Chapter 34
Flexual Healing CrossFit Gym, La Brea, Los Angeles
‘I’ve never belonged to a gym before,’ Antoinette tells me as we walk from the car into the building.
‘I’ve always had personal trainers. Mummy insisted on it.
It’s actually quite exciting.’ But her face falls when we get inside and she realises it’s not the kind of high-end health club she was expecting.
It’s not a ‘juice bar and spa’ kind of place, more like a fight club.
‘It’s giving dungeon,’ Antoinette mutters as we approach the brushed-steel reception desk.
There’s a flickering neon sign behind it, saying, ‘Now get flexed.’
‘Welcome to Flexual Healing,’ the guy at the desk says, barely looking up from his phone.
Even though his face stays at a forty-five-degree angle I can make out at least three piercings and a face tattoo.
‘Help you?’ He looks up now and takes us in, not bothering to hide his disdain.
I suppose we don’t really look the part in our brightly coloured Live the Process bodysuits.
I nudge Antoinette towards the desk.
‘We’re looking to sign up!’ she says in a voice as bright as our out-of-place gym wear.
The desk gremlin scowls. He’s like the antithesis of LA wellness and good vibes.
‘CrossFit?’ he asks, the words coming out long and slow. ‘Have you done it before? Because this isn’t really a beginner’s place.’
‘Of course,’ I say brightly. ‘We do it all the time back home. Every day.’ An image of me panting as I struggle to hold a plank for more than three seconds in this morning’s yoga class pings into my head. I shake it away.
His eyebrow shoots up. It’s pierced and possibly a little bit septic. ‘Every day?’
We nod enthusiastically.
‘Sometimes twice,’ Antoinette says and I nudge her again because she’s laying it on a bit too thick.
The desk goblin presses something in his ear. An earpiece. ‘Zane. I’ve got two British girls at front desk who want to join. They’re wearing pink. But they CrossFit every day back home.’ There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face. ‘Zane will be with you in a minute.’
We stand awkwardly and the desk monkey turns his attention back to his phone without even another look in our direction. We have simply ceased to exist to him.
‘Kitty,’ Antoinette says quietly as we wait for Zane. ‘You don’t have to do this class, you know.’
I glare at her. ‘Um. What do you mean?’
‘It’s just,’ she fiddles with her fingers, avoiding my eyes, ‘you were sort of struggling a bit with yoga this morning.’
‘I was not!’ I say. ‘It was fine. It was just very, very early.’
‘No shame,’ Antoinette says. ‘I’m just saying that maybe you could sit this one out. If you felt like it.’
‘I do not feel like it,’ I snap. ‘I can cope with an exercise class.’
‘Okay then. If you’re sure …’
I don’t like the way she tails off. ‘I am.’
‘Hi, ladies, I hear you’d like to join us here at Flexual Healing,’ a voice suddenly booms, echoing around the reception area.
It’s followed by the appearance of a man who I assume must be Zane.
He’s wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt with the words ‘WOD Warrior’ on it, shorts that are so short they’re borderline obscene and a beard that looks like it takes longer to style than my actual hair.
His arms are tattooed and big. ‘Indigo here tells me that you’re CrossFit pros from the UK?
’ The desk troll gives us a sardonic smile.
Of course he’s called Indigo.
I’m beginning to wonder if overplaying our CrossFit prowess may have been a mistake.
But Antoinette is not backing down.
‘Yes,’ she’s saying, giving me a barely noticeable side-eye, ‘we absolutely love it. We love it so much that we just had to find somewhere out here.’
Zane is nodding. ‘That’s great,’ he says.
‘In fact, I’m just about to start a session.
Why don’t you come and join in? I can see you’re dressed for it.
’ He turns and walks through a door that I fear will lead to this ‘session’.
Antoinette gamely trots along behind him.
It seems there’s nothing for me to do apart from follow too.
It feels like I’m heading to the gallows.
I swear I hear Indigo on reception laugh.
One hour later and I think I’m about to die. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to stand. It hurts to exist. I think my bones have all turned to liquid and I have no idea how I’m going to drive home. There don’t seem to be any messages being relayed from my brain to my legs.
‘That was great!’ Antoinette is saying, unaware of my imminent death. ‘What a buzz. I feel so strong.’ How nice it must be to be twenty years old and have muscles that don’t scream at you when you try to utilise them.
‘Great class, Antoinette,’ Zane is saying, visibly impressed with my sister. He looks at me. ‘And Kitty. Well, that was … something.’
It was.
Something awful.
He walks – well, he walks, I sort of waddle – us back through to the reception, where Indigo gives Antoinette a look of respect and me one of pity.
‘Are you going to sign up?’ Indigo asks my sister with more animation in his voice than I’ve heard.
‘Yes!’ she says. ‘I loved it. Best feeling ever.’
Indigo passes an iPad to her and points out the sections she needs to click on to be a fully signed-up member of this cult.
‘I don’t think I’m going to,’ I say.
Indigo gives me a hard look. ‘I didn’t ask you.’
Ouch.
I think I’ve just been rejected from Flexual Healing.