The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 65

"I don't believe I'm actually paying you for this shit," Brian says.

Dr. Robertson just sits back and smiles.

It has been a week of trickling customer sign-ups. Sam almost has to drag her feet in to work - so distraught is she at the prospect of another day with hardly anyone at the gym. But when she pulls into the car park of 'Shape', she's amazed to find it full of cars. People are bustling everywhere and crowding the entrance.

What's happening?

Her first thought is that of a disaster of the greatest magnitude. But no smoke is billowing from the roof. The building has not collapsed in any significant earthquake, not that this is an earthquake zone. There's no ambulance wailing outside.

Sam has a reserved spot. She parks her car there, her mind spinning with the sudden upheaval.

What the hell is going on?

To her surprise, there's a queue at the reception desk that stretches all the way out. Jolie is up to her ears with recruitment papers. The trainers are all engaged with one customer or another. When Sam peeks into the gym, she's shocked to find every single piece of equipment being used by attractive, athletic individuals.

Brian himself is attached to a pillar, watching the proceedings with interest.

Sam sidles up to him and hisses, "What's going on?"

He just grins. "You'll see."

"We having a free for all or something you didn't tell me about?"

"No. In fact, we're not having any discounts on recruitment fees at all. Why follow a tired path paved by aging chain gyms?"

"You did something," Sam accuses.

Brian's smile just widens.

Sam busies herself for the rest of the morning with paperwork. And then she sees one of the new clients - who has just finished on the treadmill and is now toweling himself dry - pull Brian into the office beside hers. There's an exchange of some sort and Brian pulls out a hundred dollars from his pocket and gives it to him.

After the young man leaves, Sam barges in.

"You're paying him to come here?"

"He's not my hustler type. I prefer them with tits."

"But that's beside the point! I thought we were supposed to earn money, not give it away."

"Sometimes, you have to give away money in order to earn it." Brian indicates the queue through the door. "When there's a crowd at any new establishment, people want to see what the fuck is going on with the blue light special."

"It's like a 'Star Trek' convention," she confesses to Brian. And stops short when she sees what is parked in his reserved lot. "Where's the Ferrari?"

Brian unlocks the new Jeep he has parked there. "Traded it in."

"But why? You love that car?" It's the one I first met you in, she doesn't want to say.

"It was old, past its prime."

Bullshit, Sam thinks. "You needed the money for this campaign we're running. Gawd, Brian, you can't keep doing this! Are you OK, I mean, financially? You need money for the lawyers!"

"Fuck the lawyers. And I told you - it was heading for automobile menopause. Someone offered me a good price for it and I took it. Geez, don't nag me when I'm hypoglycemic. I only had a bagel for breakfast."

Sam doesn't say anymore on the matter. She hates nags herself. Reminds her too much of her own mother, when the latter isn't flouncing off on some rich gentleman's arm, of course. But her suspicions are piqued. She still can't get over the fact that Brian has been so downgraded that he had to give up his penthouse, no matter what he says on the contrary about that place being haunted with the ghosts of what happened. And now his car.

There must be something she can do.

There is.

On course to a deli they both enjoy, Sam notices a few people strolling around the broad sidewalks. They have large billboards hung around their bodies. All of them are young, fit and attractive. One blond man - a college student by the looks of him - wears a metal hat with two horns sticking out of its sides. He was obviously meant to be Thor, the god of thunder. He hands out leaflets to the passing pedestrians.