Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sutton
“Join the gym, they said. It’ll be fun, they said,” I complain to the ceiling as I lay here on the gym floor panting. The hospital I work for has a lower level gym that’s surrounded by nothing but windows for bystanders to walk by and gawk at you. “This is not what I consider as being a good time.”
“You alright there, Sutton?” Stephanie, or Skippy as everyone calls her around here asks me. She’s the welcome receptionist who works at the main entrance of the hospital lobby and she’s a hoot… usually. Right now, I don’t find anything about this situation remotely funny.
We met on my first day and have become fast friends, and since we’re close to the same age and I don’t have many of those, I accepted the hand of friendship.
Granted, while I’m all about being healthy, right now we’re doing some fucked-up version of a bootcamp to ‘see where we’re at’ or some bullshit.
While I have zero problems continuing with the workout regime I started back in college, the things this instructor has had us doing has me reevaluating many of my life choices.
Chief among them, of course, is joining the gym.
I mean, I was planning on doing that anyhow because most of the time I enjoy working out and keeping the body I worked so hard to get in tiptop shape.
But this guy, Isaac, has a screw loose or something.
Burpees? Suicide slides? We’re not a bunch of football jocks, for heaven’s sake!
I was thinking we’d be doing jumping jacks, maybe modified pushups and shit.
Instead, I think I’m about to throw up everything I’ve ever eaten and I’ve sweated so much, I’m completely drenched, which is disgusting in and of itself.
Skippy reaches out her hand to help me up, only my body protests even that simple movement. “Leave me here, just bring me a pillow, snacks, and a Dr. Pepper,” I complain.
She barks out a laugh before shaking her head at me. “That kinda defeats the purpose, Sutton.”
“The purpose of what… life? Because right now, mine sorta sucks, Skippy.”
“Roll over and push yourself up,” she suggests.
“Like a rolly polly?” I ask, thinking that’s a brilliant idea.
Until I get up on all fours and my muscles freeze.
A knock on the window has me glancing up to see a man standing there smirking at me and raising his brows up and down.
I recognize him, but for now, I’m keeping that to myself.
I want to get the lay of the land before I start making waves. “Gross.”
“That’s Allen Jeffries, I’d steer clear of him as much as you can. He’s a horndog who doesn’t understand the word no,” Skippy advises.
“He’ll understand the word once I nut punch him, as a matter of fact, he’ll be singing it in soprano,” I say, snorting.
If Bryan’s betrayal taught me anything, it was how to set and maintain a boundary.
This Allen Jeffries has no clue who he’s messing with, but I’m not a cowering teenage girl any longer.
No, I’ve got skills that I’ve honed over the years and I’m not afraid to use them to get my point across.
Granted, if he also works at the hospital, it could make for an awkward work environment, but that’ll depend on how he chooses to act.
Regardless, I’m not here to date within the hospital; that’s one way to cause major issues if something goes south.
“You’ve got a mean streak, don’t you, Sutton?” she asks around a giggle. “I like it. I have a feeling we’re going to become the best of friends.”
“Not many can handle all that’s me,” I joke, running my hand up and down my side before crying out, “ow! Even that small movement hurts.”
I mean, it’s only been a few months since I was last in the gym.
While I kept up with my dietary needs, I was so focused on finding a job, then packing up my life to move that I let that slide.
I can see now that I made a serious error in judgment.
Note to self—never, ever skip leg day again.
Or all-over cardio. Because I suspect if I had kept up my training, I wouldn’t be in as much agony as I am right now.
“Give it a week and your body will adjust,” Skippy states, but her smile contradicts her words.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes I see,” I banter, sneering at her. “Heads up, I’m not in a laughing mood. Maybe after a hot shower, and some caffeine, I’ll reconsider.”
“How about a power smoothie instead?” Skippy inquires. “That way you don’t undo all of the hard work you’ve done.”
“Listen, Skippy,” I say, hissing her name. “There’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, and that’s if you don’t feed me my daily dose of caffeine, I become a rabid monster. I would advise against keeping that away from me.”
“Duly noted,” she says, a teasing smile crossing her face.
“You’re going to be the worst best friend ever, Skippy, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the best, best friend you’ll ever have,” she sing songs.
“I don’t know you well, miss Skippy, but I’m already calling bullshit,” I counter. “You’re going to give me shit every time I pop a top on my soda, aren’t you?”
“Probably, but as long as you slip in water on a daily basis as well, I won’t yell too much,” she teases. “I mean, what good does it do you to get yourself into fighting shape and then destroy it by drinking a bunch of carbonated sugar?”
“Caffeine. Caffeine is what it does for me,” I grumble as I try again to get my body off the floor.
“Some people like coffee. I’m not one of those people.
Others like hot chocolate and while I do enjoy those, I usually drink one while I’m relaxing at night before bed.
Kind of like drinking warm milk,” I say when I see her wrinkling her nose.
“What? It’s a thing, Skippy, and it was something my grandmother got me in the habit of doing.
So, since I don’t drink it in the morning, I need my go-go juice to get my engine started if you want me functional, plain and simple.
As far as water goes, I fill up my thirty-two ounce tumbler four times every single day, my friend.
My kidneys work quite well, based on the path I’ve worn from my office to the restroom. ”
By now, she’s rolling on the floor, laughing her ass off, because during my monologue, I’ve been slowly getting myself back on my feet, using whatever’s close by to grab onto to keep me steady. Quite simply, I. Am. Dying.
I know it, Isaac knows it, hell, that weirdo who made obscene gestures knows it. Still, I know I’m giving Skippy a lot of shit right now, and yes, I’ll ache over the next few days, but deep inside, there’s a sense of satisfaction that I did it.
Me. Sutton Alexander. Former dowdy teenager who was overweight, frumpy, and in bad need of a fairy godmother. Hell, even though I’ve been so damn busy these past few months that I’ve skipped so many workouts to bring me to this point, I haven’t gained a damn pound.
Finally on my feet, I lean my forehead against the mirror, uncaring that I’m leaving a sweatstained mark. It’ll give the staff who cleans at night something to do, and that’s not being rude by any means, it’s just reality.
Hearing the loud rumble of a convoy of bikes has me turning to face the glass to see roughly half a dozen or so bikers roar by.
There’s something familiar about one of them, but I don’t understand how that’s even possible.
The only bikers I’ve ever known were Gemini’s family.
A small smile plays on my lips when I remember how kind they were to me on graduation day.
Still, curiosity has me asking, “Who are they?” as I stare at Skippy with my eyes wide open.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I’ve heard rumors through town,” she mumbles, glancing the same way as I am.
“Care to explain what those rumors would be?” I ask, shuffling my way over to my gym bag and hefting it up and over my shoulder, slumping from the heavy weight. “Damn, that was lighter when I came in.”
“So, the town has a local MC but the gossip through town was that they did something bad and were taken out, if you catch my drift,” she says, peering over at me to catch my reaction.
When I sigh and roll my wrist indicating that she needs to expound on her comment, she does.
“Some of the members weren’t such good guys.
They terrorized the town and did some… unsavory things. ”
“Unsavory, how?” I probe, not liking that there’s a bunch of assholes ruling the town. “And if they’re such bad guys, why are they still around?”
“That’s the thing, Sutton. They’ve been restructured, for lack of a better word.”
“That’s… interesting,” I muse. “Care to expand on that?”
“I can only tell you what I know because I hate people who spread bullshit when they have no clue what they’re talking about,” she explains.
“Anyway, some of the old members were greasing hands and getting away with stuff the law wouldn’t otherwise allow.
The head honcho, from their main chapter or whatever it’s called, came in and forced them out.
Like I said, he’s now restructuring and bringing in new people to run things. ”
“For someone who thinks they don’t know much you know an awful lot,” I say, raising my brows in her direction.
“I pay attention to the important details and dismiss the things that are made up,” she remarks. “Plus, I kinda overheard the big guy I mentioned earlier talking to one of his men on the street when he was in line for the taco truck.”
“You’re a bad girl, Skippy,” I tease, smiling at her. “Listening in on conversations meant to be private.”
“Hey, I look at it this way. If it’s meant to be private you shouldn’t be openly discussing it where anyone can listen in,” she harrumphs.
“Touché,” I say, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. “Where’s that taco truck and are they open in white out conditions?”
“No, but they do have a shop that they open on those days,” she says, giving me a side-eyed look. “You want to go, don’t you?”
“You read me so well,” I state, looping my arm through hers and dragging her out of the gym. “This is going to be a beautiful friendship, Skippy.”