“You were ten, I was eleven,” Hank explained for Cray’s benefit. “All I had to do was lift my eyebrow and she would burst out laughing. Good thing they were looking for comic chemistry. Otherwise you’d be eating lunch with a couple of baristas right now.”
“I owe you my career, Hank.”
“Yes, you do,” he responded, with a teasing twinkle in his eye. Then the top of his nose wrinkled in a frown. “I still feel so bad about telling you about Sylvie and Parker, though.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Hank,” said Reilly. “I was embarrassed. I should have told you that I already knew. I felt as though I didn’t deserve anyone’s love or loyalty, and I tried very hard to convince other people of that for a while. You didn’t deserve my reaction. I’m sorry.”
A thousand thoughts rose to the surface for Reilly at the reference to the time when she had tried to put herself into emotional solitary confinement. It hadn’t been enough that she was already behind bars. She had tried to sever all ties. The incident with Hank had happened the same week as the one with her mother. When Hank mentioned Sylvie and Parker a few days after Melissa had, Reilly had just stood up and walked away from the visitor’s table.
She had immediately regretted her actions, feeling a cold sadness sweep over her as she walked back to her cell. The feeling of wanting to push people away, yet still longing for connection had been disorienting and she’d felt so confused. She also knew that the disconnection she felt had started well before she’d gone to prison. She had written letters to both her mother and Hank that day, apologizing, even though she didn’t try to explain what she was going through. Hank had responded first. Her mother had taken longer.
As Reilly sat there with Hank and Cray all these months later, she still didn’t understand it, but she knew that she was starting to live her life in a better way, and one day, she would understand the crisis that had driven her into the abyss that she was still trying to crawl out of. This knowledge made her grateful for having Hank in her life, and tears worried at the back of her eyelids. She concentrated on her food.
“No biggie, Rye. We’re past that. I’ll always love you. You can’t ditch this queen that easy,” said Hank, rubbing her arm. And just like that, she knew that he would understand when she had the courage to talk about it.
She cleared her throat and turned to face Hank. As she spoke, she punctuated her sentences with swats at his arm.
“Back to you two, then. What about the past three months? We’ve been hanging out at least once a week, Hank. Surely, it would have come up by now. Why haven’t you said anything about you two hooking up?”
“Ow!” squealed Hank, dropping the fork he’d been using and grabbing his shoulder. “You’re a witness, Cray. The hag battered me!”
“Don’t you change the subject, Hank! Why have you two been hiding this from me?”
“We haven’t, Reilly. I swear,” said Hank, retrieving his fork. “It just hasn’t come up. Cray’s been shooting some Kung Fu thing overseas for the last five months. He just got back a couple of days ago.”
“Check this out.” Cray lifted his shirt to reveal solidly defined abs. “That’s from Kung Fu. I followed Bruce Lee’s workout regimen to the letter. And, yes, I did my own stunts.”
“Nice! Your six pack is now an eight pack,” admired Reilly, leaning forward to see over the table.
“And I get to go home with that,” said Hank proudly.
“I can’t believe that I didn’t know. What kind of friend have I been?” Reilly sat back and pushed the food around on her plate.
“Relax, Rye. We’re cool,” said Hank. He rubbed her arm and smiled. “You need to stop beating people up—especially yourself.”
“God, I wish I could,” said Reilly. “I’m just a little tense. Our new movie starts shooting soon. It’ll be weird seeing people again. You know, since I got out.”
“What have you been doing?” asked Cray. “I can’t imagine you sitting at home reading.”
“That’s pretty much it,” admitted Reilly. “I mostly read scripts and work out in my home gym. Gotta get ready for the new movie.” She patted her own abs and thought about asking Cray for the Bruce Lee work out. The costumes would be revealing if they were anything like the last movie.
“You don’t go out at all? What about interviews?”
Reilly shook her head. “To my agent’s chagrin, I’m still living in the cone of silence as far as the press is concerned. I guess that will have to change when we start filming, thanks to the new language in my contracts. But for now I’m laying low. It’s tough, since they’ve been hanging around like gnats—staked out at the gate to my house and following me everywhere. So that’s made going anywhere but work tough—or tougher than normal, I guess. But I’ve gone down to the studio a few times to talk about Dare to Dream, and Hank and Alison have come over to the house a lot, but, other than that, I’ve been a hermit. To be honest, I’m starting to crawl out of my own skin, but I’m just not ready to answer the inevitable questions.”
“Have you tried yoga? Maybe it will help if you get out to do that. You could be around people without having to interact. There’s this one class that I go to that’s just amazing,” offered Cray.
Reilly thought back to prison and how yoga had been her lifesaver there. Since she’d been out she had tried to find an instructor or class even half as good as the one Fergie had taught. She’d almost given up.
Reilly lifted a cynical eyebrow. People in the Valley referred to everything as amazing. “I’ve tried a few classes. Is this class you speak of amazing, amazing? Or is it L.A. amazing? Because, seriously, I can’t deal with going to another hyped-up, amazing yoga class just to end up stuck in a room with a bunch of Barbie doll wannabes more concerned about the newest yoga pants than they are with the exercise. I want to go to a class where everyone is serious about it and the vibe is right.”
“Trust me. It’s amazing, amazing,” said Cray. “Besides, lots of industry folks go there, so you don’t have to worry about groupies eyeing your ass during downward dog. You’ll be able to get your chakra on there. Trust me.”
Reilly rolled her eyes but Cray ignored it.
“Besides, I think you’ll like the instructor. She’s a hottie. I’ll sign you up and give you the address.”
Downward Dog
THE NEXT DAY, REILLY FOUND herself on a quiet street in West Hollywood. It wasn’t more than two miles from her own house, but she’d never been down these particular streets. From the back seat of the car, Reilly surveyed the bucolic neighborhood as Alison pulled the car to a stop at the curb next to the address Cray had texted Reilly. The next text said that he had signed her up for the yoga class because he knew that she probably wouldn’t do it herself. She’d texted back denying it, but, secretly, she had to admit that he was right. Reilly had forced herself not to cancel. But now that she was there, she was excited about the class and hoped that it was as good as he promised. At the same time, she was a little apprehensive about venturing out in public. The unassuming location and large trees that arched over the streets helped ease her discomfort, though, and after telling Alison that she’d see her in an hour and a half, she pushed open the car door.
She stepped out onto the gently buckled sidewalk—the product of the roots of the mature magnolia trees lining the streets—and breathed in the scent of the large white flowers. The scent mingled with that of the lavender that grew along the front of the tall picket fence that ran next to the sidewalk. The sounds of the nearby city didn’t penetrate the tranquil street, and the dense but neatly trimmed foliage provided privacy to the homes. Most of the 1920’s built structures had been well kept, and in a town of constant makeover, it was surprising that most had retained their original architecture.
An unobtrusive sign engraved with the name Anahata Yoga hung from the gnarled branch of an old pepper tree, and it was the only indication that Reilly was standing in front of the studio Cray had recommended. She could bare
ly see a house beyond the hedges that stood behind the fence. A low gate opened through a vine-covered arch, and she made her way up the raised wooden walkway that meandered through the deep front yard and up to the front of the house. She was early, so she took her time and admired her surroundings, which were landscaped in a style that was a mesh of Japanese serenity garden and forest glen. Several large trees kept most of the yard in shade, and even on the warm June day, Reilly felt the air drop to a comfortable temperature as she walked beneath them. A small fountain, fed by a recirculating stream bordered by mossy rocks, ran from the porch and then under and along one side of the walkway. She paused about halfway to the house to watch the brilliant flashes of colored koi swimming amid the cover of water lilies in the shallow water. Lush vegetation all around provided an abundance of flowers and shadowed greenery. A wooden bench invited her to sit on a clover-covered mound under one of the trees on the other side of the stream. A small stone bridge provided access, and Reilly was tempted to wander over and sit there for a little while and just… be.
As she stood contemplating the fascinating and peaceful area, a group of three women stepped through the gate. Their conversation was held in respectful low voices as if they, too, felt the quiet peace that held Reilly enthralled. She stepped aside to let them pass, and a man with a yoga mat strapped to his back turned into the yard from the street. She was reminded that she was there for a class, and she turned to follow the group down the path, which split to run alongside the house and up to a studio that was located in a structure behind the main building.
A scaled-down version of the wide porch on the main house provided the threshold to the studio, which was accessed by wide French doors. The wood was rough-hewn, but heavily lacquered, providing a rich glow to the entryway, which flowed into a large open room to the right. The space was open and airy, sparsely furnished with clean lines and flat surfaces. Wood and brushed steel gleamed in the natural light spilling in from the many windows. A hallway to the left led to the back of the building.
Continuing to follow the lead of the other students, Reilly put her shoes, silenced cell phone, and keys into one of the highly polished wooden cubbyholes that lined one wall. She then spread her mat in the corner near the back of the room. No one talked. As if by an unspoken agreement, each person’s movements slowed and became deliberate once they entered the studio. Ambient music played low in the background. Reilly took her seat in the half-lotus pose on her yoga mat and closed her eyes. She soon drifted into a state of relaxed but heightened awareness. She aligned her center and shut her eyes, focusing only on her breathing.
She had no idea how long she sat like that, but she opened her eyes when a subtle shift in the energy of the room occurred. A pleasant ripple of tingles flowed across her back and along the length of her limbs. The natural light had been dimmed by bamboo shades that had been lowered since she had taken her seat, and she scanned the space around her. More people had entered the room. It wasn’t crowded, but it was filled to a comfortable capacity. When her eyes moved back to the front of the room, pulled by the source of the energy that she felt buzzing through her, a shock of recognition hit her. A light flutter filled her chest and stomach. The woman’s eyes were closed, but Reilly didn’t need to see them to know the silver flash that danced behind the lids.
“Eyes closed. Head high. We summon peace and focus from the space around us.”
The class had started and Drew’s smooth voice flowed down Reilly’s spine.
Reilly tried to subdue the reaction she had at seeing Drew again, and though she wanted to continue watching the lovely ghost from her past, she forced herself to close her eyes. She concentrated on her breathing and tried to summon the meditative state that Drew guided them toward.
Despite the underlying current of her distraction with Drew, the class ended up being everything that Reilly wanted it to be. Drew was serene and focused and showed no indication that she recognized Reilly. She took the group through the first few poses without saying much at all. In a voice imbued with velvet warmth, she said a few words to get wandering minds centered on the exercise, and then transitioned from one position to another. Most of the students were seasoned practitioners, and Drew was able to conduct the first part of the class from her mat, but when the poses became a little more difficult, she moved through the class to help reposition or align hips, shoulders, and limbs. Reilly could feel Drew’s proximity as if the air between them was solid, constricting and expanding with every step that Drew made toward or away from her. She had to fight to concentrate on the exercise and not to follow Drew’s path through the room.
The class was moving into parivrtta parsvakonasana, a pose that Reilly often had trouble breathing through, when she smelled the faint scent of cinnamon. The tingle that had danced along her skin earlier grew stronger. Warm hands encircled her ankle from behind and rotated her back foot just a fraction of an inch. The hands then moved up to realign her upward arm, and Reilly fought to keep her eyes pointed at the ceiling. The adjustments were enough to ease Reilly’s breathing, but the sensation of Drew’s touch almost overshadowed the relief. When gentle fingers next cupped her chin to tilt her head further, her breathing became difficult again, and it wasn’t at all because of the pose. Then the fingers were gone, and Reilly could breathe again. She felt every point on her body that Drew had touched long after she had moved on to the next student, but it was amazing what a difference the small changes had made.
From there, they went into simple lunges, and Reilly felt the strength of her body in a way that she never had before. She was strong and pliable, focused on maintaining her stance, and the distraction of Drew’s proximity added an exciting dimension to her workout. Eventually, the blend of emotion and physical exertion became a powerful focus for her, and the enfolding energy made her feel vibrantly alive. The concept of being in the moment never made more sense to her then it did right then.
When she raised her head for the final motion of the last lunge, she almost over-balanced in surprise when she found Drew watching her. The silver eyes seemed to bore into her. Reilly moved into position but held her eyes.
“From high lunges, we go to low lunges, or anjaneyasana.”
Reilly felt the timbre of Drew’s voice flow over her skin as she stepped forward, reached up, and dropped low. Drew nodded with a small smile and moved to correct the posture of the man in front of her. Reilly felt a twinge of jealousy that Drew’s attention had been averted, but the smile became an invisible focal point in her mind as she moved through the poses that Drew guided them through in her soft, low voice.
It seemed that the class had barely begun when Drew called out the last pose and instructed the students to lie down in the savasana position for the last minutes of class. The corpse pose was Reilly’s favorite part of the workout, and even with the distraction of Drew and the disappointment that the class was nearly over, Reilly was able to succumb to a place of peace that floated between awake and asleep. Then the gong sounded, and the prone bodies around her began to reanimate themselves.
“Namaste,” offered Drew in her low voice.
“Namaste,” replied the class, along with Reilly.
Reilly rose slowly, feeling the loose strength in the long muscles of her back, sides, and legs. Her mind was sharp from the closing meditation, and she felt amazing. Cray had been right.
The yoga class was perfect, and just what Reilly needed, despite the unexpected presence of Drew. She still held most of the sedate invigoration brought on by well-worked muscles and a focused mind. She glanced around the room, looking for Drew, but she didn’t see her. The other students, in their post-yoga experience, displayed the peace that she felt, and while some of them spoke in quiet tones to one another, the rest remained silent as they left the studio to carry on with their days. She gathered her things and made her way out through the French doors.
Moving slowly, she was the last one out, and as she closed the door, she felt a hand on her arm.
She knew who it was before she turned to see Drew. The same gaze that had startled her that first time so long ago, when the clear silver eyes had stared back at her, transfixed her again with their power. She didn’t know what to say or do. The life in which she had known Drew was buried in a past that Reilly had left far behind.
“I’m not sure if you remember me,” began Drew, letting her hand drop from Reilly’s arm.
Reilly continued to feel the place where Drew’s hand had been. She hoped her smile looked relaxed.
“Of course I remember you, Drew.”
Drew’s smile was as beautiful as Reilly remembered.
“Good. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to be uncool and assume.”
Reilly wondered if Drew was capable of being uncool.
“I’ll admit that it was a surprise to see you teaching the class. We have a mutual friend, Cray—he signed me up. He didn’t say you were the instructor, though.”
“I’ll have to thank him for sending you my way. Did you enjoy the class?”
“I did. It’s the best I’ve ever taken,” responded Reilly, and she meant it, although she wished that she didn’t sound like a breathless school girl saying it. Drew’s smile in response eased her discomfort.
“I’m flattered. I can tell that you’ve been practicing for a while.”
“A little while,” admitted Reilly. “My last instructor was exceptional.”
Reilly didn’t know why she added the last part. She wished that she had just said thank you. Instead, she had just opened herself up to questions about where she had attended her previous classes, who her teacher had been. There was no doubt in her mind that Drew knew about her time in prison, but it wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss with anyone—most of all Drew. The impression that Reilly once had of Drew being somehow above the seedier aspects of life—herself included—was validated. Reilly had observed Drew in her natural environment. The pure and peaceful energy that Reilly always felt in her presence made sense now. Drew wouldn’t have any interest in a person like her, unless it was pure curiosity.
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