Page 7 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

Aerosmith’s “Dream On” blared through the speakers at the gym. I focused on my reflection in the mirror, making sure I was activating my glute muscles with every repetition I did of the Bulgarian squat. Ten. Nine. Eight.

Of course a teenage boy would choose this exact moment to stand in front of me to flex his biceps and grin like he was the biggest guy in the gym.

News flash, buddy. You are not .

The shirtless guy who came every day at nine a.m. was, in fact, the biggest guy in the gym. How do I know this for a fact? I don’t…but according to my research, he was on far too many steroids. Why do I know this? Well, I’m in the gym multiple times a day for my job. Yes, my job.

Rolling my eyes, I kept counting. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Definitely got the form down because, wow! My left ass cheek was on fire. Three. Two. One.

Dropping the twenty-five-pound dumbbell to the ground, I walked a circle around my bench and then shook out each leg.

A quick glance in the mirror and my ass was looking perky as hell, which meant it was time to post a video for my loyal followers to show them the pump of a good workout.

After setting up my tripod and situating it at the right angle to make my ass look bigger than it was, I got into position and started all over again.

After ten reps on each side, I checked the video and then posted it straight to my fitness account.

Instantly, the comments started to flow in, and that little part of me that had a deep-rooted need for affirmation and glorification from others was finally fulfilled.

It never lasted long, only a few moments where my heart didn’t feel so heavy and the voices in my head weren’t whispering how inferior I was, but for the next twenty minutes, I felt important.

Strangers were commenting about how pretty I was.

Guys were asking if I was single. For thirty minutes, I was a celebrity until the post died down, and I had to start all over again.

Becoming a fitness influencer had never—and I mean never—been one of my dream careers.

Hell, when I was back in high school, I don’t think they even existed.

But with the rise of social media came all kinds of new careers, and it was one of the easier options when college quickly became a dream I would never be able to afford. o

After my mother took her own life four years ago, leaving me completely and utterly alone, my life had been on a rollercoaster ride straight to the very pits of hell itself.

Depression had latched its cold, dreaded claws onto me and dragged me so far down that no matter how hard I fought to find a way back to the light, I couldn’t.

If it hadn’t been for Millie, I would have completely dropped out of high school and probably ended up homeless with some kind of drug addiction.

She had helped me more than my own family did.

My older brother, Dustin, came home the next day after Millie called him, despite me begging her not to involve him.

He made all the funeral arrangements and then helped me list the house for sale after I refused to sleep another night under that roof.

There were too many memories that haunted me, especially my mother’s and my last conversation.

Some nights it still haunted me, keeping me up all night as I wondered if I had been the one to push her over the edge or if she really couldn’t live with herself after my dad had an affair and then started a whole new family, one that he kept trying to convince me to join like I could ever forgive him for what he did to our family.

With the little bit of money from the sale of the house, Dustin helped me get into a condo so I could finish high school.

He had stayed in town for a few months to make sure I went to class every day and graduated, and then once I had walked the stage, he left, back to his old life like our mother hadn’t just died.

They had never been close, not like she and I.

So really, I shouldn’t have been surprised, but a small part of me wished he had stayed, and I didn’t have to be alone.

But that was my reality. He ran back to Daddy dearest and his new family.

Life, unfortunately, goes on, despite the fact I wanted to live in the past.

He texted me once a week to check up, and I always wondered if he truly cared or if he was just updating my dad. He never called, never visited. Just a simple: Hi Tatum, how are you? Are you eating? Did you pay your mortgage? How’s work? Still an influencer?

He never asked more. Like, how about: Hi Tatum, it’s been four years since Mom killed herself while you were still a teenager. How are you coping? Have you been to therapy? Do you need someone to talk to?

No, all he cared about was the superficial things, nothing on a deeper level.

Dad hadn’t come home initially. It wasn’t until four days after Dustin arrived that his very shiny Mercedes rolled into the broken driveway of the home.

He walked into the house like he hadn’t been gone for ten years.

He opened his arms for me to hug him like nothing had happened, like I was still eight years old and saw him as my hero.

I told him to get out of my mother’s house, screamed at him, hit his chest, and sobbed like the broken little girl he left behind.

It was nothing like I had imagined our first reunion being like, but it was a breaking point in our relationship.

I didn’t speak a word to him after that.

I pretended like he didn’t exist and moved on with my life just like he had done previously.

A news alert coming through my AirPods interrupted my trip down memory lane.

“ Atlanta Braves’ Griffin Silver spotted with blonde outside the stadium last night after his big victory.

Join us as we find out more about his new mystery girl and if she is the one.

” ESPN, I did not need to know about Griffin’s latest conquest. Thank you for ruining my entire day, as I had the pleasure of visualizing exactly what he did with said blonde last night after his victory.

“Incoming call from Millie.” Siri’s voice rang in my ears. I tapped the earbud, answering the call, and Millie started talking a mile a minute.

“Did you see the article? Did you see the pictures? Oh my god, she’s so ugly!

” Millie had to be talking about the news article about Griffin.

Despite me telling her how much I hated him, she was under the impression that it was some fake hatred and that deep down I was truly obsessed with him because, in her opinion, who could not be obsessed with those eyes.

Me. I was not hiding any feelings for Griffin Silver. Absolutely none. He had tormented me enough in middle and high school to make every single positive feeling for him disappear.

“Yes, I got the notification, Millie.” I sighed as I racked my weights and grabbed my bag, heading for the bathroom to wash up before heading home .

“Oh, someone is in a bad mood. Someone ruin your workout, hon?” she teased, knowing full well the only thing that could ruin my workout was the mention of Griffin Silver and his latest conquest.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day,” I told her as I washed my hands and checked my reflection in the mirror, dabbing at the sweat on my forehead with a paper towel and walking out the bathroom to the entrance of the gym.

I waved at the girls managing the front desk and headed out to the parking lot.

“Are we still on for The Bachelor tonight?” I dumped my gym bag in the back seat of my sedan and then climbed into the driver’s seat. The call disconnected from my headphones and connected to the Bluetooth in the vehicle.

“Obviously. You better bring the wine, white only. I’m on a diet,” I told her, and she laughed.

“You on a diet? What’s new? I’ll bring the wine, as long as you cook.

I didn’t have time for lunch today. Things were crazy at the studio today.

” She was talking about her Pilates studio, which she opened last year.

It was tough the first couple of months, but once word got out, it became very popular.

So popular that Millie got to follow her dream of starting a clothing brand as well, where she sold gym apparel to all the people at her studio and online. She’d called it Millie’s Fits.

“How does spaghetti squash sound?”

“Like heaven. I’ll see you in an hour.” She hung up just as my weekly check-in from Dustin came.

Dustin

Hi, Tatum. How are you? How’s work? Did you pay the mortgage on time?

Tatum

Hi, Dustin. I’m the same as last week. Work is the same. It pays the bills. And yes, I did, in fact, pay the mortgage on time. Next month is my last payment. Did you know it’s been four years? Do you even care?

Dustin

Congrats on the mortgage. That’s a huge accomplishment for your age. Yes, I know it’s been four years. She was my mother too. Do you want to meet for dinner to celebrate her life?

Tatum

Celebrate her life? I want her back.

Dustin

Me too, but that’s not reality, Tate. I can fly in next weekend and stay at your place. We need to talk.

Tatum

What could be so important that you need to fly back here?

Dustin

Dad is sick.