Page 16 of Resistance Training

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“ S weet little birdy told me you were spotted walkin’ a peach of a girl to her car the other night,” says Larry, the seventy-year-old millionaire from Tennessee who’s been divorced four times. “You gotta lock that down, bruh.”

Yes, I told her to take selfies to track her progress, but I did not tell her to do cheesecake pinup poses and send them to me right before I have to go to work. That was a dick move. And I hope she does it again soon.

“Huh?”

“Yeah. You got the Pussy Face.”

“I do not have the Pussy Face.”

“Pussy on the brain,” he says. He’s on the lat pull-down machine, and I might have to add more weight because he is not struggling at all. “I know what’s on your mind because it’s all over your face.”

“Why don’t you try slowing down your reps,” I tell him. “Five seconds on the way down, squeeze those shoulder blades together at the bottom of the rep like you’re squeezing a little stress ball between them… Good. Slowly back up. Feel the difference?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. And you still have the Pussy Face.”

“It’s complicated, and Cindy had the wrong idea. Vivian and I were friends in high school, and now she’s a client. End of story.”

“Sounds like you’re the one with the wrong idea, bruh.

Am I saying bruh right?” Larry looks like a sixty-year-old hippie who has reluctantly gone through a makeover or seven, in order to please the women in his life and various board members.

His whole vibe screams I give exactly the right amount of fucks, but at the end of the day I am who I am and you can fuck off if you don’t want it.

I can coach him on how to build muscle and train without getting injured, but we both know which of us is the real mentor here.

“There’s no right way to say it,” I grumble. I have never been able to relate to my own generation. Aside from that one person who is of my generation who I will not be relating to, except as a client.

He does his fifteenth rep, and I grab the bar to let it up slowly.

He gulps down water and then says, “Well. One thing I do know is Cindy always has the right idea. She said Scorpio men like to keep things close to the vest. I get it. But if you ever need to talk about feelings for a lady—I’m the guy who’s been married four times and doesn’t understand women at all. ”

“So… don’t talk to you about feelings for a lady?”

“Don’t talk to me unless you want to be inspired by my deep capacity to love and my astonishing inability to learn from past mistakes. Cindy says that’s the eternal optimism of my Sagittarian nature. She likes that I keep tossing my heart back into the ring. And I like that she likes it.”

God, he’s just fueled by joy right now, and for the first time in a decade, I think I’m feeling envy instead of pity for someone who is clearly in love. “Are you into astrology too, Larry?”

“Fuck no. But I am into Cindy. So I dug up my birth certificate and let her do my chart. Turns out we’re a good match.”

“Well, I could have told her that just from watching you guys together.”

“I tell you what, though. You telling her that wouldn’t have given her the confidence to do the things she did to me.” He whistles. “Now I have to marry her,” he says, grinning.

As much as I admire Larry and Cindy and feel a sense of pride that they’re as healthy and confident as they are now, I really don’t want to think about them doing things to each other.

My watch starts beeping, and I’m reminded that Vivian will be walking in for her session at any moment.

Which is not the only reason I feel the need to remove my shirt right now, but if it happens to elicit the reaction I’m hoping for, then that will please me a great deal.

And not a second later, the sliding doors open and Vivian enters. “Thanks, Gwenny!” she calls out as she leaves reception.

“Please don’t call me that,” I hear Gwen yell back.

She’s wearing her hair down, flipping it over one shoulder and strutting, almost in slow motion.

A Doja Cat song is playing from the ceiling speakers, and I watch her nod her head, roll her shoulders and hips as she sings along, so casually.

God, her posture is beautiful. Always has been.

She has the grace of a dancer, but there’s still something awkward and charming about the way she moves through the world when she knows people are looking.

And they’re always looking. All the men in here are looking now.

She’s confident, but she doesn’t take herself too seriously.

That’s one of the things I loved about her in high school, and I know nobody else appreciated it about her.

She scans the gym, just like I saw her doing the other day.

Except today she clearly planned ahead. She’s wearing a skintight black workout jacket and leggings that, shall we say, accentuate her curves in a very flattering way.

And by that I mean she looks incredible and I can’t wait to see her from behind and she is the devil.

I unintentionally release a guttural sound at the exact moment the song changes.

Loud enough that Larry hears and chuckles.

I clear my throat.

“Lemme guess,” Larry says. “That’s the Aries high school friend.”

“The Aries new client,” I correct him as I adjust my stance. Feet flat on the floor, arms crossed, like a bouncer. No one can knock me over.

“Uh-huh.”

I do the hot-guy squint thing I used to practice in the mirror when I first moved to Portland. It comes naturally, usually, but I have to remind myself to do it right now.

And finally.

Vivian sees me.

She gives me a once-over.

Her lips part.

She bites her lower lip.

And trips, just the slightest bit, bumping into Cindy.

She recovers quickly, laughs, as Cindy and Mabel grab her arms to steady her. I can see her blushing from here. She glares at me and then turns her attention to the ladies, who surround her.

It’s awesome.

“She’s just another client now,” I reiterate to Larry as I put my shirt back on.

Larry gets up from the bench and stretches. “Suit yourself, man. But what you resist persists. That’s a fact.”

“I hear you,” I say. “Thanks.”

And then a blonde gym member comes over to talk to me. I keep my eye on Vivian. She’s giving Cindy, Mabel, and Dolores her full attention most of the time but keeps glancing over at me and the blonde. I watch as Cindy enters her number into her phone. This…could become a problem.

I answer the blonde’s question as succinctly as I can, and she walks off.

When Vivian looks over again, I hold my watch up and tap at it, signaling that it’s time for her session.

She nods, tries to wrap things up with the ladies by giving all three of them hugs.

Mabel and Dolores go off to their yoga class, but Cindy comes over to join me and Larry.

“I got here early today, Coach. I swear,” Vivian says.

“Don’t call me Coach.”

Larry and Cindy have their arms wrapped around each other, facing us, like they’re posing for a prom photo. “Oh, y’all have got to join us for dinner and drinks after your session tonight,” Cindy says to me. “Vivian said she’ll come if you do.”

“Aww, we wouldn’t want to impose.” Shit. I made us a we . “You and Larry are still in your limerence phase. You need to enjoy more time alone together.”

“Mitch does make a good point,” Vivian says, without missing a beat.

She places her hand on my bicep, so breezily, like we’re a couple.

I flex, not because I want her to feel my muscles, because I want her to know how uncomfortable I am.

“ We wouldn’t want to be the third and fourth wheels on your date.

You two lovebirds have a wonderful dinner.

” She holds her hand out to Larry. “You must be Larry. I’m Vivian.

I just heard so many wonderful things about you fifteen seconds ago! ”

“And Mitch was just telling me everything I need to know about you,” he says to Vivian and Cindy, very meaningfully.

“Let me guess—by refusin’ to talk about her, right?!” Cindy says.

“You know it.”

“Great talk,” I mutter. “Time for Vivian’s session.”

Cindy reaches out to squeeze my cheeks. “My sweet, scared little Scorpio baby. It’ll be okay.”

I refuse to look at Vivian but I can feel her studying me, and I have lost control of this situation, and I hate it. “Okay, thanks. Great workout, Larry. Have a great night.” I walk off toward the private room, slowing my pace when I realize Vivian is hugging them goodbye.

She catches up with me and says, “So, what did Blondie want?”

Aww, she’s jealous. We’re back on track. “She just had a question.”

“Oh yeah? Was the question Hi, can you look at my butt and tell me if it’s perky enough? ”

“That may have been the subtext.”

“Did you get the progress pics I sent you?”

“I did.” I need to change the subject immediately. “You didn’t check in with your meals after breakfast today.”

“You’re right,” she says, feigning innocence. “I forgot.”

I hold the door to the private room open for her, ushering her inside.

Just as I thought. She’s wearing those new kind of leggings that are cinched in at the back to make the booty look more rounded and perky.

It is definitely perky enough. She is hot and evil, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her get to me today.

“Did you forget, or did you not want me to know what you ate for lunch?”

She exhales loudly. “Fine. My friend Marlo really wanted me to check out a new fish-and-chips food truck near our office, and I have no regrets because it was delicious.” She hangs up her bag, places her water bottle on the floor near the coat rack, for no reason I can see other than to bend over and stick her beautiful round ass out.

Then she unzips her tight little jacket, still facing away from me, and shrugs it off.

She gingerly hangs that up and then turns toward me, revealing a black sports bra that lifts and pushes her tits together, and I want to stick my face in there.

Fuck.

Well played, Sparky. Well played.