I sent him another text, this was what I got for fucking with him so much.
ME: Goddammit, Nolan. Call me back.
ME: Are you shitting me? Is she really there?
ME: I swear to God. I’ll post that video I have of you on YouTube if you don’t call me back.
That one worked. Empty threat as it was, it worked every time. Nobody wanted to watch a video of him singing “Angel of the Morning” while wearing only his underwear. He was drunk, and it was three years ago after his mom had a heart attack. Reuben and I had done what we could to take his mind off it, which evidentially included getting drunk in his mom’s basement and listening to all her favorite records.
I’d never show anyone, but he didn’t know that.
“Hello,” I said into the phone and fastened my seat belt. My gym bag was already on the back seat in my truck.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Is she still there?” I countered, praying she was.
“I can’t tell you that. The first rule of Fit Club is that we don’t talk about Fit Club members with anyone except their family.”
I took a deep breath, and as soon as my phone’s hands-free program synced up, tossed it into my lap, and I threw my truck in reverse.
What he was saying about Fit Club was true. We went to great lengths to protect a client’s privacy and ensure their safety. Nolan, as frustrating as he was for me, was just doing his damn job.
I replied, “You’re being a real pain in the ass this morning.”
“It’s not uncommon to feel tenderness in the glutes after a serious anal pounding—I mean workout.” He coughed to hide his laugh.
“I’m on my way.” It wasn’t like I was making a special trip. I always worked out on Sundays around mid-morning. Had I not called earlier—being the good friend that I was to see if he wanted me to pick him up anything—I would have been coming in anyway. He just wanted to be a dick about it.
“You told Reuben you weren’t going to mess with her,” he reminded me.
“I’m not going to mess with her. I’m just going to the fucking gym. My. Fucking. Gym.”
“Our … fucking … gym.”
“Whatever. You’re the one messing with me about this. I told Reuben I’d wait, and I will. It’s not my fault she joined the gym on her own and just happens to be there when I’m usually there. This is all a coincidence, and, therefore, out of my control.” I thought about how that actually wasn’t total bullshit. All of it was true.
I pointed out, “Maybe it’s fate, Bitchtits.”
He howled. “Fate? Oh, my God, you turned into a pussy overnight. I told you drinking all that light beer was going to do this. And don’t call me Bitchtits, Cocksuckerbreath. It’s Sunday. The Lord’s day.”
“What did I tell you about me and Cocksuckerbreath?”
“You didn’t have to tell me anything. I could smell it.”
At the stop light, I tipped my head back and laughed, catching the attention of a Sunday School bus of children. So I smiled and waved.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
When I pulled into the strip mall where Fit Club was, I drove slowly, wondering which car might be hers. I supposed I could always rewind the footage on the security tape, but once again my morality cold-cocked my creepiness in the mouth.
I was thinking like a fucking psycho.
I pushed my earbuds into my phone just as a notification came in. She’d replied.
You too. Have a nice day.
It had all the enthusiasm of a fucking dentist appointment reminder notice. I sat there in my truck for a few minutes thinking.
Okay. So I’d been slightly off my game the day before in the shop. Fine. But I did give her a free drink. Women love free drinks. Also, I was not the fucking Hunchback of Notre Dame. I was an all right looking guy.
The message kind of put me off. I’d been trying to be friendly, and all she could reply with was two dry-ass sentences. Not even one of those little winky fuckers chicks love. No nothing.
What the hell?
I replied.
Admittedly, it was probably passive aggression at its finest because I did so in a way that was even a major pet peeve of mine.
K
It was childish, but it couldn’t be taken back. I was probably still punchy from Nolan that morning, but it was what it was.
Then, after thinking twice about going in, I noticed her looking down at her phone on the stepper machine in the front window. I considered maybe I should just watch her from my truck—the creepy ass guy that I was becoming.
She replied with the goddamned fucking thumb. The thumb.
Checkmate, beautiful.
I logged completely out of Facebook. To hell with it, the frustration would no doubt make for a great workout. I popped in my earbuds and then flipped Nolan off on my way inside.
Looked like I was going to have to go about it the hard way.
It surprised the shit out of me that she didn’t leave after I walked in. Also, I’m not narcissistic enough to assume she’d notice me, but I saw her, and she definitely saw me—awkward as it was.
I headed straight for the locker room and switched out my dirty clothes for the fresh ones I’d packed for the next few days. When I came out in my old ripped up t-shirt, shorts, ball cap, and my lucky towel, she hadn’t even switched machines. So, I gave her some space and hit the bench.
Let the record show—which was some annoying parable that Reuben always said that drove me nuts. At any rate, let the record show that I was directly across the gym from her and had an almost perfect, direct view of her ass through the mirror.
I’m only a man.
In turn, all she had to do was look up to watch me lift. Which I caught her doing four times.
Thumbs up, my ass.
Wait. You know what I meant.
Sure, she wasn’t exactly responding to me like women normally did, but as I tore through a third rep on the chest fly machine, I thought maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.
It only proved that I was right—which I loved.
Maybe Dana was different.
Still, I’d barely even made contact with her. The shop and Facebook were not even close to how I normally approached women.
As I pushed through my circuit, I wondered if I was off my game more than I thought.
I was usually much better in person, in my comfort zone, in social settings where I excelled. On a date. At a restaurant. Believe it or not, I could hold my own at karaoke—especially if it was Bon Jovi—and I was an okay dancer. Shout out to my mom for the lessons I hated taking, but they ended up paying off more than I’d ever have dreamed.
I had some other fun skills, but no real man would ever risk jinxing and potentially compromising the security of his bedroom game by speaking about them with strangers. Even for bragging rights.
Those skills speak for themselves.
I’d look for neutral ground with Dana. There had to be some. Some place where people normally ran into each other, and therefore a natural place for a real first-time conversation.
A bar. I had one of those. Now I just needed a way to get her there, without really inviting her there myself.
Also, I had to be subtle, or Reuben would try to royally kick my ass.
By the time I made it through my Sunday routine, she’d left, and I watched the window as her pretty ass walked to the black Elantra parked beside my truck.
It was Monday morning, just like any other, and I drove through town, headed to the office.
Lenox was growing, and our population was somewhere near fifty thousand, but it always felt larger since we were just outside Kansas City. We had all the luxuries of the big city, but the heart of ours was small and charming.
The oldest part of town was centered on a quaint square. Old two and three story brick buildings lined blocks in each direction. It was in the middle of town where the coffee shop and my office were.
My core business, Taylor Properties, only needed a few rooms and a small storefront. It, in and of itself, was a small operation. What had started as one business and one location, The Bean Bag, had turned into four local businesses, ten commercial and four residential properties that I leased.
I’d been fortunate and luckily made some good decisions over the past few years. It also didn’t hurt that I’d studied hard, worked harder, and believed in reinvesting my money. Plus, I loved our city.
Additionally, since Reuben had gone to law school, he was my attorney.
On top of that, Nolan, Reuben and I owned Fit Club, which was really Nolan’s dream. He was the only one who had a handle on the day to day operations there.
We were a good team.
The only other business that the three of us owned together was The Mill, which was a bar. Well two bars, one building. It was an old industrial warehouse that we renovated to act like two venues. The Mill East was focused on live music, had a huge beer garden, and stayed busy all summer long. The Mill West was a bar and grill, then at night, it turned into more of a club atmosphere. The two were separated by a long glass ceiling atrium area that split the building in half. It was by far the business that generated the bulk of our profit.
Because of our mutual investment there, Nolan now had enough money to send Trevor to whatever college he wanted. I was able to buy my mother a house, which I currently lived in since shortly after, she’d married Craig and moved in with him.
My three-person office space, across the park from the coffee shop, was little, but we didn’t need much space to do our business. For the most part, my accountant dealt with the bulk of my clerical things.
So that just left Lance, who was basically an assistant to me and a warm body in the office, Monday thru Friday; and Cheryl, who was basically my right hand. She did nearly all the property management for the residential units I owned. She also was the bomb at real-estate and knew this area better than anyone I’d ever met.
“Good morning,” I said to Lance as I walked through the modest lobby. It was basically a small sitting area, Lance’s desk, and a wall that separated it from the rest of Taylor Properties. Beyond that was Cheryl’s desk, my office, a conference room, a small breakroom area, and a restroom. That was it.
“Hey, you. Did you have an awesome weekend?” Lance asked from his chair, headset already in place. He was sipping coffee from a Worlds Best Lance mug, which he’d once told me he bought for himself because he deserved it.
“Not bad,” I said.
“Not bad? Yuck. Did you wear those pants out? Because you should have. You’re slaying them. Why would you waste those pants on work?” He tsked, and then spun in his chair away from me. “I don’t know why I even talk to you. You don’t listen.” He held up a finger and pressed a button on the headset. “Good morning, Taylor Properties. This is Lance. What can I do for you?”
I picked up a folder that had a Post-It with my name on top and flipped through it.
“We did. We had a blast. Seriously. I’m still nauseous.” Lance spun back to me in his chair and gave me a pitiful look. “Yeah, he just walked in—wasting a pair of navy blue Hugo Boss Delewares like nobody’s business.” He made a tick mark in the air, a self-affirmation he did regularly. “Sure. Give him a second to get back to his dungeon. I’m going to put you on hold.”
I put the folder under my arm and waited for him to tell me who it was.
“That’s Sam. He said he needs to talk to you about a show.” Then he waved me off. Sometimes I wondered if he realized I was the boss, but he did a fantastic job. Why split hairs?
I picked up the receiver on my desk and took a seat.
“Hey, Sam. What’s up?”
“Morning, Cord. So I got an email from an agent who booked a show at Mill East last August. They liked the venue and have a few bands coming through town this summer. They’d like to book their stops in KC here. She said our size was perfect for the crowd they’re drawing, and they liked working with us. What do you think?”
I opened my laptop and waited for the screen to come on. “Sounds like a good opportunity. They know what our max capacity is, right?”
“Yep,” he answered, but I couldn’t tell one way or the other which way he was trying to sway me.
“What about staff? If you pack the place more than last year, can you handle it?”
“I think so. We could use a few extra people for summer anyway.” That was expected.
I answered, “If you’re up for it, so am I. I’m sure the guys will agree.”
“It might mean spending more on advertising than usual, but I think it could be a positive thing.”
Spending money to make money didn’t bother me, and Sam was an excellent manager. I was totally confident he knew what he was getting into.
Even though Reub, Nolan, and I were equal partners, they left most of the business stuff up to me, and I was fine with it.
“All right. Get a contract for each event individually—with contingencies for cancellation. Shit happens, you know? Send them over when they come in. We’ll catch lunch this week, and go through them before we sign and send them back.” Then it struck me. “Hey, what do you have going on this weekend?” I leaned back in my chair.
“Not much on the west side, but on the east side there’s music trivia Friday night, and on Saturday a few local bands are playing during the day for a poker run fundraiser thing.”
Friday night sounded perfect.
When I hung up with Matt, I looked over a few bids for a renovation we were doing on some apartments. Cheryl had already sorted out the ones that were too high or too low, leaving me with just the ones that looked to have the most promise.
At lunch, I walked over to the coffee shop and stood in line for a sandwich, happy to see Jodi was back to work.
“Hey, Cord. So you met my sister this weekend, huh?” I loved that she said that and hoped she’d heard it from Dana.
I’d been thinking about her non-stop, but it wasn’t a chore.
“I did. I didn’t even know you had a sister. Can I get an iced tea and a chicken salad sandwich?”
She rang me up and then filled a clear plastic cup with ice. “Dana is my step-sister, but yeah. It’s just her and me. Our parents married when I was in high school, Dana’s freshman year at college. We’re close though.”
“How’s your little boy doing? I hope he’s feeling better.”
“He is, the poor thing. Thanks for coming in on Saturday. I wasn’t even thinking about Trevor and Mia taking the SAT. That was really cool of you.” She was sincere as she talked about her kid, and how he’d been sick.
All I could think was: if you think I’m so nice, then tell your step-sister. Instead, I used the opportunity to make my move.
“Sounds like you could use a night out. You know, the Mill East is having music trivia on Friday. You should have a girl’s night out or something.”
Jodi handed me the chicken salad on whole wheat that I’d pointed to under the small case along the counter and slipped it into a bag. But her face had a hint of something sardonic on it as she said, “Okay, Cord. I might think about that. Have a good one, and thanks again for Saturday.”
If she was on to me, she didn’t admit to it. That didn’t matter though, not as long as it worked.