Page 74 of The Other Guy

Yesterday I had my friend Neil, who helps manage the gym, open up because keeping it closed one day was enough. He offered to do the same today and I took him up on it, but still want to stop in. It’s not that I feel the need to be there constantly, however, the gym is mine and I’m protective, maybe a bit controlling, and like to be present.

I spend a few hours checking emails and messages, and cleaning the locker rooms while running a load of towels in the washing machine before drying them. Those are things I could hire someone else to do, but I take pride in ownership and enjoy doing it.

I check the fridge for our stock of energy drinks and bottled water that my members can purchase as well as protein bars that we keep behind the counter. Then I spend a bit of time working with a few people who came in for some one-on-one help, which is the only thing we offer here. Our coaching is more about making sure our members are using the correct form and won’t hurt themselves, pairing people up who are at the same level to spar with, monitoring the bags and ring.

Before long, it’s time to close up the gym but it feels good to have spent the day working again. Not that the last few days were a hardship in any way.

When I get home, it’s quiet. Far too quiet. I’d gotten used to the noise and chaos that Toby and Sierra brought with them. I turn on the TV just so it isn’t silent in the house but it’s not the same.

Not being able to help myself, I decide to text Sierra. She might need to take things slow, which I’m okay with, but that doesn’t mean I can’t let her know that I’m thinking of her.

I pull up my messages and hit the little icon to create a new text and choose Sierra’s name.

Only…

Me: No problem. Have a good day.

Unknown: Oh, I’m sure I will.

I’m a little confused and wonder if she somehow gave me the wrong number because this text thread isn’t brand new, like it should be. It’s from one of Toolbag’s most recent one-night stands.

“What the hell?” I ask out loud.

Unfortunately, my brain is having a really hard time catching up with what I’m seeing because this doesn’t make sense.

Unless…

The past three days hit me like a truck.

Cheating ex-boyfriend.

Not just cheating. Lying, too.

I don’t even have to look through my texts to recall a conversation that should have been a little more enlightening when Sierra showed up on my doorstep with Toby.

All hell broke loose last week for me. My girlfriend found out, I had a full glass of beer dumped on my head, and kicked out of my favorite bar.

And this is my fault, how? And girlfriend? You had a girlfriend this entire time?

I did. But I’ll get her back. She threw a fit and left but I know her, she’ll be back. She took my fucking dog with her, too. Probably so I’d chase her. So if she doesn’t come back on her own, I’ll be able to go after her to get my dog back.

His girlfriend.

His dog.

“What the actual fuck?” I ask aloud.

I pace in my living room staring at my phone, the most recent text from Unknown pulled up. It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t Sierra just tell me if she was the person who texted me that day? The same day that she showed up at my house then stayed for three more. Why wouldn’t she tell me her ex-boyfriend was the guy who’s been giving girls my number?

What irks me the most, is that I thought she and I had the chance to build something. But how can we do that if our relationship — our friendship — is based on a lie?

I’m not a person who ignores life so rather than brush this new bit of information under the rug, like she so conveniently did, I decide to send her a text. And if she doesn’t respond to that, I’ll call.

Me: When were you going to tell me?

I wait for a few seconds and see her reply starting immediately. I take a seat on the couch, my knee bouncing as I wait to see what she’s about to say.

Sierra: Whatever do you mean?

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