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I took a seat and unwrapped the sub, my mouth watering as the delicious scent wafted free. Saving this half had been a great idea. “Technically, you don’t give me credit for anything.”
“And if I say no?” she demanded right as I took a huge bite.
Hoping for backup while I chewed, I glanced at Frankie.
My boss shrugged. “Back to the drawin’ board, I guess.”
Except that board was blank. I frowned at Marissa as I finished chewing and swallowed. “After everything Frankie has done for us, you would say no to helping her out?”
Scowling, she dropped into the seat beside me. “You know I hate being forced into things.”
“Okay, look at it this way. Think of all the muscled, naked bodies you’ll get to touch. You know some good-looking guys train here.” My stomach growled, urging me to take another bite of the sub.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to share this half with Finley. He’d gotten more than enough earlier.
Marissa’s nose scrunched up. “Some, maybe, but it’ll be just my luck to get all the wrinkly old men.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
I’d won her over with that idea. Not about the old guys, but the hot ones outnumbered the old. Okay, maybe not hot-hot but dateable at the very least.
“You’re our only hope,” I said around a mouthful of bread and tuna.
My sister stared at me, her eyes narrowed in thought. I chewed slowly, waiting for her official decision. If she said no, I didn’t know what else we could do. We were out of time and options.
“Fine,” she said in a drawn-out huff. “We’re not talking about massages with happy endings though, right?”
What an odd question. Massages should always end with the customer happy.
Frankie caught my perplexed expression and snorted out a laugh. “It means with a hand job, kiddo. Or a blow job for the right tip. And the answer is no. Fuck no. Most of those horndogs don’t have the money for that kind of service, anyway.”
“Oh.”
My boss doubled over with laughter while Marissa just gave me a look of pity.
“You need to get out more.” She shook her head, then pointed at me. “Also, no more mopping. This plan of yours will take up all my free time.”
Cringing inside, I forced a nod. Getting out of cleaning was to be expected with Marissa, but it was a price I was glad to pay to make this plan work. She wasn’t wrong about me needing to get more, but first things first.
Our future here was looking bright again. We had a plan to save our home, and nothing could stand in our way.
Famous last words.
The next morning, Frankie tasked me with cleaning the extra equipment in the storage room before we rotated everything later that night. Besides the daily sanitizing, we deep-cleaned equipment once a week. Doing so also allowed us to check for any damage or pieces that needed replacing.
However, I wasn’t sure which was worse: cleaning toilets after a fight night or being stuck in a windowless room that had no air conditioning and reeked of a week’s worth of stale body odor.
Three hours later, I locked the door behind me and gulped in the only somewhat better-smelling gym air. Stuck in the supply room for so long was definitely worse than the toilets.
Then I noticed the crowd.
The whole gym was abuzz with excitement. With wide eyes, I wove my way past members and toward the office. Subliminal was one of a few places in D.C. where Gifted types could mingle and chat freely, which meant I’d known most of the shifters and witches who frequented the place for years.
But today, quite a few unfamiliar faces popped up throughout the gym and talked animatedly with one another while lifting weights or punching bags. New folks weren’t unheard of, but this many at once was uncommon.
Most were too involved in their conversations to notice me eavesdropping, or too used to my presence to begin with. When I finally heard enough to realize what they were discussing, my eyebrows shot toward my hairline.
Turns out, I didn’t need a week to generate enough interest.
