Ethan, a 27yo Bi Man and Personal Trainer in LA

“Great job, man,” I exclaim, before high-fiving the sweaty man in front of me, a stupid grin covering my face.

“Thanks!”

“You feel good?”

“I feel good!”

“Alright, man! I’ll see you in a week.” My client nods at me, before heading to the locker room.

As soon as he’s out of sight, my smile drops and I nearly feel the light drain from my eyes. How the fuck does one guy take twenty-five minutes to do ten reps? Fuck me, that’s gotta be some kind of a record.

I go get my phone, headphones, a lighter, and some joints out of my locker, before heading out to the alley for my break. I put on some music and light one of my joints, trying to get the smoke inside of me as fast as possible.

My eyes follow the wisps as they float up into the air and disappear into the clouds. It’s so peaceful you could almost forget the sweatbox full of out of shape, wannabe actors trying to catch up to people with actual work ethic. Oh well, I was the one stupid enough to think that being a personal trainor here meant I would work with actually famous people. It’s my own fault.

Just before I manage to finish my joint, I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back into the real world. I jump reflexively and accidentally drop my joint. I pull my headphones off and look up to see my manager, Jordan, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“I need you inside. Now.” My heart drops in my chest. Fuck. What did I do?

“Well, could I finish my ten?”

“Absolutely not, come on.” Jordan grabs my arm and starts pulling me into the building. I don’t

resist him, figuring it’ll just make things worse for me.

“Look, man, could you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“Yeah... Stop-” he puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me in my tracks and takes my

headphones off of me, before starting to walk again. “We had an agent for this new client come in asking for our best trainor, you’re him, and we cannot waste this opportunity.

“How do you know we’re not just getting another pissy z-lister with an ego.” Jordan stops me again, before pointing to a familiar figure near the front desk.

“Look.”