Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 13
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 13 - The continuing chronicles of Jack Pierce. Autumn of 1982. The chronicles, in order are: 1. Feasting with a Silver Spoon 2. Summertime and the Livin' is Easy 3. Something Fishy Going On 4. Centerfield 5. Tourist Season 6. Lean on Me They are progressive and not meant to be stand-alone stories.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
I met Gil and Allen at the pool at six-thirty, ready to get in a solid hour of work before class. We’d each worn our speedos with warmups and had our school clothes in our gym bags. We dropped them off in the locker room without locking them. Who would be in the gym this early?
“Hey, ladies. About time you showed up,” Coach Miller hollered as he climbed out of the pool. “Ready to get serious?”
Coach Miller would be at the gym that early, that’s who. “Yes, sir. We thought we’d work the same as last year. Endurance in the morning and technique in the afternoon.”
“The results speak for themselves. Jack has a key. No solo swimming. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Camera time, sir,” I said, and Gil and Allen agreed.
“I’ll have it out this afternoon, when you’re working on technique. Allen, don’t rise up so high on breaststroke. Gil, get a bit more rotation on your back,” he said, toweling off and walking toward the locker room.
“What about me?”
“Grow some bigger flippers,” he said, and we laughed. What was that average shoe size, anyway?
At lunch, Cassidy sat across from me before Kim made it out to the cafeteria. “What time did you get here this morning?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Except for a few teachers and Mr. McClusky, I’m almost always the first one here. I come straight from gymnastics.”
“Six-thirty. Swimming.”
“Two-a-days. How many hours a week?”
“Ah. I never stopped to count. Probably ten to twelve hours here, plus swimming at home and weight-lifting. Not as many hours as you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She took a couple of bites of her salad. “You have trophies.” It wasn’t a question. I waited. “State titles.” I waited again, while she thought about it. “You have scholarship offers.”
“I’ve had a few invitations. I’m going to Georgia Tech, but first, I’m going to CofC for a year or maybe two.”
“Why? If you have offers, why not just go as soon as you can?”
“Not moving to Atlanta until after Kim and I get married and not doing that until I turn eighteen.”
“You’re really going to do that,” she said, not sure if she bought it or not.
“Yes.”
Kim sat next to Cassidy without saying anything. She could tell we were in the middle of something. She looked at my oversized lunch, raised her eyebrows, then smiled.
“Do you have scholarship offers?” Cassidy asked Kim.
“A couple.”
“What? When did that happen?” It was news to me.
“Schools I’m not interested in.”
“Why not? What schools? When did this happen? Were you going to tell me about this?” I asked in a rush.
“Calm down. Schools I’m not interested in. I got one from Florida State, Western Kentucky, UCLA, but that was a partial, and a couple more. I applied a long time ago through some service, and they sent them out.” My mouth must have been hanging open. “You got them too, but you’re going to CofC, then Georgia Tech. I’m going to CofC and across town to Emory. What difference does it make?”
“Holy crap, you two. You’ve got your pick, and you’re going to CofC? What’s wrong with you?” Cassidy asked.
“Florida State? Academic?” I asked.
“Yes, and they saw our cheerleader performance and thought I was good. They don’t give cheerleader scholarships. Nobody does, but that doesn’t mean no one notices. Relax.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I’ll tell you what’s crazy is that either of you could go where you want, and you’re going to CofC,” Cassidy said.
“Vince went to Notre Dame but came back here to Coastal to be closer to Lani. They wouldn’t be married now if he hadn’t,” Kim said.
“Not so crazy,” I added. “We chose our priorities and we’re going down that track. Florida State is a pretty good school, right? How far away is it?”
“Too hot. No. Wet mule, remember?” Kim asked. Her mom had said I had enough money to burn a wet mule, and Kim was reminding me that scholarships weren’t important.
“I’m spending a lot of time on gymnastics.”
“You plan on going to Alabama, though, right? Do you have any scholarship opportunities there?” I asked.
“They have a good gymnastics team. In fact, they have a great gymnastics team and their cheerleaders are all beauty queens.”
“No kidding,” I said.
“No. I’m kidding, but they’re beautiful. Really beautiful.”
“What do you want, Cassidy?” Kim asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do you want? Do you want a specific degree, a specific career, an Olympic gold medal? What?”
“Well, yeah. Any of that. All of that, I guess.”
“But specifically.”
“Do you mean if I could win an Olympic gold medal, which one would I want?”
“Yes.”
The three of us talked about what Cassidy wanted in the short term and further down the road. Kim asked a lot of good questions while I ate. Mom had packed a great lunch.
“Cassidy, you obviously have a lot of smarts, talent, and motivation. What you don’t have are specific goals. You need to work on that, if you want my opinion,” Kim said.
She still didn’t seem to get it. “Cassidy, if I say that I want to gain muscle, I need to be able to say how much and how fast. If I can’t do that, it’s not a goal. It’s just a vision,” I said.
“Where did that come from?” Kim asked.
“Leadership book I got from the Citadel. It makes sense to me.” I turned to Cassidy. “Kim and I are always revising ours.” It seemed like this was all new to Cassidy. She had a lot to think about.
That afternoon, we had our best swim practice yet. I felt good about my opportunity to have fast times in a fast pool the next day. Look out, Wando, we’re coming for you. On the way home, I told Kim I thought it was crazy that someone as motivated as Cassidy, didn’t really have a plan or goal. It seemed like she had skipped that step and gone straight to work, hoping for a good result.
“What was your goal before you took me on our first date?” she asked. Crickets. “Really. What did you plan to do after graduation?”
“Holy crap, Kim. I didn’t. How could that be? I planned to play baseball, swim, and graduate.”
“And that’s as far as your plan went. Pretty much the same as Cassidy.” She could have knocked me over with a feather. She wasn’t trying to embarrass me or anything, but what she pointed out was true.
“I didn’t have a reason to have one. You did that.”
“Uh-uh. We did that. I didn’t really have one, either. You were right about one thing, though. We change ours when we need to.”
“But we have a track we’re going down.”
“After Annie had her adventure with the boy who shall not be named, you thought you might be a psychologist or an attorney for a while,” Kim said.
“But you’ve always thought you would be one.”
“Mostly. But I didn’t think I would do family law until then, and now, after volunteering with the foster kids, I’m sure of it. Don’t be too hard on Cassidy. That’s all I’m saying. She could meet some guy and things could all fall into place.”
“I feel like an idiot. I guess it’s pretty easy to coast through high school without a plan. You can probably coast through life without one.”
“What’s your quote about the mass of men? You shouldn’t feel like an idiot, unless you really think you’ve been coasting. Sheesh. Jack, you’re kind of a Mike Eruzione sort of guy.”
“I don’t know what that means. Did you compliment me or was that a slam?”
“Mike Eruzione. You know, the team captain for the US Hockey team that beat the Soviet Union. He made everyone around him better. You do that. Cassidy is the latest. She’ll go home and think through her plans tonight. You know she will.” Who knew?
We had a good workout, but when we were done, I knew I’d need to revisit Vince’s rules for two-a-day workouts. Rest, hydration, and plenty of protein were at the top of his list of things to do to stay on top of it. The problem with Monday nights was that it was hard to get to sleep after spending time with the kids.
After dinner but before Kim came to pick me up, I called Franklin. “What am I missing?”
“What do you mean? What are you missing?” he answered.
“I mean, what do I need to do that I’m not doing?” I relayed the conversation we’d had with Cassidy and how Kim had answered.
“Let me ruminate on it. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”
Kim picked Mac and me up and we drove to the center. It had been a couple of weeks since Mac had gone with us. Neither of us were very talkative, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of our conversation that afternoon or simply that we were getting mentally ready for the kids.
We let the kids play with Mac for a few minutes. Mac had discovered that he could run faster than people. They chased him, and he ran between their legs and around tables and chairs. I held my breath, reminding them that he was still just a little puppy and not to hurt him. Devon finally caught him, and it might have been the highlight of his day. He walked back to us, getting his face licked for his efforts.
I ended up working with Devon and Micah, who both needed help with the same math homework. They had both brought their grades up to passing, barely. Micah needed a lot of work, not just on math, but simply being polite. I mixed it up, promising to let him play with Mac at the end of the evening, if he would say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and not interrupt. At first, I corrected him a lot, but as the evening went on, he became better and better at catching his own mistakes. I remembered what Michael and Fallon had told us and praised him every time he got it right. Devon paid close attention, both to the math instruction and to what I was working on with Micah. I thought he was probably a pretty smart kid. He just needed a reason to use those smarts. That’s what I thought, at any rate.
“Mel and Bobby are coming tomorrow night, and there are a couple of others coming on Thursday night,” Kim said as we pulled out of the driveway.
“We’re up to eight people or so. Is that right?”
“Something like that. It’s something people can do to help. They just didn’t know about it,” she said.
“It’s not like it’s difficult. It just takes time.”
“That, and a willingness to hear some of their stories, have your heart broken, get totally pissed off at the subhuman people who’ve abused and neglected them.”
“Yeah. And that. I’ve pretty much shoved that to the back of my mind. It’s past tense, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“No point in dwelling on it?” she said.
“No. Not easy to put it all on the back shelf, but that’s what I try to do.”
“I wish I could.”
Mac was fast asleep when we got back to my house. I opened the truck door quietly, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He was out. We were both jealous.
“Wando tomorrow?” she asked, quietly. I nodded. I carried Mac around to her side of the truck for a quiet kiss. Mac was immediately awake, obviously wanting one, too. We had to laugh.
Tuesday somehow seemed like the day of regionals. I knew what I planned to swim. I knew we were swimming in a fast pool against what was supposed to be a much-improved team. It wasn’t conference, but it would set the tone for the rest of the season.
I made it through drama, advanced comp, physics, and economics without answering a question or even speaking. At lunch, I sat at our old table. Kim joined me, but she didn’t say anything. Miss Bentz started to approach our table, but Kim shook her head, and she left. That afternoon, calculus and computer science were about the same. I’d noticed Gil and Allen a couple of times during the day. They were both looking for a zone as well.
On the bus ride to Wando, Coach gave us our race assignments, but we all knew them. The freshmen didn’t quite know what to make of it. The bus pulled up to Wando, and we piled out. We didn’t need to go through the locker room. On the pool deck, we peeled off our sweats and dove in to warm up.
In the first race of the day, Gil and Allen had great times, and we took the two-hundred medley relay, but Wando took second and third. Gil took the two hundred free and looked good doing it. He’d improved a lot. When it came time for the two-hundred IM, I noticed a new face from Wando. I checked the board. Kjetland. He looked like a beast. He looked like a very tall, muscular beast. He had big flippers. We had time, so I introduced myself to Steiner Kjetland, a transfer from San Diego. He shook my hand and wished me luck.
I wasn’t worried. I hadn’t lost the IM since I was a freshman. Wando High School had the fastest pool we’d swim in all season. I was ready to nail down a time that would qualify me for regionals. If I could get this out of the way early, I could focus on breaststroke. We heard the long buzzer and climbed up on the blocks. I had lane five, and Steiner Kjetland had four.
The first stroke in the IM is the butterfly. If you don’t have a good butterfly, you’ll have to swim through everyone else’s slop for the rest of the race. I’d led at the end of the butterfly leg in every race I’d been in. I planned to do that. The starter called us to marks. I planted, coiled, and steadied myself. The horn sounded, and I was airborne. I had a great start and really had a nice rhythm. I hit hard and made a near-perfect turn, but when I came up for my first breath, I wasn’t in front.
On the freestyle races, you can crowd next to the leader and pick up a couple tenths by drafting. At least that’s the theory. There’s just no way to do that with butterfly. I gave it my best, but hit the wall second. Kjetland was fast. We came off the wall in backstroke mode, and I started to pick up ground. I was even with him at the turn, then pulled ahead. When we made the turn for the breaststroke leg of the race, I had a slight lead. Smooth is fast.
I channeled my inner Birch, trying to keep a smooth, solid rhythm. I did. But Kjetland did it better. He caught me at the wall, then pulled ahead. Shit. I’d have to pass him on the freestyle leg. Starting the freestyle leg, he had nearly a full body-length lead. I began to catch him, made the turn, and turned on my all-out sprint. I touched the wall, knowing I’d won. I looked at the scoreboard to see my time. It was faster than my qualifying time from last year. The problem was, Kjetland’s was faster. He’d beat me by three one-hundredths of a second, but he’d beat me. Holy crap.
The Wando team went crazy. He only beat me by the length of a fingernail, but he’d beat me. When I climbed out, Coach Miller was right there. “Nice race. That’s probably fast enough to qualify for regionals.”
“He beat me.”
“Take your thirteen points and shake it off. You have a fifty to swim. Relax, Aquaman. It’s one race, early in the season.” I was unconvinced and still sort of in shock. “He beat you on the breaststroke leg. You already know that’s your weakest stroke. There’s the proof that you need to work on it. It also lets you know that you can beat him.”
“I don’t see how that’s proof.”
“Ah, Aquaman. You always have the greatest opportunity to improve on your weakest stroke. If you improve your breaststroke this season the way you improved your backstroke last season, he won’t stand a chance. Shake it off and get ready for the fifty.”
I felt better after winning the fifty by a full second. On such a short race, that’s an enormous win. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel enormously better. Coach switched me to the five hundred free, and I won that going away. Gil came in second. It was a pretty competitive meet, but Wando had improved a lot.
I took the hundred back, and Gil came in second to Kjetland on the hundred breast. Wando had won the meet by two points. Wando had won the meet by the three one hundredths of a second Kjetland beat me by in the IM. My second-place finish cost us three points. Shit.
On the bus ride home, no one else seemed terribly bothered by the non-conference loss. I tried to rationalize the loss, telling myself that I’d won three out of four races against a tough Wando team. It didn’t work. When we got back to Porter-Gaud, the rest of the guys went to the locker room. I went out to the pool.
I wanted to work on my breaststroke but there was a strict rule about not swimming alone. I’d been sitting in the bleachers for ten minutes when Coach Miller walked out on the deck with the video camera and tripod.
“Alright, Aquaman. Let’s find three hundredths of a second.” After a few laps, we took the tape back to his office. “You’re too wide with your knees. You’re so focused on making the most of your kicks that you aren’t staying streamlined. It’s slowing you down. There’s your savings in that one thing. Tomorrow. Work on it more tomorrow. Go have a steak dinner. Celebrate your fifty-one total points and come back ready to work.”
“Thanks, Coach. He’s fast, isn’t he?”
“He’s damn fast, and he’s not going to slow down as the season goes on. Shear, up in Greenville, will be back, and so will Muscleman. You’ve got your work cut out for you. On the other hand, you look really good on the fifty. Really good. It’s going to be a fun season. Don’t forget to bring some of these youngsters along for the ride.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
That night, at kung fu, Sifu Chen had us practice sparring. I guess both he and Franklin could see that I was distracted and needed to have some fun rather than try to learn something new. All I could think of was streamlining my breaststroke. Franklin clobbered me time after time, and I didn’t care. I wanted to get back in the pool.
Wednesday morning, Mom greeted me in the kitchen before school. “What’s going on?” she asked. I told her about losing to Steiner Kjetland the day before. “The top eight make it to regionals, right? You’ll see him again. You’ve got a month to shave some time and show him who’s king of the IM in South Carolina. Focus, Buddy. You can do this.”
I was the first person at the pool the next morning, but Coach Miller came out and sat in the bleachers to grade papers. “Good rhythm, streamlined, smooth, and don’t go wide with your knees! Those are your keys. All of those together will give you a better glide. Get to work, and keep your knees in line.”
I swam a five-hundred free to warm up, then a couple of laps of backstroke. Butterfly will wear you out, and I wanted to work on breaststroke technique. With each lap, I focused on something different. I streamlined my glide, then worked on a narrow, powerful kick, then kept my elbows in for the pull, always keeping my rhythm.
Gil, Allen, Billy, Trey, and Paulie joined me in the pool, but I barely noticed. It was time to shower and change, but Coach called me to the block. “One hundred breast, for time. Swimmers to your mark.” Gil climbed up to join me in a two-man race. Gil had an outstanding breaststroke. If I could beat Gil, I thought I could beat Kjetland.
Coach blew his whistle, and we were off. I felt everything come together, but especially my glide. It was awesome. I had a good turn, but not a great one, and knew I had room to improve on that. Still, I beat Gil, and that was something.
“Nice swim, gentlemen. Gil, if you had done that yesterday, you would have beat Kjetland. Aquaman, nice job.” I would have beat him, too. “What do you think he’s doing this morning?”
“Same thing, Coach,” Gil said. “Same as Shear, Muscleman, Pendergast, and anyone else who wants to win.”
I felt pretty good about my workout, and it allowed me to stay focused in class. I’d felt bad for losing, especially by such a narrow margin, but now, I knew I had the ability to win. It was just a matter of practice and putting it all together at the right time. Our next meet was Thursday at home against Northwoods for our conference opener. Great.
Kim joined me at lunch, and Miss Bentz took a seat next to her. This was obviously going to be the conversation she’d wanted to have the day before.
“Aquaman, Frontier Woman,” she said by way of greeting.
“Is this an oh-oh kind of conversation?” I asked.
“It shouldn’t be, but you two aren’t the norm. I thought I’d give you a heads up. You’ve been nominated for homecoming king and queen. It was a possibility last year, and you had a very nice alternative to that. I don’t think that’s going to work this year.”
“Kim?” I asked. She shrugged.
“You are both doing very well academically, and with Kim as a cheerleader, and your athletic record, you’d both be candidates. But you’re also engaged. People are going to vote for you. They just are. I just wanted to give you a heads-up and a word of advice.”
“I appreciate the heads-up. The advice?” I asked.
“Just roll with it. You’re both well-liked, and people want to recognize you. Let them.” I know my shoulders sank. “Even if you had some sort of plan to divert votes, people would still vote for you or be disappointed. Just roll with it, Jack. It can be fun, you know.”
“Can it be any worse than our Debby Dare interview? At least we know what to expect,” Kim said.
“Okay, I’ll try to roll with it if you promise not to vote for us,” I said.
She laughed. “I don’t get a vote. I’ve been doing this for a while, and the two of you are as close to a sure thing as I’ve seen. Just don’t get arrested in the next two weeks, and you can enjoy the night.”
“If we got arrested, we wouldn’t have to do it?” I asked, but she knew I was kidding.
“First, she didn’t say we were it. She just said we’d been nominated and there was a good possibility we’d be in contention. Second, it could be fun. We can show our kids the pictures in the yearbook. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
I thought about it for a minute. Kim was definitely pretty enough to win a beauty pageant, but she wasn’t going to do one. I knew that. This would be as close as she got, and maybe it would change her mind. Maybe she’d have fun and try to win Miss Charleston or something. Second, if she was going to be the homecoming queen, I sure wasn’t going to let someone else have the first dance with her. Not if I could help it. Okay, fine. “Okay, fine.”
“I’ll just call you Mr. Enthusiasm. We probably won’t win anyway.”
Who was she kidding? We’d end up as the homecoming king and queen. I might win a few races, and maybe another trophy at state, and then I’d as likely as not end up being in contention for class valedictorian. We’d go to CofC and get married on my birthday. Fairy tale storybook right? All I wanted was to work hard and do well. Fame or recognition or whatever you call it was just a distraction.
“Why are you so glum?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s because you earn a trophy or a title. You earn a degree. This is just a popularity contest. It’s like an award for being friendly and not pissing people off. It’s fakey.”
“Jackson Michael Pierce, it is not. If people want to recognize you for being one of the good guys, just accept it. You’re not campaigning for it, obviously. Oooh. Sometimes. Oooh. Sometimes, you can be infuriating.”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“How many parents tell their sons or daughters, ‘you can do better’? Probably a lot. Has your mom said that about me? God, I hope not. Mine haven’t said that about you. They’re happy for us. They’re happy that you’re motivated and have drive and a good work ethic. They like that you’re frugal and you always put me first. They like all that, and they love you. You don’t drink or smoke or do drugs, and you hardly ever swear. Plus, you’re pretty tall, and sort of good looking.”
“Hey!” She laughed.
“Just roll with it, Aquaman. Roll with it. No one is going to say someone else deserves it more because no one else does. There are a lot of very smart people at this school, and if they want to vote for us, don’t argue with them, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, letting out a long breath.
“Besides, you started it.”
“Me? How?”
“Silly, when you picked me up for a basketball game in a limo, that’s how.” Huh. Who could understand the mind of a woman? How was any of this connected? Who knew?
“It was nice of Miss Bentz to let us know.”
“She’s really nice. She’s a pretty good cheer coach, too. I think most of us see her more like a big sister, than a teacher. Amanda likes her a lot. Moving from Ben Lippen, I guess that’s a pretty big deal. We’re going to need her if we want to be competitive.”
“What was that all about?” Mel asked when we went to our normal table. Ugh. I started humming Our Lips Are Sealed by the Go-gos.
Kim laughed. “She gave us a heads-up that we’ve been nominated for homecoming king and queen.”
“No surprise, there,” Cassidy said.
“Jack’s not enthusiastic, but I think it would be fun. Who knows?” Kim said.
“What would you have to do? I mean, if you won, what would you have to do?” Allie asked.
“Ride in a convertible, get crowned, show up at the dance, I guess. I don’t think there’s anything more to it than that,” Kim said.
“Jack?” Cassidy asked, sensing my undisguised distaste for the whole thing.
“He’s being a poopoohead,” Kim said. Everyone at the table looked at me and echoed, ‘poopoohead’ and I was appropriately rebuked. Cherry thought it was funny. Mei didn’t know what homecoming was. I thought it was a relief. After all, who would vote for a poopoohead?
I had a monster swim workout that afternoon. My best stroke was freestyle, and I thought I could get to regionals for that at any distance. That sort of sounds cocky, but it was probably true. It was a toss-up between butterfly and backstroke for my second strongest stroke, which was pretty funny, at least to me. Until I’d started chasing Bobby the previous season, my backstroke was marginal at best. That left breaststroke. Birch had been the best at breaststroke. He was good enough to earn a scholarship, and he’d coached me. I had no excuse for not being better at it.
No excuse.
I worked on breaststroke. I worked on technique, and it seemed like it all boiled down to becoming as streamlined as possible and having a great glide. The kick was incredibly important, and my little size nine feet didn’t help much, but I was getting there.
At the end of practice, Coach told us our race assignments for the next day. He told me I’d be competing in the fifty free, one hundred fly, five hundred free, and one hundred backstroke. I felt strong in each of those events, but he didn’t have me racing breaststroke. Not even as part of the individual medley. What was up with that? He dismissed us, and I walked over to him.
“Coach, I’ll swim whatever you want,” I started, but he cut me off.
“But you want to be swimming the breaststroke.” I nodded. “Not yet. Kjetland exposed your weakness, if you can really call it that. You’re working on it. I see that. And, I see that you’re improving on it. What do you want to qualify in for regionals?”
I didn’t have to think about it long. “Maybe this sounds outrageous or arrogant or something, but everything. I want to run the table.”
“A lofty goal, to be sure, but I also think it’s possible. With your current breaststroke time, you might or might not qualify. I don’t want to say the rest are easy because that’s not fair. Let’s say the others aren’t going to be as tough. Let’s knock a second or two off your time before you compete.”
“Thanks, Coach. I sure wish we could compete in more than four events.”
“I’ve let the council know my position on both that and the timing between races at regionals and state. Large schools have bigger teams, and the limit of four events makes sense. We’re smaller and have smaller teams. I think our individual athletes should have the opportunity to swim more.
“We, meaning you and Bobby, took five out of eight events last year, and Birch took home a trophy the year before. That makes my voice a little louder. Not much, but a little. Perlman will be competing in backstroke tomorrow, and Gibbes will be competing in breaststroke alongside Gil. I’m giving some youngsters a chance to compete a little earlier this year.”
“Seems like a strong team. I’ll swim whatever you want, Coach.”
“Good. I’ll make sure you have opportunities to qualify for whatever you like.”
As always, Coach Miller was a step ahead of me. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Kim was waiting for me, sitting in the passenger seat with the top already down. When I started the car, I discovered Kim had popped The Go-Gos into the cassette player. I Want Candy, with its wonderful rhythm, came on.
“Let’s call your mom from my house,” Kim said.
“Why?”
She nodded along with the music. “I want candy.” I could do that. I called Mom and left a message letting her know we were running late.
“What kind of candy would you like?” I asked.
“I’m more interested in quantity,” she said. I gave her all the candy I had. She was insatiable. Almost.
After a wonderfully intense workout that would satisfy any sweet tooth, we rinsed off, dressed, and went to my house to work legs.
“We’re here,” I announced through a cracked-open front door.
“Be out in a minute, start without me.”
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