Thursday evening, Karen's bedroom.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Karen moaned, voice thick with satisfaction. "Baby, how the hell are you getting better every single time?"
"Don't talk, Karen. Just feel it," Shane murmured.
Karen was draped over his shoulder, letting out soft, contented little noises with every breath.
Shane smiled, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around his finger. "If I don't keep improving, how am I supposed to—"
He lowered his voice and whispered something filthy in her ear.
Karen lightly smacked his chest, her ears turning bright red.
They chatted quietly for a little while longer before Shane checked the time. Eileen should be free by now.
He signaled for Karen to wait a second, grabbed his phone, found Eileen's number, and hit call.
The phone rang a few times before she picked up. Her voice came through, cautious. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mrs. Eileen. This is Shane, Danny's coach. Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"Oh! Coach Shane! Hello!"
Eileen's tone immediately warmed up, surprised but pleased. "I didn't expect you to call me personally. I figured a professional trainer like you would be super busy—"
"I am busy," Shane said smoothly, then shifted the focus naturally. "But Danny's worth it."
The line went quiet for a moment on Eileen's end. Those four words—"Danny's worth it"—clearly hit her exactly where he wanted.
It was the kind of line that middle-class moms like her ate up.
Shane didn't give her much time to overthink it. He threw in a few more compliments about Danny, then went in.
"I heard from Danny that you're organizing a book donation volunteer event at the South Side elementary school this Saturday. Honestly, Mrs. Eileen, I really admire how much time and heart you put into giving back to the Chicago community."
"Wow, Danny told you about that?"
Eileen sounded flattered and genuinely happy to be recognized.
"It's really just something I should do. Every kid deserves more opportunities to read."
"You're absolutely right," Shane agreed.
Then he casually dropped his suggestion.
"I have a small idea, if you're open to it. Kids these days sit way too much, which isn't great for their development. Since everyone's already gathering Saturday morning, what do you think about organizing a short, fun community run before or after the book donation? Just a symbolic one-kilometer loop starting and ending at the school."
He quickly laid out the safety details.
"The kids would wear reflective vests, stay on the inside of the sidewalk… I'll also bring my other training partner to help make sure everyone stays safe."
Then he neatly handed the ball back to her.
"Of course, this is just a rough idea. You're the organizer and you know the school and the parents best. If you think it works, I'm happy to help however I can. I can even cover some of the supplies."
On the other end of the line, Eileen was clearly interested.
The idea sounded healthy and wholesome. Plus, the area around the elementary school and subway station was one of the more civilized spots in the South Side—plenty of patrol cars.
Most important, Shane made it clear that she would be in charge and get all the credit while he just provided support and resources.
This would let her shine in front of the other volunteers, show off her organizational skills and community spirit, and make her son's activity look even better. Win-win.
(Though she looked down on the South Side, free good reputation was still free good reputation.)
"This… this is actually a fantastic idea," Eileen said, excitement clear in her voice.
She quickly recovered her composure, cleared her throat, and added, "Coach Shane, you really thought this through. I'll talk it over with the other parents in charge, but I'm sure they'll love it too. We can work out the details later?"
"Absolutely. Just let me know whenever. I won't take up any more of your time. Have a great evening, Mrs. Eileen."
"Thank you so much, Coach Shane. Goodbye!"
Shane hung up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The stage was set. Now he just had to wait for all those West Side moms to gather in one place.
Karen had been listening to the whole conversation. She looked at him with a knowing little grin.
Shane set his phone down on the table and pinched her cheek. They whispered back and forth for another minute before he finally got up and started pulling his clothes back on.
He pushed open Karen's bedroom door and headed downstairs. Sheila was in the kitchen humming to herself while preparing dinner.
"Hi, Aunt Sheila," Shane greeted her from the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, Shane, Karen. Dinner's… dinner's almost ready. Are you two hungry already?"
"No rush on dinner," Shane said. He placed a brand-new laptop on the dining table and opened it.
"Aunt Sheila, I need someone smart and detail-oriented to help me out. So I wanted to talk to you about a job."
"A… a job?" Sheila looked nervous, twisting her hands together. "I… I don't do well with strangers, you know. With my… condition, I can only handle it for less than a minute. I might mess everything up—"
"You won't have to see anyone," Shane said calmly, turning the laptop screen toward her.
The screen showed neatly organized folders he had prepared in advance:
Common Course Questions & Standard Reply Templates
Tone Guide for Different Price Tiers
Index for Basic Body Measurement Responses
…and more.
Everything was clearly labeled and color-coded.
"You'll work from home. Log into this account on the computer. When you see a client message or question, find the matching category, copy and paste the prepared response, and just change the name. If it's something not in the templates or if it's from a creepy client, flag it and I'll handle it personally."
Shane spoke slowly and clearly, making sure she understood.
"You can set your own hours. I'll pay based on the number of messages you handle properly. I can give you a fixed base salary, paid weekly or monthly—whatever works. And if you do a great job, there'll be bonuses too."
Sheila's expression slowly shifted from anxiety to interest as she looked at the organized documents on the screen.
She used to do clerical work. The neat folders felt familiar and comfortable.
She wasn't stupid—she was just terrified of dealing with strangers.
She thought to herself, Maybe I really could try this?
Sheila walked over and sat at the table. "Um… I can give it a try."
Before she could get too comfortable, the front door slammed open with a loud bang. Eddie was home.
The second Eddie walked in, he saw Shane and Sheila sitting at the dining table together, with Karen pressed close to Shane's side.
Eddie's relaxed expression instantly hardened. He made a big show of taking off his jacket and shaking it out loudly.
"Hey—" he drawled.
"So our South Side business tycoon is expanding operations all the way into my kitchen now? What's next? You gonna turn my basement into one of your training branches? Or empty out Sheila's medicine cabinet to make room for your protein powder?"
"Dad—" Karen frowned, clearly pissed.
Sheila looked up quickly, sounding eager to explain. She pointed at the laptop screen. "Eddie, Shane's offering me a job. It's just replying to client messages on the computer. He said he'll pay me."
There was an unmistakable note of excitement in Sheila's voice—the thrill of feeling needed.
"A job? For Sheila?"
Eddie let out a loud, sarcastic laugh, like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world, and walked toward the table.
"Come on, kid. You think I don't know what kind of shit goes on online? You want my wife working for you?"
"What gives you the right to arrange anything for her in my house?"
Eddie's voice grew louder and angrier. He jabbed his finger dangerously close to Shane's face.
Karen stepped forward, furious. "Shut up! He's trying to help Mom! You don't understand anything!"
"I should shut up?" Eddie's temper completely exploded now that his own daughter was talking back. He turned on Karen. "You need to shut the hell up! I haven't even started on you yet—walking around with a gash on your head and bandages still on like nothing happened, glued to this outsider all day!"
Karen opened her mouth to snap back, but Shane gently squeezed her tense arm, signaling for her to let him handle it.
Shane lifted his gaze to Eddie, whose face was flushed red with anger. "I get why you're worried about Aunt Sheila."
Eddie paused, caught off guard by Shane's calm response.
But Shane's next words ripped straight through the fake concern. "Are you worried she'll get scammed or taken advantage of? Or are you worried that if she starts making her own money, she won't be completely dependent on you anymore? That she won't have to put up with all your bullshit and be your personal punching bag whenever you feel like it?"