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Laughing, Kit reaches up and pushes her laptop closed. Resting her hands on top, she lets her fingernail tap the metal casing and her smile grows. “You know Theo Griffin?”
“Griffin Industries?” My eyes shoot back down to her tapping finger, to the lion logo, then back to hers. “Oh!” My eyes widen. “That was Theo Griffin? No way.”
She nods. “But we respect our clients’ privacy, so leave him alone.”
“I left him alone.” Warmth fills my cheeks when I remember him helping me. “We were in the weights room at the same time. He spotted me for a sec; but I was certain I knew his face.”
She shrugs. “Guess you know him from the internet or something. I can’t say I recognized him. He came in and said he needed a place to work out while he’s in town, tossed down a shiny credit card, and paid for a month straight up.”
“He’ll be in town a month?” I frown and study the wall behind Kit, the framed photos, the memories for the family that own this place. “I wonder what he’s doing here. Griffin Plaza is hours away.”
She shrugs. “It’s most of a day’s drive away. He didn’t say what he’s doing in town. Maybe he’s working with the Checkmate crew on something techy? You could ask Cruz.”
“Eh…” I pick up my bag and roll my bottom lip between my teeth in thought. “It’s not important to me. I’ll leave him be. I just thought I knew him, but now I know he’s Griffin, I guess that explains that.”
“Okey dokey.” Smiling, she shakes the topic off and reopens her laptop. “Get a good set in?”
I shrug. “It was okay. Music sucked today.”
She chuckles. “You win some, you lose some. Heading home now?”
“Not yet.” I turn away and step toward the door. “No rest for the wicked.”
She flashes a filthy grin until a single dimple pops in her cheek. “Don’t I know it. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
I give myself only a minute to stare into the street once I walk outside and climb into my car. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel and unwillingly remember the long mane of hair that man’s lion possessed. I’m not running late for my next thing, so I allow another minute and mentally study Theodore Griffin’s blue eyes. How could I possiblyknowthem, if I’ve never met him? How could I feel this sense of camaraderie if he’s a recluse multi-katrillionaire?
Katrillionaire might be an exaggeration. And perhaps not a real word, but it’s how it feels in my brain. I know millionaires. They own that gym behind me. And Iknewbillionaires, they sold drugs to kids.
Griffin Industries feels like more than that. So what is more than billions?Katrillions. I’m going to spend half my night Googling if that’s a real word now, and when I inevitably find out it’s not, I’ll have to figure out what the real word is.
“Whatever.”
I start my car with a sigh and pull out of the gym parking lot, and an hour later, I pull into a new parking lot that doesn’t look a whole lot different. Gravel. Gym-like building. I drive into the city for these meetings because my hometown is too small, everyone knows everyone, and sometimes, I like to keep my business to myself.
I grab my purse and phone and, pulling the keys from the ignition, head inside. A few minutes later, we begin, and I find myself standing in a room with twelve other people.
“Hi, everyone.” I study the circle and give a shy smile. “My name is Elizabeth, and I’ve been clean of my cocaine addiction for twelve years, seven months, and eighteen days.”
