A Haunting Beauty
By Joshua Scribner
Copyright 2011 Joshua Scribner
Smashwords Edition
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This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Roony Becker never slept well. A powerlifter, he ingested large doses of protein, enough of the B vitamins for twenty average people, and about anything that would keep his huge muscles alive through the torture of his daily routine. But simple caffeine was the most likely culprit for his sleep troubles. Even when he wasn't drinking a cup of coffee, he was thinking about drinking a cup of coffee.
He finished off his mug as he pulled into the lot of Metal Mania. Stepping out of his Escape wasn't bad at 5AM. It still wouldn't be bad around 7AM, when he got back into the vehicle, the heat of Oklahoma May still yet to kick in for the day. Of course, not having to enter an oven of a vehicle after an intense workout was just an incidental bonus of working out so early. The main reason he pumped iron while most people were either just getting up or just getting ready to hit that climatic part of their dreams was that no one wanted to schedule his services that early. It didn't cost him any business.
The front office wouldn't be open until long after he left. So he swiped his member's tab through the reader on the side door. Walking in, he heard the loud music. Everyone was welcome at Metal Mania, but it was designed with the serious lifter in mind. The speakers sent out hard rock and heavy metal only. MM's sister gym catered to the less intense.
Treadmills, stationary bikes, and other cardio equipment he rarely used occupied the space next to the entrance. Three female heads turned his way as he walked by, bag in hand. Roony looked nonchalantly away, but into a mirror across the room. In the reflection, he saw that three stares remained on him.
What did their stares mean? He never knew. Were they checking out the freakishly muscular man? Were they lusting? The second explanation had to be wrong. When he looked at himself he saw the same bulk everyone else did. He knew he looked like he could break coconuts with his bare hands and crack open walnuts with his butt cheeks. But he kept his hair cut in a buzz so he didn't have to mess with it. His brown eyes were intense, and to him at least, buggy. His face otherwise had sharp features, like he'd somehow managed to find a body-building exercise for his cheeks and forehead. Stevie said he was gorgeous.
"You still think you're in high school. Back then you were probably just intimidating to girls. That's why you never dated the homecoming queen or the captain cheerleader. But now, you're thirty and your face has matured. You look warm and manly."
But Stevie was his wife, and had to say stuff like that. Though she'd never admit it, they both knew that she was out of his league.
It was probably just an illusion anyway. He thought they were staring at him, but they were just staring at the raised TVs. Seeing it in the reflection just made it look like their eyes were on him.
Moving through the free weights section, he noted several guys looking at him. All were familiar, but only a few were guys he'd talked to before. Roony suspected he was a spectacle to them too, further confirming his reasoning for why women gawked at him.
I'm a freak.
Roony dropped his bag off by the deadlift jack. He took out a 64-ounce bottle with four scoops of neon green BCAA powder loaded at the bottom. Walking to the water fountain, he glanced over at the treadmills. He caught three stares. Two looked away. One, a blond-haired woman, smiled. Roony looked away. Her look had seemed kind of amorous. No doubt she was just being friendly and his ego had added the amorous part. He mixed his drink at the fountain and tried to focus on what he needed to do today. He kept his eyes trained forward as he made his way back to the jack.
Some powerlifters warmed up with a little cardio. Roony just started light. To a novice, deadlift was a matter of standing up with the weight in your grip. For a pro, it was a little more complicated than that. Roony bent his knees, splayed his toes about thirty degrees, gripped the bar, focused on driving his feet through the floor and pulled up 225 like it was nothing. A little stretching and two minutes later, it was 315. He put on his belt for 405. At 495 he finally struggled a little, making sure to use his hips after the weight was off the floor a few inches. After extra rest, he loaded up 585 and chalked his hands. He stepped up to the weight. Thoughts of discomfort entered his head, but he pushed them away and focused only on his form. He drove with his feet. For a second, the weight wouldn't budge. The mirror in front of him revealed huge veins in his reddened forehead. The goofy thought that this was the face exercise popped into his head, along with the feeling that his head would explode. One of the strangest things about deadlift was that his legs did most the work, but would feel no pain until later. No, the pain came from the fire in his hands, the stabbing in his spine and, of course, the certainty of his head exploding. The weight inched off the floor. Roony brought his hips forward and 585 came up the rest of the way. But it wasn't over yet. He still had to get it to the floor. He lowered it halfway, but then dropped it the rest.
Dizziness swam in his head. His vision grew blurry. A distant voice broke through all of this.
"Uh oh. That will disqualify you at Nationals."
The voice wasn't really distant. Heavy lifts just had a way of causing temporary brain damage. Roony turned his attention to Nick, who'd walked up beside him. Nick, like Roony, had his certification as a personal trainer. That was about where the similarities ended. Roony had gotten his certification after getting his BS in Sports Science from OU. Nick, about eight years younger than Roony, had earned his certification online after completing an associate's degree at some trade school in Michigan. Roony was about as serious about his workout as they came. Nick, a 150 pounder who liked to claim he was training for marathons, seemed to gab more than work out.
His head clearing up somewhat, Roony said, "I know. I just want to get the up part down for now. I'll worry about not dropping it later." He shook his head. "That was supposed to be a set of two."
Nick smirked. "I wouldn't worry too much. It's more than anyone else around here can even get three inches off the ground."
Roony chuckled. "Well, if my goal was to win the Perryton, Oklahoma title I guess I'd be set. But as it stands, I need to get it up to at least 700."
Roony got the weight loaded back on the jack, elevating the plates off the floor and making them easier to put away.
"So how you liking the new house?" Nick asked, watching on like an armless man.
"Great. Everything is finally put away. I'm really digging the pool."
"I'll bet, just on time for the heat."
"Yeah, I got clients coming there today."
"Awesome."
Finished putting the plates away, Roony headed for the squat rack. Nick followed like a puppy.
"I still can't get over how lucky you were. Buying the house from a guy that never lived there. Getting it cheap."
As he loaded plates on the next bar, Roony couldn't help but wonder why he shared so much with this kid. The answer came. Everyone shared with Nick. He was an information siphon. He listened, so people talked. That probably explained why he did okay as a trainer. It definitely wasn't his ability to train.
"Yeah, we caught a break. Guy owned it for five years, thinking he was going to come down and watch over his oil investments. I guess he just never got around to it."
With 225 on the bar, Roony started his warm up sets. Again, he barely noticed the light weight, even though it was on his back this time.
"Wow! You're way lower than need be," Nick offered.
Roony slid the barbell back on the rack. "Good. Stick around for he heavy set and tell me if I'm low enough then."
Nick laughed. "Or you can have the cute blonde on the treadmill come over. God knows she's watching you do it anyway."
Without thinking, Roony looked to see if she was looking at him. She was, smiling again. He looked away, glad she couldn't hear Nate over the music.
"Yeah. Women loved to see men in the squatting position," Roony offered sarcastically.
Nate chuckled. "Come on now. It brings out the beauty of our asses."
Finished loading weights for the next set, Roony swayed his hips to stretch his back.
"That'll really turn her on," Nick said. "Man, would your wife be mad if she were here."
At that, Roony smiled. Was there a more confident woman on this planet than Stevie? "Even if that chick was really checking me out, I don't think it'd bug my wife a bit."
#
"Look at her. She can't sit still."
Doctor Stevie Becker did look at the black-haired child again, even though she'd been looking at her for the better part of the hour already.
Skyla Newt, even with the awful name, was a beautiful little girl. Her long black hair contrasted with a fair-skinned face, but went well with her chocolate brown eyes.
But her head looks like it's battery operated and won't stop moving until someone flips a switch. Hah. I should put that in my report, but I probably won't. Got to stick to the boring terminology so I can look professional. Graduate school sure beat all creative expression out of me.
"You're right," Stevie said in a calm voice. She does seem a bit active. Stevie smiled at the child, who returned a missing-tooth smile of her own before twisting in her chair. "I think I need to run a few test to check for ADHD."
Not really, though. The kid was upside down in her seat within two minutes of coming in. And let's not mention that the top of my desk used to not be so empty and my floor so littered with the office items she's decided would make good toys to be played with for a few seconds before forgotten about in record time. I think it's safe to say ADHD is in the room. What I really meant to say was that I think the state needs me to run a few test before you can get aid in dealing with what otherwise will be a future delinquent.
Mrs. Newt nodded.
"I'll have you set up a testing appointment with my secretary. The entire protocol shouldn't take more than a few hours."
Mrs. Newt nodded again. "Do I need to be here the whole time?"
Stevie fought back a smile.
Ahh. There it is. Mom really doesn't like to sit still either. Maybe we can set her up too, give them the "Bring a family member discount."
"Oh no. You won't be able to be in the testing room anyway. And Skyla can wait in the playroom when she's done."
Oh my God. What did I just do? I've sentenced a playroom to certain destruction and just told a child I have to test that there's a prize at the end. And she won't be good to get the prize. No, ADHD means she'll ignore me the whole time, anticipating the room full of things to sling around.
"Can we do this soon?" Mrs. Newt asked.
There it is again. Mom doesn't like to wait. They should just give me Ritalin to throw into these people's open mouths.
"I think I have an opening tomorrow."
"Okay. Thank you Doctor."
Wow, did you just call me Doctor and stop because you can't remember my name?
Stevie nodded and stuck out a hand, but Mrs. Newt was already up and looking toward the door.
As she watched them leave, Stevie considered the testing mess she had just gotten herself into. She wondered how Roony's day was going.
#
"Anyway, I’m enrolled at the Vo-tech. I can't wait to have a little financial security of my own."
"I can understand that," Roony responded to Shelly Hammer as he adjusted the resistance bands for her. He tried not to think about the truth, but the truth came anyway. Shelly had financial security. Her husband's successful chain of oil-change shops provided that. The phrase she was looking for was financial independence.
"I have all these visions in my head. Sitting in the classroom, taking in new information. Having lunch with my classmates. I get so excited I could just burst."
Roony told himself that he hadn't caused the changes that came over his client. Those changes had been brewing before she came to him last year. If he'd not helped this 42-year-old woman develop a lean body that took ten years off her appearance, she would still have had thoughts of leaving her husband. Of course, Shelly had never said that she was planning an escape from her marriage, but it wasn't hard to read between the lines. His clients talked. He tried not to do anything but listen. But they talked to him like he was an expert on more than body shaping and strength development. They treated him like he was Stevie. Maybe it was because he was cheaper than getting an actual shrink.
"Then I'll get a job. I don't know if it will be part-time or fulltime. But it will be cool to have my own money. Maybe I can buy a new car without having to ask anybody."
It was impossible to deny the confidence that came with spending time with Roony. He'd heard her talk more and more about turning heads, claiming less and less every time he saw her that she only cared about it for ego purposes, talking less and less about how she only wanted to feel good about herself. Roony just had to tell himself that it wasn't his business to play counselor, that he only provided knowledge and skill in physical development. The incidental consequences were out of his control and none of his business.
With the bands in the brace above the door, Roony handed her the grips. "All right. Standing crunch. You know the drill."
Despite the fact that she was coming to the end of the grueling workout that Roony had designed, a glow of hope still showed on his client's face. With a perfect arch in her back, Shelly leaned over, stretching the bands as far as she could, then slowly came back up.
"Perfect," Roony commented, then waited until she had done ten reps. "Superset with deadlifts."
Though similar in concept to the deadlifts he'd done earlier, these weren't exactly the same. Knowing exactly what to do, Shelly placed both feet on the band he'd placed on the floor, picked up the grips and utilized perfect form, keeping an arch in her back, never rounding it and risking an injury. Shelly thrust her hips forward and squeezed her butt so that it looked like two well rounded, but solid, stones in her spandex shorts. Roony couldn't resist admiring his work. He'd helped sculpt flat, flabby flesh into something that turned heads.
"Do you hear that?" Shelly said, still doing the reps.
Roony listened. "I don't hear anything."
"It's gone. It was kind of like a banging sound."
"Like someone knocking?"
"No, it was too spaced out for that."
"Well, whatever it was, it'll have to wait. I've not finished torturing you."
"I would expect nothing less."
After Shelly had rotated three sets of crunches with three sets of deadlift, Roony watched her down the last of her water bottle.
"All right. How about you start your cool down. I'll fetch you some more water."
Shelly smiled. "Got ya."
Roony had made the workout studio in the basement. Clients could come in through the back door and go directly down. Roony expected this set up would work out well. Most people in the area didn't know Wells was an actual town. Its population less than two hundred, most just assumed it was a country addition about three miles outside Perryton. Being right off Highway 412, it was easy for his clients to find.
He had been making his money going into people's homes to train them. This would be so much more convenient. He could see clients back to back without having to deal with travel time.
At the top of the stairs, something in his periphery caught his attention. Roony looked from the back foyer out the door window to see a metallic-yellow pickup truck backing from his drive. He didn't get a good look at the driver, just enough to see he was male. Maybe he was a neighbor coming to introduce himself and welcome Roony to the neighborhood. In a town the size of Wells, the whole town could be counted as neighborhood.
In Roony's mind, clients owned him for the time they paid for, so he wouldn't run out to greet the man. He wouldn't have even answered the door if he'd heard the man knocking, which was probably what Shelly had heard. But why had the knocks been spaced out? Was it just Shelly's tired head–or maybe her blissful euphoria–playing tricks on her? It probably didn't matter. Roony returned to his client, fresh water bottle in hand.
#
An extra car sat in the driveway when Stevie pulled up in her Explorer.
Thank God for small favors. I luvs ya, Roony boy, but my heads a spinnin' from listening to people all day. Mama needs some me time.
Stevie did take a moment to admire the house after exiting the vehicle. Friday, she'd trim the bushes that ran along the front. She'd trim the grass too.
And oh how Mama loves Friday. Working in the yard, getting lost in the vegetation, all the thoughts of test scores, psych evals and mental sickness floating off in the heat. Ahh Friday.
On the ground floor were two bedrooms, a huge living room and kitchen, plus a full bath. A sunroom ran off the kitchen and opened to a gated pool in the side yard. Upstairs were two more bedrooms, plus a full bath with a whirlpool tub that’s sole purpose would be to catch water from the shower nozzle until around October, but they would still admire it until then. There was a full basement. A small part of that contained a laundry room. The rest Roony had converted to a home gym.
And Mama will use that to her advantage. She'll act like she's doing you a big favor sharing her house with your clients, so maybe you'll feel bad about asking her to share the rest of the house with rugrats. At least until Mama is ready. Maybe a couple of more years of sleeping through the night and not having to deal with fecal matter.
Finished basking in the glow of her new home, Stevie went inside.
Now onto the best part. Mama's gonna be loving life in a few.
Stevie rushed to the bedroom upstairs and put on her bathing suit. She grabbed a towel from a hall closet and a beer from the fridge. Moments later, she was in the back yard, setting the towel on a lawn chair and the beer beside the lawn chair. She jumped into the pool's deep end and sunk to the bottom, where she stayed for a little while.
#
Almost all of Roony's clients were women. What men wanted from a gym was usually pretty simple. Women had their stipulations.
I want muscles, but don't want to look like a boy.
I want to lose weight, but I'm pretty sure my husband will leave me if I lose my butt.
I want to get rid of the flab under my arms without being hard all over.
Roony made his money accommodating them. Many of the women he worked with had become much more attractive under his tutorship. By the nature of the job, he had to place them in provocative positions. By the nature of being a man loaded with testosterone he felt urges that needed to be fought back.
Still, when he heard Stevie moving around upstairs, his mind and body went to anticipation of one person. The client he was with suffered a fall in attractiveness, if only in his mind. The next one never really earned his lust, because he felt as if he could sense the incredible creature upstairs.
Finally, the workday ended. Roony showed the last client out the back door. Stevie had mentioned that it might seem unprofessional for his clients to catch a glimpse of his barely clad wife in the side yard by the pool. He'd laughed and said it would probably lend credibility to what he did. Stevie was hot.
Roony walked into the sunroom and peered out one of the windows. Stevie lay by the pool, with two empty beer bottles by her side, a novel in her hand. She had a flawless body, but not because of anything he'd done. He'd found her that way. One of his favorite things was watching her work out. It wasn't so much that she did things right. It was that she did them with intensity. Even after he'd finished his degree, he'd never felt the need to alter what she did. She managed to keep fat off of her, but maintained a petite figure, except where she didn't need to be petite. Her chest was fair sized. Her firm bubble butt might have been the sexiest part of her if not for her face and personality. The freckles below her big brown eyes on her dainty little face made him want to figure out what she needed and give it to her. Her dark chocolate brown hair flowed with an incredible softness and usually smelled like some kind of berry. She was quite good at mystifying him. Roony considered having a beer and just staring at her through the window for a while.
A noise came through the house. Roony's mind flashed back to his client Shelly, earlier that day. She'd mentioned something he'd not heard, a knock that didn't sound like a knock. That's what this was. It was a knock, but it reoccurred a few times, too spaced out to sound like someone at the door. And it came from above.
Reflexively, Roony looked up. As quickly as the noise had come, it had left. Roony moved across the house and up the stairs. He checked the master bedroom, the spare bedroom and the bath. He checked all the closets. He found nothing out of place.
Maybe it had been the plumbing or ventilation system. His wondering about the phenomena soon ended, when he thought he heard Stevie come in.
#
Stevie met Roony in the dining room. She relished the way he looked her over after stopping in his tracks.
"You, know," she said. "I liked how you were gawking from the kitchen. Why on earth did you stop?"
"Because I'm a fool."
"Hmm. Maybe sometimes. But you're usually a very intelligent man, so I think you will have learned your lesson. And the thing I want you to figure out next is that the pool is surrounded by a privacy fence."
He moved toward her. "Well then. Let's go check it out right now."
She shook her head. "No. I want you to surprise me sometime. For now, let's go make sure the shower still works."
#
"I'm exhausted," Roony said, spread naked above the covers.
Stevie watched her own arm, as she ran her fingernails gently over his chest.
Look how small my appendage is on him. I could put on fifty pounds and still be tiny by comparison. Bring on the ice cream. Woo hoo!
"You should get more cardio," Stevie said.
"I've told you, no cardio on the heavy days. I mix it into the three medium and three light days."
A giggle escaped her. "I don't think we're talking about the same kind of cardio, Baby Cakes."
Roony turned his intense baby blues to her. He always said they were buggy.
You don't realize the power of those peepers, do you? You never will give yourself credit for such attributes, not with a past like yours.
He gave a relaxed smile that added further to his sex appeal. "Oh. You mean like the cardio we just did in the shower."
"Yup. And don't you think it's especially cardiorific when you lift me up like that?"
He chuckled, low pitched, a sound that would create the illusion of confidence for others that heard it, but that she knew was just a sound of tiredness. He'd done heavy leg work today. His thighs and hamstrings would be like Jell-O at this point. Luckily, her buck twenty wouldn't even qualify as a warm up set on his tree trunk legs. The memory of her hamstrings rubbing on his hips as he moved her up and down caused her to consider a second round. Those rocky muscles made her feel so vulnerable, yet so safe. When he'd used them to thrust into her she'd felt like she'd explode and then did kind of explode. The first orgasm was awesome. The second orgasm had caught her by surprise.
Could I have a third if I could get him energized again?
"You still have to have your pre-bed protein shake, right?" Stevie asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Maybe I'll just have some cottage cheese instead. I'm too tired to mess with the blender."
Yeah. Well maybe you should add a heavy dose of B vitamins and some major carbs to your night meal. Get that energy back up where it belongs to extend the day for more fun.
"You trying to get rid of me?" Roony asked.
"Hell no." She lay flat on his chest and gripped him. A few seconds later she started to notice her own tiredness. 5AM would come early tomorrow. "That was so fun. You made me feel so tiny."
"You are tiny."
As her mind went back to the shower again, she let it flow. Her tiredness mixed with a kind of detachment from her current location, making the memory more vivid. She could actually feel his flexed biceps in her hands, wet and powerful. The feeling of losing control tickled her mind. But there was something else, something in the background. She remembered it clearly now.
"Did you hear that knocking?"
"No. I don't hear anything."
"No. Did you hear it when we were in the shower? You might not have. It was hard to hear over the water."
He shifted under her. She moved and he sat up. "No. But I heard it earlier, when you were outside. And I had a client hear it earlier today. It's a knocking sound, but kind of spaced out."
"Yeah, it went most of the time we were in the shower, like every five seconds or so. It sounded like it was coming from above."
Roony looked as if a light bulb lit up in his head. "Of course. I checked up here, but I didn't look higher. There must be something in the attic."
#
To do what Roony did, you had to adapt to the world. His waist thin in proportion to his massive legs, most varieties of jeans cut off circulation and made him feel faint. At best, he could either wear denim so tight that he walked like a duck or so loose he looked like a clown. He adapted to this by finding professional looking sweat suits to wear while working, and wearing tight shirts that drew attention to his upper body when he couldn't get out of wearing regular pants. Plane trips and sporting events made him feel like brute, the way his arms and shoulders always overlapped into the seat of the person next to him. He adapted to this by leaning more into Stevie's seat, where she could use part of him as her chair backing. When Stevie wasn't with him, he tried to sit by the aisle, and then turn sideways in his seat when someone passed by. Other things he adapted to subconsciously. Without even thinking about it, he started turning more and more sideways when going through doorways. He wouldn't have even noticed it had people not liked to point it out.
"Man, I'd like to be so buff that I had that problem."
"They should make buildings to accommodate giants like you."
Right now, he couldn't fit through the opening of the closet ceiling. He'd removed the flap there so he could take a look around. He now stood on a little stool he used for calf raises.
"No way you're getting in there," Stevie said from below
"I can get an arm through and my head. I'll shine the light around."
Roony almost fell as he adjusted himself.
"Why don't you just let me take a look? You can lift me right up and through."
That much was clear. Stevie would fit through the gap easily. But there was something up here. His own emotions confused him right now. Was it fear for her safety that motivated him? Was there something he wanted to see? Something he just wanted? It stirred around in his mind, like an old memory he couldn't quite grasp. What caused this? Had the leg workout bested him? He'd not had a chance to really rest afterward, with so many clients scheduled. Then Stevie had worn him down more. Could he have gone too far, caused some kind of cardiac incident, reducing the blood flow to his brain? He didn't feel ill. He felt kind of good. Kind of? What was this strangeness? Should he tell Stevie? Something he didn't understand anymore than the rest of these emotions screamed, "No!"
"Don't you need to have the flashlight on for it to work?"
That wasn't good. He'd gone off in his head. How much had his shrink wife figured out already.
"Sorry. Just tired I guess."
"All the more reason I should be up there." There was no irritation in her voice. Like she often did in situations that would irritate most people, she sounded amused. "Come on down here. You can still be my big-strong-hero-man type person afterward."
Roony flipped the light on. Wooden beams barely exposed through thick insulation came into view. He moved the light around the best he could. Still, there was nothing out of place. It was just an attic.
"Nothing here," Roony said. "I'm coming down."
#
What the heck has come over me? Stevie mused.
Why do I want to go in that attic, yet I don't want to go in that attic?
Roony had come down. Now he stood with her, looking up into the closet, at the opening. Why hadn't he put the flap on yet?
Let's see. I want to and don't want to. And when an "I don't want to go into the attic" front hits an "I want nothing more than to go into that attic" front an attic indecision tornado is formed and destroys everything.
How could her thoughts be so silly now? Why were her thoughts always so silly?
My thoughts are fine, I suppose. They get me through the day and through life much easier than most go through it. I guess when you grow up like I did . . . Oops. Let's not go there. Back to the attic tornado issue. There's only one way to stop this storm from coming.
Stevie reached out and grabbed the flashlight hanging loosely in Roony's hand. He tightened his grip, and suddenly his stern gaze fell on her.
And what is this? Does Hubby Bubby sense something too?
"You know, big guy. I don't think I could take you. But give up the beam or I won't let you take me for about a week."
His stern look fell away, becoming a surprised expression. But he wasn't surprised at her. He was surprised at himself, at his previous sternness. Yet he still clung to the flashlight.
"All right, dearest of dears. We both know I couldn't hold out a whole week. It's doubtful I'd last a day. But why not give Mama the flashlight anyway."
Roony looked away from her, toward the attic. "We don't know what's up there. There might be poisonous spiders. You know, they say the Recluse likes to hide in dry, dark places.
"Yup, those Recluses are very reclusive. Give me the light, and I promise not to look under anything."
She pulled, but the light would not move an inch. He was so damn strong.
What to do? My Sweetiecakes has never been like this before. I guess I have to match his stubbornness.
She went to move past him, and he stepped back. His body was big enough to block the doorway and much more. She looked hard into his eyes, purposely growing an inquisitive frown on her face. After a few seconds, he stepped out of the way, putting his head down like a shamed little boy. This time, when she grabbed the flashlight he let it go. She took the device, then stepped up on the stool. When she pulled herself up she felt his strong hands beneath her. He wasn't helping her in. He was protecting her from a fall. With most of her body inside, she flicked the flashlight ahead of her before going the rest of the way in.
She picked up the lamp, then didn't turn it on. Something inside said to just sit there. It was similar but not the same as something she'd felt before. She had meditated for years now. Sometimes, she reached a state where she no longer evaluated her feelings. Then they flowed in a blissful sort of way, but not always. Sometimes a feeling came that was not good or bad, but she loved it anyway. She thought she could sit there for hours and just let time disappear.
#
"Roony. Hey, big guy, come back to this world."
Roony wasn't exactly gone. He'd been aware of Stevie being up there for a while. He had noted that he didn't hear her moving around. He'd been fairly certain the beam never came on. Why had he not cared? Why had he just stood there, hoping she would take her time? Something else had been in his head. He tried to remember, but he couldn't quite grasp it, like it had been something from a vague dream or a scene from a long forgotten movie.
Only Stevie's head showed. "Why don't you come over here and help me down. I don't want to sprain an ankle."
Roony moved to her. She went up, then came down, legs first. He got her by the thighs, then her hips. After her entire body had cleared the opening, he set her on the floor. She didn't look at him. Instead, she immediately hopped on the stool and pulled the flap over the opening. Then she hopped down, turned to him, and smiled.
"Sorry I took so long. I guess I liked it up there and wanted to feel it out. It's hot, but dark and peaceful. Might be a good place to meditate."
Suspicion rose quickly. Was she lying? Had she felt something up there too? Something weird? He'd have to just forget about it. No way was he going to accuse this shrink of lying and enter a mental sparring match he was certain to lose. They both got ready for bed.
Chapter 2
The pressure built up and Roony came to in the night. Competitive powerlifters needed to put many things in their bodies. One of those things was a ton of fluid, every day. That meant waking up to pee at least once every night.
Roony lay there awake for a little while. As much as his bladder pressed for relief, he had to take a little while to ponder where he'd just been. What the heck was that all about? He didn't usually have vivid dreams. So why did he feel like he'd just been everywhere? The memories came, vague, but true. The dreams had been like a tape spinning in his head, a movie reel displaying his life in a symbolic way. He remembered there being a window in several scenes, with someone standing outside looking in, observing his most private moments. That person had been different each time, sometimes Stevie, sometimes his brother, and sometimes one of many others.
He had to put a stop to it now, had to hit the stop button in his mind. Even the memory of the dream made something inside his brain stir. And he didn't need the stirring right now, not with the remnant neck pain from yesterday's heavy workout having arrived. There were two more heavy days and thus two more days of that neck pain to come. He didn't need this spinning to make it worse.
Stop! he screamed in his head. That was actually somewhat effective. The tape had slowed.
He was wrapped around Stevie's back, spooning against her little body. It was time to roll instead of pull. Rolling would aggravate his neck less. Pivoting at the hips brought the rest of his body over. Swinging his legs over the side brought the rest of his body up. This was good, not much spine use so far. Spine use would be fine during his workout tomorrow, but not good just after waking up, when his muscles were so tight.
Roony stood and kind of staggered, like his attention to the neck pain wouldn't allow for the necessary amount of focus needed for standing. He took a second to balance himself and then headed for the bathroom. Standing there, relieving himself, he felt and considered the pain. It was too much. The workout alone would have left him with a bearable amount of agony, but the tape dreams had pushed it over the edge. He would need to pop some pills. After washing his hands, he grabbed a couple of Motrin from the medicine cabinet. He had just closed the cabinet door when he heard her speak.
"There's something I've been wanting to tell you."
Roony turned to his wife's voice. "Huh?"
"I want to tell you that you've let yourself go too much."
A new kind of spinning came in his head. What was she talking about? He was getting bigger, but that was mostly muscle. Could she be talking about his gut? He was a powerlifter, with little interest in bodybuilding. He wanted to show off by pushing massive weights, not by getting big then starving himself down to flex upon a stage. His body was still incredible, he thought. His stomach was not fat, but big, because it was yet anther big set of fibers he needed to push with. And it wasn't like it wiggled at all when he walked.
"I know this hurts, but it needs to be said. I'm seeing a lot more men that I'm more attracted to."
It felt as if he'd been punched in the jaw. He thought his whole body sagged with the hurt.
"There's something else you should know. I've had sex with someone else. And I've done it several times. I knew I should stop, but I just liked it too much."
The hurt gave way quickly. A tingling numbness started setting in, shock. He knew the hurt would come back, but he'd deal with that later. How could this be happening? They'd had so much fun last night. They had fun most every night. What had he done wrong?
His knees buckled. He dropped to the floor.
No, he couldn't be like this. He had to be strong. He pulled himself up.
"Roony. What are you doing?"
Had she really just asked him that? He could barely choke up the words. "How could you?"
Her voice was flippant. "Huh? What are you talking about, weird boy? The only thing I've done is wake up to see the silhouette of my husband standing in the bathroom. Now if you'd come on out of there, as the basketball guys say, I got next."
A strange thing happened just then. He noticed the pills still in his hand. Was it feeling coming back? Was that due to a sense of hope? "You don't remember those terrible things you said."
She was silent, but just for a couple of seconds. She sat up and said, "I guess some would say announcing that I got to pee is a little bit terrible, but I did frame it in a metaphoric way, which should have taken out some of the sting."
Roony moved across the floor. "You were asleep then. You were talking in your sleep."
"Well. I can tell you the first statement is true. As for the second, I have to take your word for it, but I don't remember dreaming or anything. I was sleeping pretty sound and then there was a banging. Did you drop something?"
He
pulled her to him. Not worried about injuries due to muscle tightness
anymore, he actually lifted her up. "Yeah. I dropped me."
When
she made a sound like he was crushing her, he loosened his grip.
"You fell? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
He held her in silence for a few seconds before she spoke again.
"What the heck did I say?"
Could he tell her? No. He didn't even want to hear himself repeating the words. He sat her down. "Nothing. Go pee and lets go back to sleep."
#
Being up and gone before Stevie was even up was a break. What she'd said in her sleep had a different feel to it now that he'd slept on it. A certain humiliation entered the gym with him that morning. Feeling unattractive made him not even check out the treadmills as he walked by. Feeling bad about feeling unattractive made him feel weak, and brought even more humiliation, like the people around him could peer inside and see him ruminating. He felt as if he would trip on his own feet as he made his way to the bench press. On top all this, his neck ached with a notable throb.
The warm up sets and the stretches in between brought looseness to his neck and looseness to his thoughts. After whipping off two reps with 365, warm up time was over. He sat up on the bench, accidently catching a glimpse to his side, where he thought he saw someone looking back. A slightly longer look revealed the cute blonde from yesterday, her eyes big, a smile on her face.
Roony produced a meager smile of his own before turning back to the front. Maybe he wasn't so unattractive after all. Or maybe he was unattractive, and she was just impressed with how much weight he could easily move. If the latter was the case, Blonde would love the next set. He loaded up 415, then stretched as he allowed a few minutes to pass.
Roony gathered Carter, an excellent bodybuilder in his own right, from a nearby rack.
"How many?" the bald insurance agent with thick muscles asked.
"Three or four," Roony replied, before sitting on the bench.
Thinking only of his form, Roony lay down, pulled his feet toward his center, brought his shoulders together and raised the middle of his back into a nice arch. He positioned his hands wide. Part of him wanted to ask Carter if she was looking, but Carter was also a married man and had intimated on past occasions that he didn't even look at other women. Roony sometimes wondered if Carter had grown so accustomed to his wife's fears that his body would attract a younger gal that he'd basically programmed himself to be ultra-faithful? That seemed like a good way to avoid a jealous wife from basically ending his time at the gym. Roony, of course, didn't have the problem of a jealous wife. He casually glanced to the side to confirm the cute onlooker before giving the three-count for a liftoff.
With his arms locked above, 415 felt very doable. The pressure came when he lowered the bar, like a small car slowly falling on him. As soon as the bar touched his chest, Roony exploded into the press. Like always, he was surprised at how easy the first rep went up, setting off calculations in his head. Four reps seemed likely.
"Awesome!" Carter shouted after Roony got the second one up. His spotter was the drug-free state bodybuilding champion, light-heavyweight class. Impressing him was hard. And making Carter say wow might just mean Roony had made Blonde say wow times three in her head. Roony brought the weight down for the third rep. Carter kept his hands close but the experienced spotter knew Roony would want to get the weight on his own. He wouldn't touch the bar until there was trouble. Trouble came.
Roony actually heard the rip. It felt as if someone had stabbed him in the connection between his right shoulder and pec. He screamed out in pain. Carter, no doubt seeing one side had gone down faster than the other, and knowing the difference between a cry of pain and a cry of effort, immediately pulled on the weight. With Carter's help, Roony was able to get it to the lower brace.
Panic rushed in like a swat team, as thoughts of weeks off his training arrived, dreams of winning the national meet dashed with the tear of a supportive muscle. He stood. Feeling faint by the sheer pain, he leaned on the bench with his good side.
"Your rotator cuff?" Carter asked.
Roony couldn't talk for a few seconds, waiting for the pain to dwindle, waiting for the faint feeling to wan. He felt as if he would puke.
Carter probably hadn't heard the rip. He'd been yelling support at Roony at the time.
"No," Roony finally said. Pectoralis minor.
"Oh," Carter said, rubbing his own, groaning as if Roony's statements had brought back memories. "How bad?"
"Won't know for a while. Could be a few days, could be a couple of months."
He might has well of told Carter he'd developed cancer and had a 50/50 chance of living, giving the apprehensive look on the builder's face.
"I've hurt it before," Roony offered. "So hopefully my body knows what to do with it."
He didn't know why it was so important that Carter's face revealed relief, like Carter was the one who'd made the assessment and was an exercise physician instead of an insurance agent. Maybe Roony just needed to believe his own assessment believable by someone else.
"I hope you're okay man. I know how much injuries suck with an upcoming competition."
Roony didn't finish his workout, and he left without looking at Blonde again.
#
Skyla Newt's head moved around as if on a swivel.
Not bad. Getting through a quarter of the IQ test in one sitting isn't a spectacular feat for most, but way more than I expected from you. Better quit while we're ahead, because if you score much lower on the subtests to come I'll have to justify why I gave you the ADHD diagnosis when your IQ test results say your problem is you're just not too bright.
To get state money for mental retardation her IQ would have to drop into the mentally retarded range, and it wasn't going to do that. To get funds for ADHD her attention test scores would have to be significantly lower than her IQ test, meaning she was smart enough to get by, but those damn butterflies outside kept stealing her focus. Skyla's results were probably going to say she was a little slow. Unfortunately, there was no money for just being a little slow. Higher IQ results and lower attention test scores would reveal what was clearly going on with this poor kid, unless her attention problems killed the IQ test.
"How about a break?" Stevie asked.
The brown eyes turned her way.
Ahh. That got your attention and a cute little nod. Oops. There goes the attention.
"Come on. Let's get you in the playroom and get you a snack."
Skyla got up and looked briefly, and kind of shyly, at Stevie.
About right. Your shyness stems from adults getting onto you constantly. Even your beyond-ridiculous cuteness can't compete with the irritating way you zone off during work time and climb the walls during rest time.
Shyness didn't mean timidity about other peoples' things. Skyla ran to let herself into the playroom.
Stevie moved into the reception office, where sat Sarah, today's secretary. Sarah split time with Charla. Both were undergrads at the local college, majoring in psychology. Both had big aspirations. Working for Stevie gave them some spending money and a bit of knowledge about the ins and outs of running a private practice. Of the two, Sarah had the bigger share of brains. Unfortunately, the young woman didn't get her share of looks.
"Hey, Doctor Becker."
Why does she call me that? I've told her to call me Stevie, or some fashionable nickname like Bosswoman or Chiefette. Doctor Becker is reserved for clients who don't say it for long enough that they start to notice a slight similarity to Doctor Pepper, or worse, Doctor Pecker.
"Hey, Doll."
See. I can be informal.
Stevie got into the mini-fridge and took out a pint of chocolate milk. She fetched a pack of cookies from the bottom file cabinet drawer. It looked like her two helpers might have been taking her up on her offer to help themselves. She'd have to make a trip to the store.
She turned to see Sarah, who glanced at what Stevie had gotten.
Stevie held the two items up as if for display. "An important lesson, aspiring psychology student. The docs got their Ritalin and Wellbutrin. We got something better. Sugar!"
Sarah chuckled. Then she shook her head as if fighting back a sneeze. She lost the fight and had to grab a Kleenex.
That's it, Stevie. Don't bless her and look away. Just watch her wipe her nose. Enjoy the ugly act of an ugly girl.
Stevie went to bless her, but something else came to her mouth. "God, you're lucky you got those brains."
The hurt look that came over Sarah's face made Stevie feel like punching her own face.
Where the hell did that come from? It sounded like something the old bastard would say. Sure, I might think it. Thinking what you think is healthy, but words spoken out loud have consequences. I more than anyone should get that. Stop, Stevie! Get a hold of your thoughts and think fast. Salvage this.
She patted the young woman's shoulder. "Most people wouldn't have been smart enough to get my hilarious joke, or maybe just smart enough to know to laugh even if the boss's joke is nonhilarious. Either way, such thinking on your feet, or actually I guess it would be laughing while off your feet, will get you through grad school one day."
Sarah rolled her eyes and smiled.