Page 81 of For a Goode Time Call…
I suddenly felt underqualified to even be in this gym. I was suddenly hyperaware of the extra layer over my abs that hadn’t been there a few months ago. The fact that my ass jiggled a bit instead of being hard as a steel drum was super embarrassing. The fact that I’d already lost a good bit of tone in my arms and shoulders, and the weakness in my injured leg really brought home the knowledge that I was out of shape.
“Get out of your head, Cassandra,” Mom murmured to me, yanking me across the gym.
“How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?” I snapped.
“I know what the heck you’re thinking because I know you. Whenever you start to doubt yourself, you get this look on your face like you have to poop.”
“MOM!”
She laughed, shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
“And you get onmycase for being crass.”
She just pulled me to a stop at the side of the ring, where we watched Baxter, the Gargantuan God, dance around the ring, letting punches and kicks from his trainee smack and whack, sometimes moving his pads so the trainee missed, forcing him to regroup and find his footing.
The trainee was blindingly fast, but Baxter seemed to anticipate his every move, able to get his glove in place, or move without any effort.
A few more minutes of this, and then Baxter called a halt in a gruff, permanently hoarse voice. “Good work, man,” Bax said, whacking the trainee across the shoulder with a pad. “Great footwork. Keep lifting, though. Go heavy for low reps, get that power up. And try to work on not telegraphing your left cross.”
“Sure thing, Coach,” the younger man said. “That it?”
Bax nodded. “Yeah, man. Get goin’. See you next week.”
A wave of a gloved hand, and the trainee ducked under the top rope, jumped down, and headed for the locker rooms, unlacing his gloves as he went. Baxter grinned at Mom.
“Livvie!” He sounded genuinely happy to see Mom. Ducking under the ropes, he removed his pads as he dropped to the floor. “Back for a HIIT session, are you? Been a while.”
Livvie? No one called Mom that. Not even Dad. I didn’t think even Lucas called MomLivvie.
He picked Mom up in a great, shaking, off-her-feet bear hug, swinging her around until she cackled and whacked at his shoulder.
“Oh my god, put me down, you big lunatic!” Mom didn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that he was coated in a glistening layer of sweat, despite not being out of breath in the slightest.
He set her down, and had the unmitigated gall to ruffle her hair like she was a four-year-old girl instead of a woman quite literally old enough to be his mother. “Good to see you, Liv.”
I frowned at Mom, wondering when the sharp denunciation of his hair ruffling would be voiced.
Instead, she just fixed it without a word, and grinned at him. “Bax, I want you to meet my second oldest daughter, Cassie.”
Baxter nodded, looking me over. “The gimp.”
I widened my eyes. “Excuse the fuck out of you!”
Mom just laughed. “Be nice, Baxter. She may not be in the mindset for teasing.”
He just shot me a grin, which I assumed had melted a rather comical number of undergarments in his day. “Coupl’a things, babe,” he said, hands on his hips, eyes on mine. “One, I’m a merciless teaser. Give as good as you get, and we’re golden. Get your knickers in a twist, and we probably won’t be friends. I don’t mean nothin’ by any of it, so don’t take it personally. Two, I don’t play any sissy fuckin’ games in this place. This gym is hallowed ground. The workout is thy lord and master, and I’m the lord and master of the workout. Obey me without question, and all shall go well with you.”
I gaped. “I—you—I—”
“Three.” He spoke over me. “Weakness is the illness, and I’m the doctor. We’re here to heal, so don’t hide your weakness. Defeat it. Don’t be ashamed of it. Don’t mistake laziness or lack of will as weakness—they ain’t the same thing. I can fix weak, I can’t fix lazy.”
I glanced at Mom. “Did you tell—”
“Four, and last, judgment or criticism is utterlyverboten. Talk some unkind shit about someone else, and we’ll have problems.” Another grin. “That’s it. Welcome to paradise.”
I shook my head. “You have some nerve, Baxter.”
He just laughed. “You’re here, ain’t you? Gotta know what I expect so we can make this work.” He jutted his chin at me. “Goals and expectations.”
