left Denver, Joel for Sacramento and Melody for Los Angeles.
“He’s not psycho, Mel,” Joel said seriously. “He’s just focused.”
“Yeah, psychos is focused you know! He probably stalking you at that gym!”
Joel shook his head, remembering the first time he’d seen Ian Cooper. “The only thing Ian stalks at the gym is bodily injury!”
Mel laughed, but Joel couldn’t.
Ian had been so helpless under that barbell.
Joel’s co-worker had introduced Joel to the family gym, and Joel was grateful. There was an eclectic mix of people there—hardcore weight-lifters with tattoos and motorcycles, toned business women working the machines, spry elderly people enjoying the yoga and arthritis classes, and even children running around the ball pit in the day-care. Joel, who had grown up in a Hispanic neighborhood in South Denver, had been reassured by the diversity. It felt like a real community, and not just a place to be stalked by gym bunnies.
Those girls had never really appealed to Joel anyway.
And the bulletin board added to the community, everything from free puppies to offers to carpool and, Joel hoped, roommates.
When he’d first come to the city, he’d ended up in one of those prairie-dog apartment warrens, the kind where every apartment was the shape of a cracker tin and you could tell what your neighbor was doing upstairs whether you liked it or not. Joel might have toughed it out in one of those until he could afford to rent or buy a house, but he wanted to ride his bike to work. Since he had to move anyway, he was looking for something with… well, character. He’d driven around the city in his little hybrid, and he’d seen the neighborhoods with the Victorian-era houses. Some were high-toned, some were run-down, and some were in between, but they had seemed… eclectic. Interesting. They had character, and Joel was in a strange city on his second job. His first job had been in a cubicle; he’d made sure this one was in a big, open-air office with people who knew what the others looked like. He wanted character.
Then the first chuffing sound penetrated Joel’s involvement with the bulletin board. He swung around to see a lanky man, shirtless, being crushed under a barbell that looked seriously overloaded for such a slender frame.
Joel dropped his duffel bag and hurried over to rescue the poor bastard, and as he pulled the barbell up and rested it in the cradle, he was treated to an upside-down version of that sweet, goofy grin that would dominate the next five months of his life.
“Thanks, mate. That ’bout buggered me.” The man was in his mid-twenties, like Joel, and his curly blonde hair was a spiky, sweaty, halo all over his long skull. Joel would learn that, with the exception of the sweat, it always looked like that.
“Well, you need to make sure you always have a spotter,” Joel told him seriously.
“Yeah, mate, if I must. Here, you want the job?”
Joel was going to say no—he’d actually been on the way out of the gym—but that smile appeared, and it was so winsome and so trusting that Joel found himself standing over Ian and helping him with what appeared to be a ridiculous amount of weight.
After a couple of sets, he had to admit that the weight wasn’t ridiculous. The strength in that long, rangy frame was the outstanding thing.
“Thanks, mate,” Ian panted when he was done. He sat up and rubbed his face with a towel. “I was lucky you came along. What were you looking at over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the bulletin board, and Joel looked over and grimaced.
“A roommate,” he sighed. “I want to live someplace interesting, but I don’t have enough money for interesting. Just cheap.”
The young man blinked, and his head went through a series of bird-like movements that Joel had come to associate with Ian thinking on the fly.
“A roommate, you say?”
“Yeah, a roommate. Why? You know someone who lives in a cool house downtown
“He’s not psycho, Mel,” Joel said seriously. “He’s just focused.”
“Yeah, psychos is focused you know! He probably stalking you at that gym!”
Joel shook his head, remembering the first time he’d seen Ian Cooper. “The only thing Ian stalks at the gym is bodily injury!”
Mel laughed, but Joel couldn’t.
Ian had been so helpless under that barbell.
Joel’s co-worker had introduced Joel to the family gym, and Joel was grateful. There was an eclectic mix of people there—hardcore weight-lifters with tattoos and motorcycles, toned business women working the machines, spry elderly people enjoying the yoga and arthritis classes, and even children running around the ball pit in the day-care. Joel, who had grown up in a Hispanic neighborhood in South Denver, had been reassured by the diversity. It felt like a real community, and not just a place to be stalked by gym bunnies.
Those girls had never really appealed to Joel anyway.
And the bulletin board added to the community, everything from free puppies to offers to carpool and, Joel hoped, roommates.
When he’d first come to the city, he’d ended up in one of those prairie-dog apartment warrens, the kind where every apartment was the shape of a cracker tin and you could tell what your neighbor was doing upstairs whether you liked it or not. Joel might have toughed it out in one of those until he could afford to rent or buy a house, but he wanted to ride his bike to work. Since he had to move anyway, he was looking for something with… well, character. He’d driven around the city in his little hybrid, and he’d seen the neighborhoods with the Victorian-era houses. Some were high-toned, some were run-down, and some were in between, but they had seemed… eclectic. Interesting. They had character, and Joel was in a strange city on his second job. His first job had been in a cubicle; he’d made sure this one was in a big, open-air office with people who knew what the others looked like. He wanted character.
Then the first chuffing sound penetrated Joel’s involvement with the bulletin board. He swung around to see a lanky man, shirtless, being crushed under a barbell that looked seriously overloaded for such a slender frame.
Joel dropped his duffel bag and hurried over to rescue the poor bastard, and as he pulled the barbell up and rested it in the cradle, he was treated to an upside-down version of that sweet, goofy grin that would dominate the next five months of his life.
“Thanks, mate. That ’bout buggered me.” The man was in his mid-twenties, like Joel, and his curly blonde hair was a spiky, sweaty, halo all over his long skull. Joel would learn that, with the exception of the sweat, it always looked like that.
“Well, you need to make sure you always have a spotter,” Joel told him seriously.
“Yeah, mate, if I must. Here, you want the job?”
Joel was going to say no—he’d actually been on the way out of the gym—but that smile appeared, and it was so winsome and so trusting that Joel found himself standing over Ian and helping him with what appeared to be a ridiculous amount of weight.
After a couple of sets, he had to admit that the weight wasn’t ridiculous. The strength in that long, rangy frame was the outstanding thing.
“Thanks, mate,” Ian panted when he was done. He sat up and rubbed his face with a towel. “I was lucky you came along. What were you looking at over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the bulletin board, and Joel looked over and grimaced.
“A roommate,” he sighed. “I want to live someplace interesting, but I don’t have enough money for interesting. Just cheap.”
The young man blinked, and his head went through a series of bird-like movements that Joel had come to associate with Ian thinking on the fly.
“A roommate, you say?”
“Yeah, a roommate. Why? You know someone who lives in a cool house downtown
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