He turned back to his office, and I took the bucket, guiding it through the large, open workout space and through the metal door. The locker room was large and empty. Showers were in the back behind a cinder-block wall, and small, beige lockers lined what was the dressing area. Benches filled the center, and sinks and large mirrors were around the perimeter. I tried not to look at myself as I pushed the mop.
I’d gotten skinny. The lines were still on my arms, but until I ate regularly, I wouldn’t have muscle mass. My eyes were different, too—ice blue and slightly wild. I needed to work on my expression or I’d scare people.
Bending my arm, my bicep still peaked. The boxing gloves inked there extended past the bottom of my shirtsleeve—Never Stop Fighting. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that phrase now. The bold 21 stood out on the side of my hand, and I made a fist, thinking of its meaning, the year my life changed.
A metal-door scrape grabbed my attention. Tammy pushed through it, and when she saw me, she stopped in her tracks. She was dressed in calf-length black pants and a skin-tight, hot-pink tank top. Her body was impressive, but I wasn’t checking out the boss’s wife. I wasn’t checking out any women.
“Hey, Slayde is it?” Her tone was sharp, and it irritated me. But my days of being a badass were over. I was a fucking janitor now.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“For starters, don’t you dare call me ma’am again.” The smile in her voice made me glance up. “Second, you’ve got to put the signs up when you’re in here. The yellow ones and the flag? We don’t want the members complaining about a man in the ladies’ room.”
Rook hadn’t mentioned anything about signs, but it made sense. I pushed the mop into the bucket. “Right. Sorry. If you’ll tell me where they are—”
She let out a little growl and rolled her eyes. “I know, Rook forgot to tell you. He isn’t the best when it comes to details. Follow me.”
Back at the juice bar, a white bag in my cubby caught my eye. I didn’t have time to investigate. Tammy came out of the supply closet and pushed a plastic sign and a flag on a suction cup at me.
“Take this and this. Prop that on the floor and attach the suction cup to the door.”
“Yes, ma...” I didn’t finish, and she laughed. I started to head back to the locker room when she stopped me.
“There’s something in your cubby you’d better get.”
Stopping, I went back and pulled the white bag out. The scent of sausage, egg, and cheese again hit my nose as hard as a left jab. A note was taped to the outside: Bought too much. Have my extra biscuit. –R.
My brow creased, and I glanced up at Tammy, but she was loading ingredients into a blender. A guy the size of Rook probably ate five of these for breakfast. I didn’t understand.
“You’d better hurry up before the ladies start showing up for Zumba,” Tammy called without turning around.
I decided not to question it and carried the food back with me to the locker room. Flag on the door and sign in place, I pulled back the wrapper, and the minute that savory cheese, spicy sausage, and buttery egg hit my tongue, I leaned against the wall and let out a low groan. In three bites, it was gone.
* * *
Everything was cleaned and squared away by early afternoon, and I headed back to the front to return my key and check out. I’d done my best to avoid members, and I’d only passed a brief greeting to Pete, who seemed to be the only trainer working this weekend besides Tammy. He was nice enough, but I didn’t take it any further.
A slender girl with light-brown hair pulled up in a long, messy ponytail was behind the bar now, and without even looking, I could feel her watching me closely.
“Hey.” She spoke fast, like a short order cook. “It’s Slayde, right? What brings you to The Jungle Gym?”
I was tired and hungry and not in the mood to answer questions, so I didn’t.
Without looking up, I went to my slot, where I found another bag waiting for me. Pulling it out, I shoved my key in its place, catching another whiff of what smelled like food in the mystery package. I wanted to go to the truck and open it right away, but when I turned around, the girl was doing something with her hands.
My brow lined as I watched her. She waved her hands in a sweeping motion then circled one around her finger. The entire time her eyes bored into mine as if they were attempting to communicate silently.
“What are you doing?” My voice was husky from not talking all day.
She straightened, blinking fast, and her cheeks flushed slightly. “I was asking if you spoke sign language.”
“Why would you ask me something like that?” I surveyed her appearance—long, tie-dyed smock over a white tank and jeans that were shredded at the knees. Around her neck were several necklaces in addition to the lanyard holding her key, and her fingers were covered in rings.
“You didn’t answer when I spoke to you, so I thought maybe...” Her light-brown eyes traveled down to my throat. “I just finished this novel about a guy with no voice. It was really hot.”
“I can speak just fine. I’m also tired and hungry. I’ve been here since seven, and I don’t feel like answering twenty questions.” Even that much explanation was pissing me off.
Her eyebrows rose, and she leaned forward on the bar, giving me a little smile. “I can make you a matcha-tea smoothie if you want. It’s my newest specialty. Very relaxing and full of protein.”