Sorry, Heath Riley, she thought. Too little, too late.
***
Word of the story of "the girl in guy's clothing who came to Carter's" spread like wildfire through the gym, despite Heath's best efforts not to let it. He was annoyed every time someone brought it up, even though he was getting praise for acting the way he had. But he hadn't done it for praise or recognition; he'd intervened because it had been the decent thing to do. It had gotten to a point where he turned a deaf ear to any more commentary on the subject.
A week had passed since he'd gone to the café and he still hadn't seen Drew back at the gym, so he assumed now, it was case closed. While he was sorry she felt like she couldn't come back, he knew he'd done right by her and the situation, and at this point, he was washing his hands of it. But when almost everyone was talking about it, it seemed, it made shutting the door on that particular event difficult if not altogether impossible.
As a result, there were women coming to the gym, but not to work out—apparently, the guys had taken Drew's infiltration as a sign that women could and should come to the gym, so when they started popping up, Heath at first had some hope. But it became quickly clear that the women were there to pick up their boyfriends, drop off food, equipment, gym bags, payments, or—most annoying of all—stand by the ring and cheer them on while they sparred against each other. Frequently, the girlfriends brought their friends with them and all but threw them at Heath. The girls were only too glad to offer to fetch and carry for him, in a multitude of different ways couched in clever double entendres. And they were so obvious. Aside from their comments, they came to the gym fully made up, dressed up in tight and low cut clothing, laughing loudly to catch his attention, finding any reason at all to put their hands on him. He was personally affronted and disgusted. Was this what real, actual famous people dealt with and expected? Did they take down every woman who flung themselves at them, use them and move on? And the women—for Christ's sake. Was there a woman left anywhere with a shred of dignity and decency about herself?
So, Heath spent a lot of time in his office with the door closed. It irked him, because he knew he needed to be spending a hefty bit of time training for the Smackdown tournament in New York, but he couldn't stand to be around the clientele's girlfriends and their slutty friends.
He had to laugh ruefully at himself. Any other guy would love to be in his position. What guy wouldn't love "pussy on demand"? If he were interested, he knew he could knock down all of these girls and still probably have them coming back for more—but that wasn't him. There were plenty of pretty, if overly done up, girls out there just begging for a shot with him, but that wasn't what would make him happy. He'd had meaningless sex before, and it hadn't done anything for him other than to make him feel emptier and lonelier than he actually was. He would never admit it to anyone, but Lana, his sister-in-law, had hit the nail on the head a few weeks ago during a family dinner. "You need a girlfriend," she'd said. He'd simply scoffed and waved her off, making some offhand comment about how women were more trouble than they were worth, while laughing at both her and Connor, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words—he would like someone in his life, someone he could trust and take care of, someone to take care of him. She might or might not exist; but he knew for damn sure she wasn't out in the bevy of Barbie-like whores gathered around the ring. And until he found her, if he ever did, he was only too content to keep his dick in his pants and mind his own business.
Rex and Jameson were picking up Heath's slack, though. For every girl Heath brushed off, Rex and Jameson were there to catch them and pick up their pieces. Heath sighed, shaking his head. He supposed he should be glad someone was getting something out of it other than a migraine.
Speaking of…
Heath brought his fingers to his temples and rubbed, glancing at the clock. It was about time to close up, but based on the ruckus from outside, he knew he'd have to go out there and start kicking people out.
Rex burst into his office. "Hey, boss!" he said cheerfully. "Listen, I'm gonna start sending people out of here, but I wanted to let you know—there's this cute redhead out there asking for you! I'm taking her and her friend out for some drinks after this—you need to come, dude. Sure thing." He lifted his brows meaningfully at Heath.
Heath smirked and shook his head. "Nah, man. You got it. I'm good."
"Come on, bro!" Rex insisted. "You haven't tapped any of that out there! Take a load off. At least relieve some stress."
"I'm good," Heath repeated. "You and Jameson are doing just fine without me."