Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’m
trying to use.”
     
    “It’s not just
you, Joe. Believe me.” Tamara hopped down off the now fritzed
treadmill and led the way over to the fitness center helpdesk.
Sparing the vile contraption one of my death glares I followed,
trying to hide the limp as my bad knee started aching. Sudden stops
give me grief and this one was no different.
     
    Three hundred
pounds is a lot of weight on your knees, even when you’re built to
be big.
     
    Once at the
helpdesk Tamara rummaged around in a filing cabinet and pulled out
two forms, sliding one over to me.
     
    Incident
report.
     
    “I’m getting
good at filling these out,” I muttered reaching for a pencil.
     
    “Keep
that up and we’ll put you on payroll,” Tamara smiled as she affixed
some tape to a sign with the infamous Sorry, Out of Order note before heading back to
the cardio equipment.
     
    “If I get a
free gym pass I’ll take the job,” I said to her back while watching
her walk away wistfully.

    “Don’t count on
it,” she said while throwing a quick glance and smile back over her
shoulder, completely busting me for checking her out in the
process.

I smiled slightly in return. Tamara was solid.
     
    Filling out the
form took maybe thirty seconds. But I hung around and pretended to
be working on it some more as I waited for Tamara to come back. She
was doing a round of the main room, checking in on patrons and
equipment alike. Place like this gets cluttered in a hurry with
people leaving cleaning tissues and rags on equipment. Forgetting
cell phones and ear buds. Turning the stationary television screens
not attached to treadmills for better viewing. Leaving dumbbells in
the middle of aisles.
     
    People are
pigs.
     
    This person
included. Good luck seeing the backseat of my van between all the
fast food wrappers, empty coffee cups and miscellaneous pieces of
clothing.
     
    Don’t judge me.
I grab and go a lot.
     
    My breath
slowly came under control and the sweat covering my flesh was
starting to give me a chill. I contained a shiver and glanced up at
the TV screen that Tamara had re-positioned so it was facing the
correct way. The news again, this time with a long still shot of
that most recent missing girl.
     
    Almost six
P.M.. according to the wall clock next to the TV. Enough time to
rush home, make dinner for Mom and help her with her meds before
showering and heading back to the club.
     
    “You heading
upstairs, big man?” Tamara asked as she returned with an armful of
miscellaneous gym garbage. “Should be plenty of room in the weight
pit right now. All the pretty boys have to do their faces up before
going out tonight.”
     
    I grunted. “You
don’t think I’m a pretty boy?”
     
    Tamara
laughed. Not a giggle. A full on good natured laugh. “I don’t think
you want to be a pretty boy.”
She leaned on the counter and whispered conspiratorially. “Pretty
boys need a manicure before they lift weights.”
     
    I examined my
chewed up and cuticle filled fingernails. “Knew I forgot
something.”
     
    More laughter.
“You’re hilarious.”

“Chicks dig humor. They think it’s hot. Robin Williams is a sex
god.” My back cracked loudly as I pushed back from the counter.
Somewhere in the back of my brain I could feel the beginning of an
ice-pick-behind-my-eye headache beginning. I closed my eyes and
groaned. Headaches have been coming more often and more fiercely
than I liked to admit. “That hairy, sexy beast.”
     
    Opening my eyes
I looked down at Tamara, who always looked so tiny when I stretched
to my full height. Her face was concerned.
     
    “What?”
    “You look
terrible.”
     
    “So you
won’t go out with me?”

She pursed her lips and leaned against the desktop, staring up at
me on an angle that I willed my eyes not to take advantage of. “I’m
serious. The bags under your eyes have bags under them. Do you ever
sleep?”
    “Sure. I sleep.
Just a busy coupla days.” I waved a hand at her. “I’m