pixie haircut. They had been together for years. She worked in retail, and they’d moved in together a while back.

“She never used to talk about kids. Now it’s all she talks about.”

“And you?” I ask. “How do you feel about it?”

“Seriously, dude? I still spend my weekends playing games and eating pizza. I’m not exactly ready to go to the park and chill out with the other dads.”

He looked grim.

I remembered him at college, one of the brightest kids in computer science, who somehow always managed to get good grades despite doing as little work as possible. After graduating, he’d started working at a big software company and had a fancy title. But Hassan still looked like he did back in college, his hair was still a little too long and he still dressed casually, in jeans and hoodies.

A while ago, he and Carmen moved into a stunning apartment with breathtaking views in a modern building. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered views of the city and the Bay and wastotally mesmerizing. I couldn’t picture children running around the steel tables with their sharp corners, though.

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