18. Chapter 18
eighteen
H eavy and Mac brought beers back in with them from the garage, and settled in the living room for a talk about motorcycles. A discussion which Con was happy to join in, since he lived for the day he could have his own.
Cassie loved riding with her dad, and she might possibly want her own someday. But she didn’t care to discuss engines and other parts, so she settled in a chair with a new romance on her phone app, one of RaeAnn’s cozy throws, and a cup of hot instant cider, and let their voices drift pleasantly around her. And if the stalwart hero of her book looked like Heavy, and sounded like him too… well, that was hardly her fault when he was right here in their living room.
Cassie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that by that evening, Heavy seemed to have forgotten that teasing her, almost flirting with her and just plain getting a rise out of her were some of his fave occupations when she was around.
No, by the end of their second day together, she was certain. She was disappointed.
Let down.
And deeply, hurtfully reminded that for him, she was on a level with Con. A little buddy, who happened to be female. Someone to be listened to and chatted with, sure. But the only games he seemed interested in with her were the family kind.
Because he had a skanky girlfriend and club party girls at his beck and call to play adult games with.
And it wasn’t like she hadn’t given him plenty of opportunity to chat with her… or tease her, if he wanted to.
She’d sat beside him at supper that first night, and when they all played poker. She’d cued up a list of rock’n’roll music just for him, in case he got tired of their family standby of country. She’d let him know that he was welcome to use the blender any time he wanted one of his protein smoothies, and shown him where Con’s protein was, and the mixed frozen fruit in the freezer.
She’d even made up a bed for him on the sofa with sheets and two blankets and an extra pillow, and wished him sweet dreams
And through all of this, she’d gotten bland smiles and quiet thanks, after which he’d turned away and gotten busy with anything else but paying attention to her.
So, on the morning of the third day, the thirtieth of December, when they all woke to find that the blizzard was over, Cassie had been awake for a long time. She’d been up and showered and got herself ready for the day, determined that she was gonna say goodbye to Heavy looking good.
When the rest of her family came out of their rooms and downstairs, she had the coffee made, and a smile on her face.
“Hey, sleepyheads,” she greeted them gaily. “I guess you didn’t leave your bedroom lights on, hmm? Mine woke me up ear- lee ! So I figured, get up and get the first crack at that shower–yay!”
“Save us any hot water?” Con grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“The new hot water heater I put in for your ma is plenty big enough,” Cooler told him. “Get up there and take advantage before we toss you outside, stinky.”
“Fine.” Con vaulted up the stairs, and Rae moved to the coffee maker while Cooler looked to the living room.
“You already up and packed, brother?” he asked, looking past Cassie.
For the first time, as if she had not realized he was awake, Cassie allowed herself to look toward the long sofa, and the man who stood at the far end, by the entryway.
He wore his coat and beanie, his bags at his feet.
She’d come down and done her kitchen work quietly, knowing that he was only several feet away, on the sofa.
But it seemed he could be stealthy too. He couldn’t wait to get out of here, hmm?
Fine, she couldn’t wait for him to leave.
She popped up onto one of the stools at the island with her coffee mug at hand, and turned her attention to her phone. This way, she didn’t have to look at him.
“Yeah,” Heavy answered her dad. “Thought I’d get out of your hair. Go by my gym and check it out, then see if my apartment is livable. Cooler, RaeAnn, thanks again for having me. Means a lot.”
“Anytime,” Rae said warmly. “We enjoyed your company. You probably kept us all from getting in a knock-down fight over Monopoly, or something.”
“Glad I could help. Okay, uh, I’m gonna get going. Tell Con I’ll see him at the gym. Cassie… later.”
“Bye,” Cassie called sweetly without looking at him. She was busy texting.
SuprCass: ‘God is gd!! H finly levng!!’
FunDella: ‘U R wrd,’ her friend texted back. ‘Run giv hm big kiss!! Mb he’ll stay ;D’
SuprCass: ‘U Suck! No way!’
FunDella: ‘ U no U wnt 2! Srsly, im sooo gld its ovr!! I wnt out of hse. Lunch??’
SuprCass: ‘Me 2!! Btr see whts opn frst, k? Ltrs.’
Outside on the front walk, his bags over his shoulder, Heavy sucked in a deep breath of clean, chilly air. Air that did not carry the damp, warm scent of freshly showered Cassie on it, mingled with fresh coffee and whatever cinnamon goodness she’d been warming up in the oven.
Damn, he’d barely kept his feet planted on the floor in the living room, and his mouth shut. All he’d craved was striding into that kitchen, and grabbing coffee, breakfast and her… not necessarily in that order.
He was fine, he reminded himself, tromping through the last drift between him and his truck, which kind of resembled a snowdrift as well. He’d made it through the blizzard without embarrassing himself or enraging his hosts by trying to slide into their daughter’s bed.
Or by grabbing her any of the countless times she’d been right next to him, and pulling her close, where that damn voice inside kept telling him she was supposed to be.
‘ You know you want her ,’ it said slyly as she sat at his elbow at the table, snickering as she took the pot of pennies while her dad cussed and threw down his cards.
‘ Tell her you’re sorry for hurting her feelings ,’ it insisted when he walked into the kitchen for a drink of water and found her there at the sink. ‘Course then Con had barged in, and the moment was gone, to Heavy’s mingled relief and regret.
‘ Just grab her and kiss those soft, puffy pink lips already, ’ it groaned when she plopped down next to him on the sofa, when her folks were upstairs and Con was off somewhere.
By the time he’d awakened at four am, to one of the Carsons’ living room lamps shining in his eyes, and the sound of a snowplow on the street outside, and Cassie’s shower scents teasing his senses, he was ready to walk across town to his gym barefoot, if that’s what it took to get him out of there.
She was pretty, sweet, funny, and hot as hell. And she was even a great whatdoyoucallit–a homemaker. She’d helped Rae and Cooler make him feel at home, she’d worked right alongside her stepmom to prep and clean up all the meals and snacks, and she’d done every damn thing but tuck him in that first night.
And worst of all, the look in those big blue eyes had let him know she’d have been happy to do that, as well. Which was when he’d known he was fucked, and not in the fun way, if he let things get outta hand. Because she’d be all in… and he’d be in over his head, in more ways than one.
But he’d made it out of there without a wrong move.
He was a free man.
And as soon as he had some food in his belly, and some coffee in his system, he could appreciate that, instead of that stupid voice telling him that he’d chosen the wrong door to walk through.
By New Years’ Eve, the drifts from the blizzard had been dealt with, the roads were all clear, and the Flyers were ready to party.
Con and Amber, who would be spending the evening at the Carson's house, helped Cassie and RaeAnn prep two huge trays of food. One was a charcuterie board they were copying from a Pinterest post, with much laughter at their attempts to emulate the perfect salami roses portrayed, the other a fruit and veggie tray that was, if they did say so–really fine, with flower shapes cut from slices of orange, pineapple, apple, and cantaloupe, and leaves of green melon and kiwi fruit, strewn artistically on a bed of green grapes and lettuce leaves.
There were two plates of flawed flowers, leaves and scraps that Amber assured them she and Connor would be happy to eat, along with the take-3 U’
FunDella: ‘3 U 2. Tk 2moro. Hpy NY’
FunDella:’Imma spill sumpn on him. o_0’
This made Cassie laugh a little. Knowing her friend, she probably would.
She spent the evening curled up in a recliner, watching Marvel movies and sipping hot tea with honey and whiskey.
Connor and Amber shared the sofa, drinking soda and eating pizza, and then junk food. The teens were cute, sweet and funny together. They kept her from feeling completely lonely.
And Cassie only wondered every ten minutes or so, what Heavy and his bitch of a girlfriend were doing. Still partying it up at the clubhouse with most of the other Flyers, having the time of their lives? Or maybe—and this was even worse—celebrating more intimately, alone together.
Mac and RaeAnn arrived home just after the time-delayed ball drop in Times Square. Mac and Con gave Amber a ride home. Cassie went up to bed.
New Year’s Day, Cassie woke late—thank Jesus, because she felt like death warmed over.
She trudged into the bathroom, ate several antacids, which she just barely managed to keep down with a few cautious sips of water.
Then she stepped into a hot shower and stayed there for twice as long as usual.
She dressed with a complete lack of enthusiasm, pulling on her warm black-and-purple leggings, a black, funnel-neck, chenille sweater and her fuzzy slippers. She looked at her pale face and damp hair in the mirror, and reached for her black beanie.
Thus cozily attired, she padded downstairs.
The coffee was on, so someone had remembered to set it up last night. She tasted it with caution, but luckily, it was drinkable. Not her, then. She usually put in too much coffee, or not enough.
She filled her fave mug with coffee and creamer and went to curl up on the sofa, her phone and the remote in her hand.
She brought up one of her favorite movies, and curled up to wait out her hangover.
However, this lasted only until she checked her messages.
One of these was a terse message to call her boss. He informed her casually that she was out of a job. Cassie was so shocked she dropped her phone, and had to scramble for it among the throw pillows on the sofa.
“What? Why?” she asked. “I thought—I mean, just last week you told me I was doing a great job.”
Granted, he’d been talking about her window displays, but since they’d had plenty of customers in since, Cassie figured that counted.
“Yeah, it’s not you, man,” Warren said, yawning. “Things just slow down in January, y’know? So the kid and I can handle the place.”
“Wait—has this been your plan all along?” she managed, her voice cracking because she was so angry. “To just let me go after Christmas?”
“Well, yeah … that’s just the way things go in retail, man,” he said, sounding distracted. She could hear a TV in the background.
“You think maybe you could have, I don’t know, warned me?” she asked, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “So I could look for another job?”
“Eh, you’ll find somethin’,” he said. “You’re a nice chick. Customers like you.”
“Thanks,” she gritted. “I’ll be in tomorrow, to pick up my check. And the glowing reference you’re going to write me, right?”
Because if he didn’t, she was going to threaten him with Streak, the Flyers’ attorney. She wasn’t sure she actually had any legal grounds to sue Warren, but sometimes the threat of such worked just as well. This, she remembered from one of her business classes.
“Sure, kid,” Warren said, and yawned again.
Ri-ight, if he stayed awake long enough. She’d better type out her own rec and have him sign it—-if he even remembered how to write.
Cassie ended the call with a stab of her finger. Then she grabbed the nearest throw pillow, pulled it over her face, and screamed. All this did was make her cough, and it hurt her throat.
“Morning,” called a cheery voice from the kitchen. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Rae, also attired in comfy leggings and tunic, although she managed to look sexy and chic in hers, a blush velour top and pale gray leggings. She poured herself a mug of coffee and brought it into the living room.
When she saw Cassie’s face, her brows went up. “What’s wrong?”
Cassie sighed heavily, swallowing the impending ache of tears. What wasn’t wrong? Her entire life had imploded, seemed like. No job and no boyfriend thanks to her father.
But Rae had asked a nice question, and Cassie wasn’t gonna lay all her crap on her stepmom. “Uh… my pothead boss just laid me off.”
“Oh, honey. What a rotten deal,” her stepmom said. “No advance notice, at all?”
“Zip, zero.” Cassie took another drink of coffee, then gazed gloomily into her mug.
Rae cleared her throat. “Want to reconsider working fashion retail?”
Cassie raised her gaze, staring at her stepmom under her bangs. “Ummm… don’t know if you remember, but I was actually kinda fashion challenged until recently, when my fairy step-god-mother waved her wand and helped me out with some wardrobe juju magic.”
Rae laughed gently. “You’ve learned a lot, though.”
"Anyway," she went on briskly. "I happen to know that Nadya, one of Ellen's two retail clerks at her E Boutique is leaving to have a baby, which means Ellen will for sure be hiring.”
Cassie's heart beat faster, but then her shoulders slumped. "I don’t know… your mom hasn’t seen the new me, so I’m afraid she won’t even want to interview me.”
“Well, as to that, I do have an in with her," RaeAnn said, fluttering her lashes. “In fact, no time like the present. I’ll call her now.”
“Okay. I’ll go, uh … “ find something to do, that did not involve eavesdropping on what might not be a positive convo. And if it went wrong, she did not need a play-by-play, just a wrap-up, thanks very much.
She vaulted upstairs, looked around her room, and then began to make her bed at top speed. She yanked the comforter so hard, it flew off the bed, nearly pulling her with it. Rolling her eyes at herself, she tossed it back onto the bed, and tidied it.
As she was finishing up, RaeAnn called her from downstairs. She was smiling when Cassie hurried down the stairs.
"You have an interview at E Boutique on Friday morning … if you’re sure."
Cassie let out a hoarse squeak—part excitement, part terror. "Uh, sure I’m sure. What time?"
"Nine am. Listen, I’d better get going. Talk later?"
"Thanks," Cassie managed. "Later."
As Rae hurried out to the garage, Cassie slumped to the carpeted stairs.
Was she sure she wanted to do this? Ellen was so much like Cassie’s own mom—married to their businesses.
She was also everything Cassie was not; elegant--in an older woman way, reserved and extremely self-possessed. Cassie had self-confidence, but it was more the kind that led her to try new things and meet new people. At the wedding, Ellen hadn’t seemed to give a single shit what anyone else thought of her—she was too busy passing her own judgment on everyone else there.
"Hey, did you fall down the stairs, or what?" Connor demanded from above and behind her. "Do I need to call dad?”
Cassie rose, moving aside to give him room to jog down the stairs. "No, I’m fine," she said. "Just having a moment. Your mom got me an interview at your grandma Ellen's store."
He turned from the fridge, the orange juice in his hand, and gave her an odd look.
"What?" she demanded.
"Well," he said slowly, pouring himself a glass of juice. "It's just that, even my mom says gran sells old lady shit. Well, actually she said 'mature fashions', but same thing, right? You sure that's, like, your thing?"
Cassie sighed. Great, even Con didn’t think it was a good idea for her to work with Ellen.
"Look, I need a job,” she told him. “And I can learn a lot from your grandma about sales, and customer relations. So, I’ll make it my thing." She would.
He nodded, but still looked dubious. Then his phone played a guitar riff, and his face lit up. "Gotta go. It's Amber."
Cassie made a kissy face, and he grinned before running up the stairs, juice in one hand, phone in the other. She heard his voice, muffled by walls, as he answered the call.
She rubbed her middle, her insides in a turmoil. Was she making a huge mistake, trying to shoehorn her way into E Boutique? Was Con right—that she didn’t match Ellen’s style, that she wouldn’t fit in there?
She already knew her dad couldn’t stand Ellen. Cassie smirked to herself. Mac had a particular look he assumed whenever she was mentioned, a kind of stoic, ‘I’m gonna keep my mouth shut no matter what’ look that did not fit him at all. Anyone who knew Mac knew that he hated minding his own, and shared his opinions regularly and at length. But he was also crazy about RaeAnn, and he knew family conflict upset her, so for her, he held his tongue.
The job at E was a job, though.
A better job than selling the random crap they got in at Mamba Mama’s, she told herself. Except that if she’d had her way it wouldn’t have been just random crap—it could have been good, even great stuff. Quirky, fun, awesome stuff that people would talk about, post about online, and stop in for when they traveled through the Spokane area.
But enough of that. That chance was gone.
Enough self-pity, she had a mess to clean up. She hopped up, followed Connor upstairs. In her room, she turned up her music loud on her phone, and began to gather clothing and toss it on the bed to sort and put away again, while Elle King sang ‘Exes and Os’.
Not exactly her own theme song, but hey, if a girl couldn’t dream, what good was life?
Heavy was working alone one evening in mid-January, manning the check-in desk and looking over client accounts at the same time. He was squinting at the computer screen, because he had the grandaddy of all head colds, and his sinuses were so fucked-up even his eyeballs hurt.
He never got sick—ever. But this virus was making the rounds, had swept through the local schools, workplaces, and even the Flyers’ clubhouse. His usual luck had run out, and he felt like day-old roadkill.
At least the holidays were well over, and he didn’t have to pretend to be having a great time.
‘Cause New Year’s Eve had gone flat for him like a week old keg, and New Year’s Day he’d finally had a chance to sleep in, and then couldn’t. After a workout, he’d done chores around the gym and then headed to the clubhouse for some company, but found only Bouncer, Snake and Darlene and some friends of theirs playing cards, drinking and vaping. At least Sara had gotten smoking banned inside the clubhouse, thank God.
After that, life had gotten back to normal, although he wasn’t the only one with the January blahs. Tempers were shorter around the clubhouse, except of course, for those couples who could afford to hop a plane to somewhere hot.
Pete, Lesa and their baby took off to Florida for some brewers’ thing, and came back tanned and smiling. Stick and Sara were next, taking their entire brood to Hawaii for a week at a resort that had its own beach. Moke and Shelle had family of some kind there to stay with, and were heading over after her first set of exams. T and Manda wanted to join them, but Manda was fussing about waiting for ‘off-season’ plane fares.
Rocker and Billie flew to San Diego for some gamer con and then some time on their own. Rav took Della and Boo south to the Carolina coast. Even Streak and Rissa, who were on a strict budget, managed to get south to some lawyers’ thing in Vegas.
Heavy was fine putting off travel for a year or two. He was livin’ his dream here, and he’d known coming in that it was gonna be a slog before he got his head above water–or snow level–enough that he could afford any kind of fun vacations.
Still, it was kinda hard to watch the happy couples jet off and come home tanned and relaxed, not to mention smiling from all that tropical sex.
Especially when he was, and had been, in a slump.
Going home alone, night after night. He hadn’t seen Britt for a while, and that didn’t bother him at all. He wasn’t getting up to any quickies at the club, either.
And he’d had offers. He was decent looking, in shape, showered regularly and paid attention to how to get his partner off, so the club party girls liked him.
But for some reason, he just … didn’t want any of them lately.
Right now, all he wanted was to be face down in his bed, lights out.
Unfortunately, Jason had taken the early shift, worked out with a couple of his buddies and was now in the locker room, getting ready to head home. If not for this, Heavy could be home in bed himself, or at least in his recliner with a game on the TV, zoning out with a dose of night-time cold medicine in his system.
Instead, he was leaning over the computer with both hands braced, struggling to use this slack time to catch up on things.
When the front door of the gym opened, bringing with it a gust of frigid winter evening air, Heavy looked up, ready to greet one of his clients with at least an attempt at civility.
But he didn’t recognize the young guy who came in the front doors and let it swing shut behind him. He looked cautiously around the gym, before approaching the desk.
Maybe he was a prospective client. That’d be good—Heavy Iron Fitness could use some more monthly payments coming in, for sure.
The kid was pale and skinny, with the look of someone who maybe spent too much time gaming and not enough exercising. Heavy could help him fix that. He just hoped the kid didn’t want the whole intro tour tonight. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for it.
As the kid approached the desk, Heavy nodded. "Help you?" he asked, although to his own ears, it sounded more like ‘Heb yoo?’.
"Yeah," the kid croaked. Looking self-conscious as only teenagers can, he cleared his throat and tried again. “You the one who sells the special workout stuff?"
Well, that was an easy request. "Yeah," Heavy said. “We sure do.”
The kid’s eyes lit up. “Awesome. C-can I get some?"
"Sure," Heavy said. He waved his hand, indicating the supplements in the display case below the counter. “We’ve got chews, tablets or powder mix for smoothies.”
The kid blinked at the supplements under the counter and then screwed up his face like Heavy had offered him a handful of dog crap. "No, man,” he said, his voice cracking. “No. I want the good stuff."
"The good stuff,” Heavy repeated, narrowing his aching eyes at the kid.
His trouble sensor was pinging, loud and clear even through his stuffed up head. After a stint in competition body-building, and working at the Tacoma gym, he knew damn well what ‘the good stuff’ was. “And you heard you could get that here, at my gym?”
The kid’s eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Y-you're not the right guy.”
"What guy? Who are you talking about?" Heavy demanded, straightening to his full height.
His face going pale, the kid bolted for the front door, disappearing into the winter evening darkness.
Heavy took one step to follow him and then gave it up in disgust. He’d never catch the kid, not feeling the way he did. And even if he did, he couldn’t do much, other than try and scare the kid away from illegal supplements.
"Who was that?" Jason asked, sounding out of breath.
Heavy turned to see his sole employee jogging toward the desk. Gym bag in hand, the prospect was dressed in street clothes, which for him meant designer jeans, a tight, maroon, button up shirt, motorcycle boots that looked like they'd never seen much use, and a new down jacket. His hair was damp, face flushed from his workout and shower
Heavy sighed his aggravation. "Just some dumb kid looking for ‘roids or some shit. I told him he wasn't gonna find them here."
“Wait, what?” Jason turned like a bird dog scenting a downed duck and peered out the front windows of the gym, even though the kid was long gone, the taillights of his small car disappearing into the falling snow.
Heavy scowled after the car. “You hear about any other gyms in the area selling shit to kids?"
Jason looked back to him, eyes wide. “Huh? No, no, man,” he said quickly, both hands up before him. “Not me. Haven’t heard a thing. But you know this is my gym now, so I’m not in the know about the, uh, other places."
Looking back, Heavy would see that if he hadn’t felt so utterly crappy, he’d have noted something off about Jason’s response.
But at the time, his head pounding like a hollow snare drum, he merely grunted in response to the prospect’s good-night, leaned down to grab another tissue from under the desk, and blew his nose for approximately the hundredth time that day. Goddamn, it was sore.
Nine pm needed to hurry the fuck up, so he could lock up and head home to bed.
Alone, as usual.
January dragged on
In his bodybuilding competition days, Heavy had followed a special, high-protein, low-fat diet. These days, he worked out hard and ate well because it made him feel great, and because he never again wanted to be that pudgy kid who was the butt of jokes.
But once in a while he cut loose, eating and drinking whatever the hell he wanted.
Attending the Flyers’ bi-monthly weekend barbecues meant he was surrounded by fantastic food and great beer, so he enjoyed himself.
In late January, Britt stopped by the gym as he was leaving for the barbecue. Being a Saturday evening, the gym was still open. Jason, sulky at missing a Flyers’ party, was manning the desk.
Heavy had already made a mental note to stop back by at, or soon after closing time, to make sure Jason did so correctly.
When Britt more or less invited herself to the clubhouse with him, Heavy thought it over and then shrugged. He wasn’t sure how good of a time she’d have, since she had never tried to make friends with any of the old ladies. And he wasn’t gonna babysit her, but what the hell. If she wasn’t having fun, she could find the door by herself.
“Sure,” he said, beeping the locks on his truck. “Drive yourself, so you can leave when you want, all right? I might stay the night at the clubhouse.”
She blinked, like she’d expected him to bundle her right into his truck, overjoyed she wanted to attend a club event on his arm.
Honestly, he did not care if she came or not. He’d about had it with the way she kept telling him how to sell her product, which was part of running his gym.
And he was not gonna waste much more personal time on a woman who didn’t try to fit in with his club. In fact, he decided as he pulled into the crowded parking lot at the clubhouse, Britt’s little sedan close behind him, if she pulled any of her snippy shit tonight with any of the Flyers, he was done.
But, typical of Britt, she either didn’t clue into his impatience with her, or she figured her golden pussy outweighed all else–even though he’d been making excuses not to fuck her for weeks.
They moved through the lines out at the barbecues, where Heavy loaded up his plate with ribs and brisket, and another with sides. Britt put a single rib and a few dabs of salads on her plate, and followed him back into the club.
There were two empty chairs at the table with Streak and Rissa, Pete and Lesa, and T-Bear.
“Hey, folks,” Heavy greeted everyone. “T, where’s Manda?”
“Home on the couch with a shitty cold,” T grumbled, shoveling in another mouthful of scalloped potatoes. “I’m headed back soon as I eat. Gotta take care o’ my honey-pot.”
Heavy grimaced in sympathy. “That’s too bad. Tell her I said hey, and hope she’s better real soon.” He grabbed the rib on top of the pile on his plate, and took a huge bite. He nearly groaned with pleasure as the meat practically melted on his tongue, bursting with spicy, smoky flavor.
“Me too,” T agreed around his mouthful of potatoes. “Don’t like seein’ her all bundled in blankies, nothin’ but her little red nose pokin’ out.”
“She should take the Fitness Lab supplements,” Britt announced. “Then she wouldn’t get sick.”
T paused with another forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth, giving her a look of disfavor. “You a doc now?”
Typically, instead of shutting the hell up, Britt forged on. “No, but I’m very knowledgeable about nutrition and—”
“Damn, these ribs are primo,” Streak said loudly. Heavy appreciated the interruption. Britt needed to quit before T got pissed off. That was unusual, but when it happened, it could be monumental.
“They sure are,” Heavy agreed, ignoring Britt, who was staring at Streak as if he’d hopped up and waved his cock at her. “And I’m gonna eat my fill—if T doesn’t beat me to the rest of ‘em.”
“I might fight you for the last one,” Lesa put in, a sassy grin on her pretty face. “My appetite will not quit, now that I’m breast-feeding.”
Heavy made a face of exaggerated fear. “I’m not getting’ between a mama bear and her meat supply.”
“I’m her meat supply,” Pete said, a smirk on his handsome face. “All the rest is just snacks.”
Lesa groaned as everyone at the table—except Britt—burst out laughing.
T held up one huge paw for a high five, and Pete slapped it, laughing as he dodged his wife’s sharp elbow. Heavy figured the guy got a lot of practice, the way he ran his mouth.
He set down the last of the rib bones on his plate, and wiped his hands with a napkin. “I’m gonna get some more of those.”
“Really, Marcus?” Britt asked, her brows high. “You’ve already had the equivalent of two days’ worth of carbs, not to mention that the fat content in all of this is astronomical.” She waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed everyone’s laden plates.
Against the background of loud music and chatter from the other tables, Heavy’s friends went silent, watching him, T-bear with a big, barbecue-sauce stained smirk that said he knew what was comin’.
And he was not wrong. Heavy was through putting up with her tone-deaf shit.
He reached over and grabbed the last rib from T’s plate. He took a huge bite, then grabbed a huge chunk of buttered cornbread off his own plate and stuffed that in his mouth as well.
Lesa giggled, and the others grinned, watching him.
He waggled his brows at them. Chunks of cornbread fell from his over-full mouth as he chewed. Britt watched with clear revulsion as he shoved in more, leaning toward her. “Thiss so-oo ‘ood,” he mumbled around the food, more crumbs flying.
T guffawed. “Looks like he ain’t takin’ your advice either, doc.”
Pete, Lesa, Streak and Rissa were all snickering now.
Britt’s cheeks went scarlet under her makeup, and her thin lips tightened. She tossed her head. “It seems I’m the only one here who cares about controlling my weight,” she said, glaring at Rissa and Lesa.
Rissa gasped. Lesa glared back, curling her lip. “Like any of us want a bony ass like yours, bitch!”
Pete smirked, his long arm around his wife’s shoulders. “What she said.”
“Preach, brother!” T bellowed, smacking the table in his delight. All the glasses on the table jumped, and ice water sloshed from Britt’s glass, all over her.
Britt shot to her feet, swiping at her wet top. “That’s it. I’m leaving.”
Heavy shoved back his chair and stood as well, swiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Good. I’ll walk you out.”
She grabbed her coat and bag in frigid silence, and stalked to the front doors. There, she made a visible effort to control her anger, giving him a big-eyed look. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Marcus. But your friends—”
He held up a hand, palm out. “My friends are who they are, Britt,” he said. “And so am I. We’re not gonna change, and I guess neither are you. So, you shouldn’t come back here.”
Her head went back, her mouth open. “But—but… you can’t mean that. We—we’re in a relationship, Marcus.”
Jesus. For a smart woman with a career in sales, she could be really dense.
“No, not really,” Heavy said bluntly. “When I want pussy, a man like me can get it. I don’t have to take your bitchy attitude with it. Now head out, yeah?”
She drew in a long hissing breath, and gave him a look of utter fury. “I was already leaving. And as for you—you’ll be sorry, Marcus Hanks.”
He doubted that.
What was she gonna do, pull her damn supplements from his gym? Fine with him, they sold well, but his profit margin on them was slim. He could do without them and her.
Britt rushed across the parking lot to her car, cursing as she tripped on an icy rut and had to windmill her arms to keep her balance in her high-heeled boots. Stupid, biker cretins couldn’t even have their lousy lot plowed.
She slammed her car door behind her, and sat for a moment in the driver’s seat. She was still so enraged she wanted to hit the gas and drive her car right into those glass doors on the front of the damn clubhouse.
Gradually, though, she found her rage at Marcus and his low-life friends being joined by another emotion—fear. She couldn’t lose Heavy Iron Fitness as a product outlet. She just couldn’t. The place was full of teens and twenty-somethings hanging out and dreaming of being actual body-builders like Marcus.
Oh, the damn Fitness Lab supplements were selling, but they weren’t the important product she offered. The product that Marcus’ younger clients were just beginning to buy. The product that would make her enough money to retire at a ridiculously young age, somewhere the beautiful people like her hung out, like southern California, or even the tropics.
But if she lost Heavy Iron Fitness as a supply link for hero, her supplier would be unhappy. And when Damian Quest was unhappy, bad things happened. Thus, the visceral fear that made her hands sweat on the steering wheel, and her muscles tighten until they cramped.
But… she narrowed her eyes at the clubhouse before her. Maybe there was another way she could make sure their supply chain was secure.
Instead of driving to the hotel near the Spokane airport where she stayed when she was in the area, Britt drove directly from the clubhouse to Marcus’ gym.
She strutted in the front doors. Marcus’ muscular blond employee was bent over his phone when she walked in. He straightened, gaze still on the small screen. “Sorry, ma’am, we’re just closing.”
Britt leaned over the counter, watching as his gaze moved to her breasts, displayed to advantage in her low-cut top. “Hi, Jason,” she purred.
He swallowed visibly, and finally dragged his gaze up to her face. “Hi, Britt. Uh, Heavy’s not here.”
“That’s okay. I was actually looking for you.”
“You were?” His gaze darted around the gym, even though it was empty except for them. “I got the cash for you, don’t worry,” he muttered.
She widened her eyes at him. “I trust you, Jason. Don’t worry about that.”
He relaxed visibly. “Okay, so what’s up?”
She traced her fingertips gently down her cleavage, and his gaze followed, his pupils dilating. “Why don’t you lock up and we’ll talk about that?” she invited.
“Yeah? I mean, hell yeah. Let’s… talk.” He nearly vaulted the reception desk in his eagerness to get to the front doors and lock them.
She watched him, smiling to herself. Really, this was going to be so easy, it was hardly even a challenge.
Heavy might have moved on, but she’d make sure his sole employee was firmly in her grasp… and that Heavy Iron Fitness was still carrying both of the products she needed to sell to be successful.
After leaving the clubhouse much later, Heavy drove to the gym just to make sure Jason had closed up correctly.
The small row of businesses sat still, only nightlights on inside each one. Steam from the heating plant swirled up into the frosty night air, and ice gleamed on the frozen snowbanks at the edges of the empty parking lot.
Everyone but him, and the driver of the semi-truck cruising slowly along the main drag a block away, were snug at home with their families. Even his local club brothers–well, except Bounce, who’d be headed home alone to his trailer. Toro roamed between here and the Tri, but he seemed to have a woman in both towns, so Heavy wasn’t sure he counted.
Hell of a way to look at his bachelor status. He and an old pot-smoking, half-drunk brother on one side, and the rest of his club smug and happy on the other, all with old ladies, many with kids.
His stay with Cooler’s family during the blizzard had been like a glimpse into another world, where family members actually liked each other, and got along despite being stuck together like that. And even when tempers had flared a couple of times, apologies had been quick to follow.
Yeah, that had been something. He rubbed a hand over his chest, where a strange hollow sensation had formed. That had really been something.
A motor revved on the main drag, startling him out of his reverie. He shook his head, because what the hell? He needed to get in, get out, and get home to sleep.
He hopped down from his truck and faced his gym, and set his fists on his hips. Reality check–he was good. He had this place, he was in fantastic shape, a woman any time he wanted one, and plenty of company at the club when he wanted that. He didn’t need to be mooning over what other people had.
When he walked into his office, he grimaced.
Why the hell did it smell like perfume back here? Almost like Britt’s favorite brand… but she had no reason to be here this late, so must be his imagination. Hell, maybe Jason was trying some new shaving cologne. He nearly bathed in the shit.
Heavy checked that everything was done the way he liked it, and left, locking up again. As he drove to his apartment, slowly on the icy side streets, he yawned.
He just needed a good night’s sleep, that was all.
Cooler, RaeAnn and Connor walked into the gym one Saturday morning in early February, checked in, and greeted Heavy.
He smiled at them. “Hey, how’s it goin’?”
“Great,” Con said.
“Good,” Rae said, and Cooler nodded.
“Where’s Cassie?” Heavy asked. “Haven’t seen her in quite a while. She all right?”
The couple exchanged a lightning glance and then Rae moved past her husband. “I’ll just go… get ready to workout,” she mumbled.
Cooler narrowed his eyes at Heavy. “About that–I’ve been wondering if there’s a problem between the two of you. Somethin’ happen I should know about?”
Heavy stared at him, taken aback. “Uh… no. Not that I know of. Why?”
The smaller man relaxed slowly. “Oh. Well… just thought you might’ve had words, that’s all.”
“Huh?” Heavy reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t even seen her since… I stayed at your house. And I thought everything was, uh, fine. We didn’t really spend any time alone, then–you know that.”
Cooler gave him one of the strange looks he’d been working lately. “New Year’s Eve party… you were with that Britt bitch, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Heavy said, remembering that the only reason he’d invited her to the party was so Cassie would see her with him. To cement his and Cassie’s relationship as just friends. And then she hadn’t even been at the party, so he’d had to put up with Britt hanging on him for nothing.
Cooler shook his head, sighed heavily, and walked away without another word, like Heavy was too dumb to bother with.
Heavy shook his head too, wondering if the man was getting too many whiffs of the meds he had to administer to folks on his EMS job.
Something was sure off about him the last few months.
Anyway, he hoped Cassie was okay.