Moe rolled up her mat and tucked it under her arm.
“I thought your lunch was sacred. Didn’t you say that to me? ‘Mila, I don’t take your lunch class because my lunch is scared. Unlike you, I need food three times a day like a normal person,’ ” I mimicked, trying to sound like her and failing miserably.
Moe smirked and stood silently.
“Saw that there, uh, with Atlas did you?” I said, avoiding her eyes. Black pools of honesty those eyes.
She still didn’t speak. Crap. The silent stare. Not good.
“It’s not anything. That part about him being my boyfriend.” I laughed and knotted my fingers together, so I’d have something to do with my hands. “Total bullshit. He was trying to get my goat. I haven’t even known him long enough to call him my boyfriend.”
Moe tilted her head. That’s all she did. Tilt her head. Her black eyes turned to ebony daggers designed to pierce the truth right out of her victims.
“Okay!” I threw up my hands in the air. “We fight. We kiss. We’re probably going to fuck.” I lifted my head to the swirls I’d painted on all the ceilings. They’d been a nice addition for the patrons to have something beautiful to look at. “God, I hope we’re going to fuck. I mean, we’ve been leading up to it all week.”
I glanced at her and then away. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. It wasn’t intentional. I swear. You know me. No rest for the wicked. I’ve been working my butt off and painting. I’m painting again. A new piece,” I added excitedly. “One that’s really coming along.”
Still nothing. Moe licked her lips and let out a slow exhale.
“I would have told you about him. Honestly. I didn’t know where it was going. Please, don’t be mad. You know I can’t stand it if you’re mad. I’ll do anything. Paint another room in your house? Go to the movies.”
Nothing. Moe blinked innocently and tapped her manicured nails against the rolled up mat in her arm.
“Fine. I’ll move in with you. Okay. I’ll move in. End of the month. Just please stop with the silent treatment. I can’t stand it.”
Moe smiled wide. “Wow. You sure dug yourself a hole, scratched your way to the surface, and came out on top.”
“I can’t have you mad at me.” I meant those words with my entire being. She was all I had in life. Moe and her daughter, Lily, were the only family I could claim.
Moe tapped her teeth with her fingernail. “I wasn’t mad. Surprised, but not mad. That boyfriend thing threw me for a loop, but more so the way you responded to his touch was a sight to see.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Every time he touches me, I turn to jelly. I lose all my faculties. It’s stupid. A stupid, silly girl crush.”
She frowned. “Having feelings for a man is not stupid, Mila. Being in a relationship has its advantages.”
I scoffed. “I am not in a relationship with Atlas Powers. We’re just having fun. We fight like crazy. He drives me absolutely bonkers!”
“Bonkers? I do not believe that is a clinical description for the insane. And there’s nothing wrong with being in a relationship with a man.”
“Moe…” I warned. “Don’t you start…”
“There isn’t.”
I took that moment to gather my things, turn off the music, and head toward the door. “I don’t do relationships.”
She followed me through the Lotus House facility. We waved at the other teachers and clients that had taken my classes before.
“Just because you haven’t done them before, doesn’t mean you can’t do them now.”
“Do what? A hot guy? I definitely plan on doing Atlas Powers. Many, many, many times even,” I said lustfully.
“Not that. Relationships. Don’t change the subject.”
We exited onto the sunny Berkeley street. The scent of cinnamon and coffee wafted through the air from the bakery. Briefly, I wondered if Dara was working today. Probably. The girl always ran the counter if she wasn’t at work or teaching a class. Family businesses were tough, I’d imagine. A steady commitment.
“I don’t think I’m the relationship type. It’s not like I have anything to offer.”
Moe’s black eyes seemed like endless midnight pools as she focused on me. “You have so much more to offer than you’re aware of, Mila. Love, friendship, honesty, that’s all a good relationship needs to thrive and…survive.” Her voice cracked when she said the last word.
“And you’d know about that because yours was so perfect?” I winced the second it was out of my mouth. Monet did not deserve what that jerk had done to her. Throwing away years of marriage and a family for a two-bit home-wrecking whore. “Moe, I’m sorry…”
She held her hand up. “No. No, you’re right to some extent, but so am I. My relationship with Kyle wasn’t honest, and in the end, it didn’t survive. Still, I’d give anything to have a man in my life. A man who loved me for me and wanted to commit to a future with me and my daughter. One day, I hope to find it.”
I gripped her hands in mine and then brought them up to my lips. I kissed her fingers. She was the only person besides her daughter who I was super affectionate with. Probably because we were more than just best friends. We were soul sisters. “And you will, Moe. That perfect guy is out there. I know it.”
“Then why do you not think the same for yourself?” She whispered the question through her emotions.
I swallowed down the lump of unease. “Because I’m not as good as you. I’m not a prize. You are. Any man would thank his lucky stars to score you for life. Me…not so much.”
“Mila,” she gasped. “You can’t possibly believe that.” Her voice shattered and tears filled her eyes.
I shook my head, dusting off the emotion and focusing on the day. “What I believe is that you need to eat three square meals a day. And you haven’t told me why you were at my lunch class. So let’s get something good at Rainy Day, and you can continue trying to make me believe that everyone has their perfect better half out there for them.”
She groaned, lifted her head to the sky, and spoke. “God. You gave me the most stubborn best friend in the universe. Thanks!” she finished dryly.
“Come on.” I looped my elbow through hers. “You’ll like me a whole lot more when I feed you.”
“True. Besides, I want to know more about the hot yoga guy.”
Chapter Eight
Modified Warrior 1 (Sanskrit: Virabhadrasana I)
Warrior 1 in yoga can be difficult for individuals with very stiff hips. Women who have given birth may have a harder time moving into the full pose right away. I personally like to offer variations on the traditional Warrior 1 in my classes as shown in the image. In this picture, the woman’s feet are about half a leg distance apart, both facing forward and spread away from the body about shoulder width. Instead of moving her arms up straight and turning the hips perfectly forward, her arms are held in a moon shape. Warrior 1 is a balance and strengthening pose that often looks like a dance move.
ATLAS
The bar was hopping the moment I arrived. Harmony Jack’s was one of the better venues I frequented. They treated me well, gave the talent free beer, and paid in cash. Nothing to report to Uncle Sam meant the three hundred I’d make tonight would go directly toward making a new demo mix. The last scout I’d talked to wanted a high-quality recording. All I had to offer was something lower class that I’d made in my room through a series playing to my computer. Stupidly, my theory was once these studio execs saw me live, they’d want to sign me straight off. That had not happened, and the potential for it was a candle right down to the last inch of wax. If I didn’t score something in the next year or two, I’d be out. I’d given myself until thirty to make my dream of being a full-time musician come true. At twenty-eight, my prospects were nil. I couldn’t continue to work night and day on something that wasn’t bearing any fruit.
My mother had been suggesting I go back to school, get a bachelor’s, and then teaching credentials. That way I could teach music and, in her
mind, enjoy the best of both worlds—music and a steady paycheck. The option was solid but not what I wanted to do with my life. I’d much rather be behind the mic or at the very least, behind the artist, writing song lyrics and the accompanying music. Only I had to find a way to stand out.
I surveyed the room. Patrons danced in a corner. Opposite that was a set of four pool tables and a shuffleboard table where four scantily glad women were bent over, giggling and carrying on. Pink and blue flashing lights blinked over the long wooden bar, clearly stating Harmony Jack’s was open for business. Every stool had a butt in the seat, which was good for me. On top of the three hundred, the owner, Jacqueline, who everyone simply called Jack for obvious reasons, allowed me to have my guitar case open for extra tips. Sometimes it made me feel like a peddler, but most of the time, I sucked it up. At the end of a good night, I’ve had an additional hundred or two to pocket.
I hopped up on to the stage and set out my equipment. The stage was dark, so moving around didn’t draw much attention. A jukebox played R.E.M.’s “Losing my Religion,” a classic if I’d ever heard one. After setting up, I headed down to the busy bar. Off to the side, I noted a head of spiky blond hair.
Using my shoulder, I rammed my buddy’s bulk into the bar top. He turned with a grimace on his pretty boy face until he realized who it was. “What are you doing here, man?”
Clayton Hart, my friend and roomie, smiled wide, showing off his pristine pearly whites. His sky-blue eyes assessed me, and he curled an arm around my shoulder for a man-hug, which included a smack to my back so hard I coughed.
“Jesus, lay off the steroids!” I joked.
He chuckled. “You know this is all hard work. You want to look like this?” He gestured down his massive chest. There was not a lick of fat on the guy. “You let me know. I’ll have you twice the size by winter.” Funny thing about Clay, he did not lie. Every client he had seemed to be bigger than the last. Except for the celebrity females he trained. Those he tended to keep lean and fit yet still with some softness to keep Hollywood calling.
“Overachiever,” I grumbled. “Seriously, though, did you have a client cancel? Usually you’re home on Wednesdays.”
That’s when I realized he was not sitting alone. By his side was none other than baseball’s finest, Trent Fox.
Clay gestured to his right. “Fox, you met my roommate, Atlas? He works at Lotus House with your wife.”
“Wife. I wish. That fireball of mine does not yet have my ring on her finger. Soon though. Me and the little one are wearing her down.” He grinned and then held out a hand to me. “Trent Fox. Good to meet ya,” the man said, his voice a deep growl.
“Pleasure to meet ya, man. I love the Ports, and you’ve had a killer year so far.”
He nodded. “Yep. Only downside is leaving the family.”
“That’s right, you just had a kid, yeah?”
He nodded. “Ten months old. William. Kid’s huge. Wears double the size he’s supposed to. Pisses his mother off something fierce how often she’s got to switch out his clothes. Me, I laugh my ass off. My kid will not be picked on.”
Jack made it over to the bar, a fine sway to her curvy hips. Her hair was cut into a pixie style and spiked every which way. It suited her. She wiped off the bar in front of the three of us, an arm full of tinkling bracelets clacking against the bar with each movement. “What are you having, Atlas?”
“Beer. Whatever’s cold and on tap is fine.”
“Gentlemen? A refill?”
“Gin and tonic for me. Beer for my buddy,” Clay said.
Trent turned his barstool around so he could assess me fully. “So you’re the talent I’m here to see tonight.”
I glanced at Clay. He pretended to find the woman who’d been eye-fucking him since I walked up, all of a sudden interesting.
I rubbed my hands together. “That would be me.”
“You any good?” Trent asked.
I shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.”
“Fair enough.”
“Hey, Atlas, what’s the deal with you and that chick from the studio?”
Trent’s body went stiff right in front of me. “Petite blonde?” He growled the question.
I shook my head. “No, man. I know Genevieve is your girl. Dash is my best friend and gave me the heads-up. Believe me. Every man alive knows you’ve claimed that woman.”
“Damn straight!” He grimaced.
I laughed. Protective much? Jesus. I’d never been in a position to feel that old-fashioned sense of ownership over a woman before. Probably because the longest relationship I’d had was a month or two. Nah, probably more like six weeks.
Clay chuckled and shook his head. “Man, that little thing has you twisted up in knots.”
“If she’d fuckin’ marry me already, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. As it is, I don’t want to be having this conversation. Back to you.” He pointed to me. “Who are you hot for at the studio? I know them all now. Let me guess…Luna or Dara?”
I grinned and thought about Luna. The redhead daughter of one of the owners was very pretty in a porcelain classic beauty type way and not at all my type. Dara, I’d bang the hell outta, but honestly, she didn’t put off the vibe that she was interested in me or anyone for that matter. Girl was always in her head. Likely why she taught meditation.
“Nah, man. Mila.”
Trent’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “That girl. Damn, dude. She’s a pistol. Hot as fuck but never gives anyone the time of day. Hard nut to crack for sure.”
Clay nodded. “I’ve taken her classes a few times. Talented for sure. Agree on the hot as fuck. But I don’t know, there’s something about her that’s…”
“Unapproachable?” I offered.
Both men nodded, and Clay pointed a trigger finger at me. “Nailed it. Exactly. But Dash mentioned he saw her leaving our apartment the other day.”
Fucking Dash. “Dude needs to keep his trap shut. Jesus. What is he? The new Gossip Girl of Lotus House?” Shit. I’d need to talk to him. Last thing I needed was the gossip mill running at my new job. I liked working there, and I loved being close to where Mila taught. Gave me more cause to run into her fine ass in the halls and give her a hard time.
Clay laughed heartily.
“Mila, I don’t know what it is about the wildcat. She just gets under my skin,” I admitted.
Clay took a sip of his G & T while Trent pursed his lips and focused on me. “You into her?”
I shrugged. “I’d like to get into her.” I waggled my brows.
Both men bust a gut laughing, and then Trent patted me on the shoulder. “Show her you want in.”
“Oh, she knows it. And I’m pretty sure she’s game. Asked her to come tonight. We’ll see if she shows.”
“That’s a good test. Invite her to come watch you doing something you love, and if she shows and stays for more than just the cold beer and music, then you know she’s into you,” Clay offered and leaned his elbows on the bar behind him.
“Good point. I don’t know though, man, there’s something about her. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Trent leaned forward. “Felt that about my Genevieve. Couldn’t get the woman off my mind. Thought it was because I wanted her on my dick. Turned out, I wanted her in my bed and in my life for the long haul. Never had better, man. Your girl a game changer like mine?”
Was Mila a game changer? So far, she’d definitely had me bending over backward to chase her. “Remains to be seen, my man.” I clapped Trent on the shoulder.
“If she is, or the score starts rising in her favor, don’t fuck around. We’re not getting any younger.”
No truer words were ever spoken. I most definitely was not getting any younger, especially in the business I was in.
The lights around the stage started flashing yellow, signaling to me and the crowd that the live music would be starting soon.
“That’s my cue, dudes. Thanks for showing up tonight. ’Preciate
it.” I shook Trent’s hand before clasping Clay and giving him the bump-pound hug. They’d probably leave before I finished my first set. Clay didn’t stay out late because he typically met clients at their house or the gym before the sun even rose. Trent had a new family. Didn’t imagine Genevieve would be keen on him being out too late if they had a little one at home.
“Good luck, man.” Trent jerked his chin to the stage. “And with the fireball.”
I grinned. “Thanks. Enjoy the show,” I said before making my way through the crowd, up the stairs for the stage where I hung my guitar over my shoulder. I picked up the stool Jack left for me and dragged it to the front. The spotlight came up and shone down on me when I sat in front of the audience. The night DJ already had my prerecorded drums and other instrumentals for the background for the songs I didn’t do solo acoustic.
“How you all doin’? Tonight, I’m going to start off with a ballad called ‘Creep’ by a little known band called Radiohead. ”
MILA
When I arrived at Harmony Jack’s at ten p.m., not nine as Atlas had requested, the place was already in full swing. Wednesday nights were hopping in a cool place like this. The room was one big, giant square on a lower level of a high-rise. During the day, the windows looked normal, but at night, they opened outward so that the passersby could see how much fun everyone was having inside. It also allowed for maximum airflow to travel through, making it seem more open. The place, however, was packed, including the crowd of women standing at the edge of the stage gyrating their hips to Atlas’s voice.
Slowly, I made my way through the crush of bodies to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a beer. The bartender was a woman, dressed punk-rocker chic. She was small, like me, with smaller curves and a wicked cool edge. Her hair was black as night and shone a hazy blue when she walked under the track lighting that brightened certain sections behind the bar. All along the walls were hundreds of dollar bills with what looked like phone numbers in a man’s uneven scrawl written on them.
Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 9