Stepbrother Bad Boy's Baby Boxed Set(37)

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 f*ck 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 * 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 * to you, and I was wrong. Okay? I'm sorry it happened, now can we please just f*cking 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.