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Post by josiah on Oct 30, 2011 10:27:00 GMT 10
 Josiah had just dropped his son off at kindergarden and was left to find something to do for the rest of the day. When he wasn’t taking care of Isaac or if he wasn’t at work, he wasn’t really doing much. He kept the house clean, he kept everything working properly, he did the laundry. Despite the fact that he was now a single father, he kept the house running like a smooth ship. He didn’t really have hobbies anymore, nor did he have a desire to find something else to do, so he dealt with the important things. He made sure his son had a comfortable life and wasn’t as hurt as Josiah was over the loss of Isaac’s mother, Sophia.
Sighing, he put his car into reverse and drove off. Sometimes he just drove around the town for awhile, not going anywhere in particular. If the light was red, he’d turn right. If it was yellow, he’d turn left. If it was green, he’d just keep going. If it was a stop sign, he’d flip a coin. Heads was right, tails was left, and if he couldn’t find where the coin fell, he’d go straight. He sometimes landed himself in rather interesting places, but often it was just boring. It gave him something to do though. In the nicer weather, he’d ride his bike and keep going one direction until a song changed. However, in dismal weather such as today, when the rain would not stop pouring, he stuck in the car.
Eventually he stopped and got out of his car. He paused for a moment, just letting the rain attempt to soak his leather jacket, before picking a small cafe on the corner. He was displeased to find that it was crowded, but once he was in the cafe, he couldn’t be bothered to leave without a coffee and a bagel, extra cream cheese. After a painfully long wait in line, he found the only table left. He felt awkward taking up the table as there were enough seats for four people, but he hated eating in the car.
Instead, he sat by the window with three empty chairs surrounding him, slowly picking away at his food and sipping at his coffee, black. Josiah much preferred window seats-- he could ignore the rest of the people wherever he ended up. He could instead view the world from the inside out, something for which he was more suited. It was strange how he could have gone from a professional athlete just beginning to gain the spotlight, to someone who avoided nearly almost every interaction possible. Stranger things had happened, he supposed.
In the end, Josiah had managed to kill only an hour with his ridiculously slow munching of his bagel. By the time he was done, what little that was left of his coffee was cold and he drank it back in one big swig. He looked at his watch and sighed. He would have had the full day off, had it not been for one clint. One. Shaking his head, he headed home to finish up the laundry before heading off to work.
He’d changed into his usual work attire-- a fitted t-shirt with the gym’s logo and a pair of basketball-type shorts-- and arrived fifteen minutes early, as usual. He liked to make sure all the of equipment was in its place so that he didn’t have to run around like a chicken with its head cut off while trying to deal with a customer. That was just extremely unprofessional, in his opinion. After ensuring everything was where he wanted it to be, he headed over to the front desk to wait. As usual, the perky receptionist batted her eyelashes and tried to engage him in conversation. He had to hand it to her-- she was very persistent. Never gave up, did she? Poor thing. It didn’t help that she was barely out of high school and couldn’t even spell ‘equipment’. Sighing, he checked his watch for the fifth time, praying that his client would show up in the next two minutes.
word count: 688 - tagged: makayla - notes: nom nom nom
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Post by mickey on Nov 2, 2011 13:09:14 GMT 10
 Moving was never fun. Makayla was fairly certain that moving was an action designed by the devil himself simply to make you have to do an unnecessary amount of work just to get boxes from one place to the next. It was ridiculous how hard it was to get a truck loaded and unloaded without any problems. No doubt her stress level was already through the roof just from dealing with the movers. It didn’t help that, after she’d gotten to Capeside, she’d had to deal with some broken dishes and a few lost boxes. But, if nothing else, she was determined to get herself into a routine as quickly as possible. And, a part of that was to get herself established at the local gym. Working out had become a steady part of her life the last few years—running a few miles, continuing with her cardio, and then lifting a few weights just to keep everything nice and firm. Or as close as she could get it. The only problem was finding the motivation to work out by yourself.
At least, back in Norfolk, she had friends who would go running with her and work out afterwards. In Capeside, she had the two neighbors she’d met and that was about it. She hadn’t yet had a chance to get out and get social, so her circle was quite limited. Finally, after two days of sitting around with unpacked boxes and ice cream, it was decided that she needed to get off her ass and back to work. The best way to do that? Hire herself a personal trainer for the day. Or, if not the day, at least an hour or two. It gave her something to put on the calendar as well as a reason to actually get to the gym. Then, she’d have a work-out partner and hired friend and perhaps, if all went well, a friend outside of the gym too. People didn’t mind if you just paid them to run with you for awhile, did they? Not like they should really mind at all—they get paid and you get to stay healthy. A win-win in her mind.
Ignoring the fact that she was still living out of two boxes and her living room looked more like a storage compartment than a living space, Makayla pulled on her shirt and grabbed her backpack before heading for the door. If nothing else, she’d been able to dig out her running tights and a sports bra, covered up by her favourite t-shirt and a pair of running shoes. It was only after she’d gotten halfway to the gym that she’d really begun to think about what it was that she was going to say to the trainer. “So, hey, I don’t need your help, I’m really just pathetic enough that I have to pay work out partners.”? Hardly sounded like fun… let alone the truth. Mickey was fairly certain that she could find herself a partner if she’d tried, but with everything else going on, this just seemed the easiest. Besides, she was still fully trusting the fact that the man or woman would be getting paid, and therefore should have no problem whatsoever.
Parking, she shouldered the backpack that kept her water an extra snack and extra clothes just in case, Mickey headed for the door. Jogging a bit to stay out of the way of another car, she paused just long enough to pull her hair back into a ponytail so it’d stay out of the way for the remainder of her visit to the Capeside gym. Already she was excited to be back out getting active. It’d been nearly two weeks since she’d been running—or anything else, for that matter—and even longer since she’d been sticking to a consistent schedule. At least all of the drama of moving was out of the way and she could simply focus on the task at hand. That task was meeting her ‘trainer’. As she pulled open the door and half skipped into the building, she glanced around quickly before heading towards the desk—seeing as how that seemed the best place to ask about where to go to meet up with her trainer.
With a natural smile plastered onto her face, she left her hands rest naturally on the straps of her pack and leaned forward a bit against the counter. “Good afternoon,” Glancing around quickly, before returning her gaze to the receptionist, Makayla dropped her hands to the counter and folded her arms there. “I have an appointment with the personal trainer.”
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Post by josiah on Nov 6, 2011 10:24:54 GMT 10
It was always the same with the receptionist. He felt bad for her. He knew she knew about what had happened. Everyone at work knew about what had happened. The guys never mentioned it and for that he was grateful. It was the women who drove him nuts. When they weren’t looking at him with pity, or somehow trying to worm their way into his life to try and be some sort of mother figure for Isaac, they were trying to get in his pants. His pants were otherwise cemented and locked shut. Okay. Well. He was still a man and his wife had been gone for quite some time and he had been a tad guilty of getting completely hammered and waking up with some random chick in his bed the next morning. But that happened so rarely he hardly thought it count, not to mention he felt ridiculously guilty. It was like he was somehow cheating on Sophia.
Sighing, he placed a hand on the receptionist’s shoulder-- though he would rather not-- and gave her a sort of awkward pat. ”Listen, Stacy, you are lovely. But you need to be just a little more quiet,” he said calmly and quietly. There was a tad bit of hurt on the girl’s face for a brief moment, but it then was replaced with slight elation. When he noticed that, he removed his hand and sighed to himself. She better not be one of those creepy girls that would refuse to wash a body part after it’d been touched by a specific person. That was just terrible hygiene. ”Excuse me for a moment,” Josiah said, needing an escape from the horror that he was currently facing. He went into a small office located still within earshot of the front desk. He hid there into he heard a woman speak, asking for her personal trainer. Most likely she was the one that he was waiting for.
He came out of the small office, looked down at the clipboard, and didn’t glance a the woman because he was searching for her name. ”Good afternoon, I assume you’re Makayla, correct?” he asked, then cast a glance at her. Damn. Why the hell was she here? It was quite clear that she was in good physical condition. It was true that he did get athletes wanting to better themselves and while he didn’t mind working with people like that, he sort of liked to start with the raw materials. He liked it when he saw a huge change in someone’s life, not just a few tweaks to make a better workout routine. But she was paying, and therefore he’d help her reach whatever goal she was attempting to reach. ”My name is Josiah, pleasure to meet you,” he said, reciting the pleasantries he was supposed to say. All part of the customer service aspect...or something. It was all nonsense to him. ”If you care to follow me to my office we can get all the info we need before starting. You know, measurements, health questions, fitness goals, etc, etc,” he said, turning to guide her to a room away from the prying eyes of the receptionist.
word count: 542 - tagged: makayla - notes: nom nom nom
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Post by mickey on Nov 8, 2011 1:59:09 GMT 10
Makayla had lived in the same place nearly all her life. First it had been Australia, and then Norfolk. A change of scenery had never really been her thing. She liked consistency, for the most part. Not that she had anything against going different places, it was simply that she wasn’t used to it. Now that she was older, the idea of having to reestablish herself and make new friends was just a bit more daunting. At least it was helpful that she was completely unashamed when it came to making friends. Even if it meant hiring them for working out together. Whether or not that was normal behavior to have when moving to a new place, she really saw nothing bad with it. As long as the trainer wasn’t mad that she was just using him for ulterior motives, she would be just fine with it.
Before the receptionist had a chance to respond, the man she assumed was the trainer came from the back room and greeted her. “That’s what my birth certificate says.” Makayla smiled quickly, moving away from the counter and letting her hands rest lightly at the straps from her backpack. “Nice to meet you too, Josiah.” Offering her hand, she wanted for him to get his speal out and ask her to step back into the office. Following after him a moment, she wasn’t sure if she should just come right out and say that she really didn’t need any assessment at all, or if she should just let him do his job and get it over with. If nothing else, the thought of sitting through everything—which would likely take a while—was enough to make her just come right out and tell the man that he was nothing but hired company.
No reason to be offended, right?
As they stepped back into the offices, her smile never faltered. Slipping off her backpack, she stretched her shoulders out a bit before folding her arms across her chest. “I could share all this information and stuff with you, I suppose, but…. I really don’t need the whole orientation thing.” Tilting her head a bit, her smile widened just slightly, if only because she thought it was funny. Nothing like amusing yourself. “I kind of already know what I’m doing. But…. Well, it’s like if a stripper were to pay a prostitute—you’re the prostitute in this analogy—to come work with her. She could theoretically do it by herself, but it’s always more fun when you have company.”
As long as being called a prostitute wasn’t offensive to him, she was still good. That, or she’d just end up working out alone anyway and have a personal trainer thinking she was a total bitch. Rather than just leave it there, she thought she’d explain just a bit more. Just so he wasn’t completely confused or upset by her calling him a prostitute.
“I’m a physical therapist, is all, and new in town. And I absolutely hate working out alone.”
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Post by josiah on Nov 11, 2011 12:27:13 GMT 10
Oh no, had he stumbled upon one of those girls who said things that were supposed to make him respond in a way not unlike laughter? Dammit, those were the worst because he rarely found things amusing anymore, and then he just wound up with pissed off clients. But his job was to make them more fit, and his job was pretty much one of only two things he had going for him. Instead he had to make his clients happy and make them want to train with him again. Which meant that he had to pretend to think they were funny to make them feel good about themselves. Damn, this was going to be a long and tedious session, wasn’t it? Inside his mind he sighed, but on the outside he gave her a tightlipped smile to indicate that her statement was mildly amusing.
He took her hand out of mere manners and shook it, keeping the smile going for a few more seconds to appease the very bubbly girl. When he turned he relaxed his face and stopped himself from letting out a sigh of relief. That was a long time spent smiling for him. As he led her to the office he briefly wondered how often she expected him to smile. Oh dear god, he hoped it wasn’t too bad. He turned and looked up from his clipboard to look at Makayla. He raised a brow but waited for her to finish talking.
What? To say that Josiah was perplexed with the situation was definitely and understatement. ”I’m a prostitute?” he repeated, just to make sure he was hearing this right. ”I’m a fitness prostitute and you’re a stripper paying me for advice?” This was all quite bizarre to him, but despite it all and his general aversion to humour, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning anyways. Josiah shook his head at the ridiculousness of the statement. So she didn’t need any training, she just wanted someone to spend her work out with. While he would generally oppose the idea, it did mean that it was basically an hour for him to work out while getting paid. That was the only reason he was even considering any of this.
”Ah, I see,” he said, as if her telling him she was a physical therapist made the hooker analogy all better. He looked at the woman for a moment, trying to figure this all out, and tried to figure out just what he was going to say to her. She was interesting, that was for certain. ”Alright, well, what do you expect me to do with you for this hour?” he asked. He figured that her elaborating on the situation would be beneficial for both of them.
word count: 467 - tagged: makayla - notes: sorry it’s short D: this is my 21st post today
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Post by mickey on Nov 21, 2011 13:29:46 GMT 10
Makayla enjoyed the gym for several reasons. For one, it was a great place to work out... ironically enough. The music was only a few steps away from being party music and it was a good way to keep motivated. Whenever she ran, she specifically picked music with the right beats to match her stride. A whole playlist on her iPod was devoted to fast paced, drum focused music just for that reason. But, when she was at the gym, it was like her iPod was plugged in to the speakers and being shared with everyone. Reason one as to why she liked the gym.
Second, she loved the people. If Mickey wasn't around people there was a problem. It didn't matter if they were family, friends, or strangers. Social butterfly was hardly the beginning when it came to her. Walking up to a random stranger and starting a conversation wasn't hard if you knew how to do it without coming off as some sort of freak. Maybe sometimes she did that better than others, but in the end, it didn't bother her in the slightest. Not only were the abundance of people good for making friends, but also for people watching. Half the fun of the gym was watching everyone else. As a physical therapist, she usually had to hold herself back from going up to people and correcting their posture when they lifted or did stretches. And, there were also those that couldn't figure out how to properly use the equipment. But, when she wasn't cringing at the lack of knowledge of proper exercises, she was laughing with at someone else. Going to the gym was almost better than the movies; and you were far less likely to get fat if you went all the time. Reason two as to why she liked the gym.
Third? This guy was cute. Sure, before a few seconds ago, that hadn't been a reason, but she was all for adding things in on the fly. He seemed a little uptight, even as he smiled at what she said, but that was understandable; she would be uptight too if someone randomly called her a whore and still expected her to stick around. Smiling regardless, Makayla was rather convinced that she was going to like this guy. At this point, it didn't really matter if he was all that interested in a friendship--or even in talking with her outside of their set up time. For right now, she would make the most of the hour she had and see where it led... hopefully, it would involve some working out.
"Actually, you're the fitness prostitute and I'm the stripper asking you to hang out, not for advice. But close enough." She grinned, letting her tone take a far more joking tone this time. Maybe he wouldn't think she was completely crazy. But when it came right down to it, rshe really didn't need his advice at all. She just needed the motivation to keep running and doing what she needed to do. Having someone beside her always made that easier. "Well. I was hoping you liked to run? And maybe a bit of strength training thrown in. I just hate to run alone--it's so much harder to keep going when you don't have someone next to you to urge you forward, you know?" Her smile never haltered as she shifted a bit, letting her hands drop from the straps of her backpack to her sides. He really was going to think she was crazy.
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Post by josiah on Nov 23, 2011 5:05:22 GMT 10
Most of the time Josiah tended to ignore his clients. He didn’t ignore them in the sense that he didn’t help them. That would be career suicide, of course. He just didn’t give them much thought once he left work for the day. They didn’t linger in his mind unless he had to make some sort of fitness plan and then meet with them another day to discuss it. He was very good at separating his work life from his home life. But he’d never had a client as peculiar as the woman who had walked in today. He felt like if anyone was ever going to linger about in his brain, it was going to be her whether he liked it or not. But so far he was just wondering how he was going to survive the next hour without wanting to smash his forehead against the wall.
That made it sound that spending the allotted time with Makayla would be terrible. That wasn’t where he was going with that thought. Instead he thought to himself that she was going to make him question pretty much everything she said and he wasn’t used to that. Josiah was good at accepting what was presented to him and simply moving on. With this particular girl, it seemed like easily jumping from one thought to the next would be difficult as he found himself lingering on the thought of being a fitness prostitute. He briefly imagined his son coming to him and asking what his job was because Isaac needed to know for some school project or something, and Josiah would reply that he was a fitness prostitute. That was only an impossible circumstance, of course, as he’d never say that to a child so young, but he could only think of the bewilderment on Isaac’s face if he did say that, and couldn’t help but laugh in his head. As the client continued to talk, he just got more and more confused, despite how clear she was being. ”So you don’t even want my advice?” he said, one more time for clarification. ”If you wanted to work out with someone, why didn’t you just come to the gym and strike up a conversation with someone on the treadmills?” he asked. He didn’t ask with annoyance or anger in his voice, it really was just general curiosity at her oddity.
Josiah put down his clipboard and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He really had stumbled upon a rather strange woman, hadn’t he? Or she stumbled upon him. Something of that sort. ”Yes, I do enjoy running, though normally I prefer to do it outside,” he admitted. What she was saying was fair enough, she supposed. Part of his job as a personal trainer certainly was to motivate his clients, and that’s what she wanted. Why he was trying to justify keeping this girl on as a client, he’d never be able to figure out. ”Sounds fair enough. Would you prefer weight training or resistance training for the strength portion?” he asked, still in trainer mode rather than gym buddy mode. He’d never been someone’s gym buddy before and the notion sounded quite hard to grasp for him. Why would anyone want to get sweaty and out of breath with someone than a personal trainer or for sex was beyond him, but hey, he was still getting paid. Oh lord, maybe he was more like a prostitute than he thought. ”I’ll still have to charge you since you’ve made the appointment and we’re currently still in my working hours,” he reminded her, giving her the option to back out, though there’d still be the extremely-short-notice cancellation fee.
word count: 628 - tagged: makayla - notes: ramble ramble i’m sick and can’t see anything cause i didn’t bother putting my glasses on O: so that’s why it probs makes little sense
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this post was utter shite. )