heard the comment and
raised an eyebrow. Talk of supplements immediately made him think
of all the bad things he’d heard about gyms, like pills and
steroids and how harmful they could be. Was this so-called
supplement really a steroid that would turn the actors into
slavering Incredible Hulks? He’d read about the pimples, the
towering rages, the shrunken testicles – surely the guys wouldn’t
be stupid enough to take drugs that would do that to their bodies,
would they?
“What sort of supplement?” Mark
asked Vincenzo.
“It’s a whey-based protein
powder with glutamine, creatine and electrolytes, very good
scientific formula,” Vincenzo assured him. “It comes in vanilla
flavour, or lemon, or chocolate fudge. Real nice. You make up a
shake in the morning, throw in an egg, that’s your breakfast. You
have one at night, after your workout, it builds muscle overnight
as you recover. You want I get you some too? It’s pretty expensive
so I…”
Dennis missed the rest of the
conversation as Mark and Vincenzo moved off to the far end of the
gym. It sounded like a rip-off to him. Whey powder? That didn’t
sound like a miracle product. And why would it be so expensive if
it was just dried milk powder? He made a mental note to Google it
later and see what he could find out. He might be able to save the
guys from making a costly mistake. Perhaps that was what Cathy had
got wind of. He frowned. It didn’t seem likely though, because
Vincenzo was such a nice guy. He’d been nothing but charming to
Dennis, helping him out with his exercise, praising his efforts and
being really encouraging. He seemed a glamorous figure, far from
the usual run-of-the-mill Whetford male and more like a foreign
movie star. He was the sort of person who probably had his own
tuxedo for formal occasions because he went to so many of them.
Dennis had drifted off into a
glittering fantasy world of casinos and James Bond, only to be
startled when a voice close to his ear said “Hey, isn’t that
supposed to be moving, Dennis? What you doin’ man? Dreaming?”
He jerked his legs back into
action, lifting the padded bar pressed against his shins to raise
the stack of weight plates beside him.
“Sorry, I was lost in my
thoughts there, Vincenzo!”
White teeth gleamed and dark
brown eyes twinkled. “You were day-dreaming, I think, no? Maybe off
somewhere lying on a beach in the sunshine, eh? Relaxing nice and
easy? Come on Dennis, get those reps done, build those legs, so
when you’re on the beach for real the babes will go ‘oooh!’ and run
to your side, man. When I finish training you, you’ll be a babe
magnet for sure.” He clapped Dennis on the shoulder with a warm
hand, making him believe the words really could come true.
Dennis finished his first
lower-body workout really pleased with himself. His legs were very
tired and shaky, but he felt he’d done a good job with his
exercises. He was even looking forward to doing the upper-body
workout the following night. He was starting to build a new mental
image of himself as a fit athlete, and he carefully avoided any
glimpse of his current fat sweaty body in the mirror that might
have broken the spell. Visions of competing in marathons one day
started to enter his head.
The next day he couldn’t
walk.
He sat on the edge of his bed
for several minutes after his first abortive attempt to stand up,
blinking in surprise. The pain in his thighs had seared through his
early-morning drowsiness and jolted him wide awake with a gasp. Had
his ligaments somehow torn away from the bone during his sleep? Had
he been stricken by some dire muscle-wasting disease in the night?
He fumbled in the bedside drawer for extra-strength painkillers and
downed two of them before edging his way around the bed and slowly
shuffling towards the bathroom.
An agonised yell burst from his
throat as he lowered himself onto to the toilet seat. Oh Lord,
please don’t let me be stuck here for days. I don’t want
raised an eyebrow. Talk of supplements immediately made him think
of all the bad things he’d heard about gyms, like pills and
steroids and how harmful they could be. Was this so-called
supplement really a steroid that would turn the actors into
slavering Incredible Hulks? He’d read about the pimples, the
towering rages, the shrunken testicles – surely the guys wouldn’t
be stupid enough to take drugs that would do that to their bodies,
would they?
“What sort of supplement?” Mark
asked Vincenzo.
“It’s a whey-based protein
powder with glutamine, creatine and electrolytes, very good
scientific formula,” Vincenzo assured him. “It comes in vanilla
flavour, or lemon, or chocolate fudge. Real nice. You make up a
shake in the morning, throw in an egg, that’s your breakfast. You
have one at night, after your workout, it builds muscle overnight
as you recover. You want I get you some too? It’s pretty expensive
so I…”
Dennis missed the rest of the
conversation as Mark and Vincenzo moved off to the far end of the
gym. It sounded like a rip-off to him. Whey powder? That didn’t
sound like a miracle product. And why would it be so expensive if
it was just dried milk powder? He made a mental note to Google it
later and see what he could find out. He might be able to save the
guys from making a costly mistake. Perhaps that was what Cathy had
got wind of. He frowned. It didn’t seem likely though, because
Vincenzo was such a nice guy. He’d been nothing but charming to
Dennis, helping him out with his exercise, praising his efforts and
being really encouraging. He seemed a glamorous figure, far from
the usual run-of-the-mill Whetford male and more like a foreign
movie star. He was the sort of person who probably had his own
tuxedo for formal occasions because he went to so many of them.
Dennis had drifted off into a
glittering fantasy world of casinos and James Bond, only to be
startled when a voice close to his ear said “Hey, isn’t that
supposed to be moving, Dennis? What you doin’ man? Dreaming?”
He jerked his legs back into
action, lifting the padded bar pressed against his shins to raise
the stack of weight plates beside him.
“Sorry, I was lost in my
thoughts there, Vincenzo!”
White teeth gleamed and dark
brown eyes twinkled. “You were day-dreaming, I think, no? Maybe off
somewhere lying on a beach in the sunshine, eh? Relaxing nice and
easy? Come on Dennis, get those reps done, build those legs, so
when you’re on the beach for real the babes will go ‘oooh!’ and run
to your side, man. When I finish training you, you’ll be a babe
magnet for sure.” He clapped Dennis on the shoulder with a warm
hand, making him believe the words really could come true.
Dennis finished his first
lower-body workout really pleased with himself. His legs were very
tired and shaky, but he felt he’d done a good job with his
exercises. He was even looking forward to doing the upper-body
workout the following night. He was starting to build a new mental
image of himself as a fit athlete, and he carefully avoided any
glimpse of his current fat sweaty body in the mirror that might
have broken the spell. Visions of competing in marathons one day
started to enter his head.
The next day he couldn’t
walk.
He sat on the edge of his bed
for several minutes after his first abortive attempt to stand up,
blinking in surprise. The pain in his thighs had seared through his
early-morning drowsiness and jolted him wide awake with a gasp. Had
his ligaments somehow torn away from the bone during his sleep? Had
he been stricken by some dire muscle-wasting disease in the night?
He fumbled in the bedside drawer for extra-strength painkillers and
downed two of them before edging his way around the bed and slowly
shuffling towards the bathroom.
An agonised yell burst from his
throat as he lowered himself onto to the toilet seat. Oh Lord,
please don’t let me be stuck here for days. I don’t want
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