17. Brian
CHAPTER 17
Itoss and turn all night.
My reasons for going to the bar to see Kodi had been twofold. First, we had to schedule a follow-up appointment. Her knee had been looking rough since the game on Saturday, and despite her winning performance, it was important that she rebuild the strength she needs to combat the bad form she developed over the years.
But the second reason was entirely selfish.
After a whole day organizing my office and trading in my software for the version Kodi told me I needed, my brain wasn’t able to stay focused on work. It kept floating back to thoughts of Zeke, and Kodi, and how complicated my social life had become.
Would it be hard to fake-date Kodi? Not really. My romantic relationships have always moved fast in the past, so all I needed to do was mimic that honeymoon phase without the feelings. Considering my whole body has felt numb since Zeke broke up with me, it shouldn’t be hard to turn off the feelings part when acting my role in her scheme.
Shouldn’t.
And yet, what started as an act when I cornered her at Girls’ Night: leaning into the slender curve between her ear and neck to whisper hello, pecking her on the cheek when we said goodbye, etc. Somewhere in there, things started to feel…
Well, they started to feel.
Sick of pretending to sleep, I threw off the covers and decided to start tackling my to-do list for the day a little earlier than normal. By 7:00 am I’m already on my second French press of coffee, and I sit at the kitchen table checking my laptop calendar and trying to figure out how to sync the damn thing to Medi-Cal.
“Come on, I know you’re supposed to integrate. The website said it was supposed to be seamless!”
I open a help article in another tab, and no sooner have I scrolled down to the “features and integrations” section that a chatbot pops up over the text, asking if it can assist me. I groan.
“Go away, goddammit, I’m trying to–”
I click the barely-visible “x” in the corner, only for another pop-up to replace it half a second later.
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This time, I can’t even see an x anywhere on the screen.
“UGH!”
I scoot my chair back furiously and punch the plunger down to get more coffee. By the time I pour it into my mug and take a sip, I realize I let it steep too long. It’s bitter.
And my session has timed out on the software.
“Son of a–”
A series of melodic chimes alerts me to a phone call from an unrecognized number. I pick it up. “This is Brian Gosling.”
I do everything I can to keep the frustration out of my voice, but I’m pretty sure a little gets through, because the man on the other end starts laughing.
“Rough morning there, Doc?”
“Who is this?” I growl.
“Sorry to call you so early, but I’ve got an eight AM class and I wanted to make sure we chatted before I got into it. It’s Nick, from the gym.”
It takes a second for my brain to make the connection. Gym… Nick… Oh! The owner of the MMA gym where I left my business card last week. I pull open my notes app on my laptop so I can write down anything important from our conversation.
“Nick! Hi! Thanks for calling!”
“Yeah, I wanted to touch base about coffee. When did you want to meet?”
“Good… question…” I try to pull up my calendar again, only to get blue-balled by Medi-Cal once more. Who am I kidding? I don’t have anything going on. “Are you free later today?”
“That depends… you up for a workout?”
Two hours later, I’ve got sweat soaking the sides of my t-shirt, shin guards, and leaking into my asscrack as Nick doesn’t give me an inch of wiggle room. We’re squared off in the practice ring at his fighting gym downtown, and I’m breathing harder than I have in months. I’m no slouch when it comes to martial arts–I’ve been practicing one form or another for most of my life–but I am nowhere near fit enough to hold my own against a retired pro fighter.
He swings at me with a right cross and I dodge out of the way, only to get yoinked right in the jaw with his uppercut follow-up. My teeth clench around the mouthguard he insisted I wear, and I’m suddenly grateful for his foresight. I also see a star or two from inside my head guard.
“Time! Time!” I pant, giving the universal sign for a break by forming a “T” with my arms. He nods, and I rush to the edge of the mats for my water bottle.
“You ain’t half-bad there, Gosling,” Nick appraises. He’s not even out of breath.
“Ha, you say that.” I gulp half the bottle and gasp. “But you’re kicking my ass.”
“I mean, you’re like, 30% bad.” He grins at me. I cough out another laugh. “Better than my white belts.”
I like this guy. Pretty sure we could be friends.
He assesses me for a second, seems to realize I’m done for the day, and reaches for a towel. We both grab a seat on the bench by the painted wall mural–for some reason, the entire gym has a rubber-ducky theme–and take off our gear. I stretch my ankles and wrists.
“I gotta say, man—I wasn’t expecting to find a spot like this in a little town like Tuft Swallow. What brought you here?”
“Grew up here. Always thought it would be the right kinda place to start a family.”
“Even after your career, though?” I tilt my head at him. “I mean, with your record, you could easily get a brand deal or something in the works.”
“Nah, man. Money’s just money. But this place has got something that money can’t buy.” He smiles, and I can tell his mind’s gone elsewhere.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Her.”
He points to a photo hanging on the wall by the equipment, of him with his beefy arms wrapped around a pretty woman in front of a local pizza place I’ve only seen in passing. He’s glowing in the picture. I glance back at him to see that he’s wearing the same face now.
“Must be a special gal.”
“Well, you get it. You’ve already found someone here, and you just got to town a couple weeks ago, didn’t you?”
I force a smile and choke out a laugh. Right. Everyone thinks Kodi and I are already head-over-heels for each other after that article in the Pecker. I didn’t think I realized how far that rumor had spread already.
“Regardless, if you’re already in love, you’re probably here to stay. Which means you’re gonna need to grow that practice of yours.”
“Yes!” I beam in earnest now. “I’d love to run a special for your members, if you’d be alright with it. I was thinking I could do a free consult and maintenance plan for fighters, as well as a discount on their first adjustment. I’m sure that could help some of your guys with injuries.”
“No doubt. I could use a better plan myself, since I don’t have a manager paying for regular PT anymore. How about we set up an appointment for me, and then once I know you’re not a quack–no offense–we can finalize a deal?”
My old boss would have absolutely taken offense to Nick’s brazen statement. But I’ve seen firsthand the types of greedy jackoffs that manage to graduate and start a practice. Hell, half the reason I left the clinic in the city was because I was tired of not being able to provide the level of care I wanted to. I’m more than okay with Nick wanting to see what I can do before he promotes me. In fact, it proves to me that he genuinely cares about his clients and their health.
And I respect that.
“Absolutely. You free tomorrow?”
Kodi
Hey Brian! Should I head over after work, or…?
The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, as Nick and I grab lunch at his girlfriend’s pizza place to get to know each other better after our workout. I’d almost forgotten that I’d told Kodi I’d text her for a follow-up appointment.
“That your girl?” Nick asks, tilting his head. “She’s not mad at me for stealing you away for the day, is she? I know she can get pretty intense.”
“Can she?” I send her a quick text back to say that after work is fine. It’s already coming up on 4:00, so I figure we’ll get back to my place around the same time.
Of course, I’ll need a shower before we get down to business, but I don’t need to text that to her.
“You haven’t seen her at cornhole practice,” he grumbles. I grab another slice from the lukewarm pie on the table between us and give him a questioning look. He’s playing with the paper wrapper of his straw and chewing on his lip a little.
“Uh-oh,” I mutter around my bite, then swallow. “I’m sensing there’s a story here.”
“I mean, I don’t know her all that well. Her whole softball ordeal happened a little after I’d left town. And I suck at cornhole, so I’m not really one to judge, but…”
“But?”
“Let’s just say, she really wants this championship.”
I put down my pizza, suddenly full. “What all did happen with her and the softball team? I mean, I read the piece in the paper last weekend, and I know she got injured, but she’s smart enough to know that a little community cornhole isn’t the same as States, right?”
Nick shrugs his shoulders a bit, avoiding my eyes. “I wonder sometimes…I know a lot of the guys aren’t thrilled about her coaching style.”
“Coach?” I snort. “I mean, she’s just captain. She doesn’t like, drill you guys, does she?”
He shuffles his shoulders in his seat. I swallow as a lump forms in my throat. Who exactly is this woman I’m dating?
Nick looks at his watch and throws a couple twenties down on the table. “I’ve got class here in a bit that I gotta get ready for. Thanks for the fight. Let’s do it again soon.”
I reach to shake his hand, and Nick turns it into a half-hug as he pats me on the back with his other hand, hard enough that I wonder if I’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. “Yeah–I’ll see you tomorrow for your appointment, man!”
“Looking forward to it!”
He hops behind the counter to give his girlfriend a more intimate goodbye before heading out of the restaurant, and I wave at her before heading out myself to get ready for Kodi’s adjustment.
Half an hour later, I’m just hopping out of the shower. Then I hear a voice from downstairs.
“Brian? You home? The door was open…”
“Yeah, just a second!” I holler down the stairs, clutching the towel to my waist. “Sorry, I was at the gym with Nick and got a workout in. Go ahead and make yourself at home!”
But instead of heading back to the office, I see Kodi swing herself around the bannister of the stairwell, bookbag in hand. “I found my old notes on record-keeping and thought I’d bring them over–”
And then she lifts her gaze and spots me, dripping wet, with nothing but a towel covering my junk.