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10
Lyla
“And reach your fingertips up to the ceiling, stretching your upper body as high as it will go. Pause. Now bring them down to your toes, as close as you can reach. Now relax. Very good.”
The yoga instructor announced wrapping up class. I watch everyone grab their mats, and I bend down and grab mine and head back for my bag. I pick up my phone and see I’ve missed three calls from a number I don’t know and a text from Charlie. It’s a picture of her holding up a vintage Beatles album. Nice.
“Hi there.”
A man I recognize from class is bent down grabbing his bag beside mine. He’s very attractive. Tall, tan, dark-brown hair, blue eyes, and defined biceps I can clearly see under his white t-shirt.
“Hey,” I say casually, putting my shoes on.
“Do you come here often? You look really familiar to me.”
“No. This was my first class. I actually just moved to the area.”
“Well, then you’ll need someone to show you around. I’m Darren Henry.” He grins and says this to me like I should swoon at his name alone which is an even bigger turnoff than the fact he regularly goes to yoga class.
“Thanks anyway, Darren Henry, but I think I’ll manage just fine.” I brush him off and turn to head toward the exit, and I feel him follow me.
“You never told me your name,” he says, opening the door for me.
“Thank you. I know I didn’t.” I smile and walk past him, but he keeps following me.
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“No, thanks, I’m not hungry.”
“But you will be eventually. Say around eight tonight? I can get us reservations at Mazzini’s.”
He name-drops to try and impress me. It’s the highest in fine dining in the area and will cost a small fortune if I agree to go, but I won’t. I can’t be seen in a place like that without someone recognizing me, and then I’ll be all over the local papers and embarrassed all over again.
“That’s very generous, Darren, but I have other plans.”
“Plans can be canceled. Trust me when I say I will make it worth your while.”
The grin he gives me sets off warning bells and suddenly I’m uncomfortable. I’ve heard dirtier words, but something about this guy is off and I need to get away from him.
“No, thank you,” I say, glaring at him. No smile on my face to lead him to believe anything other than I am not interested. He scoffs and throws his hand up like he’s dismissing me.
“Fine. Your loss, ya stuck up bitch.”
He slowly backs up with a snarl on his mouth. A small laugh escapes, which pisses him off more, but he just retreats faster. When he rounds the corner and is out of sight, I turn and exhale. I start walking when my phone rings again. It’s the same number I missed three times during class. Afraid it might be important, I answer.
“Hello.”
“Hello, and who am I speaking with?” An elderly man’s voice comes on with a heavy accent.
“Well, sir, you called me.” I laugh. “My name is Lyla; I think you have the wrong number.”
“Oh no, Lyla Turner, you are exactly who I want to get my hands on.” Creepy, I think to myself.
“Well, here I am; how can I help you, sir?” I say, holding my arm out for a cab.
“You can give me back my money along with the body of your partner. That would be best-case scenario for you, Ms. Turner.”
I stop walking toward the curb, frozen in shock by the change in this man’s tone and threatening words. “I really think you have the wrong person,” I whisper.
“Lyla, this is a gentle warning. I’m not a patient man. Where is Howard Stapleton?”
“I haven’t heard from Howard since he bankrupted our restaurant. I have nothing to do with him. As far as I’m concerned, he’ll soon be rotting in prison when the police catch up with him.”
“Hmm. Unfortunately, he has more than the police to worry about. I don’t believe you aren’t in touch with him so I will be keeping my eye on you. Take care for now.”
I end the call and climb in the cab. After a few minutes, I roll my eyes, thinking that was the weirdest call ever but not my problem. The man sounded ancient for one, and for two, I genuinely don’t have anything to do with Howard so if he screwed someone else over too, it’s not my problem.
