CON MAN

CHAPTER SIX

"Two more, Jared."

Jared and I were winding down his workout but I wanted him to finish with a bang. I'd just upped the weight on the benchpress machine and he was definitely struggling with the difference. His arms were shaking and sweat was pouring from his brow as he groaned in protest. "Seriously, dude? You said 'two more' ten reps ago."

"Just these last two, I promise. C'mon. You can do it."

Jared grumbled as he readied himself for another lift.

That's right. I have male clients. Surprised? Shame on you if you were. I told you this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to pick up women. My male clients aren't as numerous as my women, but they are just as desperate to change.

Jared cursed through the last two reps until finally, he lowered the bar and collapsed against the bench. "I can't do this!"

"What are you talking about? You just did it. Great job."

He sat up and wrapped a towel around his neck. "No, I can't do this anymore. Why should I even bother? Nothing's going to change. It's not going to make any difference."

Ah. The Week Two Doldrums. It wasn't so out of the ordinary for a client's frustration to peak at this point. When they first meet me, they're skeptical, but optimistic. Even after the contracts are signed, they start off wary. But soon enough, the promise of a new life gives them a burst of adrenaline which carries them through the early stages of my program. After a few days of buying into the hope, however, their pre-programmed insecurities take over and bring us back to Square One.

I looked down at my exhausted client, feeling his pain. "I have a special surprise for whenever this moment hits. Want to see it?"

Jared wiped his face down with the towel and offered a resigned, "Yeah, sure. What?"

I pulled my wallet from my nearby gym bag and rifled through the stack of business cards until I found what I was looking for, then handed over a timeworn photograph.

Jared eyed the picture of a teenaged me, all one-hundred-and-thirty pounds of scrawny body, bad teeth, and stupid hair. "Is this you?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep. The thing I remember most about this picture is that it was taken about thirty seconds before Jimmy McKinley shoved me into a dumpster."

"No fucking way."

I snickered while reclaiming the photo. "Yes way. The thing is, I wanted to show you that I understand. I get why you're feeling so down right now. I was you once. Worse, actually."

That made him smile.

"My point is," I went on, holding the picture next to my head, "if I can turn this skinny dork into the man you see standing before you today, think of what I can do with you."

I may have exaggerated when I said I was born with good genes. I guess I was, but man, did they take their sweet old time manifesting on my body. That may be the case now, but growing up, I was your typical scrawny geek. I'm not just saying that to be modest, like those gorgeous supermodels who try to convince us they had buck teeth and bad skin before emerging into the classic beauties they are today. I truly was a full-on nerd. Reformed now, thankfully, but back in the day, I was pretty hopeless.

During my teen years, I was as awkward as they come. Crooked teeth, army-issue crewcut, emaciated body. I didn't even have some stellar personality to make up for it, so I tended to shy away from people. Finding a group of guys to hang with seemed unlikely and getting a girlfriend was completely out of the question. I spent my hours at school with my nose in a book, and my free time in front of the TV. Not exactly the most popularity-inducing traits for a socially inept teen.

But now? Well, hell. Now I'm Batman.

I'm a downright, modern-day, vigilante hero... and my superpower is de-geekifying.

"Okay, let's wrap it up; you've worked hard enough for one afternoon. I want you to stretch for the next ten minutes and then we can call it a day."

***Next chapter will be posted later today!