Page 17 of Playing to Win

Chapter 6

brooks

I see Drew and Kit walk into the gym. I watch their reflections hover while they wait for me to finish my last reps of bicep curls. Although I spar with people and do a piecemeal workout during the day, when the gym is quiet, I like to fit in a full body workout. Sometimes that’s at 9:00 a.m., sometimes right after lunch, or like tonight, it can be around 9:00 p.m.

I grunt through the final curl and lean close to the mirror to put the weights down on the rack. As I wipe sweat from my neck and arms, Drew and Kit come closer, both wearing jeans and button-downs. Both with wet hair from showering after their workouts.

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Drew asks.

“No, don’t worry. I’m about done. I’ll clean up and see you at Black Velvet.”

I don’t want to create a picture for you here like I’m out every night of the week. I was out over the weekend. And Monday night with Jake. Now, it’s Wednesday and I’m going out again, so I guess I can see why you would think I’m a drunk. I’m not. Generally, I drink a couple of times a week. I don’t get wasted. But Jake is heading back to London tomorrow, so the gang is getting together for a send-off. The good thing about the city is, whether it’s Wednesday, Friday, or Sunday, there’s life in the bars every night.

After stretching, I head into the men’s changing rooms. While I’m undressing and grabbing a few products for the shower, I glance around the space, making sure things are clean and tidy, that everything is in good working order.

Satisfied, I take my shower, then pull on my jeans and boots with a long-sleeved T-shirt that doesn’t hide the tips of the ink from my shoulders and chest that sneak above the neckline.

A quick check of my watch tells me it’s been twenty-five minutes since the guys left. I need to get moving.

In my office, I dump my dirty clothes into my laundry basket and lock up. As I’m heading out, my cell starts ringing.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I slide my thumb to answer without looking at the screen. “Yo! I’m on my way. Get me a beer and whatever Jake wants.”

“Who would have thought the most miserable man alive has friends?”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs. “Who is this?”

“Kerry. Izzy Coulthard’s publicist. We met today? You were extremely rude?”

“Aha. What do you want?”

“While it pains me, Izzy likes your gym. She moaned about the owner being a jerk and the smoothie recipes being in need of improvement but—”

“Listen, Kerry, I have somewhere to be. What’s this about?”

She makes a noise, like a grunt or growl that sounds as if it came through gritted teeth. “We need a space for Izzy to shoot a DVD of her Salsa Yourself Slim classes, and you, unfortunately, have the best space in the city. So, I’d like to book into one of your studios.”

She can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head in sheer disbelief. The audacity of these women. I hear her flicking pages down the line.

“Ideally we would do tomorrow. We really need to get moving on this and I have a film crew ready to go. At the latest, we could do Friday. What works for you?”

I scratch my head. Like they do in comic sketches to get the point across to viewers that they’re confused. “Are you shitting me right now? You behave like you did this morning. And by that, I mean both of you. Then you demand a favor from me. Command me to do something like I’m your puppet.”

“Don’t be precious about this, Brooks. You don’t have to like me, or Izzy. The fact is, the publicity would be good for your gym too.”

I scoff. “You are some piece of work, Kerry. You know that? I’ve met two-year-olds with better manners than you.”

“Really? I hardly see you as the soft, caring, fatherlike figure. Ugh, I shudder to think what your spawn would be like.”

“This isn’t helping your cause.”

“Goddamn it, what will?”

There’s shuffling and crackling, then the muffled sound of whispered bickering. Then the British vegetable lover is on the line. “Brooks, it’s Izzy. Look, I know we didn’t exactly get off to a flying start today but I’d be really grateful if you would let us use your studio tomorrow.”

“Ha! So you can pimp your book to my staff again?”

She sighs. A noise of pure exasperation. It’s extremely satisfying to me. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to… I can see how it must have looked and I apologize. But I’d be truly, truly grateful to you. Indebted to you, in fact, if we could book in.”

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