Opportunity Cost 13by Ryan Miller |
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James was happy as a clam when I found him in his hospital room, lying in his bed with free room service, un-ending pity and a smug grin on his face.
“That was fast,” he said when he saw me walk through the door.
“What the hell?” I replied. “I spend three days in some god-awful state thinking you’re dead and that’s all I get?”
“What did you want me to do, cry?” he asked.
His retort stopped my words cold in my chest because that’s exactly what I was hoping he would do, because that’s what I felt like doing.
His hand fell limply towards me and he said, “Come on, I’ve done enough of that already.”
I walked over to the side of his bed, let him grab my hand and I said, “I’m just so glad you’re ok.”
“Ok?” he said. “I’m not ok. I was shot in the chest, had a collapsed lung and I’ve been bed-ridden for over a week now. The doctor says I’ve got lots of physical therapy ahead of me.”
“But you’ll be fine,” I said. “You’re always fine. You’re in great shape.”
I reached down and felt his pale arm, which was a lot skinnier than it used to be, a lot weaker.
“It’s called atrophy,” said James. “It’s what happens when you lie around and do nothing for a while.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not until you try to move. I tried to take a walk the other day and could barely stand. Even with Aaron and Brian holding me up, it was hard to get around.”
“But you’ll be fine, right? You’ll start training and stuff and do more tae-kwan-do and get better, right.”
“Yeah, I’ll just need a sparring partner to keep me in shape. And the doctor gave me some odd advice on how to build lean muscle. Have you ever heard of Dance Dance Revolution?”
“Kyle, it’s time to go,” said Peter, standing in the doorway to James’ room.
“Come on, Petey,” said James. “He only just got here.”
“He has to meet with Mr. Richards about a covert operation,” said Peter.
“My brother just got home,” replied James. “I’m sure your game can wait.”
“He’s serious, James,” I said. “The DA’s office is going to use me to collect evidence against Edmund Stone, the rat bastard who did this to us.”
“Is it dangerous?” asked James.
“Of course,” I said.
“Good. I’ll not have my little brother going on any half-assed recon missions,” said James.
“I never let Kyle do anything half-assed,” said Peter. “That’s not the way I roll.”
“And if he gets hurt, I’ll roll you all the way to Denver,” said James.
“Would you two stop flirting for a second,” I said.
“And what about William?” asked James. “Doesn’t he work for Stone? I think you could use an inside man.”
“No can do,” said Peter. “I checked up on him and he hasn’t been home in four days. His family doesn’t know where he is, but his sister says it doesn’t surprise her. He’s run off before, but he usually takes some clothes with him.”
“Ow, Kyle!” cried James. “What are you doing?”
I looked down and realized the delicate arm I was holding was being crushed in my shaking hands. I dropped James’ arm on the bed and said, “Peter, we need to go. Tell Mr. Richards to meet us downtown, at Club Chico.”
Peter took out his cell phone and stepped into the hall. Trembling like a palsy victim, James reached up and grabbed my shoulder, trying to pull me down. I leaned over and his hand reached up and held the back of my head.
“Don’t do anything stupid when you go out playing Galahad tonight,” said James.
“What could I do?” I asked.
“Who knows?” said James. “Love makes you do strange things.”
“Love?” I scoffed, standing up.
“You love him, don’t you?”
“What is love James?”
“I don’t think anybody knows the answer to that.”
“Can’t you give me an idea? And none of that ‘Oh, you’ll know it when you’re there,’ crap.”
“When do I give you crap you don’t need? All I can say about love is this: it’s precious. It’s hard to find and harder to keep. You can’t just find it and keep it in a box or something, it needs constant care and attention. Does that help?”
“Yeah, thanks. I think I know what I need to do now.”
“Godspeed, fair knight of chastity.”
“Hey, that’s not funny!”
* * * * *
3-10-01
I hate being ugly. I hate it so much. No matter what I do I can’t be attractive. Mom says I look fine, of course. But what does her opinion matter?
I was the only kid in PE who couldn’t run the mile in under 15 minutes. I just can’t do it. But why does it matter if I can run a mile or not? People don’t have to be star athletes to be productive members of society.
This world is so shallow. They can’t stop looking at outside appearances. Hot people only want to hang out with other hot people, and people who aren’t hot enough end up alone. Nobody wants to be friends with some fat kid who can’t even keep up with them. They talk about their “problems” and say, “oh, he dumped me and now life is terrible!” They don’t know what real pain is like. People always accept them, they’ve never been rejected.
I think we should all switch places some day, so the hot people can feel what it’s like to be alone and the ugly people can have friends.
-B.M.F.
8-25-01
The summer isn’t even over and Dad is already making me try out for the football team. I told him I don’t want to, but he says I can’t get my permit until I try out. He’s making me get up at 6 in the morning to run laps around the neighborhood. He says I read so much the least I can do is get up and burn a few calories. He doesn’t even know how much his words hurt, and I don’t think he cares. I asked mom to help me out, but she told me to listen to dad.
I’m probably going to kill myself soon. I’m a fat slob with no friends and no hope of being normal. God cursed me when he made me, he turned me into something filthy. I can’t help feeling the way I do about other boys. I tried liking girls like I’m supposed to, but I can’t. I’m so dirty, so wretched. My thoughts are like a noxious fume, and I’m poisoned, dying slowly. My father’s a jerk, so God cursed his son with a slow, horrible death. I don’t want to wait to die. I’m waiting for a reason to live, but haven’t found it. I will give the poison a little more time to do its work, then I will finish its job.
-B.M.F.
9-06-01
I’m a lineman on the football team now. I’m not even that good at it, but the coach wanted to do my dad a favor, so I’m on the C team, one level below JV. It’s mostly freshmen, and they aren’t that hard to knock down.
Something weird happened with the team. They actually liked me. I didn’t want to be there, so I just kept to myself and shut up. Turns out not telling people all I know about the Pacific Theater helps them warm up to me. This new kid named Trey was really nice to me. He’s kind of cute, but he’s also a really cool guy. I’ve never been friends with someone cool before. I think shutting up more will help a lot.
-B.M.F.
10-11-02
I’ve done the stupidest thing ever. It still feels like it didn’t actually happen. Trey’s gone because I was selfish. He was leaving anyway, so I thought I could get away with it. But I wish I had never done it.
I was over at his house watching a movie and we were talking about his move to Wyoming. I really wanted him to know how much I appreciate how nice he’s been to me, so I asked if I could give him a blowjob. I didn’t think he would have a problem with it, but he told me to leave, like I was a stranger. I asked why, and he said he couldn’t believe I could do something so perverted. Now he’s gone, and it’s my fault.
I don’t want sex any more. I don’t want it with girls, of course, and I don’t want it with guys if it’s going to hurt this much. I just can’t fall for gay guys. They’re too queer. I know that straight guys like me for me, so they are the ones I want to get close to. But they’re off-limits. I’ll just not have sex, ever. No dating, no romance. It’s just not worth the trouble.
I’m going to go talk to the coach tomorrow. I’m not big enough to be a lineman any more and, with Trey gone, we need a new quarterback.
-B.M.F.
9-10-03
My senior year is finally here. I was elected team captain and all the guys look up to me. Dad bought me a car and says I get to take it with me to college if I can finish the year with a GPA of at least 3.0. And I’m finally taller than he is: 6’4”.
My only real problem this year is getting good grades. English and math are going to be easy, but chemistry sucks. But I have to take one more science credit to graduate. As soon as I get done with this year, I can go off to college and never have to see my family or this stupid town again. No one will keep badgering me about girlfriends or anything. Living on my own is gong to rule, if I can survive this last year.
-B.M.F.
“Can I get you to put that down, Mr .Wilson?” asked Sgt. Wade, the mustached young policeman standing behind me. He was stringing a microphone wire up the back of my shirt in the back of what looked like a plumbing van on the outside. Inside were video monitors showing different views of Club Chico’s exterior and Mr. Richards in a blue shirt and cap on a chair in front of me. His tall face and wire glasses made me wonder if I was looking at Chris 25 years in the future. If I was, Mr. Richards was a very handsome man in his youth.
He leaned over and said, “Testing, testing,” into my shirt, the oscilloscope on the monitor next to me twitching with his words.
“How did you get in last time?” asked Wade.
“I asked one of the dancers in the alley to let me in,” I said, putting the diary in my jacket pocket. I wasn’t going to freeze my arms this time.
“Don’t ask this time, let them invite you in,” said Richards. “And, when you confront Stone, let him bring up the issue of kidnapping. It shouldn’t take long. As soon as he implicates himself in your kidnapping, Sgt. Wade’s men will enter and take him out. Try to keep yourself by the entrance so we can finish this fast, and under no circumstances are you to enter the club floor. Stone has free reign there, and, with the crowd in the way, there wouldn’t be much we could do to help if something went wrong.”
“Speaking of that, do I really have to wear a bullet-proof vest under my shirt? It itches a lot,” I said.
“Bullets itch like hell, kid,” said Wade.
“I’ll be watching the cameras so, as soon as we have enough to convict him, this will all be over,” said Richards. “Any questions?”
“Will I have to appear in court?” I asked.
“If this goes right, you can have nothing to do with Edmund Stone for the rest of your life,” said Richards.
“I can’t say I’d mind that,” I replied.
* * * * *
Getting in the side entrance was easier than the last times. I think the vest under my shirt made me look appealingly buff, and it was sure tight enough to give me great posture. Frigid butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I walked past the rows of dressing tables and boys getting ready to look pretty. Ahead of me on the wall by the hallway that led to the club was the elevator to Stone’s office. Then Tom walked through a pair of double doors next to the elevator.
When he saw me, he stepped back and gasped. “Oh my God, you shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Do you know what Eddie will do to Will?”
“Is William here?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s out working the floor,” said Tom. “Hun, just leave.”
“I need your help,” I said. “Take me to William.”
“Oh, hun, I can’t do that,” he said. “You need to just forget about Will and get on with your life while you still have one.”
“A life without risk isn’t worth living,” I replied. “All you have to do is show me where he is.”
Tom’s eyes nervously scanned the faces in the dressing room, then he took my hand and said, “Hurry.”
Leading me down the hall and through the double doors, I followed Tom onto the dance floor of the club. It was a lot darker than I expected, flashing lights and bright colors from random music videos on the high walls let me barely make out the pulsing bodies bumping and grinding to very loud pop music. On an eye-level, round platform in the middle of the dance floor was a ring of five dancing boys in barely anything, holding on to brass poles and giving away glow sticks to the crowd. The dance floor was fenced in by a line of round booths on my right and the far side of the club by the bar. In a distant black corner in a booth sat William in his black tank top and shorts with Jerome and two men in leisure suits who were enjoying their young company almost as much as their martinis.
I turned to thank Tom for his help, but he was already gone. I zipped up my blue jacket and held my breath as I plunged into the crowd. I would have tried to push my way past the clubbers, but I was afraid to touch sweating, shouting strangers. A tender hand felt its way onto my ass as I passed through the crowd. I turned to see a young, shirtless jock smiling coyly at me. On any other night, I would have felt him back, but I had more important things than jock meat on my mind.
Stepping towards the fence of tables and booths, I walked up to William who was laughing and leaning up against his prospective John and taking a sip of vodka. He didn’t notice me until I shouted, “We need to talk,” over the pounding music.
When his eyes caught mine, he sprayed vodka all over the face of his customer, who swore and pushed him off the booth and onto the floor. I stepped over to William and offered him a hand up, but his frightened green eyes looked up at me like a puppy looking at the business end of a newspaper. Then I found out it wasn’t me he was looking at.
“You’re not a quick learner, are you?’ rumbled the hollow voice of Edmund Stone behind me.
I turned and saw his imposing frame standing over me and two enforcers, one on each shoulder — Robert and “Agent Jefferson.”
“Piss off, Stone,” I replied. “I’m not here to see you.”
He grabbed me by my jacket collar and hurled be backwards onto the round table where the Johns and Jerome sat. The two customers hurriedly slid off the booth and disappeared into the dance floor while William and Jerome scurried under the table. I pushed myself up on my elbows and was looking up the barrel of a silver Beretta in Stone’s extended hand.
“You are a very obnoxious pebble, Mr. Wilson,” he said. “The harder I shake my shoe, the tighter you hold on.”
“Just wait a minute,” I pleaded.
He thumbed back the hammer and said, “When you get to Hell, remind your aunt and uncle they owe me $20,000.”
I closed my eyes tightly and he fired. I thought it would at least hurt a little, even with a bullet-proof vest on, but I didn’t feel anything. I heard a harsh slap and opened my eyes to see Jerome flail to the ground, Stone’s angry arm standing rigid in the air, the back of his hand red. The sound of the gun had made no difference to the guests on the floor, enjoying the deafening music.
Not hesitating, I grabbed a martini off the table and threw it in Stone’s eyes. As he swore he took a wild shot at me, missing again. Suddenly the music stopped and I heard a man on a megaphone shout, “This is the police! Everyone get on the floor, now!” Everyone screamed wildly and started running for the exits. Robert and Jefferson swore loudly, took out their pistols and started firing at the line of armor-clad enforcers streaming through the entrance as the two side-stepped towards the bar. I hopped off the table and helped Jerome to his feet. I turned to look for William, but he wasn’t under the table any more.
“William!” I cried, but over the shots being fired and the screaming guests the only one who could hear me was Jerome.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “We have to go before those cops start firing back.”
“I’m not leaving without William,” I shouted.
Suddenly I felt like someone hit me in the side with a sledge hammer. I looked back towards the booth to see the blood-shot eyes of Edmund Stone glaring viciously at me as he fired another shot. That one hit me in the leg. I’d never felt such a sharp, searing pain before. I screamed at the top of my lungs and fell back into Jerome’s arms.
Another shot was fired, but it didn’t hit me. It found its way into Stone’s liver. His hand held his side and he doubled over onto the floor. Looking up and spitting blood on the floor, he reached his gun out to take another shot at me, but a second bullet found his arm and he dropped his gun with a shriek as I passed out.
* * * * *
I came to on a stretcher in the street outside the club. My body had been strapped to a backboard and an oxygen mask was over my face. My leg was sore as hell and I let out a muffled cry of pain. An EMT was wheeling me past what sounded like clubbers and cops, but I couldn’t actually see anything since my head was strapped down. Sirens chirped and lights flashed off the grey front of the club.
“Hold up,” I heard Mr. Richards say. His face leaned over me and he said, “God news, Kyle. Stone is in custody and facing charges of kidnapping and attempted murder. We got him.”
“Airs ill ‘em?” I asked. Richards took my oxygen mask off and I repeated, “Where’s William?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “The police are talking to all the witnesses they can. Many people ran away when the shooting began, but I’ll let you know if a William turns up. Is he a friend of yours?”
“No,” I replied.
The EMT put the mask back on and wheeled me into the back of the ambulance. I would never have to go back to Club Chico or endure the club scene again, but I still needed to talk to William. I needed to tell him I was tired of running.
When I got to the hospital, they took me to the OR to stitch me up. The surgeon told me the shot to my leg was merely a flesh wound and that I had broken a rib and had a huge bruise from the shot to my chest. I was nothing TLC and physical therapy couldn’t fix.
Then I was wheeled to a large room with cloth partitions separating patients and told to rest. They morphine they gave me put me in a sleepy mood, but I was very willing to stay awake when Jerome came to visit me.
“Wow, this is a nice surprise,” I said, waving to him as he pulled up a chair next to my bed. He was still wearing his tight leather pants, but he had an Adidas jacket now and looked less like a boy of the evening, which made me feel good.
“How are you doing?” he asked, timidly.
“Oh, I’m just fine,” I replied. “How are you?”
“Uh, ok, I guess,” he said.
“Well, that’s good,” I replied. “It’s good to feel ok after a night like that. Wait ‘til James hears I got shot — twice! He’ll be so mad.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Are you going to be ok? I mean, you got shot in the chest and everything.”
“Pffft!” I said, dribbling spit down my chin. “That was nothing. I had a bullet-proof vest on the whole time.” I reached over and rapped my fist on the spot where I got shot and winced sharply in pain. “Ok, when you get shot, you should totally not do that.”
“Are you ok?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Are you on drugs?”
“Just morphine. Come on, that’s nothing you wouldn’t know about.”
If I had been clear of mind, I would have seen how hurt he was, but I barreled on through.
“I mean the life of a whore probably has its perks, but at the end of the day people still treat you like a whore. And you aren’t a whore. I mean, you are, but only at the club. Outside, you are a very handsome boy who is smart and caring and has a crappy job.”
“Well, I don’t have to work there anymore. None of us do. We’re free now, and a lot of it is because of you.”
“Come on, I didn’t free anybody. I went there to get Stone thrown in jail and to give William a piece of my mind. But I never got to. He ran away before I could tell him. He always runs away.”
“What were you going to say to him?”
“I was going to tell him that I am so tired of running after him. I love him—I do—and I would keep running if we could be together, but he will never stop running. I think he is just running from himself because he hates himself so much. He finds so many reasons to hate his life and keeps looking for reasons to love. But he doesn’t realize that love doesn’t have reasons. Love is the reason. It’s the reason you fuck someone until you can’t see straight even though you’re mad at them, it’s the reason you fight like hell for the precious things in your life, it’s the reason you go no a long journey for the sake of a lost friend. But he doesn’t see that since he keeps looking for the reasons to love. But it’s not even that. He’s just looking for reasons to not hate.”
A tear fell down Jerome’s cheek as he looked at my opiate-induced smile. He took my hand gently and said, “William doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. I could never run from a boy like you.”
“Aww, are you hitting on me?” I replied. “Well, go ahead. I think you are very cute, so I won’t stop you.”
* * * * *
“I still say it was one and a half,” protested James as we drove down the street in his black Tacoma.
“Two bullets, two injuries,” I replied. “Why is that so hard to accept?”
“A bullet-proof vest doesn’t count. It has to touch skin,” he insisted.
“So sex with a condom isn’t really sex then?” I said.
“What?” he said. “Sex has nothing to do with this. I just don’t like you taking credit for what your vest had to go through.”
“One and a half is still bigger than one,” I said.
“It’s going to be a long time before you’re bigger than me, little bro,” replied James. “Very long.”
That was always his subtle way of admitting defeat, bringing manhood into it. He used to do it all the time with Aaron, but one day he stopped abruptly. I never asked why.
We were driving to the Brewer’s house that afternoon. We had been out of the hospital for a couple of weeks and we wanted to see how they were doing. James helped me limp to the front door, holding my duffle bag for me. When Crystal opened the door, she said, “My dad wasn’t able to make it here, but I would still like to talk to you. Come on in. Glad to see you’re ok, James.”
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“She’s the one who saved my life,” said James, taking Crystal’s hand and walking inside. I just shook my head and followed them in.
The living room was much cleaner, with places to sit and even a discernable floor. All the painting equipment and even the smell was gone.
“Is your dad working again?” I asked, taking a seat across from James and Crystal.
“Yeah,” she said. “Since Stone is gone, there’s no one to prevent Dad from getting contracted. Stone went out of his way to keep the rest of our family unemployed so William would keep working at the club.”
“How much do you know about William’s job?” I asked.
“All of it,” she said, her cracking voice a little disheveled. “I found out a few months ago. William tried to hide it, but he kept coming home in worse shape than the night before, so I followed him downtown one night to the club. Stone’s a lot more popular than he thinks he is and I only had to ask a few people to find out what went on at Club Chico. I wanted to stop it all and get William out of there, but I didn’t want him to turn into another one of those boys you hear about on the news that just disappears. But he did anyway.”
James put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned against his chest and cried softly.
“How did you two meet, anyway?” I asked.
“She heard William crying about you and came over to see if you could help,” said James. “You weren’t home, but I was and we ended up going out to dinner together.”
“Does this mean you won’t be baking any more?” I asked, trying not to let my voice show how excited I was.
“Pretty much,” said James.
Little Sammy came running into the room and jumped in Crystal’s lap.
“Can I have a popsicle?” he asked.
Crystal sat up and said, “Sure, just give me a second.” She stood up and he hopped off and stood on the floor.
As Crystal went into the kitchen, Sammy looked at me and said, “You’re William’s friend. Do you know when he’s coming home?”
I’d answered questions in front of hundreds of classmates and teachers before, but I never felt more unsure of myself than when I was answering Sammy’s. “I, uh, don’t know,” I said. “I don’t even know where he is.”
Sammy began to pout in a way that wasn’t going to be made better by the popsicle Crystal brought him. He took it and it hung limply in his hand as he shuffled back down the hall.
“The boys have taken it hardest,” said Crystal as she sat back down next to James. “Especially Dad. It’s been almost a month and we haven’t heard anything from him.”
“Other boys from the club don’t know where he is,” I said. “Nobody’s seen him since the raid.”
“It doesn’t really surprise me,” said Crystal. “He’d always run away from problems, even little ones. Some kids throw tantrums, William would storm out of the house and run a few blocks down the street before realizing he would need a grownup to help cross and he’d run back. But he doesn’t like help any more than he likes confronting problems, so I don’t think he’ll run back this time.”
“If a boy steals your heart and you never see him again, it’s for the better,” I said.
James shot me a look and that said, ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ then Crystal said, “It’s sad how right you are. William would never let go of what Mom did to us and he just kept making life worse for himself. Now that’s he’s gone, I think we can finally heal.”
“And about that, we brought you something,” I said.
James lifted the duffle bag from the side from the couch and put in front of Crystal. She unzipped it and gasped when she saw the stacks of bills inside.
“That must be several thousand dollars!” she exclaimed.
“$19,760,” I said. “It’s the money Stone gave my aunt and uncle to keep me in Ohio, minus what it cost to drive me back.”
“I can’t take this,” she said. “This is blood money.”
“Consider it due compensation for what William had to go through,” I said. “And what better way to stick it to Stone than give it to the family he was paying to keep in poverty?”
She reached down and grabbed a wad of 20s from the bag. Then we heard David and Sammy start fighting down the hall. She smiled and said, “I think I can find some way to clean this money up. Thanks, guys.”
“Not a problem,” said James.
She said she would have to go help the boys and said goodbye as we showed ourselves out the door. Back in the truck, James had a goofy grin on his face.
“Why are you so happy?” I asked.
“Do you know how many points I just scored in there?” he replied.
“You barely said anything,” I said. “You just sat there.”
“It takes a suave man to woo a girl with fragrant words and bountiful compliments,” he said, “But the most suave woo without saying a single thing.”
“Are you still on muscle relaxants?”
“No, you’re just jealous that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”
Part of him was right, but part of me was ok with that. I couldn’t tell you why, but I’m not losing sleep over it. Love has stumped the greatest mind and hearts of man, so why should I feel bad if I don’t have it all figured out.
* * * * *
After his arrest, Stone agreed to a plea bargain that would only get him 5 years in jail, but he ended up getting sepsis from his wounds and died days later. To Mr. Richard’s dismay, nobody knows who shot Stone. The bullets didn’t match any of the policeman’s guns and nobody but Jerome and I saw what happened.
Jerome lived at our house for a little bit until he could stomach telling his parents all about his stay at “boarding school.” They didn’t take it well but he is in a support group now for sexual addicts and is getting a lot better. I’ve asked him about dating, but he says he needs to stay away from boys for a while until he can recover from his abuse.
Peter felt really sorry for me when he found out I got shot. He said he would do anything to help. I asked him for a strip tease as a joke, but he actually did it, half because he loves showing off and half because it made Chris jump out of his skin. He is still single and waiting for a feisty minx to club him over the head and drag him home. He says nice breasts are optional, but preferred.
Chris has learned to take video games in moderation these days. He got fired from one job for being 2 hours late since he had to get “just one more level” on Final fantasy VI. That was his wake up call. He told me he had to quit and that I would have to hold on to all his Playstation stuff until he could get his life back together. I obliged.
The Brewers were able to make the most of the family they had left. Mr. Brewer found a permanent construction job in Idaho, so they all moved over there. Crystal said a long goodbye to James on his couch before they left. He misses her, but says he feels confident he can find another girl now that he’s been able to end a relationship on his terms.
I never did see William again. He never contacted his family or any of his old friends. I’ve learned to let go of him, though. It was very painful, but Jerome was a big help. I think someday he can learn to let someone love him, but it would take a lot since he’s so scared. I still have the note he left me the night after we watched Spirited Away. I cherish it as the memento of the only time I feel he really loved me back.
James got stronger as we endured physical therapy together. He started taking karate since he felt like he needed to learn a new martial art. And he drug me along so I could be a proper sparring partner. He has not had any emo episodes since Crystal moved, but he has finally stopped trying to become a cook. Not that he really was one to begin with.
As for me, I’m finally buff and it’s so hard to get used to. Training with James helped me pack on lots of lean muscle and now I look in the mirror and say, “Where the hell did this hotness come from?” I catch people staring at me now and I get hit on all the time. It’s really driving me nuts. And yes, DDR had a lot to do with it. I admit it’s a great amalgam of physical/mental workouts. But the next time I hear “DDR” and “tight ass” in the same sentence, I’m going to shoot someone.