Body on the Stage (12 page)

His buoyant mood was unaffected
by a call from Mark that night saying he wouldn’t be at the
gym.

“It’s Sherry, dude. She’s
insisting I spend some time at home with her instead of working
out. Says I’m getting obsessed with it.” Mark growled. “I just
don’t get it. I thought she’d like this great new body I’m building
– you’ve seen the muscle I’ve packed on in the last two weeks, it’s
amazing isn’t it? But she’s whining that I’m not charming and
attentive like when we were first going out. For God’s sake, who
can keep up that level of pleasing a woman? I tell her I love her
at least once a week, I clean the toilet without being asked, I
even buy her flowers once in a while. Surely she doesn’t need all
that every day?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy. I
tried to be the perfect partner and ended up dumped and disposed
of, completely out of the blue.” Dennis sighed. “I feel for you,
Mark, but there’s no easy answer. Just do what feels right for you,
I guess.”

“Eh? Now what?” he heard Mark
shout to someone. “Sorry dude, got to go.” The phone went dead.

When Dennis arrived at the gym
later he was surprised to see Mark there, already working
vigorously on the shoulder press bench. Sweat poured off him as he
lifted a heavily-weighted bar and lowered it to his chest.

“You made it here after all
then,” observed Dennis. Mark just grunted, nodding his head in a
cursory gesture. It was obvious that he didn’t want company so
Dennis ambled over to where Warwick and Simon were preparing to do
squats.

“How’s it going, guys?”

Warwick shrugged. “Yeah, not
bad. Piling on the muscle ready to impress the chicks. Well, the
ones that can be bothered to appreciate it, anyway. Some of them
are just too blind to see what’s under their bloody noses. At least
I’ve got real good development on my biceps and quads. Simon here
is a bit slower to bulk up. Doesn’t work at it like I do.” He
slotted a couple more weights onto his bar, banged them into place
and tightened the hold collar roughly.

“I’m getting there!” Simon
protested. “We can’t all be Neanderthals – some of us appeal to
women with higher ideals.” He stretched elegantly. “We speak with
the language of dance, not brute force.”

“Yeah, well good luck with that.
I’m sure the gay boys in the audience will love it.”

Simon and Dennis exchanged
surprised looks at the aggression in Warwick’s voice.

“To each his own, dear boy,”
drawled Simon, refusing to take offence. “Dennis, would you care to
work out with me today since both our usual partners seem to have
been hit on the head by the grumpy stick?”

“That sounds like an excellent
idea. Why add the burden of bad temper to the weights we’re
lifting, eh? Thanks, Simon, I appreciate it.”

They retreated to a quiet corner
and got themselves set up at the weights bench.

“You lift first and I’ll spot,”
offered Simon, moving to stand behind the bar. Dennis laid his
towel on the bench and wriggled into place, making sure his arms
were positioned at the correct angle.

“Any idea why those two are so
angry at life, Simon?”

“I do have a theory, actually.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I hear whispers now and
then. There are rumours that steroids may be doing the rounds.”

“No! Seriously? I thought guys
were too smart to fall for taking pills to get muscles these days.
Surely nobody would be that dumb? We all know how dangerous they
are.”

“But what if they didn’t know
they were taking them? If it was mixed up in something else, how
would they know?”

Dennis snorted. “That’s
pointless! Who would benefit by secretly feeding someone steroids?
It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It might if you wanted to boost
your reputation as a successful trainer.”

Dennis looked at him, forgetting
to push, and the heavy weight bar pressed down on his chest. He
gasped, struggling, until Simon helped him lift it back onto the
rack.

“Oof, thanks!”

“When you lose focus gravity
seems to take over!” said Simon.

Dennis sat up and wiped his
face. “Do you have any reason to suspect anyone in particular?”

Simon cautiously looked around
the room before answering. Without realising it, Dennis did the
same.

“Has Vincenzo offered you any of
his protein powder? No? Me neither, but he has been selling it to
Warwick and Ricky for sure – I’ve seen him. Probably Mark too. And
who has packed on more muscle than the rest of us? They have. Who’s
been acting like a bear with a gorse bush up its butt? They have.
It’s a classic symptom.”

Dennis looked at him, eyes wide.
“Really? That does make sense, now you mention it. So do you think
that’s why Vincenzo is so keen to get them into the body-building
contest? So if they do well it reflects well on him as the
trainer?” He shook his head. “That’s crazy. Besides, don’t they
have blood tests for those things? Wouldn’t steroid use be
noticed?”

“Not if he includes masking
agents in the mix he gives them. He can add any crap he likes to
the product and call it pure whey powder. How are they going to
know?”

“But surely it can’t be cost
effective to buy drugs and feed them to people just to improve his
status as a trainer? They can’t come cheap. Does he get a cash
prize if his guys win the contest or something? I can’t see why
he’d take the risk…oh.” Dennis fell silent, wondering if perhaps
Vincenzo hadn’t been spending his own money at all. The anomaly
that Cathy had been struggling with in the gym accounts could well
have been Vincenzo siphoning off cash. Perhaps she had unknowingly
been subsidising the whole ludicrous exercise. No wonder her
spreadsheets wouldn’t balance. He’d have to ask her about it later.
“What do you think we should do about it?”

Simon shrugged. “They’re
grown-ups. If they want to risk taking unknown substances from some
guy they think they trust, that’s their problem. All this is just
supposition anyway. I don’t think there’s anything much we can
do.”

Dennis frowned. It didn’t seem
right.

After the session he made a
point of chatting with Warwick in the locker room.

“How’s it going? Hope you had an
OK session? You didn’t mind me training with Simon for a change,
did you?”

“Nah, that’s fine.” Warwick
didn’t seem inclined to chat, but Dennis persevered.

“Your arms are looking good. Do
you take anything extra to get such great muscle development?
Protein supplements, for instance?”

“Whey powder, that’s all. Two
scoops in 500ml of non-fat milk with an egg every morning. Seems to
make the difference. And if I do a really hard workout I have
another one in the evening for recovery.”

“Really? And it’s just whey
powder? What brand? Maybe I should try some myself.”

“You can get it from any
nutrition store, but they charge an arm and a leg for it. See
Vincenzo, he gets it in bulk and sells it to us much cheaper
without the retail mark-up.”

“Is that safe?” Dennis tiptoed
through the minefield. “I mean, how do you know what’s in it? He
could be like drug dealers, adding extra stuff to cut the pure
powder.”

“Hey man, it’s doing the
business, you said so yourself. If he was watering it down with
cornflour or something, it wouldn’t be so effective, would it?”
Warwick turned away, muttering. “Think before you open your mouth,
dude.”

“But what if he was adding
something to make it stronger?” Dennis blurted out. He owed it to
the guys to make them aware of the possibility. “Have you noticed
any odd reactions to using it? Acne, bad sleep, sudden fits of
rage?” He didn’t dare mention any symptoms below the belt for fear
of ending up hung on a locker room peg by his underwear. If Warwick
was having sexual difficulties he certainly wouldn’t admit to it
anyway. He became aware that Warwick was staring at him.

“Have you been talking to
Leonie?” he demanded. “Did she tell you to ask me about this
stuff?” He slammed his hand against the row of lockers with an
ear-splitting bang.

“No! No, I’ve never spoken to
her at all,” gabbled Dennis. “I was just asking because if there
was something added to the powder then I thought you’d want to know
about it, that’s all. Sorry man, forget I said anything. Really.
It’s entirely your own business.”

“Damn right,” growled
Warwick.

Dennis threw his clothes into
his gym bag and fled. He had planned to speak to Mark as well, but
couldn’t face two violent reactions like that in one night. He’d
wait for a calmer moment.

After his workout the following
evening he entered the locker room in time to see Mark coming out
of the showers, a towel round his waist and a light sprinkling of
water drops on his bulging chest muscles. Dennis braced himself and
seized his opportunity.

“Your pecs are looking even
bigger, Mark. You must be pleased with your development, eh?”

“Yeah, I’ve got more muscle mass
than I’ve ever had in my life. Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Wish I could match it – I bet
the girls love it. How does Sherry feel about it?”

“Huh.” Mark frowned. “Not as
pleased as I expected. She’s been complaining I neglect her, that I
don’t spend time at home, all that kind of crap. Says I used to be
a better boyfriend before the training.”

“Ah.”

Mark turned sharply. “What’s
that supposed to mean? Have you been talking to her?” He bristled
visibly. “Have you been seeing her behind my back? I swear somebody
has. She’s different all of a sudden. You wouldn’t have anything to
do with that, would you?” He glared at Dennis with a look that
could have melted steel but then apparently discounted the idea as
ludicrous, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He pulled dry
clothes out of his gym bag and dumped them on the bench. “She’s
been acting real weird lately, all emotional. I cook her favourite
meal just to get some peace and she walks off and leaves it on the
table, then she takes dry crackers to bed because she wakes up
hungry. She’s bloody mental.”

As Mark pulled on a T-shirt
Dennis noticed several angry red pimples across his back.

“I haven’t been talking to
Sherry, but Simon and I were wondering if, well,” Dennis hesitated,
“if there was something odd in the protein powder that you and
Warwick and Ricky are using. The three of you have developed so
much more muscle than the rest of us, it seems a bit suspect,
that’s all. As if there might be something like, well, steroids in
it.”

He braced himself for a bellow
of rage or worse.

Mark laughed out loud. “What? Is
that your theory? Jesus, Dennis, you’re just making excuses for
your own lack of effort. If you’d been training as hard as Warwick
and Ricky and I have, you’d be just as muscular. Don’t expect
miracles if you don’t work hard enough to earn them. Put the hours
in that we do, lift the weights we lift, then you can bleat about
drug cheating if it doesn’t work.” Mark zipped up his jeans,
checking himself out in the mirror. “You don’t get a butt like this
by playing at training, dude. You gotta do it for real. Get
Vincenzo to boost your program and maybe you can fast-track things
a bit. Remember we’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have,
so be patient.”

Dennis sighed. It wasn’t the
response he’d hoped for, but at least he’d come out of the
conversation intact and unbruised. He squashed his damp clothes
into his gym bag and headed for home.

He passed Vincenzo in the
stairwell, leaning towards the wall, talking on his cellphone. When
he saw Dennis he raised his chin in greeting and lifted his hand
for a high five. The hushed conversation resumed as Dennis carried
on down the stairs, the words floating on wafts of sickly sweet
aftershave.

“Of course,
cara mia
,
I’ll be there tomorrow night.” Vincenzo’s voice was low and sultry.
“You can wear that special outfit
, si? Bene, bene
!” He
growled playfully. “Until tomorrow, my little wild cat. No, I
cannot be there tonight, I have to meet someone here. No! A man,
you jealous tiger!
Arrivederci, mi amore
.”

Dennis reached the bottom of the
stairs and paused to retie his shoelace, but heard no more of
Vincenzo’s conversation.

When he reached his car he
remembered with a groan that he’d left his wet shower towel hanging
on a peg in the locker room. His shoulders slumped. It was late, he
was tired, but he didn’t want Cathy to have to deal with it if she
did a lost property check. He threw his bag into the car, relocked
the door, and retraced his steps.

The gym door was still open even
though it was now well past closing time. Vincenzo’s cloying scent
hung around the stairwell and Dennis moved quietly as he didn’t
want to run into him if he was still there.

The weights room was empty, but
the door to the storeroom at the back was open. Dennis headed into
the locker room and grabbed his soggy towel, rolling it into a neat
tube for easier carrying. As he left he heard a snatch of
conversation coming from the storeroom.

“Hey there, my brother! How are
you doing? Wow, you’re looking great, man. Those workouts are
really paying off, yes? You still got enough powder? Just let me
know when you need any more, OK?”

“You stay…” the other man’s
voice was high and strained. He stopped, cleared his throat, and
began again. “You stay away from my girlfriend. I know you went
visiting while I was here at the gym last night. I don’t want you
sniffing round her when I’m not there. If you want to talk to me,
we talk here, OK? Don’t go near her again.”

Vincenzo sounded concerned.

“I hear you, bro, I truly do –
but I had no choice, I had to go talk to her last night. She rang
me herself because she’s worried about you, man. She wanted to make
sure you’re not harming yourself with all the, ah, working out that
you’re doing. She really cares for you – you’re a lucky man, you
know? She’s a wonderful woman.” He paused. “She really is very
beautiful, you know.”