They headed over toward the locker room when Matt suddenly dove over to the other side of Tom.
“What’s up, mijo?” asked Tom. He looked over onto the cardio floor, where a pretty brunette was exercising on a stair climber. “Ohhhhh. Ohhh ho ho ho. I see. What’s her name?”
“Ashley,” whispered Matt. “She’s a senior.”
“So? Go talk to her!”
“I can’t! I’m just a kid! She’d never date a sophomore. But God, she’s gorgeous.”
“Look, first of all, you are a real catch. You’re tall—you’re gonna be taller than I was in my old body—you play football, you’re smart, and you’re a genuinely good guy. You got pegue, go use it!”
“Pegue?”
“Sex appeal. I’m telling you, bro, she’s gonna fall hard for you, just gotta be confident. And honestly? Even if she doesn’t, we’re probably gonna move and you can disappear without the embarrassment. If she does bite? It’s only a train ride away. You wanna throw away a chance with dat ass??”
Matt got a gleam in his eye, then walked over to where the brunette was exercising. There was a brief awkward moment, then Matt set up on the machine next to her and they started talking in earnest. Tom smiled and walked into the locker room.
As he stripped down to go take a shower, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Haven’t seen you in here before,” said a deep voice. “And I know everybody. I’m Jim but everybody calls me Coach. What’s your name, big guy?”
Tom whirled around and saw a sallow-haired, squat fireplug of a man, completely naked except for a towel tied carelessly around his waist. Jim… Jim… where had he heard that name before?
“I’m, uh, Nick,” he said.
“Well, Nick, I saw you working out with the Allen kid. He’s hopeless as a football player but you’d mop the field with anyone you played. What school do you go to?”
“Southside,” said Tom. “I just graduated.”
“Damn,” said Coach. “I missed out. Though there might be one or two things I could teach you…” he smiled nastily, moving his towel to reveal a good-sized erection.
Jim Salyers! That was Matt’s asshole coach’s name!
“What are you gonna teach me, metiche old man?” he asked rudely.
Salyers cupped his hand on Tom’s butt. “Come into the office and you’ll find out.”
Tom, livid, went after the coach to give him a piece of his mind. “What the fuck—“
The coach closed and locked the door. Tom noticed too late that the blinds were drawn and there was a bottle of lube on a desk. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“It’s not every day I get such a willing victim,” smirked the coach. “Followed me right in! I didn’t even have to spike your protein drink. But you’re not leaving until I get what I want. And this room is pretty soundproof.” The coach dropped the towel and massaged his cock. “This might hurt a little at first.” He grabbed Tom’s arm.
Something snapped inside Tom’s brain and he saw red.
“You’re a rapist! You try to fuck every boy that comes through your program and when they won’t comply, you either drug them or mistreat them until they quit! You’re nothing but a pinche culero!”
The coach’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody talks to me that way. Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. You pick.”
Tom whirled around and flung the coach by one arm and one leg into the side wall. The coach landed with a sickening crunch that told Tom there were broken bones.
“Now you’re gonna learn what it feels like, culero.” Tom yanked down his workout shorts and his boner, sparked by adrenaline and teenage hormones, strained at his boxers. Tom grabbed the coach, flipped him onto his stomach, and tied his hands to a post. He grabbed the bottle of lube.
“No! No!” screamed Salyers. “Nobody touches me there! I’m in control! I am the top! No!”
Tom, blinded by rage, roared, “And since that Allen kid wouldn’t satisfy your sick perverted ideas, you ran him until he was on the verge of quitting!” He smeared lube all over the coach’s asshole.
“I’m sorry!” sobbed the coach. “Let me go!”
Tom smiled deviously. “Oh, I’m not going to fuck you. But you are getting fucked.” He grabbed a broom from the its rack behind the door and lubed the handle.
The coach shrieked as the broom handle brushed his asshole.
Tom smiled mirthlessly and set the broom down. “I’m better than this,” he said. “But you're gonna stay there till the cops come. I started my phone recording before I came in here. You’re definitely fucked now.”
He grabbed the key to the door and walked out into the locker room. A brief moment of loud hysterics came from the door before he closed and locked it, which caused a bunch of people to look up.
Just then, Matt walked in. “It worked! She gave me number and her Snap! Dad! Dad?” he asked, noticing the huge man’s nearly naked body and the tension in the room.
“Go get the front desk staff right now, mijo,” said Tom, pulling his phone from his gym bag and dialing 9-1-1. “Hello, I’d like to report an attempted rape. I overpowered the suspect and he’s been detained at the gym on Ditmars Boulevard.”
Matt turned around, horror-stricken. Tom opened the door to the office just enough for Salyers’ anguished cries to be heard. “I didn’t mean to! I have a problem! Imagine being a coach in the closet!”
Matt smiled slightly and took off for the front desk as Tom got dressed. The other patrons stared at Tom.
“If any of you were ever approached by that culero,” said Tom, “I’d like it if you stuck around to tell your story to the police.”