Page 53 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
“Grant!” Ian digs in the wallet again and hands off a ten. “Go get your lunch!”
“Sweet!” Grant snags the second bill and heads for the door. “Thanks, Ian!”
We watch him go. When the door clatters shut, Ian lifts his chin.
Unbelievable.“You’re looking pretty smug for a guy who’s out thirty bucks.” I shake my head. “Did that feel like a victory in some way?”
“Youdidn’t win.”
“And neither did Grant,” I say, ignoring the fresh sting at the pleasure he’s taking in undermining me. Where is this coming from? “How is that helping him? That’s not what he needs, Ian. It’s not what any of them need—”
“And you would know, after playing house with them for a few weeks.”
“Um,yeah. Given that the alternative appears to be simply enabling them—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you kidding? What am Inottalking about? You are actively facilitating their slacking. Here’s money for lunch, Grant! Diego, you scheduled a haircut at the exact same time as a class you’ve been running for the better part of ayear? I’ve got you covered?” I scowl. “Don’t worry about finding a roommate, guys! I’ll fork over several hundred a month to cover the rent.”
“How—Babs,” he growls, in a way that would be appealing if not for the circumstances.
“Where does it end? At some point, they’re going to have to succeed or fail on their own. If for no other reason than to give yourself a break. Even here—”
“For Christ’s sake, Hayes!” He brings both hands to his face, fingertips nudging back the rim of his cap so that when he drawshis hands down, the hat perches atop his head. “What is so wrong with my business that you’re so compelled to fix it?”
“All I was going to say is that the guys can contribute more around here. Relieve you of a five a.m. or two, but if you really want me to dig in,” I continue, more than ready for this conversation, “youknowthat I have a list.”
“The gym isfine.”
“Don’t you want better than fine?” I ask, my voice rising. “You’ve done something incredible with Firehouse. The heart and soul of this thing is you. You’re why people stay. You’re a knowledgeable, effective coach. You care about your members and staff. You change lives! Hell, you may have saved Tom’s. But the state of this place doesn’t reflect that.”
“This is not why I brought you on. I needed someone who could check people in and not use fifteen exclamation points in a social post. Not Lady BirdgoddamnJohnson.”
“I don’t know what that means!” I spit. “But I don’t think it’s exactly the purview of a First Lady to point out that this floor should have been fixed properly beforesomeone”—I gesture to his still-red knee with both hands—“ate shit on it!”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again. His cheeks are pink.
“And while you may not have brought me on to elevate this place, a good portion of your membership thinks I should. They have a whole litany of suggestions, but they’re too afraid to bring it up with you.”
He blinks. “What?”
“Your pathological aversion to accepting help has them desperate for someone who might listen to them. They just want to contribute! The guys, too! They want to be part of it.”
“I have a way of doing things here. The guys…” He seems to consider his words for a moment, jaw flexing, his lips pressing together. “I don’t want to bog them down with any other gym stuff. They’re dudes in their early twenties. They’re fine.”
“Why can’t they be better than fine, too?” I am at my limit. Not just with Ian’s hardheadedness, but the entire social structure that expects so little from fully capable postadolescent males. “You have such high standards for their performance, for the performance of the athletes here, for yourself, most of all. Why don’t you expect them to be capable of keeping a toilet fit for company?”
“You don’t need to dissect everything they do! Not everything is for you to fix.”
“I’m teaching them how to do laundry, Ian, not fundamentally changing who they are.”
“Who they are?” he echoes, incredulous. “Youdon’t know who they are. You’re acting like you have all the answers, when you don’t know the first thing about them.”
“I know plenty.”
“Really?” He squares up, placing his feet like he’s about to initiate a lift. “What do you know about Alistair, then? Are you aware that he’s already graduated?”
“He—what?”
