"No," I said as I laid on the floor of my shared office space. Liz, the other trainer that shared the office space with me stared down at me.
"Why don't you just get them reduced?" she asked.
I shook my head. On days like these, I wanted to get these monstrosities torn off my chest. "Believe me, right now, I want to," I said, shaking my head. But I knew the moment I went to the office to get the surgery. I would chicken out. Plus, I really did like them this big. "It will pass; it always does." I nodded.
"Fine," Liz said, shaking her head as she went out the door.
When my back hurt as it did now, there was only one remedy, lay flat on the floor for a couple of hours. Usually, I would be home and have the time to binge-watch something or read a good book, not today. I had a schedule that was booked solid. I also had to go to my second job.
"Push through the pain," I said, trying to motivate myself to get up. I pulled myself up then fell back down. "Fuck it!"
"You want me to what?" Liz said as I texted her to come back. She came back up the stairs.
"Take my clients," I said as she stared down at me.
"No," Liz said. "Especially no, with that tub of lard, you have been working with for the past few weeks."
"You owe me," I said. I couldn't believe I was turning in the one thing I had over her.
"You're serious?" Liz said, closing the door.
I tried to get up again but reluctantly fell backward. "Yes!"
Liz had a big smile on her face. "Let me get this straight, you will never bring it up again, and we are even if I do this?"
Again I shook my head. "Yes!"
"Shake!" Liz said, leaning down and extending her hand.
I shook her hand, and she laughed as she went out the door. I had been waiting for something much more significant to cash in my chip, but I couldn't move.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I can't believe you cashed it in," Fran said as she helped me into the car.
"What choice did I have?" I said as I gritted my teeth and sat down.
"You could..." Fran smiled as she got in.
"You know the answer," I said, looking back at her. "Just take me home, I will be fine in a few hours."
Liz had cheated on her husband with one of her clients. She had told her husband that she was at my house. The problem was, she never told me. So when her husband asked about the night, I had to react on the fly, lucky for her, I was good at acting. She had owed me ever since.
"Hey," I said as I got in the door. My two protectors ran for me, but I held my back, and instantly they stopped.
I laid down on the couch. "Thank you," I said as Gwen brought my blanket from the other side of the sofa. The two of them laid on the floor.
I eventually got tired and fell asleep. What finally woke me was the door opening, and my dogs barking loudly.
"Just me," Jeff said.
"Sit," I calmly said as I sat up.
I would have to call Fran and apologize I had slept way past my clock in time for the other job. "You okay?" Jeff said.
I knew he was just asking, and he didn't mean it. He was still mad at me for the other night. Eventually, he would have to use the bridge and get over it. "Yeah, I am fine," I said as I stood up. "Come on, let daddy use the television," I said as I walked towards my office.
"Thank you," Jeff said as he plummeted down on the sofa.
"I will order the usual," I said, as I didn't feel like cooking, and I knew he wouldn't want to get up.
"Sounds good," Jeff replied as he popped open a beer.
The usual was two medium pizzas, a spicy Hawaiian for me and the works for him. I looked at my inbox and noticed the list of emails I had gotten about my story; without opening them, I hit delete all. It was amazing how much hate mail I had gotten, but I knew it would happen, what I liked were the forum posts and comments.
Why did people think that their opinion mattered? Especially when the cowards and I meant that literally, hid behind fake emails and anon names. Even some of the ones that made up a name and profile either had no stories of their own or hadn't wholly filled their profile out. Obvious fakes.
"Hope she gets pregnant, and the bush monkey leaves her like they always do," I said out loud as I read one of the comments.
I laughed. It wasn't the only one that was like that; most of them were on the same lines. They wished death, disease as well as many other things on a fictional character.
"Door," Jeff yelled.
"You're closer. It is already paid for," I yelled back.
Jeff entered my office and tossed my pizza onto my desk. "Thanks," I said, but he was already out the door.
I had a laugh reading other comments as well as replying to those that actually gave constructive criticism, especially some of them that had their own stories. Most of the other authors said the same thing ignore the negativity.
"Oh, I think we all do on some level," I wrote back.
I couldn't count how many emails I got that I didn't even read. I had a select few followers that knew my real email and not the generic response. If it went to my listed email, it got immediately deleted. I even put it in one of my stories hoping they would get the hint, but obviously, their pea brains never got the message it was their wasted time, not mine.
"Are you going to do another one?" I got as a private message from one of my followers.
"Another what?" I replied.
"Interracial?" the reply said.
I sat back and looked at the story. I re-read it just to remember what I had written. "I don't think I could go anywhere else with this," I replied.
"So," was the response I got back.
They were right. I could create another person, another situation. "Sure, why not," I responded.
I knew it would probably piss more people off, but this time I used my male character. I knew a lot of my male followers liked him. They had written many comments on how believable they found him.
Yeah, he was believable, alright, a married man cheating on his wife. So, this time I made him cheat on his wife with a middle eastern woman. I am sure that was going to piss some of them off. I couldn't wait for the responses. I sent it to my secret follower.
Unlike most of the others, he had filled out his profile. I was sure most of it was a lie, especially his location. Satellite X, orbiting the planet of who gives a fuck, was a dead give away. But at least he had stories of his own, and most of his comments were valid. Every story he had posted was interracial, usually a white male, sleeping with a black female.
"LMAO!" he sent back. "That will get them riled up."
I smiled as I read his response. "I am sure I will get a few emails and comments."
"Especially the anons," he wrote back.
"Oh, I bet they will have a field day," I replied.
I picture the people that made comments as anonymous being the same people that clicked on a movie trailer they knew they wouldn't like so that they could comment that they didn't like it.
