And so on.
I walked out smiling because all those farewells were nice and no one tried to jump me and Jim-Billy in order to wrest me from him and drag me by the hair to their cave.
So take that Tate Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was.
Okay, so he hadn’t exactly ceased to exist… whatever.
Chapter Four
Nighttime Swimming
“Later!” Wendy called, hanging out the window of her blue Honda CR-V.
“Later!” I called back and then inserted the key into the lock of my hotel room, twisted it, opened the door, walked in, heard the door close behind me and fell face first onto my bed.
I’d just been to McLeod’s Gym, owned by Wendy’s boyfriend, Tyler, who was a six foot, blond powerhouse with biceps so huge I couldn’t wrap both my hands around one (and, at Wendy’s invitation and Tyler’s smiling agreement, I’d tried). Tyler did boot camps three times a week where fifteen insane Carnalites showed up at seven in the morning to be tortured.
On Saturday, Wendy had talked me into trying a session and I told her I probably shouldn’t unless I had a day off. Luckily (to Wendy’s way of thinking) one of the boot camps was on Tuesday.
Today. My day off.
I thought during the session I was going to throw up. Then later during the session I thought I was going to die. I didn’t do either and I’d survived and kept myself standing and breathing all through Wendy taking me to her and Tyler’s condo to make me a protein shake which consisted of organic Greek yogurt, a banana, a tablespoon of peanut butter, a squeeze of honey, a dash of milk, a bunch of ice cubes and a scoop of protein powder.
The protein shake was delicious and the best part of my morning.
But at that moment lying facedown on my bed, I was pretty sure I was going to die.
Regardless, I was on Day Eight in Carnal and, notwithstanding boot camp torture, I knew I’d made the right decision.
*
After my first day working with Tate at Bubba’s, Jim-Billy took me to dinner at the diner where he spent an hour entertaining me. I hadn’t laughed so much or so hard in so long I forgot how good the pain felt when your belly hurt deep down just from laughing. Jim-Billy’s eyes often strayed to my chest area but I could forgive that because all the rest of the time he was darned funny and definitely sweet.
After he walked me to the hotel, I entered to find my room had undergone a mini-transformation. There was a six drawer dresser on the wall by the door and my clothes that had been folded and stacked on the built-in dresser were gone and I found they’d been moved into the new dresser. On top of the standing dresser was a vase of fresh flowers. On top of the built-in there was an electric kettle, two huge coffee mugs with colorful swirls on them sitting next to a matching sugar bowl and a creamer with a jar of instant coffee next to that and two teaspoons. There were also two, brightly striped tea towels in colors that matched the cups and the sugar bowl was filled. A mini fridge sat beside the mug paraphernalia on the built-in and when I looked inside I saw there was a jug of milk, a bottle of cheap champagne and a note that read: Welcome home, Betty and Ned.
PS: We already had the dresser and we weren’t using it.
Reading it, I walked backwards, clutching the note in my hand, until my knees hit the bed.
I sat down and burst into tears.
*
The next day I got up early, got ready to face the day and went to have coffee with Betty.
By the time I made it to her, she’d had her breakfast and opened up so I sat in reception with her while we sipped and chatted. Then I went to my car and drove it to the mechanics at the other end of town and learned very quickly what Tate was talking about the day before.
Carnal was definitely a small town and because of that, it would make it hard to avoid him.
I learned this because Tate was in the massive forecourt of the mechanics, standing by his Harley and talking to a man that was nearly as tall as him but older and softer with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a beer belly. The gray-haired man was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather vest with a bunch of patches on it. Tate was wearing jeans, his boots and another tight, long-sleeved t-shirt, not a Henley this time and it was navy blue.