Before the doors opened to the public, the six new trainers who had never met each other before the audition, knew how to test a client’s level of fitness, allocate the correct plan, use all the equipment, speak politely, admit error, not contradict, praise every advancement no matter how small, be helpful, patient and well tempered. As important was learning how to enter a room, act, behave and conduct themselves as naturally as if they were fully dressed. Bart, Robert and Arnold sometimes wore clothes to simulate patrons and were constantly correcting conscious or unconscious mannerisms that indicated self-consciousness.
‘If someone even thinks you're embarrassed, the atmosphere will become uncomfortable, and they’ll start to wonder if it’s kinky to have naked trainers. But if you guys honestly think that wearing clothes unnecessarily is strange and pathetic, and are always totally relaxed, secure and efficient, they’ll forget you're naked. It’s up to you.’
Well before opening day, the behaviour of all six was virtually indistinguishable from their four employers and, thanks to the absence of professional jealousy and competition over body type, had become friends and ideal employees.
Meanwhile, the unsuccessful candidates had done their work brilliantly. If there was one fitness worker or gymnasium patron in the city who wasn’t aware that Natural Fitness employed naked trainers and handed out hundred-dollar notes to unsuccessful applicants, then he or she was blind and deaf.
Thus, at two o'clock on opening day the car park was half full and fifty-eight females of all ages, types and abilities were waiting in reception to obtain their free, three-session temporary membership cards, to be renewed if they liked the place. Arnold and Bart processed the applications rapidly, sending the eleven who ticked the box for the mixed gym through the correct door to meet Robert, and the remaining forty-seven to the main stairs and thus to the second floor to be greeted by the remaining staff members.
Everything went smoothly. There were lots of surreptitious glances of course for the first few minutes, then, as Arnold had predicted, everyone seemed to completely forget that their trainers were naked. Instead of personal comments, lewd jokes and untoward touches, all the women treated the men with respect, as if they had to earn the right to be assisted by these polite, thoughtful, non-judgemental and helpful men. One buxom, perfumed and painted middle-aged lady whispered softly at the end of her session, ‘Thank you, Fidel, I feel honoured to be guided by you. Will you be here tomorrow?’
At five o'clock, males and females began arriving from work. Four staff were kept busy for nearly an hour registering and directing people to their preferred gymnasium. By eight o'clock there were forty-eight men upstairs, eighteen women on the second floor, and twenty-two couples in the mixed gym.
Being younger, the evening clients were slightly more boisterous at first, cracking jokes and making sly comments. When the only response was respectful assistance from men who were completely at ease in their skins and devoid of embarrassment, they soon settled and fifteen minutes later, fitness, not nudity was their sole interest. Like the women earlier, they listened and followed instructions with almost exaggerated respect as if being imperturbably and professionally naked conferred an exalted, godlike status on the trainers. Of course Bart’s detailed fitness plans, plenty of equipment, and unstinting assistance was a major contributor to this success.
Four weeks after opening, the merely curious ceased coming and numbers settled. Both male and female gyms operated afternoons, evenings and weekends at capacity, patronised by men and women who were serious about fitness, but didn’t want to be reminded of their ordinariness by seeing rooms full of straining body-builders. Most women wore the usual gym uniform of skin-tight brightly coloured Lycra; faces made up, necks and arms decorated with baubles, bangles and bright shining beads to impress their fellow gym bunnies.
The men were luckier. Within two weeks the absence of critical female eyes and tongues saw them dumping the standard male gym uniform of restrictive baggy shorts and sweat-inducing T-shirts in favour of Speedos or thongs and naked torsos. A few asked if they could emulate their trainers, but Arnold politely explained that while he could guarantee the personal hygiene, absence of disease and sanitary habits of the trainers, he had no such influence over the clients, so in the interests of everyone’s wellbeing the luxury of unconstrained bodies was to remain the preserve of trainers. Curiously, not one man or woman asked why there were no female trainers.
Six weeks after opening, Arnold closed the unpopular first-floor mixed gym because all except two patrons had changed to the single sex gymnasiums. The men got sick of females flirting and offering unwanted personal comments, and the women felt pressured by the critical gazes of men. The space was converted into a for-hire venue for private parties and receptions, conferences, club socials, dances, or musical and other performances. Catering to be handled by contractors. With its large rest rooms, grand mirrored space, and small private rooms, it was ideal.
Ten months later the fitness and health training programs were running like clockwork under Bart’s expert guidance and the gym was making a profit, overseen by Robert. Cleaning, staff rosters, day-to-day management of clients and staff and a thousand other things were safely under the expert control of Fidel, who at twenty showed maturity well beyond his years. Arnold’s enthusiasm, good looks and charm kept everyone happy.
Bart’s 3Vs group was popular and, according to clients, of enormous psychological assistance, but he still made time to work in the gym several hours a day. The six no-longer-new staff members were very well liked and pleased with their jobs, especially as Arnold had decided that every cent of the profits would be divided into ten and distributed to the trainers as a bonus, with the predictable result that the trainers worked three times as hard now that their already generous salaries could be more than doubled.
The first-floor gym had been converted into one of the most affordable yet elegant venues for small private functions in the city, and was constantly fully booked—adding to already substantial profits.
One afternoon when Fidel returned to the flat he shared with Arnold, he discovered him on the bed, between the legs of one of the more attractive patrons. Fidel laughed to hide his embarrassment, shook hands with the guy, apologised for interrupting, found what he was looking for and with a cheerful wave, went back to work.
Later, he waved away Arnold’s apologies, confessing he was relieved to discover Arnold wasn’t in love with him, because although he loved Arnold as a wonderful man and friend, he wasn’t in love, but had said nothing because he didn’t want to hurt him. Arnold was totally gutted. The fling with the client had meant nothing. He’d felt flattered, that was all. He loved Fidel desperately and now he’d ruined it. Swallowing his self-disgust, he concealed his misery behind banter and smiles, telling Fidel he’d guessed, after the incident with the stripper, that his love wasn’t fully reciprocated, and the adventure with the client had been a crude and stupid way of trying to force Fidel to admit the truth. He now wished he hadn't, because half a lover was better than none, but he hoped they could still be best friends.
They most certainly could. Fidel too was regretting what he’d said. Because it wasn’t strictly true. He was in love with Arnold, but the powerful memory of Hylas was always hovering at the back of his mind. He didn’t dare commit to loving someone until he’d sorted his feelings for his brother. And so they kissed and made up and continued to share a bed and caresses. But it wasn’t the same, so pleading a need to try being independent for a while, Fidel renovated a structure on the roof of the gymnasium and went to live up there.
Arnold remained in his apartment. Alone.
The winter school holidays had started and Fidel had just finished a strenuous evening session with five high-school students whose parents also came to the gym, when he was called to the phone. He listened attentively, grin slowly fading to concern as he nodded, then said softly, ‘I’ll be there as soon as possible. No, it’s no trouble, relax. Everything will be fine.’ He replaced the receiver thoughtfully and went to find Arnold.
‘You look shocked.’
‘I’ve just had a call from Hylas.’
‘Your brother?’
‘Yes. My father suicided a couple of weeks ago and today Mum walked out without any explanation, leaving him alone. The house is up for sale and he doesn't know what to do.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘Then go and get him.’
‘What…bring him back here? You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Don’t be a fuckwit. Of course I wouldn’t!’ Arnold took a card from the desk and tossed it at Fidel. ‘Take the car. Go on! And stop worrying.’
Fifteen minutes later Arnold’s Volt was zipping north on the Bruce highway. Inside, confused thoughts were zipping around the driver’s brain. ‘What if Hylas had changed? Would they still like each other? Four years was a long time. Perhaps they had only felt so close because of the shared environment. Would he still feel the same or had he been fooling himself—imagining he was in love with the guy. How could he have been in love with an eleven year old? How should he behave?’ He decided to play it cool and see how his brother behaved before making a fool of himself. But what if Hylas was also playing it cool? How would they ever find out what the other was thinking. But at least Hylas had phoned him and not someone else. But how did he know the phone number? Had he been receiving the letters and communication updates all the time and just not bothered to reply? It was all too complicated. He’d just have to play it by ear.
An oncoming vehicle flashed its lights and Fidel swung the wheel with seconds to spare. Back on the correct side of the road he began to sweat. A fat lot of good he’d be to his brother in a coffin. He was more tired than he could remember. He yawned, stretched and pulled into the next service station for a coffee. Mustn't fall asleep.