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Traffic sucked, and there was still about an hour to go before peak rush hour kicked in and every electric and gas powered vehicle hit the road at the same time, clogging up the Manhattan streets more than they already were. Ethan sat with his head tilted back against the seat rest, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the steady beat of [i]Would?[/i], by Alice in Chains and staring blankly out across the lines of cars ahead through a pair of black RayBan Wayfarers. He couldn’t tell you how many times he’d run the same gauntlet in the afternoon, eventually stuck at a dead stop on Park Avenue, on his way to the gym to get a bit of tension out of his mind and body before starting the evening off right. And yet the incessant waiting just to move a few inches never seemed to get any better. Although, fortunately, the man that he was, needed car that could keep up with his hectic lifestyle while still maintaining the comfort and convenience needed for day-to-day work. 

Enter, the midnight black [i]Maserati GranTurismo[/i], four hundred and fifty-four horses of raw beast packed into a sleek and sexy automobile that would probably be considered one of Ethan’s most prized possessions, if he could consider himself attached to anything at all. He just about sank into the heated leather seats as the warmth relaxed the stiffness in his lower back from a day of walking and standing. 

Shit, Ethan. Thirty-Five years old and you’re already feeling the aches and pains of life.

Forty-five minutes later landed him at the gym and into his typical workout sweats and tank for about an hour of intensive -but maybe not [i]too[/i] intensive- workout with Jack Williams, a longtime friend. The man was balding, slightly shorter but much wider and heavier set than Ethan, and knew how to pack on the carbs and calories like they were going out of style. Oddly enough though, he tended to maintain a steady weight regardless.

“Alright, so how’d she look?.” Jack inquired as he stood at the head of the weight bench, spotting his friend who was benching his usual one-thirty-five.

“Who?” The other asked with a wry grin as he lowered the bar to his chest on his fourth rep. 

“Oh don’t play fuckin’ coy with me dude. Was she hot?” 

Part of Ethan wanted to really mess with his friend and just straight out lie about Clara, maybe tacking on some kind of horrible story like she was in a fiery car accident that left half her body covered in third-degree burns and no hair or eyebrows. But, honestly, the man couldn’t even bring himself to that point. Not with her. 

“Yeah, she was alright.” He said cooly, not wanting to give too much away. 

The truth of the matter was that she looked even better than he remembered. Happy even, like nothing in the world could unhinge her in the slightest. But then again, the Starbucks meeting was brief, as they both had places to be, so it could have all been a combination of her hiding any emotional baggage really well, and Ethan simply being infatuated with one of the most beautiful women he knew. 

“Bullshit!” Jack exclaimed with a chuckle, pushing down on the bar, causing the other to strain under the pressure. “Tell me the truth, or this thing’s gonna crush your neck.” 

“Alright, fine!.” Ethan growled, not really amused by his friend’s sense of humor at the moment. “She was hot.” 

The spotter continued to push. “But [i]how[/i] hot, bro?” Okay, now he was being an asshole just because.

“Fuck you Jack.” The other growled again. “Now let go before I drop this on your ugly ass feet.”

Ethan pushed the bar up finally and rested onto the vertical supports before sitting up and taking a few long, deep breaths as beads of sweat broke and ran down his face.

“Oh yeah, she was more than hot.” Jack snickered, clearly amused. “I know I can’t wait to see her again.” He made a mocking, guttural growling noise. “Double date then?”

Yep, everyone had to have a friend like Jack. Maybe not to the same extremes he went, but just about anyone who was anyone had the obnoxious “gotta-love-him-anyway” kind of guy who seemed to keep their friends in line by shaking up their world a little and constantly getting under their skin.

“Yeah, I’m thinking not. In fact, I’ll probably keep her far away from you.” Ethan shook his head as he wiped the moisture from his face and neck. “Now that I think about, isn’t there still a pending restraining order against you from a few years ago. You know she hated you anyway, bruh.” 

“You mean that ‘ass-grab’ thing at that salsa club in Midtown all those years ago?” The short, fatter man laughed for a moment and then the jovial expression began to melt away. “So-ah...you think she actually remembers that?” 

“Dude, Clare remembers [i]everything[/i].” Ethan stood to his feet and turned to Jack. “Sorry bruh.” He said with faux sympathy, patting the man on his broad shoulder. “You’re doomed.”

His friend stood there with a rather down-cast expression, then a moment later shrugged while grabbing his gym bag and bottled water. “Ah well, I’m sure she’ll be thinking of me anyway the whole time.” He grinned to himself before taking a gulp of water. “Probably more so when you two are fucking like wild monkeys.”

“Jesus, Jack, shut up…” Ethan sighed, looking forward to getting the hell out of the gym, away from his idiot friend, and back home into a hot shower.