Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (16 page)

But this … this
was ridiculous.

I guess I was
tired given the surgeries and all, but nothing too severe. And
being extra munchy because of the healing process made a bit of
sense I supposed. However it was getting to the point that I was
eating full meals every three to four hours just to keep my stomach
from rumbling painfully. The hunger of the completely empty
belly.

Strange.

By nine thirty
a.m. I was in the washroom examining my stitches and giving them a
bit of a pull. The edges were sealed tight with only a faint
redness and some bruising remaining. The bandages showed no sign of
leakage whatsoever. Dr. Beasley had remarked about how well I was
healing and was planning to take out the stitches next time I saw
him. But after rolling my shoulder and wind milling my right arm
carefully, I noticed no pulling or tugging sensation anymore. So I
shrugged, grabbed Mom’s nail trimmers and cut the ends off both
stitches.

For the record,
pulling thread out of your own body feels weird.

I puttered
around the house for another twenty minutes looking for something
to do.

Then I threw
some clothes into my gym bag and headed out the door.

Chapter
13

“Did someone
call in a bomb threat?” I muttered incredulously.

I’d been going
to the downtown YMCA on Vaughn Street for almost ten years. It’s
very central, attached to Portage Place mall and is freaking huge.
It has an average membership of over ten thousand people (not
including families), over one hundred different pieces of cardio
equipment, as many pieces of resistance training machines, an
entire floor dedicated to free weights, a racquetball court, a two
hundred meter track, a full sized basketball court and an eight
lane pool.

And in all the
time I’ve spent in this gorgeous facility I had never – ever – seen
it this quiet before.

After
parking my baby in the mall’s underground lot I made my way through
the back hallways to the gym’s main lobby. The staff at the front
desk were unfamiliar to me but that wasn’t a shock. I usually make
it in after working at
Canada-Pharm
in time to see the evening crew.

The three story
locker room was sparsely populated at best. A couple of older
gentlemen relaxing in various states of undress were watching the
golf channel on the huge flat screen TV’s as I got geared up. I had
my pick of lockers which was a true rarity.

Heading down
the hallway past the basketball court there was a small group of
children with the “Little Y-Ones” daycare program being corralled
by a few younger employees. Walking in tandem and being cajoled
with promises of snacks and juice boxes. At the other end of the
court a small class of seniors were being led through a low impact
aerobics class to some Michael Buble remix.

Rounding the
last corner and facing into the main facility I stepped up to the
fitness desk and gazed slack jawed out into the barren
wasteland.

Ten. Maybe
fifteen other people. In the entire facility.

Tops.

“Well,” I
continued muttering to myself. “Looks like I’ve got the run of the
place.”

I meandered
through the machines aimlessly, trying to decide how hard I wanted
to push myself. Sure I was putting on a brave face to Mom and might
not actually have been in any real pain the last little while. But
I wasn’t an idiot.

Three GSW’s to
the upper chest was no laughing matter. The fact that I was even
able to walk into the gym wasn’t something to joke about.

So with that in
mind I opted for the treadmills in the back row to take a brisk
walk.

None of the
machines had the dreaded “Out of Service” sign sticky taped to
them. So I picked the one off in the corner, furthest away from the
main entrance. It gave me the most privacy and the best few of any
one coming in to work out in front of me. Preferably some hotties
for inspiration.

And ogling.

Yeah, like
you’re never done that.

Setting the
treadmill to a steady but brisk walk, I plugged in my ear-buds and
went channel surfing on the inset TV.

“ …
to
CTV Mornings, with Caroline and Jordan. We’ve got an exciting last
hour for you.”
“Absolutely Caroline. We’ll be talking with members of the Winnipeg
Police Service about the upcoming summer season and proper road
safety procedures for the warmer weather.”
“Later on we’ll be getting cooking tips to prepare the barbeque
grill master in all of you.”
“But before we get too ahead of ourselves let’s check in with Cathy
and see what’s happening outside.”
“Thanks guys! As you can see by the gorgeous sunlight I am out on
the CTV News rooftop enjoying a balmy spring morning …”

Shit.

I increased the
speed slightly on the treadmill to the lightest jog possible. I’d
forgotten about my promise to meet with Cathy that afternoon for
our in camera interview at the studio. So of course I’d spent the
last couple of days eating my face off.

Time for some
frantic last minute fat loss.

That works,
right?

Sigh.

“It sure
does look gorgeous out there, Cathy. Got any big plans for the
weekend you’d care to share with our
listeners?”

“Well the
weekend’s pretty packed up, but this afternoon I am getting the
chance to conduct a very special interview.”

Thanks for
trying to downplay things, Cathy.

“That’s right,
you’ll be speaking with the nightclub security guard who …”

For fuck’s
sake.

Click.

“…
Come
on down! You’re the next contestant on the
Price is Right
!”

Much better.
Though Drew was no replacement for Bob.

My heart
rate and breathing responded well to the increased tempo and my
knee seemed to be holding up to the pounding. Heck, nothing seemed
to be hurting. So I bumped up the tempo again and settled into my
stride, watching fools try to guess how much a box of macaroni is
worth for another
Plinko
chit.

Some time
passed. Some supersized southern grandmother advanced to the
Showcase Showdown and seriously scared Drew silly before anyone
else came into the fitness centre.

A pair of
ladies in full on
Lululemon
finery made their way across the children’s play area to take
up a pair of treadmills ahead of me, but just off to my left. Still
in a position to be ogled - which is clearly what you’re wanting
when you get dressed up provocatively to go to the gym - but not in
an obvious fashion. They were a number of years older than me. The
overly tanned, teeth whitened and face stretched type that often
come into
Cowboy Shotz
looking
for attention from the younger dudes. I didn’t recognize either of
them but the way the taller one filled out her sports bra made me
want to shake hands with her surgeon.

I ignored the
not so subtle over the shoulder glances they gave the fat guy
jogging away in the corner and kept my eyes on the screen in front
of me.

“…
You
won a new car!”

Loud, piercing
female screaming right into the microphone.

Click.

Enough of
that.

“ …
and
coming up next after the break we’re gonna start your retro rock
block with some Bon Jovi, right here on
Much More Music
.”

Well, I didn’t
want to miss that.

I took my
ear-buds out and tucked them into my shirt while the commercials
took over.

Nobody likes
commercials. But since they’re only two minutes long it’s a good
amount of time to push your pace. So I bumped up the treadmill
another mile per hour and prepared to sweat hard until my classic
hair metal music returned.

“Excuse
me.”

I blinked,
sweat bouncing off my eyelids.

Off to my left
the surgical sexpot was looking over her shoulder at me. So was her
friend.

She waved.
“Hi.”

Odd.

I waved back
mid stride. Seemed the polite thing to do.

“Do I know
you?” she asked, her head tilted quizzically.

I considered
it, then shook my head.

“I tell you, he
looks familiar.” Said the shorter one with unnatural red hair. She
raised her voice to me. “Where do we know you from?”

Yeah, like I’m
supposed to know.

So I shrugged
slightly, gave my small smile and checked the TV screen. Something
about a paper towel brand. Nothing awesome yet.

The tall one
looked at me thoughtfully a moment longer then gave up and turned
back to her friend. They began talking amongst themselves, too
softly for me to make out.

Like I
cared.

Maybe she was
used to being hit on more overtly by dudes in the gym. Not much I
can do about that. I’m one of those guys who goes to the gym to
workout, sweat and not be bothered.

“I know
where I know you!” The little faux-redhead exclaimed. “You work
at
Cowboy Shotz!”

I managed not
to stumble in my surprise, turning the lurching movement into a
longer stride. Didn’t even lose the ear buds tucked into my
shirt.

“Yeah!” The
taller one agreed. “You’re a bouncer there.”

My stomach
sank. Being recognized by causal people for being shot wasn’t
something I was really …

“Wow, that was
crazy the other week. With the shooting. Were you working that
night?”

I blinked
again.

“Uh …
What?”

“The night of
the shooting. With those gang guys, were you there?”

Okay, maybe I
was over thinking things.

“Uh … No. Night
off.” I replied.

The tall
one put her hand to her enhanced breast, a look of horror on her
made up face. “Oh. My. God. You are
so
lucky.”

“Yeah,” put in
the shorter one, equally horrified. “It was a nightmare.”

I just kept
jogging.

“There we were,
waiting in line for like … An hour?”

“Almost two.”
Faux-Red looked quizzically at me. “Why don’t they provide VIP to
regulars?”

I shrugged.

“Anyways,”
Chesty McGuillicutty went on. “We were out there freezing when like
twenty native guys walked past the line.”
“At first I thought they were looking for change, or smokes. But I
quit two months ago.”

“So they
walk by, looking all tough. Dangerous.”
“One of them kept staring at us, just crazy. With an ugly old
tattoo under his eye. I mean I have tattoos and I like them, but
this one was
uh-
gly.”

“They’re all
shouting and swearing. Wanting to get let in. Yelling ‘bring my
sister out’ and stuff.”

“As if
anyone related to
those
guys
would be allowed into
Cowboy
Shotz
.”

“Exactly,
there’s no
way
Aaron would
allow it.” She paused significantly then, giving me a knowing
smile. As if knowing my boss’ name made her special.

“Then they
started fighting! Shoving at people in the crowd and with the
bouncers.”

“It was crazy.
We’d just come from the hockey game and none of the fights on the
ice were this bad.”

“And then
they all pulled out guns!”
“Ohmy
God
! That was
crazy.”

“All that
blood.”
“People screaming.”

“Just totally
messed up.”

They went
on like that for a few more minutes, extorting with great drama how
horrible things were. If they’d appeared traumatized by the events
in the slightest I might’ve actually felt bad. But since it was
like watching an episode of one of those brutal
Real Housewives
shows I have to admit I found it
rather amusing.

Eventually they
ran out of various ways to emphasize their tale of woe and horror.
Likely they were more upset at having to wait in line for an hour
than about anyone getting shot thirty feet away from them.

The tall one
eyed me again. This time with respect. “You’re going pretty hard
over there. Most big guys don’t run like that.”

I know when I’m
being made fun of.

“Yeah, right.”
I said with a polite laugh.

“Seriously,”
Faux-Red chimed in. “You’re really givin’er.”

There was a
retort bubbling in the part of my brain where I keep all of my
smart-assery. It was about to snark out when I took a glance down
at my treadmills’ display.