Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom Read online

  “Amalgamated Synergy,” Martin replied.

  Caitlin brightened slightly. “Oh! My roommate works for them. Do you know Dakota Bell?”

  “It’s a multinational corporation. Several buildings in New York City alone, so...”

  “Oh, right. Duh, sorry. Uh...I guess I’m ready then. Start with the consonants?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Caitlin felt a little silly, but she looked into the camera and tried to pretend she was back in class. “Puh. Buh. Tuh. Duh. Juh. Guh...”

  She made her way through the page. Martin watched without speaking, but occasionally the other man would ask her to repeat a sound or make a slight correction, all without ever looking up from his laptop. When she finished, Martin stood up and walked to her, his hand extended.

  “Thank you so much for coming in, Caitlin.”

  Caitlin shook his hand. “Sure. No problem, thanks for seeing me. Is that all?”

  “That’s it. Thank you. We’ll let you know.”

  “So...was that a test for an audiobook or something? Or...this is embarrassing but I don’t even know what Amalgamated Synergy does, exactly.”

  “A little of everything.” He picked up her bag and handed it to her. “Thanks for coming in. We’ll be in touch.”

  Caitlin stepped out of the room and the man closed the door behind her. She stood there in the hallway for a moment, wondering if she should go back in. They had never taken her headshot, and she hadn’t thought to ask how they had found her in the first place.

  She pulled out her phone to check the time, and saw a text from her roommate Alan – Meet me at slot machine for happy hour 911. She smiled. Exactly what I need right now, she thought. She responded, be there after my racist audition.

  She took one last look at the door, then decided to leave well enough alone. She headed back upstairs, humming her audition song to herself.

  Chapter Four

  Mark training

  Mark Park stifled a yawn as his client ran the treadmill. “You’re doing great, Pete,” he said. “Five more minutes and then we’re on to weights.” He raised the incline another few degrees, ignoring his client’s grunt of exertion.

  Mark was a personal trainer at Squat, a gym in Chelsea with a predominantly gay clientele. Pete was his last client on a day that had begun very early in the morning, and Mark was finding it difficult to stay focused. His gaze wandered slowly across the cardio room. It was bustling with muscular men on their lunch hour, most of whom gazed back at him with the usual mixture of hope and lust in their eyes. Mark was tall, muscular and handsome, but his roommate Alan had suggested that Mark’s Korean heritage was what really drove his clients wild – “rice queens” was the term he used to describe them, and Mark couldn’t decide if it was funny or racist or both.

  He zeroed in on the lone woman, bouncing up and down on an elliptical. He let his eyes bounce with her. Her face was sort of plain, he thought, nothing special, but she amply compensated for this in another important department. After a few bounces she looked over at him and lost her footing. She slipped out of the pedals and tumbled to the ground, hitting her head on the handlebar on the way.

  Mark rushed to her side. “Oh, man! Fuck, are you okay?”

  The woman was staggering to her feet, so Mark put his arm around her and helped her up.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Ow. I’m fine. Just embarrassed. You’re...um...you’re...”

  “Mark. Hi. Sorry if I distracted you.”

  “No, no! It wasn’t you. I wasn’t paying attention, something happened with the pedals...it was my fault. Silly Pickle.”

  She idly rubbed at the diamond ring on her finger, then stepped away from him slightly. He lowered his arm.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “It looked like you hit your head pretty good there.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’ve got a thick head.” She laughed. “Sorry to take you away from your workout.”

  “That’s okay, I wasn’t working out. I work here.”

  “Right. I knew that, actually. I’ve seen you here before. Noticed you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mark hesitated. “I’ve noticed you, too.”

  “Really?” she said. “You noticed me? This is only my third time here.”

  “Yeah, totally,” he lied. Mark hadn’t seen her before, or at least he couldn’t remember her if he had. He usually kept track of all of the female clientele at Squat – it wasn’t hard for them to stick out amongst all the testosterone – but this particular woman didn’t look familiar.

  Now that he was up close, he decided she was prettier than he had given her credit for. A little older than him, somewhere in her early thirties. Blonde and petite, cute rather than beautiful. Well, cute might be stretching it, he thought, but she had the body of a short swimsuit model. “Did you call yourself a pickle?”

  “Oh, that’s my name. Nickname. Pickle. It’s Elizabeth, really, Elizabeth Dundersfield. I’ve been Pickle since absolutely forever. I know it’s a little ridiculous.”

  “Nah. My name’s Mark Park, so I’m down with silly names.”

  Pickle flipped her hair out of her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mark Park. So...personal trainer, huh?”

  “Personal trainer.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “mostly. I like fitness, I like helping people get healthier. I like working here.”

  “Oh?” Trying and failing to sound casual, she said, “You like the...um...client base here?”

  “Yeah, they’re cool.” Realizing what she was really asking, he quickly added, “I worked in a straight gym for a while, since, you know, I’m straight...”

  She nodded.

  “...but I had to do a lot of selling, supplements and gear and stuff, and I didn’t like that. They wanted you to really push the merchandise on your clients, especially the beginners. It was slimy. The guys who run this place are a lot more laid-back.”

  “It seems like a good gym,” she said. “I never have to worry about the women’s locker room being crowded. How long have you worked here?”

  “Uh...two years? Yeah, about two years. We all thought we might be out of a job last month, we got bought out by a big chain, but nothing’s really changed, not even the name. New cardio equipment, that was about it. What do you think of it so far?”

  “I like it,” she replied. “I’m just testing it out. It’s not really convenient to my job, but I like it.”

  “What do you do?” he asked.

  She waved her hand. “Oh, it’s boring. Business stuff. Vice President of blah de blah. I love it but even I fall asleep when I try to explain it.”

  “Vice President?” Mark said. “Wow.”

  “What can I say? Queen in the boardroom, klutz in the gym.”

  “Don’t feel bad, I fall all the time.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? When was the last time you fell off an elliptical machine?”

  “Uh...okay. Never. I never fall, I have reflexes like a panther. I was trying to make you feel better.”

  She laughed. “I appreciate the thought. I’m sure it’ll be a comfort when I’m staring at a handlebar-shaped bruise in the mirror.”

  “It’ll make you look tough,” he said. “Tough is sexy.”

  She blushed and looked away. “Oh! Hah. Thank you. Well. Okay. On that note. I think I’ve sweat enough for today. It was great to meet you, Mark Park.”

  “Great to meet you too, Pickle. See you around.”

  She picked up her towel and headed for the locker room. He started to turn away, but noticed that she had stopped. She was standing with her back to him, completely still.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  She turned back to him. She had a strange vacant look on her face. They made eye contact, and the look was replaced with a smile.

  “Hey,” she said, “I feel like you deserve a reward for coming to my rescue like that.”

  “I was a little
late for a rescue.”

  “For the attempt, then. I’m having some people over on Friday night. Just a few friends, some food, no big deal. Are you free?”

  Mark paused. Engagement ring. Bad idea, he thought. Say no.

  “Yeah, I’m free. I could probably swing by.”

  “Great! Here, give me your email and I’ll send you the details.” She took her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him.

  While Mark entered his email, he tried to figure out how best to ask for the information he needed. He was partly motivated by conscience, but mostly by a desire to understand what kind of situation he might be walking into. He handed her phone back and asked, “So, is this at, like, your apartment, or...your fiancé’s place, or do you guys live together...”

  “Oh.” Her smile vanished. She blushed again, but much less adorably than before. “Yes, it’s at our apartment. He won’t be there. He’s on a business trip until next week.” She took her phone back. “Okay, so I’ll send you my address. Bring a friend if you like, there’ll be plenty of people there. I’ll see you Friday. Or not. Whatever you want.”

  “Yeah, sure...”

  She had already grabbed her towel and run off to the safety of the women’s locker room. Idiot, he thought to himself. Why not just call her a cheating whore and save time?

  While he was silently cursing himself out, a thud came from the other side of the room. He ran back to his forgotten client, who had just tumbled off the back of his treadmill. Mark slammed the emergency stop button and the machine ground to a halt.

  “Shit! Dude, are you okay? Pete, man, I’m so sorry!”

  Pete pulled himself up from flat on his back to a sitting position on the floor. He was smiling. In the four weeks since Mark had started training him, he had never stopped smiling. Mark kept trying to catch him with some other expression on his face, without success.

  “Ow,” Pete said. “Whoa. What a ride. Yeah, I’m okay. How long was that? Seemed longer than usual.”

  “Sorry, man, sorry, this girl fell off an elliptical and I went to help her up. I forgot you were waiting for me. Are your legs all right? Did you cramp up?”

  “No, no, they’re fine, I’m fine. I think the treadmill sped up suddenly. That keeps happening to me. Took me by surprise. Talk about a killer workout, huh?” He laughed. “Weights now?”

  “Sure, sure, if you want. Are you sure you don’t want to stop for the day?”

  “No, no, I’m good! I’m good!” Pete heaved himself to his feet. “Let me get some water and I’ll meet you in the weight room.”

  Mark nodded, and Pete lumbered away. Pete was a mass of muscle, always eager to get to weights. Mark exhaled, sinking down onto the back of the treadmill.

  “You are the worst trainer in the world.”

  Mark didn’t look up. “Fuck you, man.”

  Mark’s work-friend Duff crouched down beside him. Duff was a hairy beast from Boston and the only other straight trainer at Squat. “Two clients eating floor in less than five minutes. That’s pretty good.”

  “She was distracted by my beauty. Wasn’t my fault.”

  “It never is. What’s her deal?”

  “She’s into me. Invited me to a party at her place Friday.”

  “She’s doable.”

  “She’s engaged.”

  “Fuck. You gonna go?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. If we met at a bar and just hooked up that’d be one thing. But now I have like two whole days to think about what a scumbag move I’d be pulling.”

  Duff shook his head. “I don’t even understand the fucking words that are coming out of your mouth right now. Since when do you give a shit about that? Remember that mom you banged in the shower while her kid was coloring in the lobby?”

  “Yeah...that was kind of scummy, too.”

  “Bro, you’re breaking my heart! If you’re not gonna do this chick for your sake, do her for mine, okay? I’m tied down, I gotta live through my single friends.” Duff looked across the room, where an elderly man was glaring at him impatiently and pointing to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I have to work, and so do you, you lazy fuck.”

  Duff stood up and offered Mark his hand. Mark grasped it and Duff yanked him to his feet.

  “Cheer the fuck up,” Duff suggested. “Be grateful it’s not a dude hitting on you for once. Take advantage. She’s the one cheating, not you.”

  “I don’t know. It’s not worth the hassle.”

  Duff scowled. “Not worth the hassle. Jesus. I wish I had gotten half as much pussy as you when I was single, you beautiful Chinese bastard.”

  “I’m Korean, you racist fuck. See you later.”

  “See ya.” Duff walked over to the ellipticals, where the old man was waiting.

  Mark thought about what Duff had said. He was right, Mark had never suffered much guilt about one-night stands before. He wondered where this sudden attack of conscience was coming from.

  He made his way towards the weight room, where Pete was sitting on a bench, barbell at the ready.

  “There you are!” his client shouted. “I’m ready when you are!” Pete lay back, and Mark hurried around to spot him. “One!” Pete grunted, lifting the weights up above his head.

  Mark let his mind wander. Pete didn’t need any coaching or encouragement from Mark on weight training – he was an old school muscle-head. All Mark really did for him was keep him honest on his cardio routines and pass along the occasional protein shake recipe.

  Alan would like Pete, Mark thought. Mark was always trying to get Alan to the gym – Alan was a good-looking guy, but had a slight beer gut to lose and could stand to beef up a little. He had come exactly once, immediately declared it full of “fucking Chelsea boys,” and walked out. Mark thought he was intimidated by the clientele – Alan had a thing for muscular guys, but hated to admit it.

  “Good work, man, keep it up.” Mark took a step back, then another. Pete was so focused on his workout that he didn’t seem to notice. Now out of Pete’s line of sight, Mark sidled around to the other end of the bench, sliding his phone out of his pocket. He crouched down so that his face was even with the weightlifter’s knees, raised the phone, and quickly snapped a picture. He had captured Pete’s legs, which were spread wide – bad form, he thought, he should really say something – and up Pete’s shorts his right testicle was visible, just hanging out. He posted it on Facebook, added the caption “Have a ball!” and tagged Alan.

  “Did you just take a picture of my penis?”

  Mark looked up – he hadn’t noticed that Pete had finished his set while he was uploading the picture. “Uh...no?”

  Pete stared at him. He was still smiling. “It really looked like you were taking a picture of my penis.”

  “No...well, okay, I kind of got one of your balls in there but I was just trying to sneak a picture of you for my roommate. You’re totally his type.”

  “Oh.”

  It was a little hard to determine Pete’s reaction because his smile never wavered, so Mark hoped for the best and continued. “He hasn’t been dating much lately. I’ve been trying to set him up.”

  “Do you have a picture of him?”

  “Yeah! Yeah, right here.” Mark brought up Alan’s profile pic. “Here he is.”

  Pete looked at the picture. “Huh. Yeah, he’s cute. Okay, why not?” Pete handed the phone back.

  “Why not...?”

  “Yeah!” Pete nodded enthusiastically. “I haven’t been dating much either, lately. Work’s been so busy. I could use a night out. Tell him to call me.”

  “Oh...um.” Mark’s mind raced. Alan was not going to be happy about this, but if Mark admitted he hadn’t really been trying to set the two of them up, Pete might go to the gym’s owners about his involuntary photo shoot. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have him call you tonight.”

  “Great!” Pete said. “Hey, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to call it a day after all. It’s later than I thought and I’ve got a lot to do
this afternoon.”

  “Sure, yeah, of course,” Mark replied. “I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

  “See ya.” Pete bounded towards the locker room.

  Mark slumped down on the bench. “Fuck!” While he fumbled around on the phone, trying to figure out how to delete the photo – and the half-dozen or so other photos of hot guys in suggestive poses he had taken over the past few weeks – he got a text from Alan. Meet me at slot machine for happy hour 911.

  Mark took a breath, then texted back. On my way.

  Chapter Five

  Dakota working

  Dakota Bell sat at her desk in the office she shared with three other people on the fourteenth floor of Amalgamated Synergy’s primary office building on Lexington Avenue and stabbed hurriedly at her teriyaki chicken while browsing Facebook on her phone. She could, technically, take an hour for lunch if she wanted, and, non-technically, she could take as long as she pleased because nobody else paid much attention to what she did or didn’t do. But Dakota believed that hard work would eventually lead to a great reward – she was much too ambitious to believe that it was its own reward – so she tried to take only a half-hour for lunch. After all, she reasoned, wasting a half-hour of every work day wouldn’t make her the first African-American lesbian to head a Fortune 500 company any faster.

  Lunch and bathroom breaks were the only times she allowed herself for non-work related tasks, and since work computers were not for personal use, that meant she spent most of her breaks hunched over her phone. On this particular lunch break her Facebook browsing had led to a text chat with her roommate Alan.

  I thought you couldn’t use facebook at work? he asked her.

  Its lunch im on my phone. Why aren’t you working?

  Alan was a great friend and roommate but had the ambition of a sloth with a heroin problem. She knew he was supposed to be temping today because she had helped him tie his tie that morning.

  Don’t ask stupid questions, he replied. Whats for lunch?

  Tweaked chicken. Whoops, she thought. Put down the fork. *teriyaki, she corrected.

  Ive got to go, Alan sent. This is way more obvious than facebook. See you at home. Save me some tweaked chicken.