The future next door box.., p.3
The Future Next Door Boxed Set, page 3
“Oh, wow. Okay.” Caitlin peeked back into the fifth floor lobby. It didn’t look like anyone had come in or out of the studio where the musical’s audition was being held. “I think I have time. I’ll see you in a few seconds, I guess.”
“Fantastic! See you in a minute.”
Caitlin put her phone away and climbed down one flight. The fourth floor was quiet and dim – several lights in the lobby were out, and the studios were empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight. She walked cautiously down the hallway, and past the turn at the end she saw a light coming from an open doorway.
“Hello?” she called out.
After a moment, a tall, bearded, bored-looking man stepped out. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Um...I think so? Are you Martin?”
“Yes.” He yawned.
“I’m Caitlin? Caitlin Ross? We spoke...a few seconds ago...?”
His bored expression vanished, but Caitlin couldn’t quite put a name to the expression that replaced it. For a moment, he just looked vacant and blank. Then he smiled.
“Caitlin! Of course, I’m so sorry. It’s been a long day. Come in, come in.”
Caitlin followed the man into the small studio, dropping her bag by the door. Another man sat behind a folding table, a laptop open in front of him. Cables led from the laptop to a small video camera mounted on a tripod. Martin walked to the table and started rifling through a pile of papers.
“What’s your name?” asked the seated man.
“Caitlin...”
“Into the camera.”
Caitlin looked into the lens. “Caitlin Ross.”
“On the mark, please,” he said.
Caitlin stepped onto the small X laid out in tape on the floor. “Caitlin Ross,” she repeated.
The men ignored her, Martin still poring through pages, the other man engrossed in the laptop.
She hesitated. “Did you want a headshot?”
“No, thanks,” Martin replied, not looking up. “Just give me a minute, sorry.”
He continued to rifle through the stack, unable to find whatever he was looking for. After a moment, the seated man looked up and slammed his hand down on top of the papers.
“They’re all the same,” he hissed through gritted teeth. He grabbed the top piece of paper and handed it to Martin. “Just take one and give it to her.”
Martin stared at the outstretched paper for a moment. His face went blank again, and then his broad smile returned. He took the paper with a peppy thanks and handed it to Caitlin. “Here’s your copy. Whenever you’re ready.” He returned behind the table and took a seat, staring at her expectantly.
“Oh. Okay.” She glanced at the script he had handed her, then looked up. “Sorry, what is this for, exactly?”
“We’re not disclosing that at this time.”
The man at the laptop muttered something under his breath, which sounded to Caitlin like, “Because we don’t know.”
She looked back at the script, then up again. “But this is...what? A commercial? A voice-over?”
Martin blinked. “Yes. A commercial voice-over.”
The man behind the laptop glared at her. “Could you just read the damn thing, please?”
Martin shot him a nasty look, then turned to Caitlin. “I am so sorry for his attitude. He’s new.”
Caitlin wasn’t sure what being new had to do with being an asshole, so she just nodded.
“We had a last minute change to this location,” Martin continued, “and some of the people we called this morning didn’t get the message in time so we had to wait for them to get here from uptown, so they were all...” He threw his hands up over his head and waved them around. “...aaaaahhh! It’s been a crazy day.”
“Sounds like it,” Caitlin agreed.
The man at the laptop rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. Not your fault I’ve spent all day listening to actors spouting nonsense.” He threw a sidelong glance at the other man. “Or non-actors spouting nonsense. Take your time, look it over. When you’re ready, look directly into the camera and speak slowly and clearly.”
He wasn’t exaggerating when he described it as nonsense. The text was just a random string of letters broken up into groups. She started sounding them out, and realized she recognized them. “This is the phonetic alphabet.”
“Oh, you’re familiar, terrific!” Martin said. “The symbols are on the back, if that’s useful to you. When you’re ready.”
“Start with the consonants, please,” the other man said.
Caitlin looked back at the page. It was the International Phonetic Alphabet she had learned in her Voice and Speech class in college. The page they had given her had all the consonant and vowel sounds commonly used in standard American English. She flipped the page over and saw the same letters, but with their corresponding IPA symbols and sample words to help with pronunciation. She looked back at the men.
“Sorry, what company are you with?”
“Amalgamated Synergy,” Martin replied.
Caitlin brightened slightly. “Oh! My roommate works for them. Do you know Dakota Bell?”
“It’s a multinational corporation. Several buildings in New York City alone, so...”
“Oh, right. Duh, sorry. Uh...I guess I’m ready then. Start with the consonants?”
“Yes, please.”
Caitlin felt a little silly, but she looked into the camera and tried to pretend she was back in class. “Puh. Buh. Tuh. Duh. Juh. Guh...”
She made her way through the page. Martin watched without speaking, but occasionally the other man would ask her to repeat a sound or make a slight correction, all without ever looking up from his laptop. When she finished, Martin stood up and walked to her, his hand extended.
“Thank you so much for coming in, Caitlin.”
Caitlin shook his hand. “Sure. No problem, thanks for seeing me. Is that all?”
“That’s it. Thank you. We’ll let you know.”
“So...was that a test for an audiobook or something? Or...this is embarrassing but I don’t even know what Amalgamated Synergy does, exactly.”
“A little of everything.” He picked up her bag and handed it to her. “Thanks for coming in. We’ll be in touch.”
Caitlin stepped out of the room and the man closed the door behind her. She stood there in the hallway for a moment, wondering if she should go back in. They had never taken her headshot, and she hadn’t thought to ask how they had found her in the first place.
She pulled out her phone to check the time, and saw a text from her roommate Alan – Meet me at slot machine for happy hour 911. She smiled. Exactly what I need right now, she thought. She responded, be there after my racist audition.
She took one last look at the door, then decided to leave well enough alone. She headed back upstairs, humming her audition song to herself.
Chapter Four
Mark training
Mark Park stifled a yawn as his client ran the treadmill. “You’re doing great, Pete,” he said. “Five more minutes and then we’re on to weights.” He raised the incline another few degrees, ignoring his client’s grunt of exertion.
Mark was a personal trainer at Squat, a gym in Chelsea with a predominantly gay clientele. Pete was his last client on a day that had begun very early in the morning, and Mark was finding it difficult to stay focused. His gaze wandered slowly across the cardio room. It was bustling with muscular men on their lunch hour, most of whom gazed back at him with the usual mixture of hope and lust in their eyes. Mark was tall, muscular and handsome, but his roommate Alan had suggested that Mark’s Korean heritage was what really drove his clients wild – “rice queens” was the term he used to describe them, and Mark couldn’t decide if it was funny or racist or both.
He zeroed in on the lone woman, bouncing up and down on an elliptical. He let his eyes bounce with her. Her face was sort of plain, he thought, nothing special, but she amply compensated for this in another important department. After a few bounces she looked over at him and lost her footing. She slipped out of the pedals and tumbled to the ground, hitting her head on the handlebar on the way.
Mark rushed to her side. “Oh, man! Fuck, are you okay?”
The woman was staggering to her feet, so Mark put his arm around her and helped her up.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Ow. I’m fine. Just embarrassed. You’re...um...you’re...”
“Mark. Hi. Sorry if I distracted you.”
“No, no! It wasn’t you. I wasn’t paying attention, something happened with the pedals...it was my fault. Silly Pickle.”
She idly rubbed at the diamond ring on her finger, then stepped away from him slightly. He lowered his arm.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “It looked like you hit your head pretty good there.”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’ve got a thick head.” She laughed. “Sorry to take you away from your workout.”
“That’s okay, I wasn’t working out. I work here.”
“Right. I knew that, actually. I’ve seen you here before. Noticed you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mark hesitated. “I’ve noticed you, too.”
“Really?” she said. “You noticed me? This is only my third time here.”
“Yeah, totally,” he lied. Mark hadn’t seen her before, or at least he couldn’t remember her if he had. He usually kept track of all of the female clientele at Squat – it wasn’t hard for them to stick out amongst all the testosterone – but this particular woman didn’t look familiar.
Now that he was up close, he decided she was prettier than he had given her credit for. A little older than him, somewhere in her early thirties. Blonde and petite, cute rather than beautiful. Well, cute might be stretching it, he thought, but she had the body of a short swimsuit model. “Did you call yourself a pickle?”
“Oh, that’s my name. Nickname. Pickle. It’s Elizabeth, really, Elizabeth Dundersfield. I’ve been Pickle since absolutely forever. I know it’s a little ridiculous.”
“Nah. My name’s Mark Park, so I’m down with silly names.”
Pickle flipped her hair out of her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mark Park. So...personal trainer, huh?”
“Personal trainer.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” he said, “mostly. I like fitness, I like helping people get healthier. I like working here.”
“Oh?” Trying and failing to sound casual, she said, “You like the...um...client base here?”
“Yeah, they’re cool.” Realizing what she was really asking, he quickly added, “I worked in a straight gym for a while, since, you know, I’m straight...”
She nodded.
“...but I had to do a lot of selling, supplements and gear and stuff, and I didn’t like that. They wanted you to really push the merchandise on your clients, especially the beginners. It was slimy. The guys who run this place are a lot more laid-back.”
“It seems like a good gym,” she said. “I never have to worry about the women’s locker room being crowded. How long have you worked here?”
“Uh...two years? Yeah, about two years. We all thought we might be out of a job last month, we got bought out by a big chain, but nothing’s really changed, not even the name. New cardio equipment, that was about it. What do you think of it so far?”
“I like it,” she replied. “I’m just testing it out. It’s not really convenient to my job, but I like it.”
“What do you do?” he asked.
She waved her hand. “Oh, it’s boring. Business stuff. Vice President of blah de blah. I love it but even I fall asleep when I try to explain it.”
“Vice President?” Mark said. “Wow.”
“What can I say? Queen in the boardroom, klutz in the gym.”
“Don’t feel bad, I fall all the time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? When was the last time you fell off an elliptical machine?”
“Uh...okay. Never. I never fall, I have reflexes like a panther. I was trying to make you feel better.”
She laughed. “I appreciate the thought. I’m sure it’ll be a comfort when I’m staring at a handlebar-shaped bruise in the mirror.”
“It’ll make you look tough,” he said. “Tough is sexy.”
She blushed and looked away. “Oh! Hah. Thank you. Well. Okay. On that note. I think I’ve sweat enough for today. It was great to meet you, Mark Park.”
“Great to meet you too, Pickle. See you around.”
She picked up her towel and headed for the locker room. He started to turn away, but noticed that she had stopped. She was standing with her back to him, completely still.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
She turned back to him. She had a strange vacant look on her face. They made eye contact, and the look was replaced with a smile.
“Hey,” she said, “I feel like you deserve a reward for coming to my rescue like that.”
“I was a little late for a rescue.”
“For the attempt, then. I’m having some people over on Friday night. Just a few friends, some food, no big deal. Are you free?”
Mark paused. Engagement ring. Bad idea, he thought. Say no.
“Yeah, I’m free. I could probably swing by.”
“Great! Here, give me your email and I’ll send you the details.” She took her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him.
While Mark entered his email, he tried to figure out how best to ask for the information he needed. He was partly motivated by conscience, but mostly by a desire to understand what kind of situation he might be walking into. He handed her phone back and asked, “So, is this at, like, your apartment, or...your fiancé’s place, or do you guys live together...”
“Oh.” Her smile vanished. She blushed again, but much less adorably than before. “Yes, it’s at our apartment. He won’t be there. He’s on a business trip until next week.” She took her phone back. “Okay, so I’ll send you my address. Bring a friend if you like, there’ll be plenty of people there. I’ll see you Friday. Or not. Whatever you want.”
“Yeah, sure...”
She had already grabbed her towel and run off to the safety of the women’s locker room. Idiot, he thought to himself. Why not just call her a cheating whore and save time?
While he was silently cursing himself out, a thud came from the other side of the room. He ran back to his forgotten client, who had just tumbled off the back of his treadmill. Mark slammed the emergency stop button and the machine ground to a halt.
“Shit! Dude, are you okay? Pete, man, I’m so sorry!”
Pete pulled himself up from flat on his back to a sitting position on the floor. He was smiling. In the four weeks since Mark had started training him, he had never stopped smiling. Mark kept trying to catch him with some other expression on his face, without success.
“Ow,” Pete said. “Whoa. What a ride. Yeah, I’m okay. How long was that? Seemed longer than usual.”
“Sorry, man, sorry, this girl fell off an elliptical and I went to help her up. I forgot you were waiting for me. Are your legs all right? Did you cramp up?”
“No, no, they’re fine, I’m fine. I think the treadmill sped up suddenly. That keeps happening to me. Took me by surprise. Talk about a killer workout, huh?” He laughed. “Weights now?”
“Sure, sure, if you want. Are you sure you don’t want to stop for the day?”
“No, no, I’m good! I’m good!” Pete heaved himself to his feet. “Let me get some water and I’ll meet you in the weight room.”
Mark nodded, and Pete lumbered away. Pete was a mass of muscle, always eager to get to weights. Mark exhaled, sinking down onto the back of the treadmill.
“You are the worst trainer in the world.”
Mark didn’t look up. “Fuck you, man.”
Mark’s work-friend Duff crouched down beside him. Duff was a hairy beast from Boston and the only other straight trainer at Squat. “Two clients eating floor in less than five minutes. That’s pretty good.”
“She was distracted by my beauty. Wasn’t my fault.”
“It never is. What’s her deal?”
“She’s into me. Invited me to a party at her place Friday.”
“She’s doable.”
“She’s engaged.”
“Fuck. You gonna go?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. If we met at a bar and just hooked up that’d be one thing. But now I have like two whole days to think about what a scumbag move I’d be pulling.”
Duff shook his head. “I don’t even understand the fucking words that are coming out of your mouth right now. Since when do you give a shit about that? Remember that mom you banged in the shower while her kid was coloring in the lobby?”
“Yeah...that was kind of scummy, too.”
“Bro, you’re breaking my heart! If you’re not gonna do this chick for your sake, do her for mine, okay? I’m tied down, I gotta live through my single friends.” Duff looked across the room, where an elderly man was glaring at him impatiently and pointing to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I have to work, and so do you, you lazy fuck.”
Duff stood up and offered Mark his hand. Mark grasped it and Duff yanked him to his feet.
“Cheer the fuck up,” Duff suggested. “Be grateful it’s not a dude hitting on you for once. Take advantage. She’s the one cheating, not you.”
“I don’t know. It’s not worth the hassle.”
Duff scowled. “Not worth the hassle. Jesus. I wish I had gotten half as much pussy as you when I was single, you beautiful Chinese bastard.”
“I’m Korean, you racist fuck. See you later.”
“See ya.” Duff walked over to the ellipticals, where the old man was waiting.
Mark thought about what Duff had said. He was right, Mark had never suffered much guilt about one-night stands before. He wondered where this sudden attack of conscience was coming from.
He made his way towards the weight room, where Pete was sitting on a bench, barbell at the ready.
“There you are!” his client shouted. “I’m ready when you are!” Pete lay back, and Mark hurried around to spot him. “One!” Pete grunted, lifting the weights up above his head.
Mark let his mind wander. Pete didn’t need any coaching or encouragement from Mark on weight training – he was an old school muscle-head. All Mark really did for him was keep him honest on his cardio routines and pass along the occasional protein shake recipe.
“Fantastic! See you in a minute.”
Caitlin put her phone away and climbed down one flight. The fourth floor was quiet and dim – several lights in the lobby were out, and the studios were empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight. She walked cautiously down the hallway, and past the turn at the end she saw a light coming from an open doorway.
“Hello?” she called out.
After a moment, a tall, bearded, bored-looking man stepped out. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Um...I think so? Are you Martin?”
“Yes.” He yawned.
“I’m Caitlin? Caitlin Ross? We spoke...a few seconds ago...?”
His bored expression vanished, but Caitlin couldn’t quite put a name to the expression that replaced it. For a moment, he just looked vacant and blank. Then he smiled.
“Caitlin! Of course, I’m so sorry. It’s been a long day. Come in, come in.”
Caitlin followed the man into the small studio, dropping her bag by the door. Another man sat behind a folding table, a laptop open in front of him. Cables led from the laptop to a small video camera mounted on a tripod. Martin walked to the table and started rifling through a pile of papers.
“What’s your name?” asked the seated man.
“Caitlin...”
“Into the camera.”
Caitlin looked into the lens. “Caitlin Ross.”
“On the mark, please,” he said.
Caitlin stepped onto the small X laid out in tape on the floor. “Caitlin Ross,” she repeated.
The men ignored her, Martin still poring through pages, the other man engrossed in the laptop.
She hesitated. “Did you want a headshot?”
“No, thanks,” Martin replied, not looking up. “Just give me a minute, sorry.”
He continued to rifle through the stack, unable to find whatever he was looking for. After a moment, the seated man looked up and slammed his hand down on top of the papers.
“They’re all the same,” he hissed through gritted teeth. He grabbed the top piece of paper and handed it to Martin. “Just take one and give it to her.”
Martin stared at the outstretched paper for a moment. His face went blank again, and then his broad smile returned. He took the paper with a peppy thanks and handed it to Caitlin. “Here’s your copy. Whenever you’re ready.” He returned behind the table and took a seat, staring at her expectantly.
“Oh. Okay.” She glanced at the script he had handed her, then looked up. “Sorry, what is this for, exactly?”
“We’re not disclosing that at this time.”
The man at the laptop muttered something under his breath, which sounded to Caitlin like, “Because we don’t know.”
She looked back at the script, then up again. “But this is...what? A commercial? A voice-over?”
Martin blinked. “Yes. A commercial voice-over.”
The man behind the laptop glared at her. “Could you just read the damn thing, please?”
Martin shot him a nasty look, then turned to Caitlin. “I am so sorry for his attitude. He’s new.”
Caitlin wasn’t sure what being new had to do with being an asshole, so she just nodded.
“We had a last minute change to this location,” Martin continued, “and some of the people we called this morning didn’t get the message in time so we had to wait for them to get here from uptown, so they were all...” He threw his hands up over his head and waved them around. “...aaaaahhh! It’s been a crazy day.”
“Sounds like it,” Caitlin agreed.
The man at the laptop rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. Not your fault I’ve spent all day listening to actors spouting nonsense.” He threw a sidelong glance at the other man. “Or non-actors spouting nonsense. Take your time, look it over. When you’re ready, look directly into the camera and speak slowly and clearly.”
He wasn’t exaggerating when he described it as nonsense. The text was just a random string of letters broken up into groups. She started sounding them out, and realized she recognized them. “This is the phonetic alphabet.”
“Oh, you’re familiar, terrific!” Martin said. “The symbols are on the back, if that’s useful to you. When you’re ready.”
“Start with the consonants, please,” the other man said.
Caitlin looked back at the page. It was the International Phonetic Alphabet she had learned in her Voice and Speech class in college. The page they had given her had all the consonant and vowel sounds commonly used in standard American English. She flipped the page over and saw the same letters, but with their corresponding IPA symbols and sample words to help with pronunciation. She looked back at the men.
“Sorry, what company are you with?”
“Amalgamated Synergy,” Martin replied.
Caitlin brightened slightly. “Oh! My roommate works for them. Do you know Dakota Bell?”
“It’s a multinational corporation. Several buildings in New York City alone, so...”
“Oh, right. Duh, sorry. Uh...I guess I’m ready then. Start with the consonants?”
“Yes, please.”
Caitlin felt a little silly, but she looked into the camera and tried to pretend she was back in class. “Puh. Buh. Tuh. Duh. Juh. Guh...”
She made her way through the page. Martin watched without speaking, but occasionally the other man would ask her to repeat a sound or make a slight correction, all without ever looking up from his laptop. When she finished, Martin stood up and walked to her, his hand extended.
“Thank you so much for coming in, Caitlin.”
Caitlin shook his hand. “Sure. No problem, thanks for seeing me. Is that all?”
“That’s it. Thank you. We’ll let you know.”
“So...was that a test for an audiobook or something? Or...this is embarrassing but I don’t even know what Amalgamated Synergy does, exactly.”
“A little of everything.” He picked up her bag and handed it to her. “Thanks for coming in. We’ll be in touch.”
Caitlin stepped out of the room and the man closed the door behind her. She stood there in the hallway for a moment, wondering if she should go back in. They had never taken her headshot, and she hadn’t thought to ask how they had found her in the first place.
She pulled out her phone to check the time, and saw a text from her roommate Alan – Meet me at slot machine for happy hour 911. She smiled. Exactly what I need right now, she thought. She responded, be there after my racist audition.
She took one last look at the door, then decided to leave well enough alone. She headed back upstairs, humming her audition song to herself.
Chapter Four
Mark training
Mark Park stifled a yawn as his client ran the treadmill. “You’re doing great, Pete,” he said. “Five more minutes and then we’re on to weights.” He raised the incline another few degrees, ignoring his client’s grunt of exertion.
Mark was a personal trainer at Squat, a gym in Chelsea with a predominantly gay clientele. Pete was his last client on a day that had begun very early in the morning, and Mark was finding it difficult to stay focused. His gaze wandered slowly across the cardio room. It was bustling with muscular men on their lunch hour, most of whom gazed back at him with the usual mixture of hope and lust in their eyes. Mark was tall, muscular and handsome, but his roommate Alan had suggested that Mark’s Korean heritage was what really drove his clients wild – “rice queens” was the term he used to describe them, and Mark couldn’t decide if it was funny or racist or both.
He zeroed in on the lone woman, bouncing up and down on an elliptical. He let his eyes bounce with her. Her face was sort of plain, he thought, nothing special, but she amply compensated for this in another important department. After a few bounces she looked over at him and lost her footing. She slipped out of the pedals and tumbled to the ground, hitting her head on the handlebar on the way.
Mark rushed to her side. “Oh, man! Fuck, are you okay?”
The woman was staggering to her feet, so Mark put his arm around her and helped her up.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Ow. I’m fine. Just embarrassed. You’re...um...you’re...”
“Mark. Hi. Sorry if I distracted you.”
“No, no! It wasn’t you. I wasn’t paying attention, something happened with the pedals...it was my fault. Silly Pickle.”
She idly rubbed at the diamond ring on her finger, then stepped away from him slightly. He lowered his arm.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “It looked like you hit your head pretty good there.”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’ve got a thick head.” She laughed. “Sorry to take you away from your workout.”
“That’s okay, I wasn’t working out. I work here.”
“Right. I knew that, actually. I’ve seen you here before. Noticed you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mark hesitated. “I’ve noticed you, too.”
“Really?” she said. “You noticed me? This is only my third time here.”
“Yeah, totally,” he lied. Mark hadn’t seen her before, or at least he couldn’t remember her if he had. He usually kept track of all of the female clientele at Squat – it wasn’t hard for them to stick out amongst all the testosterone – but this particular woman didn’t look familiar.
Now that he was up close, he decided she was prettier than he had given her credit for. A little older than him, somewhere in her early thirties. Blonde and petite, cute rather than beautiful. Well, cute might be stretching it, he thought, but she had the body of a short swimsuit model. “Did you call yourself a pickle?”
“Oh, that’s my name. Nickname. Pickle. It’s Elizabeth, really, Elizabeth Dundersfield. I’ve been Pickle since absolutely forever. I know it’s a little ridiculous.”
“Nah. My name’s Mark Park, so I’m down with silly names.”
Pickle flipped her hair out of her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mark Park. So...personal trainer, huh?”
“Personal trainer.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” he said, “mostly. I like fitness, I like helping people get healthier. I like working here.”
“Oh?” Trying and failing to sound casual, she said, “You like the...um...client base here?”
“Yeah, they’re cool.” Realizing what she was really asking, he quickly added, “I worked in a straight gym for a while, since, you know, I’m straight...”
She nodded.
“...but I had to do a lot of selling, supplements and gear and stuff, and I didn’t like that. They wanted you to really push the merchandise on your clients, especially the beginners. It was slimy. The guys who run this place are a lot more laid-back.”
“It seems like a good gym,” she said. “I never have to worry about the women’s locker room being crowded. How long have you worked here?”
“Uh...two years? Yeah, about two years. We all thought we might be out of a job last month, we got bought out by a big chain, but nothing’s really changed, not even the name. New cardio equipment, that was about it. What do you think of it so far?”
“I like it,” she replied. “I’m just testing it out. It’s not really convenient to my job, but I like it.”
“What do you do?” he asked.
She waved her hand. “Oh, it’s boring. Business stuff. Vice President of blah de blah. I love it but even I fall asleep when I try to explain it.”
“Vice President?” Mark said. “Wow.”
“What can I say? Queen in the boardroom, klutz in the gym.”
“Don’t feel bad, I fall all the time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? When was the last time you fell off an elliptical machine?”
“Uh...okay. Never. I never fall, I have reflexes like a panther. I was trying to make you feel better.”
She laughed. “I appreciate the thought. I’m sure it’ll be a comfort when I’m staring at a handlebar-shaped bruise in the mirror.”
“It’ll make you look tough,” he said. “Tough is sexy.”
She blushed and looked away. “Oh! Hah. Thank you. Well. Okay. On that note. I think I’ve sweat enough for today. It was great to meet you, Mark Park.”
“Great to meet you too, Pickle. See you around.”
She picked up her towel and headed for the locker room. He started to turn away, but noticed that she had stopped. She was standing with her back to him, completely still.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
She turned back to him. She had a strange vacant look on her face. They made eye contact, and the look was replaced with a smile.
“Hey,” she said, “I feel like you deserve a reward for coming to my rescue like that.”
“I was a little late for a rescue.”
“For the attempt, then. I’m having some people over on Friday night. Just a few friends, some food, no big deal. Are you free?”
Mark paused. Engagement ring. Bad idea, he thought. Say no.
“Yeah, I’m free. I could probably swing by.”
“Great! Here, give me your email and I’ll send you the details.” She took her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him.
While Mark entered his email, he tried to figure out how best to ask for the information he needed. He was partly motivated by conscience, but mostly by a desire to understand what kind of situation he might be walking into. He handed her phone back and asked, “So, is this at, like, your apartment, or...your fiancé’s place, or do you guys live together...”
“Oh.” Her smile vanished. She blushed again, but much less adorably than before. “Yes, it’s at our apartment. He won’t be there. He’s on a business trip until next week.” She took her phone back. “Okay, so I’ll send you my address. Bring a friend if you like, there’ll be plenty of people there. I’ll see you Friday. Or not. Whatever you want.”
“Yeah, sure...”
She had already grabbed her towel and run off to the safety of the women’s locker room. Idiot, he thought to himself. Why not just call her a cheating whore and save time?
While he was silently cursing himself out, a thud came from the other side of the room. He ran back to his forgotten client, who had just tumbled off the back of his treadmill. Mark slammed the emergency stop button and the machine ground to a halt.
“Shit! Dude, are you okay? Pete, man, I’m so sorry!”
Pete pulled himself up from flat on his back to a sitting position on the floor. He was smiling. In the four weeks since Mark had started training him, he had never stopped smiling. Mark kept trying to catch him with some other expression on his face, without success.
“Ow,” Pete said. “Whoa. What a ride. Yeah, I’m okay. How long was that? Seemed longer than usual.”
“Sorry, man, sorry, this girl fell off an elliptical and I went to help her up. I forgot you were waiting for me. Are your legs all right? Did you cramp up?”
“No, no, they’re fine, I’m fine. I think the treadmill sped up suddenly. That keeps happening to me. Took me by surprise. Talk about a killer workout, huh?” He laughed. “Weights now?”
“Sure, sure, if you want. Are you sure you don’t want to stop for the day?”
“No, no, I’m good! I’m good!” Pete heaved himself to his feet. “Let me get some water and I’ll meet you in the weight room.”
Mark nodded, and Pete lumbered away. Pete was a mass of muscle, always eager to get to weights. Mark exhaled, sinking down onto the back of the treadmill.
“You are the worst trainer in the world.”
Mark didn’t look up. “Fuck you, man.”
Mark’s work-friend Duff crouched down beside him. Duff was a hairy beast from Boston and the only other straight trainer at Squat. “Two clients eating floor in less than five minutes. That’s pretty good.”
“She was distracted by my beauty. Wasn’t my fault.”
“It never is. What’s her deal?”
“She’s into me. Invited me to a party at her place Friday.”
“She’s doable.”
“She’s engaged.”
“Fuck. You gonna go?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. If we met at a bar and just hooked up that’d be one thing. But now I have like two whole days to think about what a scumbag move I’d be pulling.”
Duff shook his head. “I don’t even understand the fucking words that are coming out of your mouth right now. Since when do you give a shit about that? Remember that mom you banged in the shower while her kid was coloring in the lobby?”
“Yeah...that was kind of scummy, too.”
“Bro, you’re breaking my heart! If you’re not gonna do this chick for your sake, do her for mine, okay? I’m tied down, I gotta live through my single friends.” Duff looked across the room, where an elderly man was glaring at him impatiently and pointing to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I have to work, and so do you, you lazy fuck.”
Duff stood up and offered Mark his hand. Mark grasped it and Duff yanked him to his feet.
“Cheer the fuck up,” Duff suggested. “Be grateful it’s not a dude hitting on you for once. Take advantage. She’s the one cheating, not you.”
“I don’t know. It’s not worth the hassle.”
Duff scowled. “Not worth the hassle. Jesus. I wish I had gotten half as much pussy as you when I was single, you beautiful Chinese bastard.”
“I’m Korean, you racist fuck. See you later.”
“See ya.” Duff walked over to the ellipticals, where the old man was waiting.
Mark thought about what Duff had said. He was right, Mark had never suffered much guilt about one-night stands before. He wondered where this sudden attack of conscience was coming from.
He made his way towards the weight room, where Pete was sitting on a bench, barbell at the ready.
“There you are!” his client shouted. “I’m ready when you are!” Pete lay back, and Mark hurried around to spot him. “One!” Pete grunted, lifting the weights up above his head.
Mark let his mind wander. Pete didn’t need any coaching or encouragement from Mark on weight training – he was an old school muscle-head. All Mark really did for him was keep him honest on his cardio routines and pass along the occasional protein shake recipe.
