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Chapter 12: Wildfire

"Max, you've only been my personal trainer and manager since four days ago. Just what big break, exactly, have we been waiting for since the beginning of time?" I ask. "Oh, and by the way, that diet you gave me pretty much bans me from all types of food. Did you even research it? Because quite frankly, I am sure that no carbs, no proteins, no fruit and veggies, no fats and no dairy products, practically bans me from eating at all." 

Max clicks his tongue twice and winks at me, holding his hands pointed at me as if holding a gun, "Exactly, Babe."

I shake my head. "Are you serious?!" When he doesn't reply, the answer becomes obvious. "If I don't eat then I will die, you genius!"

He grins and winks again, "Exactly, Babe." 

I narrow my eyes at him, unimpressed.

He gives in and laughs. "Okay, okay, relax. I am kidding...about the whole 'you dying thing', only because how else will I make the moolah? You're my way to ka-ching!" He holds his hands in front of him as if holding paper money, rubbing his fingers back and forth while blowing down on his hands.

I scoff. He wishes he had actual cash to do that with.

"Though," he adds, "I am dead serious about the diet. You will follow it." 

I take the diet that he had written on a piece of paper out of my pocket. I skim over it again. "No water?" I ask softly in disbelief before raising my tone, "No water?!" I shout, "What is the matter with you?!"

He shrugs, "Never trust non-man-made stuff. Water is from nature, and let's face it, 'Mother Nature' is the cruelest of all."

"Not quite the cruelest, you take the cake," I mutter, just loud enough for him to catch it.

He glares at me, rising to his own defense. He motions to Melinda and her cheerleading buddies in the distance, "I may be cruel, but, doll..." he starts in a high-pitched girlie voice, "Melinda can eat my chocolate oats for breakfast." 

I scrunch up my face at his choice of word. Nonetheless, he's right. "True that, my friend."

His strict demeanor comes flying back as he brings the whistle to his mouth and blows right in my ear. Literally, he blows it right by ear! "We're not friends as of now! I am your coach and manager and nothing else. Now drop and give me one million! Go! Go! Go!" He orders, his mood changing entirely.

I don't move, completely peeved by the earache he just caused, and challenge him with a daring stare. I have yet to drop to the floor and fall to his every command. My defiance leads to him taking the liberty to kick me in the shin.

"Why?!" I wince, stupidly hopping up and down in pain, which only adds to it. "What the flying fuzzy hamster was that for!" I don't wait for him to answer as I screech out in agony, trying to numb the hurt, "Ah!" 

He's insane.

I continue on jumping and shaking my leg out. It must seem, to the outsider, that I am parading in front of Max as if doing the 'Hokey Pokey'.

When the pain subsides and I finally calm down, I turn back to Max and give him the 'drop dead' glare. "Resorting to violence to get your way is shallow. You're shallower than a puddle," I mutter, now bitter with him. 

"Yeah, and you're lazier than a sloth," he retorts back, not in the least apologetic about having just kicked me.

"Well, you try and train non-stop every day!" I whine in protest.

"I would, but I'm not the one who signed up for MMAs!" he points out.

"Yes, you did. You signed me up!" I remind him.