Mr. Forrester: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (26 page)

I
t was
a weird sense of mirror deja vu as I watched Julian get on the bus that was going to take him to the airport. Part of me was impressed, trying to do it the same way I did. I watched the bus disappear around the corner and headed towards the El train station. I had planned to meet up with Kim for a coffee, and we were going to meet at a little place near Alinea before prep started for dinner service. It was a Friday night, which meant things were going to be hopping. I was so glad to be off the prep monkey squad and into the line, even though that too had plenty of hard work to go along with it.

I saw Kim waiting for me outside the Starbucks, already sitting at one of the tables that dotted the sidewalk, a green tea smoothie in her hand. "Hey Krystal," she said, raising her cup before pausing. She stood up and looked me up and down, a smile breaking out on her face. "Congratulations."

"What is it about our faces that gives it away?" I said, perplexed. "Julian was saying you told him the same thing."

"For a computer geek, I'm pretty good at reading people's faces," Kim replied. "Go get your drink, and you can tell me all about it."

I went inside and got my go-to, an iced dark roast coffee, and joined Kim outside. It was getting later in the year, and the warm sun was welcome. There would be too many upcoming days without it. "So what do you want to know?"

I'd known Kim for too long not to be honest with her, and she was as close as any sister to me. "So are you two together?"

"Yes we are," I replied after taking a sip. "He met me at the airport coming back from New York yesterday, and it was just magic."

Kim nodded and took a deep drink from her frozen concoction. How she stayed so slim with sucking down a venti sized one of those three times I week I had no idea. "Magic, huh? And just how magic was it?"

"You so need to find a man in your life," I groaned, taking another sip. We sat side by side and watched the sidewalk traffic go by, with Kim flashing me looks from time to time. I knew that expression, she wasn't going to stop. "Okay, okay, fine. Four times."

I think it was the first time in our entire acquaintance that I'd seen Kimberly surprised. In fact, she was more than surprised, she shot a stream of green tea gloop about three feet out into the sidewalk, just missing a pigeon that was bugging customers for crumbs from their scones and sandwiches. "Four times? FOUR times? I haven't had four times this year!"

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. "Told you it was magical."

"Four times," Kim muttered to herself, shaking her head as she went back to sipping her drink through a straw. "You know, I should get some sort of reward for that. Four times.... now, do you mean four times total, or four times.... you know?"

I took a sip and smiled. "Four times of mind blowing
you know
. He had two himself."

"What were the other two?"

"Once with his tongue, once with his right hand. The right hand was in the shower."

Kim contained herself that time, and we went back to sipping her drink. "So how is it you can walk today?"

"Very slowly, although I'll have some time to recover. He's going back to LA until Tuesday, closing out his stuff there. He asked if he could move in with me."

"And what'd you say?"

"What do you think I said? Of course I said yes," I replied. "Of course, we still need to figure out how we're going to tell John and Mom, but we'll get past that, I'm sure."

"You sure about that? Krystal, you know I have no qualms about it, hell I'm glad for you two, but I'm not Sandra or John. I mean, your mom is cool and all, but is she that cool?"

"I think so. No, I take that back, I know so. And if not.... well, we'll make it on our own."

Kim looked over at me, and I shrugged. "Okay, with our trust funds too. Those can't be taken away from us, at least mine can't. And he's taking the test this weekend, he's going to get into personal training."

"That's a tough gig, you know. Lots of sales," Kim replied. "But, if anyone's got the look, he does. God that man looks like he could pick up a small car if he wanted to. Can he control it?"

"Oh yeah," I said with a grin. "Lots of control."

We finished our drinks, and Kim reached over and took my hand. "Krystal, I'm happy for you, I really am. Just be careful. I'm not saying careful of him, I'd have never told him the truth if I thought he would turn around and hurt you. But a lot of the world isn't ready for a situation like yours, and you might run into problems. I guess what I'm saying is, if you need help or support, you know you can call on me."

"I know," I said, squeezing her fingers. "So tell me about what's up with you."

"
A
lright
, your time starts now."

I could feel the shakes in my hand as I looked down at the test. Randy, the manager at Metroflex, had pulled some strings to get me into the session, and I'd been cramming ever since getting on the plane Thursday morning. In between stopping by the LA County Courthouse, where one of the clerks knew my name, to going by my lawyer's office to sign the paperwork to allow him to get the ball rolling on closing out what I couldn't stick around for, I hadn't had as much study time as I wanted. Now, with a mechanical pencil in my hand, a cheap pocket calculator next to me, and a twenty five page, three hundred question test booklet in front of me, panic was beginning to set in.

You can do it, Julian
, I heard Krystal whisper in my mind.
Now just buckle down, and start right with question one. You keep plugging away at it.

I knew the words were just a little bit of self-delusion, but it got me moving. I opened up the book, and read the first question.
Which blood pressure is considered a risk factor for cardiovascular disease?

I grinned and bubbled in my answer. For the next four hours, I worked steadily, letting my mind not get too caught up on the things I flat out didn't know.

While I had years on years of practical experience, there were certain things that were brand new to me. Randy had explained it to me in person on Friday afternoon while he ran me through a review session. "These certification groups, they know that because of the way state laws are, there's no actual way they can force everyone to be certified by them. Hell, most places don't even require you to have a cert at all if you're willing to carry your own insurance on it. So this test you're gonna take, it's just to stick some letters after your name to help get you in the door with places. But to make sure their cert isn't seen like some sort of joke, they put in a ton of words that they make up themselves. NSCA, ACE, ACSM, NASM, whatever, they all test the same stuff on the practical side of things. You're just going to have to try and remember as much of the jargon as you can. You'll do fine if you just use your brain, amigo."

I'll admit some of it was harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I really had to guess on some of the science questions. I honestly didn't know just how protein is synthesized in the body or what energy systems are used within the muscle to create contractile force. But at the same time, I look at it this way. There are a lot of doctors who could tell you everything about the individual muscles or could give me lectures on the chemistry inside the body, but who couldn't train someone at all. Both specialists, but in different fields.

I didn't let it get me down, and finished most of the questions within the first two hours. The remaining two hours I spent trying my best to figure out the questions that I had an inkling on, and then the last two minutes I just bubbled in guesses on the last ten questions I had no clue on. It was one of those types of tests, where a blank was counted the same as a wrong answer. When the test giver called time, I looked around at the other forty people in the room, and felt confident. I could tell some of the other test takers were college students, people who made studying and test taking their jobs, and they looked worried. I wasn't, I knew my stuff.

Leaving the community college they were giving the test at, I looked around at the sunny Los Angeles sky. "I am going to miss you," I said, thinking of Chicago and the rumored miserable winters. Let's face it, a place doesn't get nicknamed "The Windy City" and have great weather. It was Sunday afternoon, and I didn't really have all that much more to do. I had to stop by my lawyer's office the next day before final close outs of Los Angeles, but that was it. I could honestly catch an evening flight from LAX to Chicago if I wanted to. If it wasn't that I knew Krystal would be working a shift at Alinea, I would have.

Give your old buddies a call,
the little demon inside my head whispered in my ear. It was strange, he had been so quiet for so long. But like an alcoholic walking by a bar, being in Los Angeles caused the demon to come out and tempt me. However, I'd made a promise, and the idea of Krystal was far more powerful than anything my inner demons could tempt me with.
Shut the fuck up
, I whispered to it, and went on my way.

I decided, after long deliberation, to hit up the beach. I could still enjoy the waves even without trying to pick up a girl, and the beach wasn't a place I got into trouble too often. I was pretty close to Malibu, so I hopped on the bus and caught the connection over. It was late summer, but still warm, so even as the afternoon approached the evening, the sand was pretty crowded. Not having swim trunks on, I contented myself with walking along the sand and watching the gulls. There were plenty of women around, and more than a few cast me glances that at any other time in my life would have had me turning to go see what I could do, but I felt no urge at all. I had something better in my life.

"Yo! Yo, Castelbon!"

I turned, and felt my good mood disappear. Pete Abbott was one of the biggest pricks in the Los Angeles young, rich, and deluded social circle. More of an asshole that I was, he'd more than once gotten himself into real trouble with the law, his father dropping enough money to keep him with either probation or various other alternative forms of punishment. The problem was, Pete was a sociopath, plain and simple. For all of the shit he had gotten caught with, he had gotten away with more, and I personally knew of at least three things he'd done that should have gotten him a trip up to San Quentin. While we'd been buddies just after I came out to the West Coast, that friendship soured quickly, and the last time I'd seen him, he'd sworn to kick my ass. Or
try
to I should say.

"Pete. You don't come to Malibu often."

Pete wasn't big, in fact he was a bit on the small side, but nobody who knew him let his size fool them for long. Being more or less batshit insane gave Pete what some people might call "crazy strength," and he was unpredictable. He also had no concept of mercy or restraint, which is how a few years ago he'd earned the nickname "Rorsarch," after the character in the movie
Watchmen
. Unlike Rorsarch, Pete was clearly on the wrong side of the coin almost all the time. "Neither do you, bitch," he said, approaching me. "I remember that last time I saw you, I said I was going to kick your ass."

"Not now Pete, okay? Listen, last time I was an asshole to you, and I was wrong. Okay? I'm sorry it happened, now can we please just fucking drop it and go on with our lives?" I honestly didn't remember what the hell Abbott was angry at me about, but it didn't matter. I didn't need another potential run in with the law for having a fight on the beach. Besides, I had a promise to keep.

"Fuck that," Pete said, running towards me. In my mind, I saw two options. The first was to fight back. I had a good fifty pounds on Pete, and about six inches in height. Even with the crazy factor figured in, I had good odds of walking away the victor. On the other hand, I would lose regardless of the outcome. One thing for certain is that I could depend on having a nice, long talk with the cops down at the nearest station. Not cool in any way.

The second option might cost me some Alpha points in the social scene, but since I had Krystal, I didn't really need them, did I? So I turned and ran, sprinting as hard as I could across the semi-packed sand near the water line towards the life guard tower that was about two hundred yards away. I figured that even if Pete did catch me, I had about a hundred people who either heard me say I didn't want to start anything with him, or saw me running away. At that point self defense was pretty much guaranteed.

I have to give it to Pete, he's fast. I was about fifty meters from the life guard tower when Pete tackled me from behind, sending me sprawling into the sand. Pete quickly climbed on top of me and started pounding the back of my neck, pushing my face deeper into the hot, grainy surface. Twisting sideways, I curled my body into a c-shape before exploding sideways and twisting.With my weight advantage, Pete ended up flying off of me, landing on some guy's cooler while the two beach goers were still struggling to get up and get away from the fight. I rolled onto my back and to my feet, half crouched and my hands up to defend myself, when the lifeguard came up and got between us. "Hold on, what's going on?" he asked. Pete climbed to his feet and tried to rush me, but the lifeguard grabbed him around the chest and pulled him back. "What's the problem?"

"Man, the dude you're holding tackled muscle man over there, got thrown off into my cooler," the one beachgoer said. "Motherfucker dented the thing too."

The lifeguard looked from Pete to me, then back. "Alright, why's he chasing you down?" he asked me. "You've got a few pounds on him."

"Old beef that he didn't want to let go," I said simply. "He wanted to start something, and I didn't want to do that any longer, so I took off running for here. He was a bit faster, took me down."

The fight had caused a small crowd to gather, and there were a few people who backed up my story. The lifeguard looked around, while Pete was let go as long as he stayed on the other side of the lifeguard. "Looks like I should radio for the police," he said, "you got a clear assault case."

I shook my head. "No need, man. I don't want to press charges."