Chapter Three #2
“Go ahead,” she called out. “Go ahead and waste your time and energy. Me, I’m putting mine to good use.”
She started the session.
“I may regret it,” she muttered, “but I’m doing it.”
Twenty minutes in, slicked with sweat, she regretted it. But she kept going. Part of it, she could admit as her muscles burned, was that incessant ringing.
A half hour in, she took a break to guzzle water like a camel, to towel off some sweat. And noticed the ringing had stopped.
Bolstered by the fact she’d outlasted Dobbs, she pushed play, dug down, and finished the routine.
Maybe she had to lie on the floor in a groaning puddle for a minute, but she’d done it.
Yoda came over to lie down beside her. The cat curled on a weight bench and watched her with mild disdain.
“Which one of you is going to help me up?”
Since neither volunteered, Sonya raised to a sitting position and ordered herself to finish with a ten-minute stretch.
She considered herself an when she made it back upstairs without limping.
When she walked back to the kitchen to refill her water bottle, it surprised her to see Cleo sitting at the counter with coffee and a Toaster Strudel.
“You’re up early.”
“Not as early as you, obviously. Did you shower in your clothes?”
“Muscle Up routine.” Still a little breathless, Sonya pressed a hand to her heart. “Brutal. But she kept ringing the damn bell. Dobbs gave up. I didn’t.”
“That’s my Sonya. I, on the other hand, am up because I have a yen to take a sail. You could come with me.”
“Wish I could, but I’m already going to be late for work, since I plan to take a shower for a couple hours.”
“Such a responsible soul. I, again on the other hand, am taking The Siren out for a sail. They’re calling for thunderstorms late this afternoon, so I’ll get in my sail, go by the grocery store and other errands, and be back home to paint in the studio before the storms hit.”
“I have to point out there’s responsible in there, starting with the sail.” Deciding she deserved a reward, Sonya opened the fridge for a Coke. “It wouldn’t be responsible to have a gorgeous little Sunfish and not sail it.”
“You’re right. We’re responsible girls. So let’s just be girls tonight, since Owen and Trey both have work this evening, I have a plan.”
“Tell me the plan before this sweat rolls off me and leaves a puddle on the floor.”
“A big, giant girl salad for dinner. A solid session sorting the photos. Then a big, giant, buttery, salty mountain of popcorn, a bottle of wine, and a girly movie in pj’s.”
“And this is only one of the myriad reasons we’re friends. I’m in. And now I’m also in the shower. Enjoy your sail.”
After a blissful shower, Sonya tossed on sweat shorts, a tee, then decided the hell with her hair, and pulled it, still damp, into a tail.
When she sat at her desk, and Yoda scooted under it, she rolled her slightly aching shoulders.
“I feel strong and freaking righteous. Okay, Clover, let it rip.”
The tablet rocked out with Destiny’s Child and “Independent Women Part I.”
“And that’s damn right. I am.”
As she booted up her computer, her phone signaled a text.
The Ryder Sports group with a request. For a video call at ten.
“Well, crap.”
She answered in the affirmative, then pulled out her emergency video call makeup.
“Independent, yeah, but no business meetings with a naked face.”
With a little time to spare, she dealt with emails, started work on a proposal for an ad campaign for a local business.
“Okay, Clover, music off for now.”
And rolling her shoulders again, entered the call.
Burt Springer greeted her first. “Good morning! Thanks for making yourself available on such short notice.”
“Never a problem. It’s good to see everyone.”
And everyone, Sonya noted, included Miranda Ryder, the steely and steady head of the company.
“We’ve got some progress reports to discuss, but before we get to that, we have an angle to run by you. The visuals you created, using regular people rather than models, wearing Ryder gear, using Ryder gear in their everyday lives, are the heart of the campaign. We’d like to expand on that.”
“All right.”
“Take the young man on the Ryder bike, heading to work in his business suit. Is he local? Available?”
“Eddie—he works for Doyle Law Offices. He’s interning there. As for availability, I can certainly contact him. I do have several more photos of him.”
Maybe muscle and mind did connect, Sonya decided, as she thought a step ahead. “But you don’t want the same look. A different outfit, different day, different activity? Is that what you’re after?”
“Got it in one.”
“Casual clothes, heading out to meet friends for pizza. Out for an evening—sunset ride—with a date? Like that.”
“Sunset ride with a date?” Livvy, public relations, put an index finger to each side of her head. “That’s a winner.”
“We’d like him to wear Ryder shoes, Ryder gear. You get his sizes, we’ll provide them,” Burt told her. “Then there’s your lovely and generous friend, Cleo.”
“I can speak for her, and say she’ll be happy to. More yoga? Different poses, different outfits. Maybe something outdoors. She has a gorgeous little Sunfish. She already has a Ryder PFD, but you could add to that.”
The banging started overhead. Sonya fisted a hand under the desk as Yoda squeezed between her feet.
Miranda Ryder’s eyebrows shot up. “Is there a problem, Sonya?”
“They’re calling for thunderstorms.”
“It sounds like the storm’s inside the house.”
“It really does. Let me say, I think this is a terrific angle. I’m sure I can engage the same photographer, and I’ll contact Eddie. I can already give you Cleo’s sizes. Which others do you want to add?”
The banging stopped abruptly as she started the list. And the doorbell began to bong.
“Sorry, just give me one minute.”
She rose quickly. Though she knew it was Dobbs, she looked out the window first. Then moved over to close the library’s pocket doors.
It at least dulled the sound.
“Sorry again,” she said when she sat back down. “It’s a glitch I really need to fix. Old houses.” She added a smile.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” Burt said with a quick laugh.
“Oh, no question about that.” She added her own quick, and casual, laugh. “It adds to the ambiance.”
She took notes, added her own ideas and vision. And when the house fell quiet again, felt as she had in the gym.
She’d outlasted Dobbs.
It took over an hour, and included a couple of bitchy door slams, but she got through it. And felt she’d barely missed a beat.
When she ended the call, she sat back, closed her eyes.
Clover congratulated her with Gaga and Grande and “Rain on Me.”
“Yeah, I made it through that storm.” Reaching down, she gave Yoda a rub. “We did. Now I’ve got a lot of unexpected work to do. Good for me! Calls first, Clover. I need to get Trey’s mom and her camera on board.”
But she stayed as she was another moment, eyes closed. Because she could see it. See how she’d work the series.
In sports, in life, Ryder’s got you.
She pulled up her contacts and started making calls.
Halfway through, Yoda gave her The Look.
“Okay, I’ll let you out. I need another caffeine boost anyway.”
She let him out the front, then wound her way back to the kitchen.
A ball sat on the island, and made her laugh.
“Fine with me, Jack.”
She got a Coke, and after tossing the ball outside where she knew Jack and Yoda would play fetch until the dog was worn out, she went back up to work.
And sent a text to both Trey and Owen. It seemed smart not to phrase it as a request, but a fait accompli.
Ryder’s decided to expand on the visual campaign. More photos! Which Corrine will take. And she’ll work out the schedule to suit everyone. Meanwhile, I’ll need your sizes. Shoes, pants, shirts. I promise, it’ll be painless. And you get to keep the gear!
Setting her phone aside, she made the next contact by email.
Glanced at her phone when it signaled.
Owen’s response was:
Come on, man. Seriously?
She just smiled, wrote the email. And Trey’s came through.
Why are you doing this to me?
She sent the email, then answered both texts together.
Yes, my favorite cousin, seriously—free shoes! And you both did this to yourselves by being so handsome and photogenic. And to thank you, I’ll learn how to make another manly meal suitable for summer.
Owen came back fast.
Pulled pork sandwiches, hand-cut fries, roasted corn on the cob. Strawberry shortcake.
If you think I can be bought with a meal, Trey responded, you’re probably right.
Done. Saturday!
Without a clue what all that meant, she texted Cleo.
Can you see if your mom or grand-mère have recipes for pulled pork, hand-cut fries, roasted corn on the cob, and strawberry shortcake? If not, I’ll try Bree, my mom, or Mr. Google. Then can you pick up what we need for all of it? For four people. I’ll explain later.
They have recipes for everything. Pye and I just finished our lovely sail. I want to hear the explanation. Home in a couple hours.
Sonya acknowledged with a heart emoji, then went back to work.
Once she finished setting up the new Ryder project, she shifted back to other clients.
Who knew that less than a year since starting her own business, she’d have an actual client list? And work, a nice flow of it, that challenged and satisfied.
And if that client list continued to grow, and the work continued to flow, she’d start thinking about—possibly—hiring an assistant. Part-time, and remote would be best, considering.
She cast a look at the ceiling.
At least for now.
She’d give it a few more months, then if—fingers crossed—the business earned and needed it, she’d start looking for the right person.
Yoda came back up, and instead of wiggling under her desk, just flopped down on the rug and went instantly to sleep.
Ten minutes later, with the library windows open, she heard Cleo drive up. She let the sleeping dog lie and went down to help Cleo bring in the groceries.