Part 20


As Wade belched St. Louis's finest and slouched behind the wheel of his parked car in front of a well-lit joint called Trinity Fitness, he was overcome with a thickness of the mind in general and terribly puzzled more specifically. Justin had actually stopped here, gone into the place, and taken Lance with him.

Why the fuck?

Why, when Justin had about 12 health clubs and gyms located within two miles of his crib - one of which Wade had even overheard him saying he was a member of - why the fuck would he drive his skinny ass all the way out here to Venice Beach, of all creepy damn godforsaken places, just to go to one? Huh? Something stunk in Denmark. And in Venice too.

And Wade decided he was comfortably buzzed enough to extend his sleuth investigatory mission and scope out the reason for all this crazy crap. Hell, he had nothing else to do tonight other than get his hand lotion and go for some slicked-up cyber-sex in his chat room of choice on the 'Net. And, certainly, that could wait. He had Lance to salivate over right now, didn't he? That would be enough for some dandy wet dreams later, yes.

He wouldn't remember later that he'd gotten sloppy in the brain after so many beers and failed to wait until Justin and Lance came back out of the building he'd watched them go into or how much he risked bumping smack-dab into them by not waiting. But, as it turned out in the end, it didn't matter anyway. Much like a lot of things to Wade.

"Hi, there, uh, Jenniver Love," he slurred to the girl at the counter when he'd made it through the front door and swaggered to the desk where she sat. He had to narrow his eyes to read her nameplate but then glanced upward to offer her his best dazzling smile. "How are you thisss luffly evening?"

The girl looked up and met his smile with a perky one of her own and sparkling large eyes that took him in slowly. "Oh, hi! And you can leave the 'Love' part off if you want. It sounds kinda queer, don't you think?"

"Queer?" Wade made his dark bushy eyebrows meet in the center of his face. "I thingg it's sorda unique and priddy. Like you." Then he widened his smile. Just for her.

Queer?

Her cheeks turned rose pink, and she giggled. "Hey now. You know what flattery will get you, right? A free trial membership, if you're not careful, Mr……….."

"Robson. Wade Robson. But pleezuh. Call me Wade. I inzist." He leaned his elbow on the counter and held a hand out to her. "Plezzure to meetcha, Jenniver. And do I look like I need a membergip to ah gym?"

She shook his hand enthusiastically and squirmed a little in her swivel chair, giddy with the attention, never noticing Wade's roaming eyes focusing on her bouncy breasts and then glazing over lewdly. "Um, no. Not really. From what I can see, you look nice and toned."

"Thanks." His smile was more of a sneer. "I dig worgging out. When ya feel good, ya look good. Or something like that, right?"

"That's what they say!" Jennifer grinned. "So, Wade, what can I help you with this evening?"

How about helping me with this gigantic hard-on in my pants, Miss Cutsie Pie Fucker? Yeah, that'd be choice, I'm saying, girlfriend.

"Well, actually, I've got an odd sorda regwest. I feel a liddle, um, silly." Wade laughed a fake laugh and winked a cheesy wink.

Jennifer, still grinning, ate it up with a ladle. "What is it? I've been here a long time. Almost a whole year, in fact. And I've heard just about everything weird and odd. So tell me," she purred. Like a kitten responding to gentle strokes down its back.

Wade shrugged, alternating his gaze between her eyes and her chest, back and forth, boldly. "Okay, here goes. So I've got this buddy at work, see. He's been raving on and on about this new health club place he's joined rezently. He said it was called Trinity something, and I'm sure it was, like, in this part of LA. I was in the neighborhood tonight, see, and I'm driving by and spot this joint and think, 'Hey! This baby might be it!' So I dezide to stop and come in and check it out."

"Oh, cool! What's his name? I can check the members' roster if you want and see if he's on the list," she bubbled out spastically, helpfully, eyeing him like he was a piece of her favorite candy. "That way you'll know for sure if this is the right location."

"Justin Timberlake."

A cloud of sorts passed over the ebullient girl's smooth face, and she seemed a little confused for a moment. Something wasn't computing behind those large, bright eyes. Then she recovered and smiled again.

"Oh, I think I know him. He's kind of new. He's not really a member. Not yet. He just comes here to train or whatever with one of the racquetball instructors."

A chandelier's worth of light bulbs went off in Wade's foggy head. He channeled what might have been a bitter smirk into a genuinely ungenuine smile.

"Ah, yeah! He mentioned that! Racquetball! Heeze taking it up again. That's the tigget. He's seeing the same coach then for all his appointments, right? Somebody really good?"

To this, Jennifer overflowed with heated approval. And held back nothing. To Wade's advantage, it never dawned on her that he could be asking his "buddy at work" all these excessive question. She just adored having somebody friendly to talk to. So that's what she did.

"Somebody REALLY good! And you can say THAT again! JC is the best! And Mr. Timberlake - well, Justin - must think so too. He's been here two nights in a row for matches with him."

Two nights in a row.

For matches with HIM.

Aww, hell no.

Fucking bingo.

Wade widened his dead-of-the-night eyes and let them shine on her. "Whoa! Really? This dude must be sum'in else, eh? I mean on the racquetball court, you know!"

"Oh, he really, really is! He's my favorite of all the instructors here!" She simmered and writhed and twitched. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning closer to Wade. "He's so sweet and nice. Oh, and handsome too. A lot of the girls would kill to go out on a date with him. You know what I mean?"

A lot of the fucking boys would kill for that too, I'll bet. Yeah, dude's probably a real babe, isn't he? I'll just fucking bet. 'Cause that's what the magnificent "Mr. Timberlake" goes for, isn't it? Totally.

Wade furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. "Hmm. And check it out. I've been thinking about doing a little pounding the court myself again too, maybe getting a little fast-action racquetball into my workout routine. And you're so talking me into it, girl!" He laughed and tried to sound as energized as she did. "Well, you AND Justin are talking me into it, I'm saying."

"Awesome!" she beamed. "Another convert for the game! And nobody can, like, ever get enough exercise! You know?"

How about you exercise your ass on THIS big muscle, cooch mama?

"Right. I hear ya. So does this fantastic instructor have a schedule you can book me a time slot on or whatever?"

She shook her head regretfully. "Um, no. Sorry, but JC handles his own schedule, Wade. I can give you his business card, though, if that will be okay."

"Why thank you, babe." Wade's surly upturn of the edge of his top lip coupled with slow blinks of his shady eyes broadcast his satisfaction silently. "That will be juss about perfeck. I can HARDLY believe my awesome luck at coming across this place tonight."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"Justin, how do you know your boyfriend's not here tonight, man?" Lance asked impatiently as Justin closed his locker and turned to face him.

"He's not here. He works at a hotel downtown on the weekends……….And he's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet."

"Don't start, Lance."

"You owe me a major cocktail."

"I know. And that's our destination right now. I promise."

"Is there, like, a secret back-alley escape route out of this place? So we can bypass Miss Personality Thang out there. I am SO not in the mood for her."

Justin nodded. "Yep. JC showed me last night. He avoids her too when he can. She's got the big-time hots for him."

"Ah. Like you do? You two can be sisters now, J." Lance chuckled.

"Fuck off, Lance." Justin rolled his eyes.

"Let's go."

Back out in the shadowy parking lot just as they approached Justin's car again, he squinted at something far behind Lance and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Aww, man. You've got to be fucking kidding me! Is that Robson's old Taurus over there?"

Slowly, not caring much, Lance turned and looked. "Nah. Too many hubcaps still intact."

"Lance, stop it. He got those replaced months ago. Didn't he?"

"Hell if I know or care. Still a junked up piece of shit."

"It couldn't be his, could it? What the hell?"

Lance faced him again and smirked. "Yeah, man. He's probably on your tail. Subterranean bottom-feeder that he is. Dude needs Queer Eye for the Jerk-wad guy."

"Man, it's YOUR tail he wants to be on, leering at you and openly slobbering and crap."

"Well, it was YOU he was nagging me and Jess about last night at the bar after work, up in our faces wanting to know where your ass was and why you weren't there celebrating with everybody else. He, like, wouldn't let it go. The freak."

"Really? What the fuck does he care where I was?"

"Don't ask me, dude. The fucker grossed me out. Obsess on J much, Robson? Yuck. Run along. Get the hell on away from me and my man toy."

Justin frowned. "What a loser. Can you say 'begging to be drop-kicked to the curb'? Asshole really needs to get himself some real business to mind, rather than sticking his nose in everyone else's."

Lance glanced at the car in question again. "Especially yours. But I don't think that's his tacky ride, J. Why would he be way the hell out here anyway?"

"You never know with Wade."

"You never WANT to know with Wade. He's just one big so-fucking-what. Now c'mon. Let's hit the road. I've got tons of better things to worry about than his ass. And so do you. Such as shiny, colorful bottles of liquor screaming out our names, dude."

Justin shrugged and tapped the remote to unlock the car doors. "Yeah, okay. I guess you're right."

"Man, I'm always right."

"Um, okay. Whatever, Lance. Just move your ass into that car seat there 'cause I'm hitting the road."



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