The Trainer
and the other flipping his keys in his hand.
    Mason may have looked like he was appraising Chris through his aviators, but in fact , he was just trying to suppress his irritation. It had been a chaotic mess for him to negotiate a new morning schedule with his ex-girlfriend (who was rigid and intractable at best, and downright malevolent at worst), especially when it came to their daughter. Normally, Mason helped her get ready for school and out the door so that his ex could have a little more time to get ready for her job in the morning, but now he had Chris to work with immediately before that. She knew Mason needed the money, but didn’t really care. Now the best he could do to pacify her anger was to run an errand for her before he had to take their daughter to school; she only needed a few things at the grocery store, and if Chris was going to show up late, he was going to cancel the rest of the session.
    He finally walked toward Chris and sized him up: he was a handsome, friendly-looking kid, late twenties at most, but he stood there looking as out of place and awkward as a lost little boy. His long, red-blonde hair and rosy-apple cheeks added to his youthful, almost pretty-boy appearance.
    “Mason?” Chris said, “Hey , I’m so sorry.”
    “Hey man,” Mason sighed.
    Then, Mason realized he recognized him: this was the pervy boy who was always watching him shower. The trainer felt his mood shift drastically.  His anger subsided for a moment, and instead he felt a mixture of embarrassment and irritation, but also a little bit of arousal: Chris was undeniably cute. Not that Mason was interested in men. Mason quickly pushed these thoughts out of his mind. He wouldn’t say anything about the shower.
    They shook hands, but Mason quickly broke his grasp.
    Chris looked at his watch, “I know I’m almost a half an hour late but...”
    “Thirty five minutes , actually. I told you how important punctuality is to me,” Mason said flatly, and walked around to open the door of his Toyota truck. He climbed into the seat and, to his further irritation, Chris came to the open passenger window and leaned on it like a hooker.
    “I know, I really apolo gize. It’s just that last night...” Chris began.
    “Look, man. I’m not interested in excuses,” Mason said impatiently. He was doing his best to control his temper, but the entitlement of expat gringos like Chris was something that was a perpetual irritation to him the longer he lived in Costa Rica. Even though he was half-Anglo himself, his years abroad had given him a fresh perspective on how entitled and inconsiderate they could be. He felt hot, angry words burst from his lips.
    “Your life, your choices:  own your shit, man. You were late. It’s not a huge deal, but you did inconvenience me. Not a great first impression. Call me next week.”
    “Next week? But I wanted to get started right away. I can’t miss a single day.”
    “Well, guess what? You just did. Sorry, man,” Mason replied, turning the keys in the ignition.
    Chris looked stunned, but Mason could also tell that he was hurt. He pulled his arms from the window a nd said sheepishly, “Okay, yeah, I understand. Mind if I leave my car parked here? I think...I think I’m just gonna jog around the block.”
    “Sure, do your thing,” Mason said, putting the gearshift in reverse and pulling out without another word.
     
    Chris backed off, took a deep breath, and stuffed his car keys in his pockets. He shook his head as the truck took off, and he buried his face in his hands.
    How fucked up could things get? He’d already had a hell of a night , and now this fucking jerk wasn’t even giving him the benefit of the doubt for one unfortunate accident. Chris immediately broke into a jog. He rounded out of Mason’s parking lot and down the block passing all the little houses.
    It was a humble neighborhood, typical of the area , but it was well-kept. There were little tidy lawns and white begonias, pink
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