Текст книги "Absolution Road"

Автор книги: Rachel Blaufeld

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Aly

Hefting my bag up on my shoulder, I walked out of the county courthouse armed with enough reading for a year. I had all weekend to cram it all in, but I needed to visit my mom in the nursing home too. She suffered from dementia and Parkinson’s disease. I wanted to care for her myself, but it wasn’t possible. Sadly, I had to check her into a full-time care facility two years ago. Some days, she remembered me. Others she didn’t.

It was a toss-up as to what I was least looking forward to over the weekend—visiting my mom or doing the reading for my current case. I was twenty-seven years old and single; neither option seemed like how I should be spending my weekend.

With Hilary now in Cleveland, I was trying to branch out with my social life, but it didn’t come naturally to me. Connecting with other women wasn’t easy. For most of my life, it had only been my mom and me. She’d work, and then I’d help her with the chores at home and do my homework, so I’d never had a big social circle. Recently, I was making more of an effort with the women at work, meeting for coffee or walks.

In fact, it was the fault of the gals from work that I was now rushing to some young-lawyers mixer. I wanted to go and socialize as much as I wanted to have my legs waxed, but even my head boss had been nagging me to get out more. Laura, the woman who ran our department, was somewhat of a mentor to me. She was also one of the women I grabbed coffee with from time to time, and her concern about my lack of a social life was sweet, but annoying. She kept pushing me, claiming she’d met her husband at one of these events.

As I entered the back entrance of the William Penn Hotel, I swept my hair over my shoulder. It was down for a change, and I considered heading to the ladies’ room to put it up, but the department’s administrative assistant had said I needed to look my age. “Don’t look like a brittle, dried-up lawyer,” she’d said with a disapproving frown. “Lighten up, Aly. You’re fun when you want to be, and you’re gorgeous. Stop trying so hard to be a mature adult. You do that all day at work.”

I took a deep breath as her words rattled in my head, then told myself one cocktail and a little conversation, and I’d hop on the first bus home. To no one.

Winding my way to the bar inside the hotel, I broke out in a sweat. I hated these meet-and-greet things because I always felt like the outsider, just like I did when I was growing up. More often than not, I’d end up in the bar sipping on some strange drink while everyone else made small talk. I tried to convince myself to bottle up the confidence I had when it came to work and sprinkle it into my everyday life, but I couldn’t do it. Hiding behind my law degree and fancy attaché case was one thing; trying to be popular and a slave to expensive fashion trends like my colleagues did was another.

“May I help you?” the hostess asked, interrupting my private pep talk.

“I’m here for the young-lawyers event.”

The attractive young woman gave me a fake smile, then tossed her blond hair back dismissively as she recited in a bored voice, “All the way through the bar, in the back, through the brown door.” Then she perked up as she focused on the two young bucks who’d lined up behind me.

Like I said, I hated these events where I felt inadequate. Even my choosing to work as a public defender was inferior in the eyes of those who’d headed to the private sector.

I took off my jacket, tossing it over my bag as I made my way toward the back, then paused when I spotted Jake Wrigley seated at the bar.

Maybe it wasn’t him? This guy was wearing a suit, and his hair, longer than I remembered, was professionally styled. The scruffy shadow covering his cheeks was new too; it was an actual beard when I’d seen him last. Sipping a lowball glass filled with amber liquid, he divided his attention between the television hanging above the bar and the door. When his gaze flitted over me, his eyes didn’t flicker with recognition, but that didn’t mean anything.

Unless I was in a courtroom or a jail’s interrogation room, I was pretty much indistinguishable. I was like Superwoman cloaked in my law degree, but an everyday dweeb in plainclothes. It figured that after Jake saw me out a few weeks ago in my workout clothes, he quickly dismissed me.

Trying not to pout, I made my way to the back room when I heard a familiar voice boom out apologies. “Sorry, bro!” The voice was apologetic, almost remorseful, and right behind me. Instructing myself not to respond, I turned around anyway, catching the back of Jake’s ass rushing over to his clone.

He’s a twin?

As I shook illicit thoughts of gorgeous twins out of my head, I continued to the lawyer mixer, trying to convince myself it was better that Jake didn’t see me. I bellied up to the bar in the back and climbed onto a stool, and was shoving my bag underneath when some jerk approached.

“Hey, I’m Rick. Can I get you a drink? You look like you could relax.”

“Um, I’m not even sure what I want yet, but thanks for the offer.” I picked up the drink menu in front of me and studied it like it was the United States Constitution, hoping he’d take the hint.

“I can wait,” Rick the jerk persisted. He hadn’t even asked my name or anything.

“Listen, I’ll get my own drink, but again, thanks for the offer.” I wasn’t going to be beholden to this schmuck.

“I got you.” He nodded knowingly as he claimed the stool next to me. “You’re an independent woman, women’s lib and all.”

No, he didn’t get it. Turning slightly away from him, I crossed my legs and gave Rick the cold shoulder. Finally, he moved.

“What can I get you?” an adorable, shaggy-haired, well-built bartender asked.

“Vodka and soda, whatever your house vodka is.”

He winked at me and strolled off to the other side of the bar to grab a glass and some ice. After fixing my drink, he set it in front of me with a small bowl of peanuts.

Taking a long sip, I surveyed the room. Lots of lawyers, most of them men all suited up with their ties loosened around their necks after presumably a long week, and a few women all stylish in wrap dresses.

I stared down at my pale pink sweater and brown slacks. Yeah, my outfit was stylish and fit well, but it wasn’t worthy of the other women in the room. Mine was from the sale rack at Macy’s, and their clothes were from Bergdorf Goodman in New York. How did I know? From years of perusing piles of hand-me-downs thrown at my mom. The ladies she worked for thought she’d wear them. Instead, she sold their castoffs at consignment shops and put the money away for my college.

“You good?” the cute bartender asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Not your crowd?” He tilted his head toward the room full of stuck-up lawyers.

“Well, I’m one of them, but I’m not. I guess that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the truth.”

“I got you. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re better than all of them.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” Embarrassed, I stared back at his knowing gaze.

“I know, but look at them. All fake and phony, laughing and gaggling and gossiping while you sit here classy and calm, Red.”

“Please, I’m anything but calm. My boss made me come to this, but I’m not feeling it. How much for the drink?”

“On the house.”

After tossing a ten-dollar bill on the bar and mumbling my thanks, I grabbed my bag and left. Of course, I’d forgotten all about Jake being in the main bar as I headed toward the exit, struggling to wrestle on my tight leather jacket while I juggled my bag. I’d almost cleared the doorway when I heard my name.

“Alyson? Hey, Alyson!”

As I stopped short and turned around, Jake Wrigley ran straight into me. Colliding with a wall of solid muscle, I teetered a little and braced my hand on his chest to steady myself, surprised at the heat radiating from him.

“Um, sorry for grabbing you,” I murmured as he wrapped a calloused hand over mine, stilling my frantic movements. His hand was so large, so rough, that my hand felt almost dainty in his.

“No worries. This is getting pretty silly, running into each other in the strangest of places. Do you come here a lot?” His brow furrowed and he looked at me as if I were a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle and he was trying to put the pieces together.

Digging for composure, I cleared my throat, pretending I was in an interrogation room. “Not really.”

“Me either. It’s a bit stuffy.”

“I was here for a legal event. In fact, I should be going.”

One corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile. “I could see how that would be the case. Not much but suits and secretaries here.” He tilted his head toward the bar and some of his black hair flopped over his forehead, definitely longer than when he was in jail. “I was having a drink with my brother. My twin brother,” he said, correcting himself.

“Oh, wow! That’s cool.” I wasn’t sure how I played off my surprise, but I did. Must be all those years of playing dumb at work.

Like I did with Jake when I knew they were going to release him, but questioned him anyway. It wasn’t really my job to make certain he wasn’t a threat, but I’d have kept him locked up if he were. As we talked that night, I could see through his armor, that heavy metal casing made of bravado and flippant flirting. The truth was that Jake Wrigley was a little boy deep down inside. Problem was, he was a strong, gorgeous man on the outside.

“Well, I guess . . . good seeing you. I don’t want to keep you.” I pointed toward his brother, who was busy pounding away on his smartphone.

“Nah, I’m leaving. One drink with Lane is enough for me. He’s the more serious brother,” he said with a smirk and a wink. “Where you going? Somewhere more exciting?”

“Actually, home. This is about as exciting as I get.”

“You were pretty serious that night in jail. You ever let loose?” Jake took my bag from my hands and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“I don’t need you to carry that for me, Mr. Wrigley.” Definitely needed to get control of the situation. One minute, I was leaving with my reading, looking forward to a mug of hot tea and a throw blanket waiting for me at home. The next, Jake Wrigley was walking me out and carrying my briefcase.

“It’s just a bag, not a marriage proposal, Ms. Road. Let’s go.” He slipped his hand over the soft leather of my jacket, guiding me by my elbow toward the door.

“Where are you parked? Here in the garage?” he asked, wrestling through his pockets to pull out a valet ticket once we were outside.

“I take the bus downtown, so if you’ll just hand me my stuff . . .” I gave him a small smile as I forced down the lump of regret stuck in my throat.

Why couldn’t I be exciting, especially with Jake Wrigley? Because I was boring, for starters, serious rather than flirty and fun, and for one defining moment, Jake Wrigley had been in jail where I’d served as the public defender. According to the rules, that moment had to set the tone for any ensuing contact between us, and it infuriated me.

I didn’t want to go home, and I definitely didn’t want to go back to the bar to all the “Ricks” drinking their Scotch on the rocks. More than anything, I wanted to go with Jake to wherever he might be having more fun; although whatever that was, I didn’t have a clue. If Hilary were here, maybe she could have been my wing woman, or whatever it’s called.

“Well then, I guess it’s good that we ran into each other again. Now I know why—so I could give you a ride home.” He handed his ticket to the attendant while I tried to manage an excuse, but all my words were stuck in my chest, shaken and scrambled. For someone who talked for a living, my tongue had never been so tied.

“It’s just a ride, you know.”

His hair lifted in the wind, but his solid frame withstood the stiff breeze whipping through the city. All the while, my heart plunged to my feet and my hair got stuck in my lip gloss, my fingers shaking like the leaves overhead while trying to pull the strands free.

“I don’t know. We don’t really know each other, other than—”

“Please don’t say other than me being in jail, okay?” he said, interrupting me. “It wasn’t a shining moment for me, and I was protecting someone else, as you know. I’m not all bad.”

His eyes pleaded with me, the moonlight reflecting off the big pools of blue. “I can’t put you on a bus in good conscience. It’s dark, and it’s not safe,” he explained, pleading his case.

“Okay,” I said just as a black BMW pulled up front. As I watched Jake tip the valet, I glanced at the expensive car and began to second-guess myself all over again. I didn’t take Jake for the show-off type. Of course, he was all man complete with flirtatious one-liners, but he wasn’t a status-obsessed type one like Drew. At least, that was what I had imagined.

“Miss?” The valet’s question knocked me out of my thoughts. I refocused to find Jake standing there, holding the passenger door open for me.

With an apologetic smile to Jake, I slid into the already heated seat and folded my long legs beneath the dash. The red leather was a tone or two deeper than my hair, the dash all lit up and perfectly cleaned. Some type of hard rock filtered through the speakers on the lowest volume.

Jake jumped into the car with ease and shifted into first. “Where to?”

“Oakland. You know the area?”

“Yeah, I own Fizzle Fitness. You know it?”

We whipped out of the drive and into the alley. At the red light, I tried hard not to stare at Jake’s profile, at his firm jaw, mussed hair, and five o’clock shadow. Or his larger-than-life biceps.

“I know it,” I said, forcing myself to look out the windshield. “I don’t go there, but I know of it, I should say.”

“It’s a living. Been doing it for over a decade, since I graduated from Pitt with a degree in sports management. My brother is helping me expand. He’s really the brains; I’m just the brawn.”

“I remember the gym from when I first transferred to Pitt from community college. It used to be small and has moved once already?”

“Yep.” He smiled with barely disguised pride. “That was when it was just me. When I finished school with a useless degree and a washed-up D-1 career in baseball, I didn’t know what to do. My shoulder’s pretty much done with, not even the minors would take a look, so I rented this basement shithole and started buying used equipment, got some cheap insurance and opened. People liked my music and the Pitt spirit around, so it grew fast. I moved to the spot we are in now after about two years, and then I bought the building next door after a while, making more room for locker rooms and shit.”

“Sounds like you may have some of the brains too.” Why I felt compelled to compliment him, I wasn’t sure.

“And you, all lawyer and legs?”

“What?” I choked out, shocked at his blatant flirting.

“You got one hell of a pair of legs. Couldn’t help but notice when we first met, and a few weeks ago when you had those leggings on . . . wow! Legs for days.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. Since I’m so fair, I imagined my cheeks were a rosy pink well on their way to fire-engine red. Thankful for the darkness hiding my silly embarrassment, I stuttered, “I-I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Having long legs? Or me noticing.” Jake turned slightly to face me, his expression curious.

“Either. Both.” Nervously, I wound my hair around my hand, knotting it in a bun at the base of my neck. Refusing to meet his gaze, I watched him from the corner of my eye.

“Sorry to interrupt this much more interesting conversation, but where in Oakland?”

“You know the small convenience store near the museum?”

He nodded.

“Right behind it, one street back. In fact, you can drop me at the museum.”

“Not a chance,” he huffed out. “Now, back to your legs. What’s wrong with long legs?”

I turned and studied his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with each word, and strangely wanted to run my hand over his skin, maybe kiss his neck.

Blinking a few times to force the fantasy out of my head, I found myself admitting, “I grew up pretty poor, a tall, gangly redhead who tagged along with my mom to her jobs. She was a cleaning woman for the rich, and their little girls were always petite and small. I was neither, but I wanted to be.”

I’d never really spoken about my past with anyone. Drew knew I came from limited means, but didn’t know the details of my life growing up. I typically kept that in a tightly sealed box inside my heart. My throat tightened again, this time with tears.

Jake shot a wry glance my way. “Well, shit, I’d like to see those petite little girls now. They’re probably all round and plump.”

Surprisingly, I laughed. Actually, I burst out into a full-on fit of laughter, which was something I’d never done when wallowing in the memories of my childhood.

“Please!” I begged him, holding my stomach

“I’d know. I own gyms. Believe me, long legs are an asset.”

“Okay, enough,” I said, trying to compose myself. “You shouldn’t even be looking.”

“Why?”

“Well, you asked me not to mention it, but the way we met, and well, if I recall, you were protecting another woman. One who you were involved with . . . Um, take a right here.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief that we were close to my place, and the end of this strangely comfortable, yet awkward ride.

I pointed up ahead. “There, over there. First building on the left.”

“Here?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not much, I know, but I’ve been here since law school and it’s home.”

A tear welled up in the corner of my eye. I should have taken the bus and not let this man drive me home in his BMW and see the dilapidated building I called home. It’s affordable and warm. What else do you need?

“It has cable,” I said weakly, feeling strangely compelled to defend my home.

“Hey.” He grabbed my arm as I yanked at the door handle, trying to slip out of the car. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that it’s not safe. It’s dark and there are no outside lights, and I just saw someone go through the front door without a key or being buzzed in. I wouldn’t judge you on this,” he said, gesturing toward the run-down apartment building.

“Thanks for the ride and saying that, but I’ve got to go.” Acutely embarrassed, I wrenched my elbow free and opened the car door.

“Alyson?”

Climbing out of the car, I froze, but refused to look back at him. “Yeah?”

“The girl I was protecting isn’t around anymore, so is it okay for me to like your legs? And the body and brain attached to them?”

“Good night, Mr. Wrigley.” After slamming the car door, I turned and ran toward my apartment.

Jake

“What’s the holdup with the construction?” Lane had asked me at the bar earlier tonight, swirling the ice in his drink so the cubes clinked against the glass. He’d taken a big swallow, a small moan escaping his lips when he released the tumbler from his lips.

“The fuck I know? The guy’s a crap contractor, costing me money.”

He’d chuckled into his glass.

“What the hell?” I had leaned forward, catching his gaze.

“I just like seeing you all serious about your business. Almost as much as I’m loving this Scotch. Christ, this is good.”

“You miss the booze when you’re home?”

“Nah. Not even one bit. I got my beautiful wife and baby . . . my naked beautiful wife. It’s a small price to pay to have Bess in my life. She tells me it’s okay to keep a bottle for myself. Tells me she’d be fine, but it’s not worth it. She’s so strong in her recovery, and that’s enough reason for me, bro.”

He slapped me on the back and returned to the real reason for his visit. “Enough about me. How about you? I see your head is way out of your ass when it comes to the gym expansion, but you know Bess. She wants to know if you’re forgiving yourself for past demons? It’s time, Jake.”

“I don’t know. I feel good, almost normal sometimes. But then I get so pissed off that Shirley is just living her life. She was the adult there that day. She was the one who put that all on us to keep what I did a secret. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Gotta let it go, man. We looked into it, the statute’s up. She can’t be tried for it now. And you know, she’s got a shitty life.”

“That’s what my shrink says,” I said in a low voice, leaning in close when I mentioned my dirty secret. “You two talking?”

Shaking his head, he raised his hand to signal for a refill. I’d been absently watching his finger circle in the air when I caught a flash of red hair walking out of the bar.

“Hold that thought,” I’d said, then jumped up to chase the mysterious vixen of my dreams through the bar.

“Alyson!” I’d called out until she finally turned around, and I forgot all about Lane.

I ended up driving her home, and now like a twisted dick, I waited inside my luxury car while she ran up her front steps and into her crappy apartment building. The woman was an attorney, for God’s sake, and she lived in a college tenement. What the fuck was I missing?

I’d gone to school at Pitt for four years and owned a gym in the area for over a decade, and I’d never known anyone who lived over here in this ghetto. Lane had some posh on-campus suite for four years, thanks to his academic prowess, and I’d lived in athletic housing. Who the hell lived in this shit? Especially after law school?

Staring at the building, I waited for one of the apartment lights to turn on so I could see which unit was hers and be somewhat assured that she was home safely. Suddenly, one came on in the front. As I shifted my car into gear, I realized she lived on the second floor, too close to the entrance and only one flight up. In a piece-of-shit building like that, it was probably dark and desolate in the hallways. Anyone could break in and do . . . I didn’t know what. Bad shit like rape and muggings.

My car purred to life as I revved the engine and tore out of the decrepit neighborhood before I did something stupid like jump out and climb the fire escape to rescue the girl. I was savvy enough about women to know Alyson was bound to be pissed if I tried to rescue her. And why would I want to do that anyway? She was a stuck-up, do-gooder lawyer who toyed with me in jail, but then she was this nice woman who smiled at me at Roman’s place. Her split personality, going from ornery to demure and back again, was giving me whiplash.

Why did I keep running into her? And why did I even care? I was a free man since Camper was gone. My gyms were booming and I was making lots of dough. So, what the hell was stopping me?

Guilt, anxiety, and grief rattled through me like the gearshift grinding beneath my palm as I shifted into fourth. I pushed my speed as I sped out of downtown, across the bridge to the north side of Pittsburgh where I lived along the river.

If I didn’t already have beer in my belly, I’d go back to the gym and lift. After all, pushing my body had been my way of dealing with my emotions for the last two decades. First there was Little League with my dad. Then the Pony Leagues, Amateur Athletic Union baseball, and college ball became my coping mechanisms, a way I could not only feel close to my dad after he was gone, but also a way to take out all my aggression. Lifting and training had been my saviors since I was sent to my grandparents as a little boy. Back then, I’d known what I had done, and to deal with it I would tire my body with endless push-ups and sit-ups, and running suicides. Because tiring my body would quiet my overactive brain riddled with guilt.

I was well aware that Lane knew too. We didn’t have that identical-twin brainwaves shit they portrayed in the movies, but I could see equal parts pity and anger every time he looked at me since we were ten years old and living in our grandparents’ attic.

That’s why I’d fucked women—screwing hard and long helped stop the pain, and took the edge off my anxiety. Sex and working out was the only combination I knew that worked for me. When I got older, I’d turned that focus into a business, building the gyms and filling them with a constant stream of willing women.

And now I found myself obsessing over a lawyer—a public defender, of all people. Even if she liked me, once she learned what I’d done she would probably throw me back into the same jail where we met.

I hit the button for my garage and watched the door climb, then pulled my BMW inside and parked it next to the Hummer. As I walked between the two vehicles, I stopped to kick the front tire of my truck in defeat. Here I stood in a garage full of expensive foreign cars worth more than several years of Alyson’s rent, yet she lived in a tenement. I needed to get her out of that place to somewhere safe. Not my arms, because those definitely weren’t safe, but at the very least, I could make sure she moved.

After punching in my alarm code, I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a light beer before walking out onto my deck. Murky river water lapped underneath me as I tipped my head back and took a long slug, taking in the star-filled sky that loomed overhead. This had been my city since I was ten, but I’d never really belonged. I deserved to be an outcast, but not Alyson. Ever since she stepped into that interrogation room, there was something about her . . . I just didn’t know what.

Now I did. The whole tough, lady-lawyer thing was an act, a facade she hid behind that felt comfortable and secure. But inside she was lost, a young girl still trying to find her way. All you had to do was see her away from the justice system, like outside her apartment or out at a restaurant, and the real Alyson was revealed.

How the fuck did I know this? As sure as the moon was shining down on me, I knew it because we were one and the same. The only difference was I was a little boy stuck in a man’s body. I might not even be able to help myself or get over the shit I did, but I sure as hell could help Alyson Road.

With renewed vigor, I stepped back inside my townhouse, then dropped and did a set of push-ups, followed by a ridiculous number of sit-ups. As my body worked, my mind cleared and worked out a plan.

I woke up a new man with a purpose. My phone buzzed while I was downing a smoothie and getting ready for the gym. I snatched my phone from the kitchen counter and grimaced when I saw Lane’s name on the screen.

“What happened to you last night?” he said, without even saying hello.

Thinking fast, I answered, “I ran into an old friend. Sorry, I should’ve texted you.” I crossed the kitchen while tucking the phone in my neck, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to the door.

Lane continued bitching in my ear. “I wasn’t worried. Figured something caught your dick’s attention.”

“Stop baiting me, Lane. I’m doing fine. You saw yourself, I’m making progress. Tell Bess, and kiss the baby. Maybe I’ll pop up for a night in the next few weeks. I could use some country air, but not when James is there. He’s way too much woman for me.”

Lane laughed into the phone. “Got you, buddy, but you know I can’t forget how good he is to Bess. Speaking of my lady, I’m on my way back home, but I’ll be back in town soon. The hotel CEO wants my software, so don’t miss me too much. Also, I texted Jax, the foreman who rushed the job on my house. He’s used to large projects, so he’s going to call you to see what he can do for yours. It’s up to you, but I think you should get rid of the current guys and put Jax on this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Current dudes have gotta go,” I muttered.

“And Jake, I’m here for you.”

I swiped my finger across the screen, ending the call before it got mushy.

That was exactly what I needed to avoid. Lane had been covering my ass since we learned how to talk, and I needed to cut the cord. When we were little, Lane would take the fall for spilled milk and messes in the yard. In college, he played along with my duplicitous games of bait-and-switch, pretending to be me with the ladies, and he’d rescued my stupid ass way too many times as an adult. Money here, negotiations there. It was enough.

I might never be able to repay him for his ultimate sacrifice and cover-up, but as of today, I was on my own. It was time to stand on my own two feet and do some good, something to absolve my soul of the blackness I felt there.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep the good vibes going when I finally arrived at my gym. As soon as I walked out of the locker room, I spotted Camper on the treadmill, her big bushy ponytail flapping around as she ran at a grueling pace. I made a quick detour at the café for a bottle of water, then crossed the gym at the front to get to the weights area without walking past her. I guess we never discussed her giving up her complimentary gym membership, which was a big mistake on my part.

Starting with some pull-ups, I let my mind relax. Breathing in, puffing out, I let my brain go still as the veins bulged and popped in my arms. This was my happy space, when my breath came out ragged, my pulse twitched, and a slight pang of pain coursed through my taut body.

Working out and sex were the only two ways I found relief. As I pushed my reps, my flaccid cock brought to mind how long it had been since the latter. A good week or two . . . or more?

Since I’d cracked the guy’s skull on Christmas Eve, Camper had been letting me hit it pretty regularly, at least up until the day she quit. I thought it was guilt or some shit like that, but I guess she wanted more. Commitment was the one thing I didn’t do. Not ever. Who the hell would want a fuckup like me?

I’d just moved over to the stack of free weights and grabbed the heaviest ones I could find when I heard her.

“Hey, Jake!”

There she was, pretending to be coy, twirling her finger around a damp ringlet that had fallen free from her ponytail, chewing on her sugar-free gum, her tits practically popping out of her sports bra.

Ugh. She disgusted me, and I’d been sleeping with her for a long while, which showed how little I thought of myself.

“Hey, Camp, how you doing?” I asked as if we hadn’t run our tongues all over each other.

“Good! Hope it’s okay if I still come in and work out?” She ran her tongue over her upper lip, catching little beads of sweat.

“Of course,” I said. Sadly, I didn’t mean it, but the girl had been there for me, worked hard for the gym, and I was being a better man and all. “You worked here for almost two years, built the brand out in the burbs.”