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“Apologies,” he replies with a straight face. “It’s Henderson.”
“Henderson,” I repeat. “Lovely to meet you. And thank you for getting me out of the hotel on time.”
He nods curtly.
“Who is the other guy?” I ask.
“The driver?” he asks. “That’s Macavoy.”
“And the other guard?”
“Lucky.”
“You have a bodyguard named Lucky? Is he, like, really good at his job, then?”
“No,” begins Henderson.
“So, he’s not good at his job?”
“What I meant to say is yes, he’s good at his job. No, it’s not a nickname. It’s on his birth certificate. He’s South African.”
He says that as if being South African makes it normal to have a name like Lucky. Maybe it is.
“Ah, we’re here,” Henderson says, seemingly relieved to end the conversation. He quickly scans the location to ascertain if it’s safe. The Jag cruises to the entrance, and Henderson opens the door for me and offers his hand to help me out.
“Thank you,” I say to Macavoy, slinging my new yoga mat over my shoulder.
Driver, bodyguard, designer yoga mat. It’s like living in a parallel reality.
I jog into the studio, feeling exceptionally thirsty.
The yoga studio is pretty full, and I am so grateful to skate in there just in time.
Becks accosts me with eyes the size of pub coasters.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say.
“You’re not late,” she replies, glancing at the studio clock. “Where the fuck have you been? What happened?”
Despite her cursing, she’s not angry. Becks has a mouth like a sewer, and I love her for it.
She motions at the dressing on my temple. “Are you okay?”
“Yes!” I nod. “Yes. Better than okay. Can you stay after class to chat? Coffee?”
She barks a laugh. “As if I would let you leave without one!”
“Great,” I reply, hurrying up to the raised platform and whipping out my beautiful new mat. Becks eyes the mat suspiciously. I scan for Henderson, who, thank god, is standing outside the room. If he insisted on staying inside, I would make him do downward dog in his fancy black suit.
“Hello, class,” I say, feeling super-energized. Friendly faces shine back at me. “Who’s ready to flow?”
Chapter 14
Lucky Bitch
“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” says Becks, after the practice.
“Most yogis prefer to say namaste.”
