Badass (2 page)

The quitter, she cried for me to give her a second chance.  She said she was too quick to judge and needed to come back.  What she’d needed was to stick it out. Quitting is for cowards.

The qualifying ladies meet at the gym to get on the bus for boot camp.  They dress like they’re going to a fucking resort, but that’s also one of the requirements. Shit, they’ve got makeup in one bag, toiletries in another, and clothes for every occasion in the next.  I laugh as I watch them get on the bus with all their shit.

First step is to be attractive. I want you to fuck like a whore, not dress like one, so I need to see them ready to go without any help, because they won’t pick up men if they don’t get through the visual inspection.

I tell them straight up. My camp, my fucking rules. The ones who don’t pass the physical test are dealt with later by another member of staff. That’s not my department.

All kinds of women sign up. Fucking executives, probably leaders, all wanting a taste of Big A. Yep, that’s what they call me, Big Alex.  What they really need and want is to lose control. Women think they lack happiness because they’re not satisfied in the bedroom. Their resistance to not be in control of the situation stops them from enjoying all the pleasures they could encounter in the bedroom or even better outdoors.

Some are mothers, used to controlling their children and being the head of their household.  Others are married, used to controlling their husbands. I wouldn’t consider bitching and complaining the same as controlling.  Several are owners or business managers, used to controlling their employees.  They lack in the bedroom the pleasure they desire, not because the men don’t know how to please them, but because they aren’t comfortable in their own skin. Shit, they aren’t demanding or anything. They just need to relax. That’s what I instill in them from day one and repeat throughout.

By taking away control of what they wear, where they’re staying, or what they’ll be doing, I scare them.  When they’re under my fucking wing I control them.  They don’t get a say or do whatever they want to. They don’t even get to go to the bathroom unless I give them permission.

One thing’s for sure, there hasn’t been a lady yet I haven’t wanted to fuck.  It’s about two fucking things to get them in line.

Stamina and control!

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I
love our team meetings, but today I’m not in the mood.  The idea of not seeing Mia for two days is playing heavily on my mind.  I dropped them at camp and had to come back this morning to sort out a few things.  Or rather, Tina insisted that I come in today. I just hope it’s not bad news, but something tells me it is.

There is something about Mia that makes her stand out from the rest of the group.  She has the type of vulnerability that makes a guy just want to take care of her.  Yet, she is bold and a hard worker at the same time.  A rare type of quality for a woman to have. Now, that Carl is officially with Tina, I just hope he controls himself whilst he’s with the ladies. I´ve left him in charge for two days.  Now, it feels like two days too long.

Women consider Carl good-looking. He has the typical beach boy look: blue eyes, and blond hair. He’s a little smaller than me, but one thing for sure, he’s too perfect, flawless.

“You okay, Al?”

Tina’s voice invades my thoughts as she makes her way into my office.  Shit, it’s ten already?  I’ve been here since eight, but haven’t gotten much work done.  I’ve been lost in fucking heaven thinking about Mia in the dungeon. 

“What are you thinking about? Rather, who are you thinking about?” She’s pointing a finger at me.  Luckily, there’s no time to confess because all the supervisors start making their way into my office. 

When I was eighteen, Pops jumped on his bike and said, “Son, I’ve done what I needed to do since your mom left. Now, you can take care of yourself.”  He handed me the keys to his worn-out gym and disappeared.

I stood there watching him, thinking, is he for real? I’ll never forget the day; it meant I hadn’t just been abandoned by my mom, but by my pops too.

At school, I was an all-star athlete. I had the body and the height at six-foot tall.  My dark features, black hair, and emerald eyes were just like Pops’.  He loved telling women that I was his brother; hell, he valued saying a whole load of shit that wasn’t true.

Money, he never had.  Shit, a whole load of crap used to come out of his mouth.  The worst part? Women used to fall for it.  I’ve heard it all; celebrity women he’s never seen, let alone fucked like he claimed.  My pops is a looker and a fucking liar.  I don’t think he knows truth from reality. He’s lied about so many things it just became second nature.

Mom grew tired of him fucking nearly every woman he taught during his spin classes.  He always managed to give out his number for private sessions and the fucking gullible broads believed him.  He could never keep his dick in his pants or in the right pussy.

As a result mom drank too much. One day I came home from school—only six years old—to find she’d finished work early, packed her things, and left, never to be heard from again. She didn’t even leave a note to Pops, only me. It was a torn piece of paper laying in my room that read, “I’m sorry.”

I can’t say that I blame her for ridding herself of him. My issue has always been that most mothers take their kids with them. They don’t dump them because the man’s unfaithful.  How the fuck was that my fault? I never forgave her, even to this day. 

She did ask for forgiveness once, when she got her shit together and realized her mistake. She showed up and begged, but I told her to go fuck herself because she was a couple of decades too late.

As for Pops, he heard from Uncle Wayne how well the gym was doing and tried to take an active role, reclaiming his ownership by doing the same shit, spinning and fucking women. He just looked old and run down, so I told his ancient ass to leave with fifty thousand dollars in his pocket. I didn’t have to ask him twice.

The gym’s grown so much.  At times I think these meetings need to be held in a different venue, or I’ll have to build an extension to the gym.

Each supervisor is supposed to have their own meetings with their teams to make sure everything’s ticking nicely.  I went to a management course when the gym started growing and learned the importance of being a good leader.  Keeping your staff happy was clause number one. I’ve visited many gyms and heard from clients that they can’t believe my staff is still the same.

We’ve had the same guys since the beginning; it’s more or less a case of new ones joining as we expand. 

“Not in the mood; so not in the mood,” Steve shouts as he enters and starts mumbling something to himself as he sits down.  I’m not the only one he irritates because no one’s listening to him.  If it weren’t for him being so good at his job I would have gotten rid of him a long time ago. His parents should have named him Arrogance, not Steve.  The guy always has to brag about how many women he’s had sex with and he’ll go into detail about whether it was anal, oral, or standard.  Like anyone needs or wants to know! There is definitely no one here who wants to know where the stupid prick is sticking his dick.

He irritates me.  Tina notices my aggravation and whispers, “Jealous again?”

I sniff. “If only there was something to be jealous about....”

She laughs as she brings more chairs into the room.  Fuck, there are eight of them sitting there, all looking at my face. 

For some reason Steve is still annoying the fuck out of me. Normally, I can brush the guy off, but today he’s really rubbing me the wrong way.

I mean sure, the guy could be considered good-looking.  His dark hair sort of reminds me of Rob Lowe, and women say the same thing.  They would say anything to get a piece of his dick.  He wears the tightest pants I’ve ever seen on a trainer. Everyone could guess why; it’s that obvious. From what I can tell he doesn’t even have much to brag about. I told him not to wear them in class, so he does it while he’s walking round the gym. 

That’s not what really bothers me. No, my problem is the way he speaks to everyone, including me.  He’s fucking rude!  Women may find that shit attractive, but I’m not trying to fuck him, so I don’t.   If it wasn’t for Tina and the women going on about his unique technique I would have kicked his ass to the curb a long time ago. It probably means they’re fucking him.

I need to be cold and fire his ass, because the moment you give a prick like him an inch they end up taking a whole fucking mile.  I’ve seen it done a thousand times with the men at work and friends who are in a relationship.  My issue with him is that he wants to be the center of attention, like when he came into my office just now. It’s not his fucking meeting and he didn’t even say hello.  Sometimes, I have to bring him down a peg and remind him.  It isn’t his fucking gym or his “pick up girls” studio.  It’s work and he needs to take it seriously.

Everyone is staring at me, reminding me I’m supposed to be leading the fucking meeting, not letting this asshole get under my skin.

I clear my throat to start, but Tina cuts in.

“Right, so the agenda today is the same as each week:  the main issues with their status to date, new issues, and any other issues.”

Everyone’s quiet as Tina starts the meeting.  I look at all eight faces and start to drift off, remembering when it used to be only three faces in this meeting: Tina, Carl, and I.

She continues talking. There’s one thing that’s been bugging me and we need to resolve it as a matter of urgency.  We need a change.  I wait for everyone to get things off their chest: guest complaints, staff problems, and gym repairs.  When everyone is finished talking, I start. “I need a new contracting company because lately every time I turn around there’s something leaking or broken after it’s supposedly been repaired.” 

Fernando took over his dad’s company after he’d retired and I’ve used the same company for the last three years.  I’m thinking as much as I hate to do it I may need to get rid of them and use someone else. I love consistency, but he isn’t keeping the company’s reputation spotless like his dad had. The work is there, he just clearly isn’t doing it.

As much as I love to be loyal, I need to think about my business. I continue my thought even though it isn’t necessary. I make the ultimate decision regardless of what they think, but I try to be open to opinion. “I can’t have people using the gym while it smells like piss because he hasn’t fixed a leak or a broken pipe.  People pay a lot of money for their membership to train in a top-end facility, not a sewer.”

“I agree,” Tina responds.

“I’m going to find a new contractor for the repairs,” I say as I note it down so I can touch base with her later. 

“Good,” Steve shouts.  Does he think I’m fucking deaf or stupid? Where in that statement did I ask for his opinion? When I say I’m changing companies, it’s end of one topic and on to the next.

Tina clears her throat, probably because she knows I’m about to lose my cool. “Our last topic: around the room with any open issues or questions.”

I look around my office and realize this means we’ll be starting with Steve; it should have been with me.

“I’m thinking of a new program.”

Getting a fucking attitude?

“Does everyone remember the TV series, The Biggest Loser?”

Everyone nods; that series was a classic. Shame they axed it.  Tell overweight guys they’re going to stay in a house, and then tell them you’ll give them two hundred and fifty grand if they lose the most weight.  Some great challenges came up on that series.  It was great, but I wish they’d done a follow-up so we knew if they kept the weight off or not.

The prick continues....

“Well, I’m thinking the Omega Biggest Loser!”

He stands up with his hands in the air.  Is he fucking mad? Do I look like I’m giving out two hundred and fifty grand?

“So, I don’t have to pay you ever again and that’ll be the prize money,” I blurt out. I couldn’t help myself. He walked straight into that one. Dumbass.

Again, Tina shakes her head.  What’s up with her and defending this jerk?

“No, I’m thinking we charge them a low entry fee and then we give them a diet based on their individual weight; an incentive to lose weight, but train them for free. The winner gets a free twelve-month membership. Then, the person with the most significant change gets a prize.  Obviously, not two hundred and fifty grand, but maybe something else.”

Everyone’s nodding, including Tina. Make it stop; stop me from doing what I’m about to do. “That’s a fucking brilliant idea,” I say, as I whack him on the back.

Okay, I did it a bit too hard but, shit, the guy irritates me with his brilliant idea which has everyone going crazy. The meeting comes to an end with everyone buzzing about the Omega Biggest Loser Plan.  Steve decides to head up the team and everyone’s game. 

Everyone congratulates him on his fantastic idea and I watch him leave, wondering if his fat head would fit through the door.  After they all leave and I arrange my office the way it looks normally, Tina blurts out, “Good, they’ve all gone. We can talk.”

I slump back in my chair.  I don’t like the sound of those words...not one little bit. Even worse, I hate the look on her face as she quietly closes the door.

I
start to open my mouth. Fuck, I’m so nervous. “What’s up?” Why does she look like death paid her a visit as she sits in the chair? I remember she was quiet in the meeting.  I need to get my mind off Mia because, for once, I’m the one who’s not paying attention.

“So, I haven’t been feeling too great since you left.”

I shrug.  She’s feeling a bit run down; so, that’s normal.  I take a closer look at her as she slumps down further into the chair.  She’s lost a bit of weight and her hair, which is always tied back, but today she has left it down.  It looks limp and lifeless as it hangs on her breast.

“I went to the doctor and they said I need a few tests run.”

Now, she’s really got my attention.  I don’t like where this conversation is heading.  I move to sit next to her. Talk of doctors isn’t usually a good thing. I don’t like her feeling and looking like this, especially talking to me across the desk.