Stevo, the anabolic blogger

I'd like to congratulate Hank Aaron, the Major League Baseball career recordholder for drug-free home runs.

**********

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 (cont'd)
St. Francis Hospital

Forget taking a walk; Tim and I decide to head home. We'll call Chris to check up on him later.

"I don't... we don't... want you guys around here for awhile," Janet says later, over the phone. "It just seems like there's, um, always a lot of drama when Tim is around."

We sit silently for a long time. I can't believe what she's asking, can't believe she's blaming this all on Tim, can't believe Chris is going along with it. If he is.

"Put Chris on the phone."

"Chris agrees with me," she snaps.

"Can I speak to him, please?"

No sense debating this now. "Chris, go cool her off for a while and call us tomorrow."

"I think she's right, Steve."

**********

Wednesday, May 30, 2007,1:23pm

Webb Group Graphics

"Chris is in a meeting now. Is he expecting you?" a woman behind a desk says.

"No, I'm his brother. I'll wait."

An eternity later, his door opens. "Hello, Steve," he says cheerfully, shaking my hand as if I were a client.

We sit. As he closes the door, his smile fades. "Give me a couple of weeks. She'll calm down."

"This isn't Tim's fault. Why are you letting her put it all on Tim?"

"Because it was easier," he smiles. "They're women. They fight, and then they make up!"

No way. If someone doesn't put Janet in her place, she'll live her whole life thinking my girlfriend (and future wife) is a slut. It's Chris's job to tell her differently, especially since this was his doing--

"You want me to fall on my sword. Don't you?" he says, reading my thoughts, looking holes through me. "Steve, she doesn't want to hear it!"

"So wait a week, and then explain to her what a fucking prick you are!"

He doesn't flinch. Suddenly, I notice his high back leather executive chair. It looks brand new; he seems comfortable with his arms perched on the cushioned armrests. Did he have that the last time I was here?

"You gonna hit me again, Steve?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Depends. You gonna beg me to stop like a little bitch again?"

"Give me a couple weeks, Steve. It will blow over. I promise."

Someone knocks.

"Come on in."

Carol swooshes by me in in a pink sundress, and my heart pounds instinctively at the first glance of her tight butt. She asks him a question, then gazes admiringly at him as he answers, her eyes never wavering.

"By the way, this is my brother, Steve."

"I've heard so much about you!" she says, extending a hand. "So you're getting married, huh?"

"That's the plan."

Oh, by the way, did Chris tell you about how he grabbed my fiancee's ass? I'm guessing it slipped his mind.

She pulls the door closed as she leaves. "She's feisty, that one," he smiles.

"Hard worker?"

"I don't mean work-wise," he says.

"Another one? Dude, you have Irene--"

"Irene is out of the picture."

I won't preach to Chris. He wouldn't listen anyway. But it's tricky having a steady girlfriend on the side, and I'm not sure he can pull it off.

"You're very... pensive lately," he says. "You worried about me now?"

"I just--"

"You never did anything like this, did you Steve?" he says, sarcastically, and I notice his eyebrow again, cocked lower than it was before, his right eye narrowed noticeably.

"She is hot, I'll give you that."

"She says you're cute."

My heart leaps. It's nice to know that a young girl like Carol finds me attractive, even if I'm not going to do something about it.

"Really?"

"No, not really," he laughs.