CHAPTER TWO 

RYLAN

"Let's go, Dan! One more rep." 

Sweat poured out of my client's tomato-red face. His arms wobbled as he held the barbell out in front of him, grunting with effort. 

I stood over him, helping him steady the weight from where he laid on the bench. His eyes glanced up at me and he made a small shake of his head.

"Yes you can, buddy," I insisted. "I know exactly how strong you are. You got this, man. It's just one rep."

He took a deep breath and firmed up before slowly bringing the bar down to his chest. I kept my hands near his just in case he failed but I knew he wouldn't. 

In almost every case, finishing strong was simply a concept of mind over matter. 

"Right on, man. Now, push back up steady. You got this." 

His veins bulged in his forehead as he slowly pressed the bar straight up, hissing through his teeth with effort while fighting gravity with all his might. 

"Keep going, keep going," I encouraged. "You're right there, dude. Just straighten your elbows out." 

With one final push, Dan locked his elbows and completed the final rep. I quickly took the bar and secured it on the catches of the squat rack.

His eyes were half-closed, his shirt was drenched in sweat, and he sucked in deep, labored breaths but he also had a goofy smile on face. 

"That was awesome man," I said, clasping his palm and pulling him up to a seated position. "You're a motherfucking beast!" 

Stephanie, the gym receptionist, shot me a disapproving look from across the floor but I pretended not to notice. Management didn't like me dropping F-bombs and other swear words while on duty, even though I only did it to pump up my clients and make them feel positive. 

"Thanks, Ry," Dan wheezed, his smile spreading. "Never thought I'd be able to get that last rep." 

"That's a new personal best, man! I'm proud of you." I gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "But most importantly, you should be proud of you."

He nodded, still smiling while trying to catch his breath. 

"I think I earned a glass of Scotch tonight," he said, slowly rising to stand.

"Atta boy." I slapped him on the back. "You deserve it. Don't forget to stretch, man. I'll see you Wednesday." 

"For sure! Thanks again, Ry." He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. 

"Hey, you did the hard work. I just crack the whip," I replied. 

We said our goodbyes and I walked out to the juice bar, whistling cheerily and holding my head high.

For a personal trainer, there was no better feeling than this right now. Watching my clients transform, break through their own mental barriers, and grow confident in themselves was the absolute best part of this job.

When Dan first came to me, he was recently divorced, depressed and overweight. He'd been married to a total witch of a woman who broke down his self-esteem and cleaned him out financially. It was an uphill battle at first but after training with me for eight months, Dan was a completely new man. 

His whole attitude shifted once he started seeing results. He became physically and emotionally stronger, and it showed just from the way he walked in and out of the gym. Recently, he won custody of his kids from his ex and even got a smoking hot new girlfriend. 

All he needed was a bit of positive encouragement and someone with the exercise knowledge to get him the results he wanted. And nobody was better suited for both of those jobs than me. 

In two short years, I became one of the most highly-demanded trainers at the gym. People saw how my clients looked and wanted those firm, chiseled bodies for themselves. 

Many were surprised to find out how uplifting and positive my training techniques were. For some reason, people thought a trainer had to be a sadistic drill sergeant to whip them into shape. But I knew firsthand that abusive behavior did absolutely nothing for motivation and self-esteem. If nothing else, my approach kept my clients coming back because I didn't make them hate me. 

I had about an hour to kill before my next appointment, a consultation with two brand new clients. So I sucked down my protein drink and decided to get a quick workout in beforehand. 

Careful to stay out of girls' mirror selfies, I went to a private corner where I could do my bodyweight routine and still check my form in the mirror. 

I started with upper body, doing push-ups, dips, and pull-ups before moving on to core. 

Looking at me now, no one would ever be able to tell I had been a small, wimpy kid who was bullied throughout school. When one big kid broke my nose and I felt I was going to drown in my own blood, I realized I had to get bigger and stronger. No one would defend me so I had to stand up for myself. 

My love affair with powerlifting began when I was sixteen, and it was the only true love story of my life. Now ten years later, my greatest satisfaction came from helping other people get stronger and more confident.

As for women, I didn't care if they were super-fit gym rats like me. In all honesty, I preferred someone who could drag me out of the gym to somewhere new and fun. But most of my relationships didn't work out because they were intimidated by my workout and training schedule. 

Although that didn't stop them from booty-calling me.

Sometimes I indulged, sometimes I didn't. It depended on my mood and how amicable the break up was, although a gentleman doesn't tell.

One of my exes still frequented this gym, which was annoying but I dealt with it. I secretly got a kick out of ignoring her and seeing her get all worked up over the lack of attention. 

Needless to say, I did not answer her booty-calls. 

Just as I finished my workout and cooled down with some yoga, Stephanie called to inform me that my new clients were waiting at the front desk. 

I hoofed it across the gym, spying the couple up ahead and my jaw nearly hit the floor when I got a closer look at the female half. 

Holy fuck, she's gorgeous, was my first thought. 

An hourglass figure that could bring men to their knees. Stunning crystal blue eyes, luscious pink lips, and an adorable button nose. But what drove me wild was her mane of fiery red hair. I was a huge sucker for natural redheads which seemed so rare nowadays. 

"Hi, I'm Rylan," I said, offering my hand and a charming smile to the fire-kissed beauty. 

The softest, rosy blush appeared on her cheeks as she shook mine and smiled back. 

"I'm Cassie. Nice to meet you," she replied in a sweet, musical voice. 

Only then did I remember the man standing at her side, looking wholly unimpressed. 

"How you doing, man? Rylan." I offered him a more manly handshake which he gripped way too hard in an attempt to show off. 

"Mark," he grunted with a sneer. "The fuck kind of a name is Rylan?" 

"Mark!" Cassie gasped at him in shock but he ignored her. 

"The kind you're gonna be begging for mercy when I'm done with ya," I said good-naturedly with a smile. "Come on back, folks. Let's get to know each other a little."

I grabbed a clipboard and some paper and led them through the gym to a more private area.

Already I could tell what kind of man Mark was. His insecurity came off him in waves. All I did was shake his girlfriend's hand and he started with the low blows to try to prove himself better than me. 

We'll see about that, Marky-boy. 

Maybe from these training sessions, he'd learn that a real man didn't need to prove shit. A real man was simply and unapologetically who he was.

"Alright, have a seat." I gestured toward a bench for the couple and dragged another one over so I could sit across from them.

"Now, tell me little about yourselves," I said, pen and clipboard poised like a therapist. "I tailor each of my training sessions to my clients' specific goals and needs. What are you two looking to get out of these sessions? You can be general or specific as you like." 

A moment of silence. 

Cassie glanced over at Mark who looked bored out of his mind. I cocked an eyebrow as I looked between the two of them. Something was not quite right in paradise. 

"Uh, well it's a new year you know and we wanted to get active and have something new to do together," Cassie said. "We're also getting married and would like to look our best for the wedding." 

"Congratulations!" I forced a smile. "That's great. When's the big day?" 

Another uncomfortable silence.

"That's still in the works," Cassie said with a forced laugh. "We've just been so busy lately." 

"Sure, I totally get it," I smiled. "So are we looking for some weight loss, strength-building, just better fitness overall?" 

"Definitely weight loss." Mark spoke for the first time since we sat down. 

"Right on, so there are lots of approaches to that," I explained. "I can offer meal planning suggestions as well as guide you through the exercises. But different methods work for different people so we'll figure out what works for you specifically." 

"I wouldn't mind building strength," Cassie piped up. "I work a pretty physical job and could use some more muscle." 

"You don't wanna do that," Mark scoffed. "You're gonna look like a damn she-hulk."

"That's actually a common misconception," I said. "Women need to take lots of steroids to get that bulky, muscled look. Even more than men since they don't produce much testosterone naturally. But for normal women, weightlifting is actually great if you're just looking to tone up and get stronger."

Mark just scowled. Cassie looked at the floor.

I scribbled notes on my clipboard as I tried to get a feel for these two people.  

Sometimes these consultations really did make me feel like a therapist. I learned a lot about my clients from these conversations, both from what they did tell me and what was left unsaid.