by Jane Hinchey
“I hadn’t forgotten.” I protested. I had. I’d totally forgotten.
“Laura has offered to give us a lift. I’ll tell her to pick you up from Ben’s house.”
“Yep. Fine. No worries.” I eyeballed my overflowing suitcase. Did I have anything remotely suitable for yoga in there?
“The class starts at six. We’ll swing by about quarter to. Be ready.”
“I will, don’t worry. I’ll see you tonight then.” I disconnected the call and looked at Ben, who was watching me with one of those constipated expressions again. Which usually meant he was trying not to laugh. “What?” I grumbled, shoving my phone back into my pocket. The following thunk behind me told me I’d missed, and it had slid down my leg to land on the carpet.
“You’re going to… yoga?”
“So what?”
“You? The most uncoordinated person I know… yoga? Oh man, this I gotta see!”
I bent to pick up my phone. “You’re not invited. Absolutely not.”
“Uh, Fitz?” Ben jerked his head toward Galloway and Young who were watching me from across the room, eyebrows practically in their hairlines, watching me talking to thin air. Friggin’ perfect.
“What?” I sniffed defensively. “Is it a crime for a girl to talk to herself?”
“Smooth, Fitz. Smooth.” Ben laughed. I shot him a look that told him if he were alive right now, I’d kill him.
“Everything okay?” Galloway asked, eyebrows settling into their rightful place.
“That was my mom.” I explained. “Reminding me of yoga class tonight.” Not that I needed to explain anything to him. Just that I was super aware of how absolutely friggin’ insane I must look.
“Yoga?” The way he said it, as if I was nuts to even consider such a thing, had my hackles rising. What is it with the males in my life thinking it hilarious that I should take a yoga class?
“Just because I’m clumsy and uncoordinated doesn’t mean I can’t do yoga.” I huffed, crossing my arms.
Galloway shook his head. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”
“No?”
“No. My concern is that you were in a vehicle roll over last night. And the way you’re holding yourself right now tells me you’re in pain. Are you sure yoga is such a good idea?”
“The doctor said gentle exercise was fine.” Okay, so he hadn’t mentioned yoga specifically, but it couldn’t be that hard, could it?
16
“Okay ladies, let’s walk the dog.”
With my palms and feet flat on the yoga mat, and my butt in the air, I glanced up at the yoga instructor. What did walk the dog mean? I’d only just mastered downward dog.
“Now walk your feet in towards your hands and roll up through the body.”
What? I’d missed walking the dog. Rather than roll up through the body, I shot upright, standing to attention, when I belatedly realized we weren’t done yet. Oh no. Everyone else was standing with their hands together like they were praying. I quickly followed suit.
The instructor, Fliss was her name, continued. “Raise your hands and your face to the sun.”
Whaaaat? We were inside. There was no sun.
“And fold down the body into a plank. Inhale and exhale, heart over the hands, into chaturanga, breathing into upward dog, and exhale into downward dog. Center yourself. Tell yourself I am enough.”
“I’ve had enough.” I said under my breath. Laura, dangling upside down next to me, overheard and started to giggle, which made me giggle, and pretty soon the two of us had collapsed on the floor in a fit of laughter. Mom had lowered herself to her knees and was looking at us, her lips twitching, then she was in peals of laughter too.
“It’s okay,” Fliss said, “you’re releasing emotion.” At least she was smiling, not annoyed at us. Unlike Amanda, who was moving from pose to pose with practiced ease, all lithe and toned in her Lululemon yoga pants, her face a perfect mask of disapproval.
“Yoga is about releasing, letting go.” Fliss continued, moving from pose to pose fluidly. “While building strength, flexibility, ease.”
Laura, mom, and I got ourselves under control and attempted to resume the class, but what happened next slayed me. We were back in a downward dog, clearly Fliss’ favorite pose, when Amanda farted. It wasn’t a soft little toot either. It was a loud foghorn of a fart. I looked at Laura who was doubled over, clutching her stomach, body wracked with silent laughter. She turned her face toward me, and I could see tears streaming down her red face.
“We’re releasing emotion,” Laura struggled to get the words out, “and Amanda’s releasing gas.”
That was it. I was done. A wave of laughter engulfed me, I couldn’t contain it, I laughed and laughed, laughed so hard I cried. The three of us, mom included, were a mess of hysteria. I vaguely heard Fliss saying, “Passing gas while practicing yoga is not unusual. You’re moving your body in ways that will stir up your guts, which is a good thing.”
I tried to get my mirth under control, I really did. Amanda was going to be so mad at us, but then I caught sight of her and she was laughing too and pretty soon the entire class joined in.
“Okay, ladies, let’s wrap it up on such a happy note. Namaste.” Fliss bowed.
“Namaste.” We choked in reply.
I straightened and wiped my fingers over my wet cheeks, still chuckling. We returned our mats to the storage room, while Amanda rolled the one she’d brought with her and tucked it under her arm.
“You were pretty good for your first try.” She said to me. “With practice you’ll find yoga will really help with your clumsiness.”
I sucked in my lips, releasing them with a popping noise. I wasn’t convinced yoga was for me. I hadn’t found it particularly relaxing, or centering, or whatever else it was that I was supposed to get out of it. I hadn’t even farted. Plus there was Amanda, trying to fix me. Again.
“But there was something I noticed, Audrey.” Amanda reached out and tugged the hem of my T-shirt up. “What’s this?”
“Hey!” I tried to slap her hand away, but she held firm, lifting the shirt high enough to reveal the bruise across my hips. “Quit it.”
Laura and mom sucked in a shocked breath. “Audrey, what happened?” Mom touched my hip in concern.
“It’s okay, I’m fine, it’s just a bruise.” Annoyed, I snatched the fabric from Amanda’s fingers. She narrowed her eyes. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that looks like a seatbelt bruise to me.” She said.
“How would you know?” I snapped. Trust Amanda to ruin a perfectly good evening.
“Because I’ve seen plenty of photos from the motor vehicle accident cases my firm handles.”
Oh. She was right, she probably saw plenty of photos with very similar bruises to mine. Darn it.
“Okay fine. I had a car accident. Happy now?”
She took a step back, hand to her chest, eyes wide, expression hurt. “Audrey! I’m only concerned that you’re hurt, and that you didn’t feel you could tell us.”
“I didn’t want to tell you because you’ll all make a big fuss. Kinda like you’re doing now.” I’d known my family would find out eventually that I’d rolled Ben’s car, but I’d hoped to delay the inevitable long enough for my bruises to fade.
“Have you been to a doctor?” Laura asked, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. She knew how I felt about Amanda. I loved my sister-in-law, I did, but Amanda was always trying to fix my clumsiness, resulting in me feeling like I was always less of a person around her. Damaged. It often put me on the defensive, and tonight was no exception.
I nodded. “Yes, I’ve been checked out and I’m fine. It’s just bruising from the seat belt as Amanda pointed out.”
“What happened?” Mom asked, glassy eyed.
“Oh, mom.” I hugged her. “I’m fine, I promise. If I was really hurt I’d tell you. But I’m not, and you know how I bruise. There isn’t a day gone by when I don’t add another to the collection.”
Like today, fo
r example, when I’d fallen over the railing and slammed into the wall. Both knees now sported fresh bruises. But again, that wasn’t something I’d choose to share with my family, especially with Amanda here, for she’d double down her efforts on trying to fix me. That was what this yoga class had been about after all, no matter that she’d disguised it as a gift for all of us.
“It was my own fault. I was driving Ben’s Nissan, took a corner too fast, and it rolled.” All three women sucked in their breath.
“You rolled it?” Laura asked, eyes huge as saucers. I nodded. “I’m devastated about it. I loved that car. But I guess I wasn’t used to driving it, what with a higher center of gravity and all.” Part truth, part lie. I figured it best to leave out the fact that the reason I was driving so fast in the first place was because I was being chased by bad guys who were shooting at me.
Mom slung an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. I hid my flinch. If they thought the bruises across my hips were bad, they should see my shoulder. But that’s why I’d worn a T-shirt to yoga, rather than a tank top. To hide the mottled purple and black marring my skin.
“You’ve had an awful couple of days, love.”
I sighed. Truer words had never been spoken. They didn’t know about the harassment from Officer Mills, the trumped-up charges. And I was pretty sure he’d broken my taillight just so he could book me for it. I was also convinced he’d responded to my break in call so fast because he’d been stalking me, probably patrolling around and around my block waiting to flag me down for some other made up transgression. But all of that, I kept to myself.
“Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should get going, we’re the only ones left.” I pointed out. The surrounding room had emptied while I’d faced the Fitzgerald family’s version of the Spanish inquisition.
“Actually, I found it quite cathartic.” Laura looped her arm with mine and together we headed toward the door. “The laughter that is.” She added. “I haven’t had a good laugh like that in ages… I feel better for it.”
“Same.” I smiled. She was right. It had been cathartic and like Laura, I too felt better than when I had before class, only it had been because of letting loose in uncontrollable laughter, not the yoga itself.
“So glad you enjoyed it.” Amanda beamed, turning to flash her pearly whites at us while she walked ahead. “Does this mean you’ll be joining me for regular classes?”
“Doubtful.” Laura said under her breath, nudging me in the ribs.
“I’ll think about it.” I said, loud enough for Amanda to hear. Laura swung her head. “Really?” She whispered. I shook my head. Nope. I wasn’t a massive fan of exercise in any form and trying to follow tonight’s class had been stressful. By the time I got myself into the right pose, Fliss had moved on to the next. I felt like I’d been constantly two poses behind the entire class. Let’s not talk about balancing. Anything on one foot was my downfall. Literally.
We were out in the carpark, heading toward Laura’s people mover when I glimpsed movement out the corner of my eye. In the far corner of the lot were a man and woman, kissing passionately, pressed up against a red sports car. I paused. The woman looked familiar.
“Tsk.” Amanda said, stopping by my side and watching the couple. “Those two are at it again.”
I peered closer. “Is that? Is that Regina Davis?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Regina Davis was pashing someone who I was pretty sure wasn’t her husband, not by the way her hands were clenching his ass and pulling him close. This guy didn’t kiss like a gay man kissing a woman. Not that I’d know, but I assumed a gay man would not be all over a woman like this guy was all over Regina.
“You know her?” Amanda asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “She’s been hooking up with her gardener for a while now. Tells her husband she’s coming to yoga and instead meets Juan in the parking lot and they head off in his truck. Probably to some seedy hotel that charges by the hour.”
“Is this common knowledge? Like… an open secret?” I was thinking how everyone seemed to know that Regina’s husband was having a long-term relationship with his male secretary so wouldn’t bat an eye at Regina having a little fun of her own.
Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve seen them a few times. Other people may have as well, but I haven’t heard anyone gossiping about them if that’s what you mean.”
Laura tooted the horn of her people mover. “You coming? Or catching a lift with Amanda?”
“I’m coming!” I hurried to jump in the back seat, squeezing in between baby seats, all the while thinking about Regina Davis and her secret affair. It wasn’t exactly a motive for murder. Not unless Myra knew about the affair and was threatening to blab. Or maybe blackmail her. I really needed to have another chat with Myra.
Mom and Laura dropped me home, my new home, previously known as Ben’s house.
“Amanda meant well.” Mom said, kissing my cheek.
“I know mom. She always does.”
“I’ll round up the troops and we’ll sort out your apartment on Saturday.”
“Thanks mom. You’re the best.”
Laura tooted the horn, and drove off while I unlocked the door and let myself in.
“About time!” Thor greeted me. “I’m starving.”
I’d come to learn that his complaints that imminent death from starvation was actually Thor showing his relief that I’d turned up at all, that he’d missed me. I ruffled the fur on top of his head. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”
He trotted ahead of me, tail straight up in the air, much like a one finger salute. I chuckled. Yep, if Thor could flip me the bird, that would be it.
“How did yoga go?” Ben asked. I’d forbidden him to come and after much arguing he’d finally agreed to stay put with Thor.
“It was as you’d expect. Laura, mom, and I got the giggles.” I smiled at the memory. “Oh, and Amanda farted.”
“Amanda?” Ben snort laughed. “She wouldn’t have liked that!”
“Actually, she wasn’t fazed at all. But then she’s been doing yoga for years, so it probably wasn’t the first time she dropped one in class.” I dropped my bag at the end of the sofa and headed into the open-plan kitchen, making a bee-line for the coffee machine. Correction. My Keurig, which now sat alongside Ben’s fancy, complicated, machine.
“Oh, and get this. I caught sight of Regina Davis in a compromising position with her gardener.”
“Compromising position? What, as in… yoga?”
“No silly. They were kissing in the parking lot. Amanda tells me she’s seen them before, that Regina pretends to go to yoga, leaves her car in the lot and takes the gardener's truck to some hotel.”
Ben opened his mouth to reply, but the doorbell ringing had him snapping it shut again. Before I could so much as blink he was off toward the front door, sticking his head through it to see who was on the doorstep.
“It’s Galloway. You’re going to like this.” His grin was wide as he stepped back, allowing me to pass without coming into contact with his icy visage.
“Like what?” I asked, then opened the door to find Galloway standing there with a pizza box balanced on one hand, a six-pack in the other.
“I took a gamble you haven’t eaten.” He said by way of greeting. Ben was right. I liked this. A lot.
“You better come in, detective.”
17
You know what’s better than beer and pizza? Having someone serve you beer and pizza. Galloway waved me to the sofa and told me to put my feet up while he served up the food. I could see Ben getting twitchy that we were eating on the sofa and not the dining table and I shot him a wink and a silent promise to try not to get pizza sauce on the cushions.
“How was yoga?” He asked around a mouthful of pizza.
“As expected,” I replied, taking a swig of beer. “I wobbled all over the place like a newborn foal trying to find his legs for the first time.”
Galloway smiled. “And the shoulder?”
“How do you even know my shoulder has been bothering me?” I reflexively rolled the shoulder in question, wincing at the answering twinge. Yep. Still hurt.
“Because you pull that face whenever you move it.” He said drolly. Standing up, he gathered our dirty plates and stacked them in the dishwasher, rummaged around in the freezer, then returned with a bag of frozen peas.
“Uh. No thanks.”
He snorted. “It’s for your shoulder. Next best thing to an ice pack.” He pressed it against my shoulder and I automatically put my hand over his to hold it in place. That sizzle was back, the one wherever my skin came into contact with his, and a spark ignited. I’m surprised we didn’t defrost the peas. Slowly he eased his hand out from beneath mine and resumed his seat. I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face.
Ben snorted and started making kissy faces behind Galloway. I ignored him.
“You said some stuff happened today?” Galloway said, reminding me of what I’d whispered to him in my apartment.
“Yes. It’s Mills. I think he’s following me. He pulled me over twice today and ticketed me both times. One for using my cell phone while driving. FYI I wasn’t! But it’s effectively his word against mine.” I shrugged, the peas crinkling in my ear. “Then when I came back to my car after lunch, my taillight was all busted out and he ticketed me for that.”
“You think he broke it?” Galloway didn’t even sound surprised.
I nodded. “There’s no other damage, like if someone hit me, there would have been scrape marks on the paintwork or something, surely. And then the break in? He was there really fast, like he was waiting right out front.”
“I’ll look into it.” He glanced around. “This place has an alarm system, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Why? You think I’m in danger?” I was shocked. Mills was being a dick, sure, but would he take it that far?
“I’m saying you need to watch your back. Yesterday someone was shooting at you. Today your apartment was broken into. And I’d sleep better knowing you were safe.” My mind drifted to visions of Galloway sleeping, wondering if he slept nude, picturing him spread out across a bed, a sheet tucked tantalizing low on his hips.