The Only Way is Up

Part Two

Max was stood arms crossed watching the door when she entered the gym for their agreed second session.

"I doubted you'd come."

She stared at him, "I'm not scared of you."

That made him laugh, and it felt pleasant, he hadn't laughed for what felt like ages, but then he hadn't had anything to laugh about. He mentally made a note to change that, he had to pull himself out of the gutter get his life back on track.

"No, I think maybe you aren't."

Nicole, he'd not found out her name until he'd created her training programme on the computer the day before, was dressed as she had been two days earlier. Loose baggy gray joggers and an equally shapeless black t-shirt, they didn't do her justice, but then she was a long way from the best physical shape she could be in. Her manner and presentation told him so much, he'd been surprised at her age, she'd looked older from a distance, but that was due to her choice of clothing and her general demeanour, head down, submissive...but when she'd looked up she had a youthful face, clear skin, bright eyes and a defiant streak that he admired.

There was a reason why she had started a gym program, and that was what intrigued him, she had no clue how to manage any of the exercises that he'd taught her two days earlier; she was as much out of place in a gym as anyone could be. But then this wasn't a 'normal' gym, her clothes, her embarrassed manner...she had already admitted to him that she was intimidated in gyms. But she was still here, wading out of her depth, and he hadn't made that easier for her.

He wanted to laugh, because he knew why she felt like that, after all there was a reason why he came here too, a reason why he'd sought out Mike and this place, and it was because he too hated the pomp and ceremony, the lycra, the rich wives and the business men who thought they were above someone like him.

This place had a charm to it, and a friendliness that appealed to him, he was sick of being judged on his age, or the perceptions people made without knowing him. That made a voice inside him check his own behaviour, the way that he was judging this woman was the exact thing he hated in others.

Taking a sigh he gave a half smile, "we have to formalise your program today. There are various goals that depend on the intensity and direction of what we do in the gym. Firstly I want you to wear this..." He handed her a band and when she looked at him questioningly.

"It's a heart rate monitor, to track your progress. You can monitor your heart beat from this watch." He gave that to her, "but you have to fasten this around your chest."

Her eyes were wide, "I didn't think it was that serious. Thought I just came here to...do a bit."

Shaking his head, he led her to the corner of the room, "no. This is science. Stand on here."

He gestured to the scales in front of him.

But instead of compliance, she didn't move. When he glanced at her face, instead of the display on the scales her face was white.

"No. I am just doing a program. A little cardio, a little bit of weights."

"Do you want to improve? Do you want to reach your goals?"

She glared at him for a moment, "I just want to work, I don't need anyone else judging me."

This was why he didn't work with the general public; this is why he was happier with athletes, the motivated, likeminded people. Not newbies, the clueless, those who wanted a quick fix, magic.

"You need a target, something to work towards, a resting heart rate, or a weight target."

She shook her head, "will you train with me or not?"

"MY way."

Nicole knew she was being childish, but Vincent's scorn was there in her face. She had the feeling that hits boy, and that's what he was, a boy, wanted to grope her to wrap a band around her chest, or weigh her. Would he tell other's that she was in the obese category according to her BMI chart? She was sick and tired of people laughing at her, she saw the way people stared at her in work, her family, everyone was laughing at her, she wasn't paranoid, but she'd gone from a successful woman, in control, married to a handsome man, to an overweight freak who burst into tears at the slightest wrong look or word. She had just under eight weeks to get her life back in order.

Shaking her head she marched to the treadmill and jumped on to it, firing it up before he had a chance to cross the room after her.

Any sense of victory was short lived as she started to pant and sweat within moments. Nicole could feel Max's eyes on her and she knew he was smirking in that condescending way, but she wasn't going to give in. Dropping the speed slightly, she took a few deep breaths then lengthened her stride.

It meant she managed a grand total of one hundred an seventy seconds at a run, but a fast walk followed and it was eight minutes before she slowed to a stop and almost fell off the machine. Hiding the stagger in her gait she kept her eyes lowered and tried to control her jelly legs as she stropped across the floor to her favourite bolt hole, the water fountain.

When she finally pulled herself back to standing she noticed her reflection in the distance mirror, bright red face, scraped back hair, and the scruffy tendrils stuck to her sweaty face, she refused to look down at her body. No wonder Vincent left her.

"So have you finished?"

That bloody voice, she wanted to punch him, but he was her way through this. So instead she turned to face him. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smug look on his face.

As a response she scowled, then walked past him, "nowhere near, I'm booked for an hour. What's next?"