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“Reece?”
“Oh, sorry. Reece Witherspoon? She’s such a hoot.” I wave. “I told her I wasn’t that interesting, but she just wouldn’t let it go. Is insisting she hires a whole team to write about my life.”
“You knowReece Witherspoon?”
“Don’t worry. Tate here will have you all sign a release at the end of class so you’re not mentioned.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… there’s nothing wrong with mentioning we’re Pilates buddies.” She looks back over at Tate and blushes. Gag me. I roll my eyes. “And I justlovereading. Maybe sometime I can—”
“Welp! Class is about to begin. Need to grab a spot.”
“Absolutely. There’s one right next to me.”
I would rather cut off a finger. “I would love that, but my stomach…” I circle my palm over my belly and grunt. “Had tacos last night. Not feeling that great. In case I have a… ya know,” I make a fart noise, “emergency, I want to be able to just hop right out.”
My smile broadens as hers disappears. “Have a nice session.”
“Youtoo.”
I wait ’til she’s out of earshot, then mumble, “Bitch.” I turn to my guard dog. “For real, go make yourself invincible, or I’m going to sic Becky on you and tell her you’dloveto hear all about her Home Shopping Network business.” I don’t wait for him to reply before finding the farthest spot from Becky.
***
The hour passes quickly, and I’m sweating like a hog. Glenda worked us nice and hard. I struggled through the discomfort of my neck but pushed through. Now, I lay on my mat, half alive, feeling like I could conquer the world. Until a shadow clouds my vision. I open my eyes to see the ogre standing above me. “You’re killing my post-workout Zen.”
“Workout ended ten minutes ago. You fell asleep.”
“Did not.” I sit up to see the entire class is gone. “Shit.” Well, that’s not like me. I shake off my confusion and stand. Bending down to grab my water bottle, I chug it while staring at Tate. Only because he’s staring at me. I’d ask him why he’s staring, but I’m so thirsty.
“While you were passed out, your friend gave me her number. Said in case I needed to interview her.”
I chuckle, spilling water down my chin. “You should call her. I bet that hag hasn’t gotten laid in years. You could both use some loosening up.” I snag my towel and dry my face, making sure not to press over my war wounds.
“I’m not here to get laid. I’m here to do a job.”
“That’s too bad. Did you blow our cover? Or give her your number? I’d love to imagine her waiting by the phone for your call.”
“I didn’t take it.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Your loss.” I grab the rest of my things and head toward the exit. I don’t bother asking Tate what’s next. He should know I go home after Pilates, shower, then veg on the couch until I have to go to work. Tonight, I’m scheduled to be at the studio. The thing is, I don’t think I’m ready to go back there yet.
I climb into Tate’s SUV and pull out my phone.
Me: So sick. Can’t make it tonight.
Russell: Don’t bullshit me. The cops were here. Why haven’t you returned my calls?
I don’t know why I didn’t think the cops would go asking questions. I guess I washopingthey wouldn’t. Shit like this looks bad on the studio, which means it can get me canned.
Me: It wasn’t a big deal. Please, just one night off. I need it. I’m in no shape to work.
And I’m not. Thinking about Chad’s sleazy hands on me has a chill racing down my back.
“You good?” Tate asks.
I realize I’ve coddled myself. Relaxing, I reply. “Yep. Fine.” My phone vibrates.
Russell: I need you back here tomorrow.
