Chapter 9
Scarlett
My four other clients went by fast. I had a yoga class to teach and thought Matt might be there.
He wasn’t. I may be feeling disappointed, but that can’t be right.
I don’t like him at all. Well, I don’t want to like him.
My mind keeps forgetting. He’s confusing me with this nice side that came out of nowhere.
Best to move to Plan B: preoccupy my mind. I can do that. Lana and Paige are coming over tonight for pasta, wine, and movies. I’m rushing home to clean up before they arrive, leaving me no time to think. Perfect.
Forty-five minutes later, Lana walks through the door.
Her shoulders are slumped over and the smile she gives doesn’t reach her eyes.
She hasn’t been the same since her ex left.
She should be rocking her curvy, hourglass figure instead of hiding behind baggy clothes.
Her hair is usually down, hitting mid-back in beachy waves, but she chooses to put it up in a messy bun all the time now. I hate her ex.
After a couple minutes, Paige arrives in some sort of designer brands. Her blonde hair is straight, hitting below her chin.
“Hello, ladies!” she announces, giving us a big hug. “I have your boy toys right here!” She holds out two wine bottles, making us laugh.
I grab the wine and head towards the kitchen with them behind me. I have a one-bedroom cottage outside of our little downtown. It’s small, but cozy. I’ve enjoyed how close it is to trails, the long walkway to the front door lined with seasonal flowers, and my neighbors.
We walk through the small “foyer” past the entry table I never stop dusting. We get to the living room with a chic, cream-colored couch. Paige takes a seat at the high bar separating the two areas on a wooden barstool. If you keep walking down the hall, you’ll find my bedroom and bathroom.
I start pouring wine into three glasses. Water is on the stove ready to boil for pasta. Lana makes herself at home by mixing a sauce concoction I’m sure will be delicious. She has always enjoyed cooking. Paige prefers to eat out, and I cook to have calories. We love when Lana is around.
“I’m dying to know how it went today! You know, with Mr. Red,” Paige starts, while grabbing her wine.
Oh boy.
“It was...interesting. You’ll never guess what I did,” I explain. They look at me, waiting to continue. “I told him coming feels healthy!” My hands rush to cover my face. “I was mortified.”
“Shut up! What did he say?” Paige asks, leaning in with a sly grin. Lana keeps to her cooking.
I put my hands down. “He agreed! Then he said my body could teach him new things.” I take a drink of wine to hide my smile.
“Oh my gosh!” Paige claps her hands together.
“Nothing weird happened after that, thank god!”
“Hmmm, good. Don’t let him walk all over you.” She pauses. “Unless you want him on top of you for a night.”
I choke on my wine as my eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Paige, he’s a client. I can’t hook up with a client. ”
“So you do want to hook up with him?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“That’s not what I said.” I shake my head.
“I didn’t hear a denial.”
“Listen, we’re going to be owners soon. We can’t hook up with anyone we’re training.”
“That’s not going to leave us many options, you know.” She swirls her wine around in her glass.
“Paige, we have to act professional. Meaning no interaction with clients in an inappropriate way. We don’t need to ruin our reputation before reopening the gym.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that, he’s the first guy you’ve been attracted to in forever . Isn’t there some sort of loophole we can create so you guys can still date? I think it’s fine to date a client, as long as they’re not our personal client.”
“No! There’s no dating clients. Besides, he may look attractive, but I know for sure, no matter how many masks he wants to put on, he’s an asshole at his core. No thanks.” I swipe my hand across my body from shoulder to shoulder.
“Okay, whatever you say.” She bites her nail. “But a nice pounding might be good for you. Relieve some stress. Explore. Let go.”
“I know how to let go,” I deadpan.
“Right,” she says, staring at me, unconvinced. “Having a plan to do drinks is letting go?”
“That’s not the point.” I cross my arms.
“Listen, no one here is judging you. If you want it, go after it. We’ll tell Jason to schedule him with someone else.” She extends her arm and points her finger at me. “Ha, I already found the loophole!”
“I appreciate that, but sex should be more than a good pounding. I don’t need anything complicated, I’m looking for simple. We’re buying a business. I don’t need a relationship to distract me right now.”
“It can be simple! Simply tell him you’d fuck him in a heartbeat.”
“Paige! I don’t know how to be you. I want to be with someone for a connection, not just dick.”
“But dick is really nice.”
I glare at her. I have no words and we aren’t getting anywhere with this conversation.
“Okay, I’m giving up,” she says, putting her hands in the air. “What color am I glowing today?”
“You want me to read your aura?” I stare back at her, puzzled.
“I can’t convince you to go after a hot guy, so next topic of conversation. What color am I glowing today?”
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I need a breather anyway after the conversation we just had. Once I’m focused, I look up and past her to see her glowing yellow like sunshine. It tells me she’s happy and excited. Typical.
“Yellow. Super clear.”
“What color is Lana?”
Lana shifts from foot to foot as she stirs her sauce. Probably rolled her eyes. “Why do you care?” she sighs.
“Scarlett has a talent! It’s cool.” Paige glares at Lana’s back. “Come on Scar, what color is she?”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Once I look to Lana a gloomy purple appears. Lana has always been intuitive, but since her breakup, her aura is always murky and unclear.
“Purple, but cloudy.”
Lana looks over her shoulder at me, almost throwing her glasses off her face. She pushes them up. “Cloudy?”
I lift one side of mouth in pity. “I hate Ryan.”
“Ditto,” agrees Paige .
“Whatever. Dinner will be up in five.” Lana turns back to her sauce.
Forty-five minutes later, we have dinner plated, have watched half a movie, and have one bottle of wine down. We all agree to open another bottle. Paige is pouring us glasses and then has the bright idea to have a dance party, running for the speaker.
A song with a fun beat starts blaring, and all three of us jump up on the coffee table. My coffee table seems like a strong piece of wood, but will it hold all three of us? Who knows.
We’re all swaying our hips, hands in the air, singing in a tone meant for dogs. After two minutes, Lana bumps my hip in a smooth sway, making me lose my footing, and I fall to the ground on my side. At least there’s an area rug trying to break my fall.
A tiny throb shoots through my hip, but we’re laughing so hard the pain doesn’t register.
Lana is standing on the coffee table crouched over me, trying not to laugh.
She can’t contain it, which leaves her making a snorting sound.
It makes us all laugh harder. Paige has given up and is laughing through tears while she’s lying on the floor next to me.
It's too hard to get up with my body caught in the middle of Paige and the coffee table leg. I continue to lay on the floor, my stomach tight, tears in my eyes, and cheeks aching. The harder one of us laughs, the more we all start laughing. It’s an endless, psychotic cycle.
I’m pretty sure ten minutes have gone by before we can catch our breath.
“I always thought I had good coordination,” I pant.
“Apparently not,” Paige contends.
“Lana, take it easy with those damn hips!” I tease, and we all start giggling again.