"Have a seat, Mr. Banderole," Keena said as she sat down into a black high back leather chair behind her huge mahogany desk. Unlike the rest of the gym, which had a generic industrial primary color theme, Keena's office was warm and inviting. Instead of overhead harsh cold fluorescent lighting and a cold gray concrete floor, her space was illuminated by floor lamps radiating warm light and a sensible latte colored carpet. Bookcases lined the two walls of a large square room. Any space not occupied by a book was used for trophies and framed photos. The few photos I saw featured Keena accepting her degrees, in a posing bikini holding a trophy above her head, wearing light colored blouse and khaki slacks on one knee hugging a scantily clad ill looking child. The third wall was occupied by a large toffee colored leather sofa and coffee table. Neatly organized binders sat on a credenza along the fourth wall, behind her desk. That wall also had a door to the back hallway near the VIP locker room, my locker room. I pulled my eyes off the walls and saw two straight backed, red cushioned wooden chairs. I sat in the chair on the right side of the desk and dropped my duffel bag beside me.
She put her arms in front of her on the desk, leaned forward and said, "Mr. Banderole, I'm told that you had a good day today."
I came within inches of saying, 'Well, if you mean fucking my cat, surpassing all gym records, destroying two fourty-five pound plates, dominating a big bodybuilder and a twink, and getting the personal information of over fifty potential fags and sluts to bend to my will, it wasn't a good day. It was goddamn fucking fantastic day. Oh, and I also starred in a sex tape on your property without your permission and one of your employees might be walking pretty funny for the next week or so.'
Instead I shrugged and answered, "It was ok."
She lifted a single perfect eyebrow on her dark chocolate forehead. "'Ok'? You shattered the personal bests on most, if not all, stations in the gym. You are powerful, but your form is undisciplined and sloppy; you're going to hurt yourself. Didn't Janice instruct you?"
"I, ah, didn't exactly give her the chance."
She sat back in her chair, drawing her hands off the table. Her expression was unreadable, but the emotion she radiated was concern and disappointment. After a few seconds she must have made a decision because she stood, went to one of the bookcases, pulled three books, walked to me and handed them to me. "These are basic works on human physiology, kinesiology and exercise science. I expect you to at least read three chapters in each before you return to the gym."
"When do you want the books back?" I hear shouting in the lobby and feel rage and fear.
"They're a gift. Never lend books." she said as she rounded her desk on the way to her chair.
"Thank you, Dr. Panthera."
A gentle wave of surprise and appreciation from Keena flowed through me. She was about to say something when the door to the lobby burst open. I turned around in my seat and saw a 'roided out heavyweight bodybuilder rush into the office and bellow, "Kee, what the hell do you think you're doing!" It was Zapp Brannigan, I recognized him from the vanity posters in the bodybuilding section of the gym. He was just under six feet tall, wearing a white polo two sizes too small for him with the gym logo on the breast and a pair of khaki pants. His massive upper body was almost as big as me. He definitely wasn't dedicated to leg days and I noticed that he was not as manly as the posters made him out to be, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
Keena finished sitting down in her chair. However, she tensed up, sending out a wave of trepidation. Janice stood in the doorway trying to make herself as small as possible. She meekly said, "I'm sorry Ms. Panthera, Zapp wouldn't wait for your meeting to finish."
"It's alright, Janice. Close the door and go back to the front desk." After Janice quietly closed the door Keena said, "What are you talking about, Terry?"
"Terry?" I interjected.
"That's his real name, Terrance Limppernoodle." said with a straight face.
I brought a hand to my mouth to prevent myself from laughing out loud. A snicker got through though. Keena actually flashed me a beautifully mischievous smile as if we shared a secret joke. I felt the warmness of...friendship? That warmness was replaced with utter stab of terror when Terry charged on my left towards Keena's desk, slammed his fists on the desk and roared, "I TOLD YOU NEVER TO CALL ME THAT AGAIN!"
Keena went pale and jumped in her seat, moving the chair back a foot. Her hands shook. Her terror was not like the emotions I've felt from the people I'd dominated. This was bone-chilling, not-sure-you-are-going-to-live-past-the-next-minute terror. The feeling was so strong and terrible it made me nauseous.
He spun to face me and bellowed, "AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, BOY!" It's then I realized who the envy and rage I felt in the cafe came from. I could see where this was going, so I thought I'd have a little fun by shrinking from his insult, putting the mask of fear on my face and slouching in the chair. I slowly lowered the books I held onto the duffle bag at my side and put both hands on my lap.
Before I could utter a word a pulse of anger came from Keena. She said, "This is Bruce. He's your replacement. You're fired."
