Head to the gym.

"You mean Sanford Cross?" Allan asked as he went through the morning routine of inspecting all the equipment in the weight room.

"Didn't catch his last name, But a friend was asking me if I could find him; heard he's like broad shouldered and has brown hair but that's about it" Carrie asked her co-worker.

Allan paused in his work before looking over at Carrie's sweet smile. Unlike a lot of the folks around town the trainer knew about what passed for fun and games with her (hell, the two of them had shared a guy between them on occasion) so the fact that she was asking him about someone in particular was of concern to him both because he didn't need to get caught in a scandal and because last he'd checked Carrie was dating someone and had been raving about how much she thought he was "the one".

And here she was asking about Sanford fucking Cross.

"Yeah I know him. Shows up every now and again with some buddies and is consistently a pain in the ass."

"Oh?' she asked as she leaned on a hip sled, stretching herself out for him and leving very little to the imagination with her tight fitting aerobics outfit. if it were any more tight it would be body paint. Allan just rolled his eyes at the minx's teasing though; as amazing as she was he wasn't nearly bi-curious to be phased by her antics.

"They're basically the worst fucking members that you could imagine; they ignore the training plans, treat the other trainers like shit, give other folks a hard time while they're working on their sets while at the same time getting way too full of themselves with the half assed effort they put in when they actually show up. Oh and sanford straight up called me a faggot from across the room and he ain't sucked me hard enough to get away with that shit."

"Why haven't you tossed them out?"

"I've fucking tried! The son of a bitch has a dad on the city council and after the second time I put in the paperwork it was made clear to me that I'd be looking for another job which ain't easy when I got another 8 months on parole. Icing is that he caught wind of it and was trying to goad me into a brawl with him. Unbelievably tempting to head back to prison for kicking the shit out of him."

Carrie watched and listened to Allan as he vented, drinking in all of the information that he was telling her. A former biker who had done time for ****, Allan haad worked long and hard to get his anger under control and was still big enough and intimidating enough that a lot of men would give him a wide birth, so the fact that Sanford was getting him this pissed and intentionally doing it meant that he was either supremely confident or had a brain of jello.

"When's the next time he comes in?"

Allan stared at her warily; nothing he'd said seemed to have phased carrie and that meant that she was up to something. Something that was either going to be very good or very bad for this douche canoe... Christ did her boyfriend ~what was his name... john?~ have any idea of the kind of madwoman he was mixed up with or that she was going straight towards a complete asshole?

Fuck it.

"He's supposedly going to show up near opening; apparently whatever job daddy's boy got has real flexible hours."

Smiling back at him Carrie got off the equipment and headed towards one of the dumbell racks, eager to see her quarry with her own eyes.