The Trainer

By R.W. Clinger

Making movies for Weslington Productions as a grip keeps Alex Lee busy these days. Although he lives in West Hollywood he’s seen a lot of the globe, traveling for the company. This summer he’s heading home to Pittsburgh to help make the thriller River Death.

As expected, it’s comforting to be home again. Alex gets to visit his sister and do some sibling catch-up. Plus he’s able to visit their younger brother’s grave. But it’s awkward for Alex when he sees his beefy, sexy, alluring high school crush again, Squire Land, a crush that still burns strong.

Alex learns Squire is a professional trainer and owns a gym called Fitland. Unfortunately, Squire -- the popular kid, the jock, the guy who was out of his league -- ignored Alex in high school, and probably will do the same today. So there’s no reason why Alex should make any advancements, embarrassing himself.

As moviemaking keeps Alex busy, he doesn’t have much time to do anything else. Until his sister tells him Squire Land wants to speak with him. And Alex wonders why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Mar 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646567638

R.W. Clinger

R.W. Clinger is a resident of Pittsburgh. He has a degree in English from Point Park University of Pittsburgh. His writing entails gay human studies, and includes the novels Just a Boy, Skin Tour, Skin Artist, Soft on the Eyes, Pool Boy, and The Last Pile of Leaves. He has published many stories with Starbooks Press as well as The Weekender, a novella with Dreamspinner Press. His gay mystery, Cutie Pie Must Die, is published with Bold Stroke Books. For three years he has held the position of managing editor for the literary magazine, The Writer’s Post Journal. For more information, please visit rwclinger.com.

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The Trainer

By R.W. Clinger

Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2021 R.W. Clinger

ISBN 9781646567638

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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The Trainer

By R.W. Clinger

Alex Lee? Alex, is that you? I felt someone tug on my right elbow outside Pages, the bookstore on Penn Avenue. The somebody spun me around. He looked familiar and handsome with a military cut, bright blue eyes, and blond scruff on his cheeks and chin. His six-three frame resembled a Greek god’s: muscular in all the right places, V-shaped chest, pointed nipples in a too-tight T-shirt, tube of long cock under Nike running shorts, no underwear. The one and only Squire Land.

Hey. I didn’t know what else to say. We hadn’t made eye contact in two years. Hollywood kept me busy.

He athletically bounced on the balls of his feet, excited to see me. The pearly white grin on his face proved his enthusiasm. What are you doing in Pittsburgh?

Working. I’m here for a job. Staying for most of the summer. My sister has an apartment above her garage on Joiner Street. I’m crashing there.

I remember that. Are you still making movies? Pleasure bloomed on his face. A real smile. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was smitten, but didn’t know why.

Why was he speaking to me? The guy never wanted anything to do with me in high school…or in my adulthood. Never. Not once. I wasn’t gorgeous and a pumped jock. I wasn’t physically fit and rock-hard handsome like him. I wasn’t in his league or walked among his arrogant crowd and beefy friends.

Always. It’s what I do.

"I saw your last one. Hex Witch. It wasn’t your best work, but I liked it."

The horror movie was a piece of shit. But it exploded at the box office. Fans loved it. In my opinion, the writer could have done better. And the actress, Olivia Daye, some pissy vixen with high demands and a higher attitude, was the absolute worst. But the flick paid embarrassingly well.

A lot of people saw it. A second part is in the works. It should come out next year.

He checked me out from my toes to my head: hairy legs, khaki shorts with too many pockets, narrow waist, a medium-size chest in a frumpy polo, hairless face, emerald eyes, and black hair. Thirty-four is treating you well. You look good. In fact, you haven’t changed at all. It’s why I like you.

I had changed. I lost twenty pounds in the last twenty-four months, and kept it off. I made six movies in that time. Some short. Some long. My heart was a little broken because my younger—twenty-eight and a Robert Pattinson look-alike—brother had too much too drink, became a little sloppy, and drowned in the Allegheny River during a Memorial Day party. I told Squire, Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.

We shook hands. Kept smiling. I’m training these days. I have my own business. I call it Fitland.

Clever. The word fit before his last name. Nice, I told him. You still own the gym with Todd?

The two had a partnership at a gym called Barbells, not far from Pages. He shook his head. We had a falling out and different views about running the place. He eventually bought me out. He shrugged and his smile slightly disappeared. Things happen. Life moves forward. Sometimes we expect bumps. Sometimes we don’t.

We sure do. Sounds like you got through it.

He bowed his head and lowered his tone, "I’m sorry about your brother. Kent