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twenty-six
She wore a pair of red booty shorts that cupped her firm bottom and a tight white tank top that thrust her breasts up and together. Her long brown hair was brushed back into a perfect ponytail and she wore enough makeup to make Constance wonder if it would melt during the workout. She wrapped the hoodie around Rhett’s waist and attempted to tie it in the back, forcing her chest against his. He brushed her off and tossed the hoodie on top of his duffel bag, which sat in the corner.
Stanzi walked past them, toward the office. The first aid kit was in the top drawer of the desk; she’d seen several people get it out to use on torn hands from too many pull-ups.
“Oh, hi.” Katrina waggled her fingers at Constance as she walked past. Her nails were painted red today. “Matilda, right?”
Constance didn’t even look her way. “That’s right,” she called over her shoulder. “You can call me Tillie.”
“That’s not her name,” she heard Rhett say.
Constance smiled at Hobbs, who was chewing the last of his sandwich and was giving her a thumbs-up. “Saw the end of the rope climb,” he said. “Heard Santos shouting and peeked out. Good work, Red.”
“Thank you.” She ripped open an antiseptic wipe and dabbed her thigh and shin. The sting felt good.
Hobbs glanced out the door, in the direction of Rhett and Katrina, and shook his head. “You should celebrate.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. His biceps and pecs bulged. He swiveled around. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Potatoes.”
Hobbs squinted. “What?”
“Potatoes,” Constance repeated. “Mashed. Baked. Fried. In a soup. I don’t care what. I love potatoes.”
“No.” Hobbs shook his head. “Your favorite food is Italian or Thai or—”
“No. It’s potatoes.”
Hobbs stood up and sighed. “Vodka. Your favorite food is vodka.”
Constance nodded. “I see where this is going. Okay. An old-fashioned. My favorite food is an old-fashioned.”
“What’s in that?”
“Sugar is muddled with bitters and...” Constance suppressed a laugh at the look on Hobbs’s face. “Whiskey,” she said. “It’s whiskey.”
“See?” Hobbs smiled his big, perfect smile. Constance’s mood lifted a little. Hobbs’s cheerful grin could perk up anybody. “That wasn’t so hard. Would you, Red—” he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder “—like to join me later for an old-fashioned?”
“Oh.” So Constance had not, in fact, seen where this was going. It’d been so long since she’d flirted she’d missed Hobbs’s obvious impending segue into asking her out, and merely thought they were talking about food. Slick. She stammered at first. The word around the gym was that Hobbs liked women. As in, all the women. The more he could charm, the better. Not the type Constance went for. She caught sight of Rhett and Katrina, standing near the whiteboard. Katrina kept stepping into his personal space. Rhett would retreat, and she’d follow.
“Is anyone else coming?” Constance turned back to Hobbs.
“Like who?” Hobbs’s smile had an amused tinge. He peeked out of the office. “Like Rhett?”
“I didn’t mean that,” Constance said quickly. “I wasn’t sure if it was a group thing or...” She tried to shrug it off but the awkwardness hung like a cloud.
“It’s okay, Red.” Hobbs stood up and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I know when I’ve been beat.” He glanced at Rhett again. “Lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered.
After he left, Stanzi stood there, her face flushed and her stomach doing flip-flops. She considered heading home for a nap. The workout today was going to be intense: seven rounds for time, with each round consisting of ten power cleans, ten push-ups and ten calories on the rower. Plus the dreaded running Callahan had mentioned—eight hundred meters at the start. All she had to look forward to was getting crushed by Katrina, who would look gorgeous the entire time she was doing it.
Rhett caught her eye and waved her over to the growing circle. The clock read 3:00 p.m.
Constance remembered she was wearing Daddy’s old Jimmy V shirt, drew a deep breath and joined the group.
“Couple of changes,” Rhett was saying by the time she got there. He uncapped a dry erase marker, erased “10 power cleans” with a swipe of his finger and wrote “5 snatches,” leaving the weight at 115 for men and 95 for women. People groaned. Katrina’s face crumpled into a glare.
Constance perked up a little. Snatches almost made running seem bearable.
At the bottom of the workout, Rhett wrote, “Buy out: 1 rope climb.”
