Lexxy Baby Pt 02

PREVIOUSLY, IN CHAPTER ONE:

Monique, a Personal Trainer and YouTube personality, walked in on her fiancé of three years in bed with another woman. She took Trey's betrayal hard and went on an unplanned 8-month hiatus from men.

Her best friend, Antonia, felt that enough was enough. She pulled a not-completely-healed Monique out of the house and into

a night of clubbing. The results were not what she expected.

Monique did not have fun. In fact, she became a wet blanket on the entire evening. She was rude to every guy there and sat off to herself drinking.

Not wanting to ruin her friend's good time, she called an Uber and headed home.

Her driver was a white guy named Alexander. Nothing stood out about him. He was average in every way.

However, he was nice to her, and funny when she needed it most. Catching a glimpse of Trey in a new relationship via Facebook almost sent her into a downward spiral. But because he showed genuine concern, he managed to put a smile on Monique's face.

He was the first guy she hadn't compared to Trey. He was Trey's opposite in every way, and by proxy, the opposite of all the men she'd ever dated. It was a refreshing change to momentarily forget about her failed relationships.

Of course, she gave him a five-star rating.

***

Mo's quad's and glutes burned as she finished her set of 10 reps. She got a good workout in, and she was feeling great.

She loved Sundays. For one, it was her day off. One of the perks of working at the gym was a free membership. This was her time to clear her head and focus on herself. No worrying about clients; no watching the clock.

Monique wasn't one of those women who looked pretty during her workouts. Shit got ugly when she entered the gym on her off days. She grunted, she sweat, and she didn't give a fuck who saw her. If you had time to notice how she looked, then you weren't working out hard enough yourself.

It was only on glutes days that she had to be conscious of who was watching her. Some of the exercises for the butt look awkward and sexual.

Coincidently, today was glutes' day.

In her earbuds, DMX was keeping her blood pumping.

Y'all gonna make me lose my mind. Up in here. Up in here.

She was in the zone and feeling the burn.

Her ponytail set atop her head in a stringy mess while beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.

From her peripheral, she saw a guy walking in her direction. That wouldn't have raised any bells, but he was coming RIGHT AT HER, not walking by her.

Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop.

He stopped.

She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact and hoping he was about to bend over and tie his shoe. But no such luck. He tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention, so now she had to look up at him. When she did, he did the motion of telling her to pull out her headphones.

Was he cute? Extremely. Did he have a nice body? Hell yes. Was she interested? Fuck no. In fact, she was annoyed.

"Yes?" she said, pulling one of her earbuds out.

Licking his lips and smiling, he started with the usual. "Hi. My name is Darion. I don't normally do this, but I just had to come over here and tell you how beautiful you are."

Oh God! Please!

Don't normally do this? Just had to tell you how beautiful you are?

It never failed. Glutes' day was the milkshake that brought all the boys to her yard. No doubt he caught sight of her "beauty" when she was on one of the machines that either had her legs spreading or ass in the air.

What made it even more annoying was the cognitive dissonance of it all. What about this scenario would make a guy think that THIS was the best time to try and pick her up? She was an ugly, nasty, sweaty mess. Even her ass was sweaty. She had no make-up on and wasn't even trying to be cute. On top of that, she had her headphones in, which was the universal sign of "Leave me the fuck alone."

Not trying to hide her irritation, she simply said, "Thanks." Then she put her earbud back in.

That could have been the end of it. He could have mumbled something under his breath and walked away. But no. Darion was one of those FINE men! His looks probably made him extremely popular with women. Having a man who looked like him approach you was validation that you yourself were hot.

But Monique was in a different head space these days. She was rethinking everything she knew about guys and dating. Trey was FINE. Her boyfriend before him; FINE. A guy who looked good and took care of himself were two qualities that she looked for. Why even waste time with a guy that you aren't sexually attracted to?

Irony is, it's been just as much of a waste of time for her to date guys that she

was

attracted to. The one thing that all the FINE ones had in common was the law of supply and demand. The more "in demand" a guy is, the more he wants to "supply" multiple women with dick.

It's simple economics.

Undeterred by her obvious lack of interest, he tapped her on the shoulder again. Without even looking up at him or removing her earbuds, Monique curtly said, "Not interested, Darion. Move along."

He may have continued his cheap pick-up attempt, or perhaps he dug deep and found some sweet, enduring words. Maybe. But no matter which of those turned out to be true, all of it fell on deaf ears. Monique was as interested in hearing the words from his mouth as she was getting a pap smear from Freddie Kruger.

He did eventually leave. She looked up just in time to see his lips move to form the word "bitch" before storming off

.

Fucking men! Not only did this guy have the nerve to interrupt her workout, he then got butt-hurt when she didn't immediately scratch her phone number out on a piece of paper with a promise to suck his dick the first chance she got.

Ugh!

A part of her wanted to run over to him and give him a piece of her mind, but she knew from experience that it would do no good. All she would do is make a loud commotion, draw attention to herself, and end up on YouTube. That wasn't a good look, especially since she had to WORK here.

Her best bet was to let it drop and continue her workout. That was what she tried to do, but her head wasn't in it anymore. Irritation had set in, and she couldn't get the mojo back.

Finally, she gave up trying and headed for the locker room. After a quick shower, she changed her clothes and proceeded to head out.

On her way out the door, she stopped by the desk to check her schedule for the next few days. As usual, she was jam packed with clients.

From behind her, Monique heard her boss excitedly say, "Oh my god, Mo! Are you working today?"

Monique turned to Naomi and said. "No. Sorry. Just came here to work out."

Naomi pouted. Then, with a coy look, she asked, "You wanna make some extra money?"

For anyone else, Monique would have said no. But truthfully, she liked Naomi a lot. Compared to some of the other people she'd worked for, Naomi was a godsend. She was fair, empathetic, and always looked out for her people.

With a loud and exaggerated sigh, like Naomi had worn her down, she said, "Fine."

"You're a lifesaver!" Naomi said, looking visibly relieved. "Brent's a no call no show today, and I've been taking care of his clients myself."

Smiling, Monique joked, "Getting back to your roots? You feeling nostalgic about your personal training days?"

"Not even! Between his clients and trying to actually run the gym, I haven't even had a chance to eat lunch. It's a good thing he doesn't have as many clients as you!" Then, giving Monique a mock glare, she said, "If YOU ever pull a no call no show, you'd better be dying!"

"One, I got your back, boss. Two, please don't ever compare me to Brent!"

"Touché." Naomi said with a chuckle before walking off. Monique mentally reordered her priorities to prepare herself to get into the working frame of mind before heading back to the locker room to change.

The first two clients she took were fairly normal. Both were women, one of which was visibly disappointed with the change of her trainer. She was an older married cougar. Her tight yoga pants and sports bra were normal enough, but the full face of make-up and teased hair told a story of what workout she was

really

looking to get from Brent.

It was the third client that stood out. He was a new guy, and specifically insisted on a male trainer. Maybe it was Monique's inner bitch, but it irritated her when guys only wanted a male trainer. It was almost always because they felt that female trainers were somehow ill-equipped to give them an equal workout.

Unfortunately, there was only her and Naomi here right now. So, Monique prepared to disappoint yet another client.

It wasn't until she strolled over to the front desk to meet him that something clicked with her new client. His name was...

"Alexander?" she said, her eyes squinting in recognition.

He turned, saw her, and gave her a smile. "Mo?"

They both laughed. Noticing her T-shirt, and the big black lettering that said TRAINER, he asked, "Wow! You work here? And you're a trainer?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I am. In fact, I'm

your

trainer for today."

She tried not to be offended by the crestfallen look on his face as he said, "I was told that I was going to be with a guy named Brent."

"Yeah. He's not available right now. So..."

His disappointment was really pissing her off. He shuffled awkwardly before saying, "Maybe I should reschedule."

Now she was really mad. With her hands on her hips, she said, "Is there a problem with me? I can give you just as good of a workout."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?" she said, cutting him off before he could even finish his statement.

Looking embarrassed, he leaned in and said, "I'm sorry. This is gonna sound all kinds of bad, but you're...you know...too pretty."

"WHAT?" she shrieked.

She was louder than he was comfortable with, so his instinct was to look around to make sure no one was looking their direction. When he turned back to her, he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..."

Cutting him off again, she leaned in and poked him in the chest with her finger. "You just meant that a girl who is

pretty

has no business training men. Maybe I should go home and churn some butter instead."

Now becoming frustrated himself, he said, "That's not what I mean at all. You're the one turning this into some sexist thing!"

"It is some sexist thing, Alex!"

His mouth looked like it wanted to form a comeback, but it couldn't. Instead, he threw his hands up in the air and said, "You know what? I'm outta here." He started to storm off, but then realized he had more to say. He turned around and stomped back over to her.

"And for the record, THIS judgmental shit right here is why people avoid coming to the gyms!"

She scoffed at him with a haughty face. "Oh yeah? I'm judging you because I'm calling out your misogyny? Well, fuck you ALEXANDER! If you don't wanna come to the gym because you're afraid of girls, then that's on you."

Shaking his head, he looked at her with disgust in his eyes and said, "You're an asshole. You know that?"

"Bye, Alexander." She said as she waved him off, her face completely bored. She watched him storm with a face full of anger.

Truthfully, she had half a mind to run after him. After all, she was on company time. Her personal issues with men should not be driving paying customers away.

But she was so sick and tired of being treated like her feelings didn't matter. Her worth as a person was minimalized by what she had inside of her bra and panties. Black guys, white guys, blue guys; it didn't matter. They were all sexist pigs being led by their vagina seeking missiles.

Fuck men; all of them.

Fuck Alex.

***

LATER THAT DAY:

"Come on, Mo. You spend all that time in the gym. I know you can beat a pot of mashed potatoes harder than that!"

Monique chuckled at her mother, who was at the oven pulling her pan of macaroni and cheese from the heat. The smell that came with the fresh batch of mac and cheese was pure heaven.

Family Sunday was almost mandatory in Monique's family. Unless you had serious plans or a major injury, your butt better be sitting at Mama's dinner table at 6:00 pm.

It didn't really start out as a tradition, but it evolved into one. Both parents worked fulltime, so dinner during the week were always quick and easy meals. Sometimes, Ramen noodles and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich were the gourmet extent.

But on Sundays, the entire family pitched in to cook one grand meal. Kids peeled potatoes, cut vegetables, made lemonade, tossed the salad, etc. Their dad couldn't cook worth shit, but he jumped in wherever he could. The bulk of the cooking usually fell to Mama, but it was still considered a joint effort.

Sunday dinners as a family fell off little by little when the three kids grew up and left the house one by one. Charles (the oldest) was the first to leave to join the Navy, so his spot at the table remained empty. Next, Ciara (the youngest) got and apartment with her long-time best friend, Gary. Yes, they were just friends. Everyone always assumed that there was something more there than friendship, but they'd never done anything together.

When Ci Ci (Ciara) left, she'd still come back on Sundays for family dinner. But Monique soon followed her siblings in leaving the nest. Once that happened, Sunday dinners became optional.

Soon, even it being optional was too much to maintain. There was always something more important in the lives of the grown children. There were friends, boyfriends, or just being fatigued from the week and needing to rest.

It wasn't until tragedy struck that things changed. Their dad, Mama's husband, died after a massive heart attack. It was so sudden and unexpected. Yes, he had high blood pressure, but it was always maintained with pills. He wasn't one of those guys who sat in front of the television until it was time to go to bed. He was up and mobile, even after retirement.

Mama was the last person to talk to him. His final words were said in a loud ambulance while being rushed to the ER.

"When I recover, we need to pick Family Sundays back up."

With tears in her eyes, she said,

"I promise."

But, he didn't make it. His death was an earthquake that left a humongous crack down the center of the family.

Mama was a shell of herself with him gone. She barely ate, always slept, and spent her awake moments crying. This lasted for nearly 6 months.

It was Charles who began the healing process for the family. That was a bit ironic because he was the only one who wasn't the biological son of their dad. Charles was from a previous relationship. That didn't make a difference to their dad, though. He was every bit their dad's son as Monique and Ciara were his daughters.

Charles made sure to get shore duty in his hometown to be close to his family. When he did, he got with his sisters with worry over their mother. Not even knowing about the promise their mother made to their late father, the three of them made a vow right there that they would reignite Family Sunday, and that they would strictly adhere to it.

That next Sunday, all three kids showed up at Mama's house with bags of groceries. Familiar smells from a lifetime ago woke Mama up. Accompanying the smells were the sounds of pots clanging and her children laughing.

You can never get time back. Cherish it when you have it.

That's what their dad used to always say. It was only when he was gone that his words became legendary.

Monique wished she could have 5 more minutes with him. If she did, she could tell him how much she loved him, how much he meant to her. He was the best man she knew. If only she'd spent more time telling him that when he was alive.

Family Sunday was her way of getting those 5 minutes.

On this particular Sunday, Monique was whipping the mashed potatoes while Ci Ci was chopping cucumbers to put into the salad. Charles, who was once again late, strolled in.

"Hey Mama." He said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Hey baby."

"You need me? Where do you want me to jump in?"

She took a quick look around before saying, "I think we got it all covered. You can just go set the table."

"Cool."

That was his trick as of late. He showed up after most of the preparation and cooking was done, and then set the table. It always left Monique steaming.

Of course, he knew this. It's probably one of the reasons he did it.

"Mama, why don't you ever make Charlie help with the cooking? He has two hands. He can do

something.

" Monique whined, even though she already knew the answer.

Completely ignoring her daughter (like she always did when she got like this), Mama impatiently asked, "You done with those potatoes yet?

Pouting, she answered, "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Then hush up and bring them out to the table."

Charlie shot her a smug smirk; the same smirk he used to give her when they were younger. She was always tattling on him; trying to get him in trouble. She got tired of seeing him get away with things that she would never be able to.

Whenever her plans backfired, he would give her this sneer. And just like she did when she was younger, she shoved him as she brushed past him. She was a lot stronger now than she was when they were kids, so he fell back and hit the sink.

"Ma!" he said, pointing incredulously at Monique's retreating figure. "Did you see that?"

"Boy please! Go out there and help her set the table. And take this." With that she handed him the pan of mac and cheese before waving him off.

With a huff, he was gone too. As he was exiting, he heard Mama yell out, "Ci Ci! What in the world you doing to that salad, child?

He set the mac and cheese in the middle of the table. Monique was on the other side, setting up the plates and forks. He noticed that she had a scowl on her face. She'd been doing that a lot lately.

"What's going on with you, Mo?"

Still focusing on her task, she didn't look up. But she said, "Nothing's wrong with me. Just sick of you always getting away with shit."

"Getting away with shit? What exactly do I get away with?"

"Life." She said dismissively. "You're a man. Men do what the fuck they want when they want. Ya'll don't care who you hurt"

"What? You trippin."

"Whatever."

Silence resumed as they continued to set the table. Suddenly, Charles had a light bulb moment. What he realized made him chuckle to himself.

Monique noticed his amusement and asked, "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing." he said, his smirk still on his face. "It's just funny how you're here, ranting and raving about

men,

when it's really just about

one man."

That was the arrow that hit the bullseye. Her head suddenly snapped up, her eyes glaring. Slamming the fork that was in her hand down on the table, Monique angrily yelled, "THIS IS NOT ABOUT TREY!"

Monique didn't realize how loud she was until she heard the echo of her own voice, as well as the rattling table. Both of them looked at each other in surprise at that outburst. Then, their eyes turned towards the kitchen door, hoping their mom didn't hear that.

"What's going on out there?" Mama yelled out.

Quickly, Charles answered, "Nothing Ma. Mo just tripped and hit the table."

They held their breath, hoping she bought it. She yelled back, "Ya'll better not be out there breaking any of my china!"

"Yes Ma'am." They said, almost in unison.

Once again speaking to Charles in a voice just above a whisper, Monique said, "This is not about Trey. This is about how you guys use us, and then throw us away when another shiny object comes along. This is about how you don't give us the respect that you give

other men.

THAT'S what I'm pissed about!"