11. The Present
The Present
Carla
“Pivot! Pivot!”
“Stop making me laugh. I can’t breathe.” I set my end of the table down and double over.
Mallory drops her end and wipes her eye with the back of her hand. “That is one of my favorite Friends episodes. It’s never not funny.”
“Come on. We’re almost there.” I grunt lifting the table again. “How much did you say you paid for this?”
“I didn’t. My neighbor bought a new table for his dining room so he put this one out on the curb.”
“I can’t believe someone would throw this out. It’s in great condition. Once we decide on a color scheme, I can paint it to match.”
“Who knew I’m living with Picasso over here? This is gonna be awesome.”
“Painting furniture hardly makes me Picasso.”
We reach the top of the stairs and carry the table into the dining room. Our dining room. In our new apartment.
Mallory’s right. This is going to be awesome.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Charlotte’s head pops through the doorway.
“In here!”
“This place looks great.” Charlotte wraps me in a hug. “I’m so happy you’re living here. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Tanner walks inside carrying two of the chairs from our dining set. “How did you guys get that table up the stairs? I wish you would’ve called me.”
“Pfft.” Mallory waves her hand. “We are strong, independent women who don’t need no man! Besides, Carla’s a beast.”
I flex my bicep and wink.
“Well, I’m impressed.” TJ’s voice rips through me like a shockwave.
I whirl around and lock eyes with him. “What are you doing here?”
He grins. “Nice to see you too. We came to help, but it looks like you ladies have it handled.”
“The sofa’s still down in the truck. You guys can make yourselves useful.” Mallory snaps her fingers. “We’ll organize the kitchen.”
TJ and Tanner salute her and trot down the stairs.
“What’s up with you two?” Charlotte asks.
I hike a shoulder, tearing into a box labeled Kitchen. “Nothing.”
“You’re so weird around him.”
“I’m not weird. You’re weird.”
“Good one, comeback queen.” Mallory nudges me with her elbow. “Are you a lesbian?”
Charlotte smacks her forehead. “Mal! We already went over this. You can’t go around asking people if they’re gay.”
“Why not?”
“Because … you just can’t.”
“I think I need to know if my roommate plans on ogling my goodies while I’m in the shower.”
I laugh. “I’m not a lesbian. Your goodies are safe. TJ just … isn’t my type.”
“Hot as hell with abs carved out of stone isn’t your type?”
Charlotte stifles a giggle. “Carla likes the clean-cut guys.”
“Ah, so you like them safe.” Mallory scrunches her nose. “Safe is boring. Know what my motto is?”
“I really need to get laid?”
Mallory flings an oven mitt at me. “No. My motto is: Better sorry than safe. You won’t have any fun in life if you’re always playing it safe.”
“I second that,” Charlotte adds.
I once thought Joe was safe. Look how that turned out. Maybe Mal’s on to something.
The boys are back with the couch, putting an end to the conversation. My traitorous eyes watch the muscles work under TJ’s skin as he passes us on the way to the living room. The T-shirt with cut-off sleeves he’s wearing gives me a clear shot at his lean, shredded obliques. The tattoos flow from one to the next, telling a story I can’t quite make out. His body is like a painting you want to stare at for hours, studying each and every brush stroke in awe.
It’s been a month since our sexcapades, yet my skin still ignites in his presence.
Mallory hands me a paper towel.
“What’s this for?”
“To wipe your drool.”
I shove her with a smirk.
“Where do you want this?” TJ calls.
“Oh, I’ll show him where I want it.” Mallory wiggles her eyebrows before heading into the living room.
Charlotte shakes her head. “She is insufferable.”
“She’s like a horny frat boy.”
“She’s a good friend though. I can’t believe my two best friends are living together. How do you feel?”
“A little nervous being in a new city, but I’m excited.”
“I can show you around this weekend. I’ll help you look for jobs too.”
“I was hoping I could work at the bakery with you and Mal. I’ll scrub toilets, work weekends. Whatever you need.”
Charlotte chews her bottom lip. “We already hired two people this summer. I don’t know if Dad can afford to take you on right now.”
Disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll find something else.”
“I can talk to Dad and see what he says.”
“No.” I wave my hand. “It’s totally fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You looking for a job?” TJ says as he emerges from the living room with Tanner and Mallory.
“Something that can work around my class schedule.”
“I have a few positions I’m looking to fill at my gym.”
“I’m sure Carla would love any position you put her in.” Mallory winks before ripping open another box.
If looks could kill, there would be a dead body on the floor of our new kitchen. Too bad she won’t make eye contact with me to see it before she dies.
TJ just smirks. Cocky bastard. “Why don’t you come by at seven tonight? I can show you around and we can talk.”
Pro: I’d have a job.
Con: The man I had mind-blowing sex with would be my boss.
Pro: Maybe we’ll have mind-blowing sex again.
Con: No, no, no. That is a very bad idea.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be there at seven.”
At 6:55pm,I’m standing inside TJ’s gym. No one is behind the front desk so I walk around, taking it all in. Thick ropes, weight racks, giant tires, and punching bags line the perimeter of the large warehouse. The gym seems empty.
Then I spot him. The octagon-shaped ring is toward the back of the room. The overhead lights act as spotlights on the two contenders circling each other. TJ’s opponent only reaches his waist. The boy can’t be more than seven-years old. He’s wearing headgear, fingerless boxing gloves, and a mouth guard that’s stretching his small lips to their limit. The sleeves of his shirt are cut off to match TJ’s.
“Jab, jab, swing!” TJ yells.
The boy fires a series of punches at the large red pad TJ holds.
“Nice. Again!”
Jab, jab, swing.
TJ drops the pad and ruffles the boy’s thick hair. “Great work today, Michael. Have a seat.”
Michael tosses his headgear and mouthpiece onto the floor. The two sit, and the boy crisscrosses his legs like TJ.
“What happened at school today?”
Michael shrugs and averts his eyes to his toes.
“Your dad said you got sent to the principal’s office. Is that true?”
Michael nods.
“What happened, Michael? I need you to talk to me.”
“Christopher stole my lunchbox and dumped my food onto the floor. Everyone saw.”
“Then what happened?”
“I punched him like you taught me to.”
TJ touches his finger to Michael’s chin, lifting his face to make eye contact. “I don’t teach you to hurt people. You know that.”
“But Christopher is a bully! Someone has to teach him a lesson. I’m tired of getting picked on.”
“It’s not your job to teach him a lesson. It’s your job to worry about yourself. Keep yourself out of trouble. Punching a bully doesn’t fix the problem.”
“I’m just a kid. How am I supposed to fix the problem?”
“You’re not just a kid. You’re powerful. You’re smart. You can do more than you think. But you can’t go around punching everyone who’s mean to you. Otherwise, Dad won’t let you train with me anymore. Do you understand that what you did was wrong?”
“Yes,” Michael says, groaning. “I should’ve used my words like you told me to.”
“Words are more powerful than you realize. Even more so than your fists. He’s picking on you because he’s weak. Maybe he’s hurting. Maybe his life isn’t so great. Maybe he just needs a friend. I say you walk right up to Christopher tomorrow and invite him here.”
Michael’s eyes go wide. “You want him to come here so you can train him?”
“No. I want him to come here so you can train him. I want him to see how awesome you are. But he doesn’t have to know that.”
A smile spreads across Michael’s face. “I like that idea.”
“Good. That’s your homework. Let’s go see if Dad’s here.”
Michael’s shoulders slump. “Can’t we practice a few more moves?”
“Sorry, my man. Time’s up.” TJ stands and holds the bottom rope down with his foot so Michael can climb out of the ring.
Michael’s eyes land on me. “Who’s she?”
“This is Carla. She might be working here with us.”
I smile and wave. “Those were some serious punches you were throwing in there.”
Michael’s toothy grin lights up his face. “Thanks.” He cranes his neck to look at TJ. “You should hire her. She’s really pretty.”
My mouth drops open and TJ laughs. “She’s too old for you, bud.”
“But she’s not too old for you.”
“What are you, a matchmaker?” He nudges Michael’s rear end with his foot. “Go see if your dad is outside.”
Michael takes off toward the door.
“You’re early.” TJ wipes the sweat from his forehead with a towel.
“Aren’t you supposed to be punctual for a job interview?”
He grins and spreads his arms out wide. “Welcome to Heavy Weight.”
“Why would anyone bully that sweet boy?”
“Kids are cruel. Haven’t you ever been picked on?”
I nod as I recall junior high. “You’re looking at Clumsy Carla.”
“What earned you that nickname?”
“Dad’s here,” Michael shouts before bolting out the door.
“Shit. Be right back.” TJ sprints after him.
I watch through the glass as he kneels down to talk to Michael. Michael throws his arms around TJ’s neck, and then climbs into the back seat of his father’s car.
“Sorry about that,” TJ says, locking the front door and flipping the sign to ‘Closed.’ “I keep telling him not to run into the street.”
“It’s okay.”
“Let’s go to my office.”
I follow TJ behind the front desk to a door tucked into the corner. The nameplate on the door reads ‘Reggie Hart.’
“Who’s Reggie?”
“The previous owner.” TJ gestures to the chair in front of his desk and plops into the rolling chair behind it. “So, tell me why the kids called you Clumsy Carla.”
“The name’s pretty self-explanatory.”
“If I’m going to hire you, I need to know how clumsy we’re talking. I don’t need you injuring yourself and going out on workers’ comp.” TJ rocks back in his chair, the hint of a smile dancing on his lips.
“Can we just talk about the positions you have available?”
“What, no eye roll?”
“Are you trying to aggravate me?”
“It’s easy to do. You’re wound so tightly.”
“I am not.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your secretary outfit.”
“Are you disappointed?”
TJ’s eyes rove over my knee-length black dress. “Hardly.”
Heat spreads from my cheeks down my neck and chest.
He clears his throat and returns his eyes to mine. “So, I need someone to man the front desk from three ‘til close, Monday through Friday. Roger’s been there full-time, but his wife is on bedrest for the next six months and he needs to get his daughter from school.”
“I have all morning classes, so my afternoons are free.”
“I’m also interested in adding more classes to the schedule here. Something aimed at a different crowd, like a weekly yoga class. See how it goes.”
“I do yoga, but I’ve never been an instructor before. I’m sure you could find someone more qualified than me.”
He shrugs. “There will always be someone more qualified than you if you look hard enough. Sleep on it. Let me know your thoughts tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You start working the front desk tomorrow.”
“But you haven’t asked to see my resume.” I flip open the folder I’ve been holding and slide it across his desk.
TJ glances at it and laughs. “You actually typed this up for me?”
“You seem to be confused about how an interview is conducted.”
His arms fold over his chest. “Enlighten me.”
“I show up early. You note my punctuality and my professional appearance. I show you my resume. You look it over to see if I’m qualified for the position based on my experience.”
“I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me you’re qualified.”
“You don’t?”
“You’re high strung, so you’ll take the job seriously. I bet you’re organized as hell too. You’ve got a quick mouth, so you won’t take shit from anybody in here. And you’re gorgeous.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Guys always want to go to a gym that has a pretty face working behind the desk.”
I scoff. “That’s offensive.”
“I didn’t say your looks got you the job. I called you organized and smart. Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
“You said my looks would bring in customers. This isn’t Hooters.”
TJ scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. I take it back. You’re ugly as sin and you’ll scare everyone away from my business. That better?”
“Much.”
He chuckles and opens a drawer in his desk. Pulling out a shirt, he tosses it at me. “This is what you’ll wear. Pants can be jeans, sweats, yoga pants. Whatever you prefer. I don’t care as long as your ass isn’t hanging out of your shorts. I like to keep things professional here.”
I raise an eyebrow, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room. “Then it should go without saying that we can’t do the things we did last month. Ever again.”
“We fucked, Carla. You can say it.”
“Whatever you want to call it, we can’t let that happen if I’m going to work for you. That was a one-time thing. And very uncharacteristic of me.”
“Don’t you want to ask me about how much I’m going to pay you?”
“For the sex?”
“For the job. Get your head out of the gutter, love.”
My cheeks flame. “Oh. Right. That’s what I thought you meant.”
“It’ll be fifteen an hour. That’s $300 a week. If you teach a class, you’ll get more, of course.”
Pro: It’s more than minimum wage and I’d start tomorrow.
Con: My boss knows what I look like naked.
But I just moved into an apartment and need an income. Against my better judgement, I nod and stand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”