Chapter 37
Two days after Yolanda showed me how good it’s going to be, two days of dreaming about a future where I get to be with her openly, I’m riding La Vida Buena’s elevator from the lobby to the gym with Stone.
“I’m glad that HTL is over,” Stone says. “It cost me a fortune.”
“Serves you right.” I laugh. “Colette made me hold up my middle finger so she could kiss it.”
Stone falls against the side of the elevator laughing. “I’m too clever, even for myself.”
Bastard. “Well, it diffused any reaction to that picture with Yolanda. In fact, because that photo’s so dark and at an odd angle, it’s barely gotten any attention. The photo getting the most notice is the one of me and Sil.”
“I can see that,” he says. “They have a way of attracting attention. A delicate appeal that’s hard to resist.”
“I think it’s the lavender hair.”
Lips turned down in considered thought, Stone nods. “They have nice hair.”
We exit the elevator and make our way to the gym. I’m feeling pretty damn good right now, high on the possibility of a future filled with great sex with an amazing woman. It helps that Stone accepted my word that Yolanda’s innocent of the blackmail text and is now investigating other options.
I wave my phone over the keypad. It beeps green and we head inside.
“They’ve upgraded this place,” Stone says.
Unlike me, who’s had a bunch of coaching sessions here, it’s Stone’s first time back in the gym.
“She’s done a great job maximizing the space,” I say, looking around and admiring all the ways in which Yolanda’s made this place hers. There’s so much right about it. High ceilings, broad windows, state-of-the art equipment, and a smoothie bar—currently crowded by three contestants from the show.
It’s busy today. Some of that is from the influx of crew, but a lot has to do with Yolanda’s work in making this a community hotspot.
“How is the hotel languishing when this space is obviously popular?” Stone says.
“Divided interest,” I say. “The hotel never kept up with her investment in the fitness center.”
“You mean it’s a money issue, amigo. Something you never encountered.”
“True, but having access to my father’s fortune was only part of what helped me succeed. The other part was having people who believed in me and who helped me craft my brand.”
“You’re welcome.”
To this, I say nothing. Stone doesn’t need any more gratitude from me. He’s got a boatload of self-confidence.
“Hey,” Kay Lee says, waving from where she’s getting a smoothie with Sil and Colette. The others turn and say hello, too.
I wave back, but look away from their open interest, which is an obvious invite to join them. We bypass the treadmills to go to the area lined with three workout rooms. The first is occupied with a class being taught by Yolanda. Mateo plays bomba.
I watch her for a moment through the glass doors. She has a headset on, smiles widely, and lifts her arms as she sways hips and instructs a full class. She is so… vibrant.
Stone knocks my shoulder. “That’s not helping your cause.”
He’s right. People are paying attention to me watching Yolanda dance around, rocking those hips like she does it for a living—’cause she does. Shit. This is also not helping the near constant longing I have for her.
Jerking my eyes from the sight, I follow Stone to the second studio.
“So, what is this equipment Yolanda and Mateo want permission to use for the creativity challenge?” he asks.
“No idea.” I’ve barely seen her since the first stage of the show switched to La Vida. She’s been crazy busy getting everything ready for the transfer of the rest of the staff. “Mateo spoke with Parker about it and asked us to have a look today.”
He pulls open the doors and we enter to find Parker, Néstor, and some of the crew critically examining the space.
“We’re rethinking the lighting requirements,” Sayed, the lighting director, says. “This room’s darker than the others.”
Néstor is busy taking notes on his tablet like the excellent assistant he is.
Parker cranes her head to the ceiling. “I think this is the equipment,” she says. “The bands and such?”
Néstor looks up. His eyebrows raise. “Honestly, I didn’t see the bands the first time we came through.” He puts the tip of his stylus against his lower lip. “Should we ask them to remove them for the practice session?”
Sayed shakes his head. “I can work around them.”
I walk over and gaze at the ceiling. I can tell right away this isn’t some random bungee or band fitness equipment. There’s a clever mechanical system directing this setup.
I shine the light from my cell up at the ceiling. It’s high enough that the weak light helps little.
“What is it?” Stone asks.
“Looks like some kind of advanced aerial workout with bands.”
He snorts disapprovingly, but I think aerial workouts have gotten a bad rap. “It might not be your thing, but they add a level of fun to fitness and make certain moves accessible to people who might otherwise not be able to do them.
“Aerial equipment”—I nearly bump into Parker as I pace underneath with my head craned—”doesn’t usually provide enough resistance for true strength training or intense cardio. If this works the way it seems to, this system might overcome that issue.”
“It works. I designed it.”
Lowering my phone, I glance over to see Mateo. His face is set in a stern, unforgiving lines. Obviously, he’s holding a grudge about our hostile interaction in Yolanda’s office, but I’m too excited to care. “Explain it to me.”
His stern look doesn’t leave, but his eyes dart over to Parker then back to me. He walks over to a laptop stationed on a rolling cart in the corner. “The system reads the heart rate of each strapped-in participant, creating individualize resistance by spooling or unspooling tension bands.”
Holy shit. “I assume there’s a fitness tracker involved.”
He points at his wrist to a device like a smartwatch. “There is. It feeds the system the individual’s stats, adjusting for body weight.”
He presses keys on the keyboard and starts lowering the system, which includes four separate bands and a waist harness.
“It’s puppet-like?” Sayed asks. “With the machine guiding you?”
Mateo snorts. “No, it’s not. You’re in charge. The bands’ tension reacts to your pulse and heartbeat. The tailored resistance maximizes individual heart rate at points and lessens at others, depending on the program.”
“Holy shit, it’s aerial equipment that responds to you like a computerized treadmill.” I slap him on the back without thinking about it. “You’re a fucking genius.”
I expect him to keep glowering at me, but he smiles. “I know.”
“Do you have a patent?”
“It’s pending.”
“How long have you been working on this?” Parker asks.
“Five years. Since my uncle’s heart attack,” Mateo says. He stares directly at Parker. “But most of it was daydreaming. What I wanted to do wasn’t really possible until advances in technology. I had the idea, but I kept hitting limits until some AI genius in California solved my final problem. I used that invention to finish the design.”
“Is he on the patent?” Parker asks.
Mateo grins. “She sold me rights to use her technology.”
“What do you call it,” Stone asks.
“ícaro,” Mateo answers. Parker laughs at the name, and Mateo turns to her with a grin. “Because it gives one the sense of weightlessness, of flying, but you will feel the burn the next morning.”
I head toward the nearest equipment. “Do you have a routine programmed? What’s the most weight you can take? Are there limits for exercising time? Is there any way to incorporate press or is it all pull? Can I see a demonstration?”
“Now that Yolanda’s here,” Mateo says, his grin wide, “I can have her show you.”
Yolanda must’ve walked in while we were speaking. I turn. My gaze instantly falls to the curve of her body in black leggings and a matching exercise bra doing its valiant best to contain all that lushness. Much to my delight, it’s not succeeding.
I haven’t seen her since our, uh, meeting in her office. Until she walked in, I didn’t realize how much brighter things are with her around. Somehow, she brings light back to me. As scary as that should be, it’s not. I trust my read of her.
I trust her.