I pushed into the women’s locker room. The gym, as Selena called it, was about the size of my new ofÞ ce. I’m exaggerating, but not by much, which meant the locker room was about the size of my coat closet. I was grateful no one else was in the room because we would probably end up bumping elbows as we tried to change. The fear that the door would swing open, leaving me bare assed and visible to anyone walking by, motivated me to get into my gym clothes in record time.
My forehead was already damp when I returned to Selena.
“I was starting to worry about you in there,” she gushed and led me to a seat in a tight little corner, behind a tree of coats and sweatshirts that had probably been hanging there since winter. “First thing we’re going to do is get some info about you, okay? If you’ll just sign here and here Þ rst.” She handed me a clipboard. “This is just saying that you have no known heart conditions or physical problems that you aren’t telling me about.”
I squinted at her white teeth and considered telling her I wasn’t feeling well. “I, uh, don’t want to sign up or anything yet. I just want to try things out, see if I like it.”
• 73 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“I know, but we have to do this for insurance purposes. You know, in case you keel over and die while you’re working out, so your family can’t sue us.”
I looked at her until her smile faded. “My family wouldn’t believe I was in a gym in the Þ rst place.”
She tittered as if I had made a joke, and I felt bad. This woman was offering me her services for free. It’s not as if she had forced me to come in here, I had called her and asked for an appointment. What could it hurt to at least make the best of it?
It’s not as if a little exercise was going to kill me, right?
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SUCH A PRETTY FACE
CHAPTER SEVEN
That bitch tried to kill me!”
“Stop exaggerating,” Goody said and frowned at some imagined imperfection on in his right thumbnail.
I stopped dumping Equal into my coffee long enough for him to see the look on my face, the soggy wet hair, smudged mascara, and lipstick that no doubt looked like it had been applied by a three-year-old. “Do I look like I’m exaggerating?”
I could have scripted his reaction. One well-manicured hand clutched at the break-room counter as he doubled over, laughing.
Goody did nothing halfway. When he laughed at you, he really made sure that you felt like a total idiot. Great, my day is now complete and it isn’t quite seven a.m. yet.
“She sounds so nice on the phone,” he said between guffaws.
“Nice, my ass. Do you know what she had me do? She had me run on the treadmill for, like, twenty minutes. I’m up there loping along like a giant fool, my tits were…” I stopped mid-sentence because a female broker named Irene came in and put her lunch in the refrigerator. She looked at Goody and me, rolled her eyes, and walked out of the break room.
“What’s her problem?” Goody asked.
I shrugged. “Large stick up her ass. All brokers are like that the Þ rst couple years in the business.”
“You weren’t.”
“Yes, I was. You just didn’t know me then.” I searched the cabinet for a box of Pop-Tarts I had tossed there when I was in my last “no
• 75 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
sugar, no ß our, no white rice” phase. I grinned like crazy when I found the box. Strawberry, my favorite.
“You know, I wouldn’t have minded so much if I wasn’t running next to two skinny girls with track suits on right in front of the window on Fourth Street. I mean, who in the heck puts a gym in a Þ shbowl where the whole damn world can see you?”
“I don’t know, I think my gym is like that too. As a matter of fact, every gym I’ve ever been to has been like that.” Goody looked like he was having a hard time keeping himself from laughing at me.
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t seen someone I know.”
“Who?”
“Ryan,” I admitted after some hesitation. I wasn’t going to tell him about the kiss. If I did, he would hound me, wanting to know what I was going to do about the situation. The truth was, there was nothing I could do. Ryan had made it clear when she walked away from me that she wasn’t interested in baggage, and against my will I had acquired lots.
“She was standing out front. I think she might have caught the bus in because she was walking from that direction.” I frowned, remembering how my heart had swelled when I saw her, making me think I was truly having a heart attack. Selena’s voice had faded into the background, and I grunted my answer to one of her inane questions about my job as I watched Ryan walk toward me.
The way a woman walks is usually not the Þ rst thing I notice. But Ryan had such long legs and such a beautifully shaped body, I found myself trying to dissect what it was about her that had made me want that kiss so badly.
“Wow, you’re really picking it up there,” I heard Selena say, but I wasn’t really listening. Even though Ryan wasn’t looking in the window of the gym, I realized that she would have to walk straight toward me to get into the building. My heart rate increased two notches.
“So what is it that you do, exactly?” Selena asked.
Ryan would look up at any moment now, see me running on this treadmill, and she would think what? Maybe she would smile and I would wave with casual indifference and try not to go ß ying off the back of the treadmill.
“I’m a Þ nancial advisor,” I said between huffs.
Ryan wasn’t looking my way, but I could see that she would probably do so at any moment. She would have to look up in order to
• 76 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
open the door and then she would see me trotting along. My thoughts were interrupted when a guy who had been walking behind her sped up, as if to catch up with her. The idea that he was hitting on her made me grip the bars of the treadmill harder.
“Let me know if you feel like you’re going to pass out,” Selena said.
I wanted to tell her that I had passed that stage ten minutes ago, but I kept running. Sweat rolled down my temples and a twinge was beginning in my knee. And of course my chest, even with the sports bra, hurt. When the man reached out as if to grab Ryan’s arm, I almost stopped running; Ryan jerked her arm away and turned around, her body tensed for a Þ ght. I don’t know who was more relieved, me or the guy who was about to get slugged, when her body relaxed. He laughed and said something to her that elicited a hug. The guy pointed, and instead of continuing toward me, Ryan walked off with him. The machine beeped, telling me I had completed my run. Selena was so impressed that I had Þ nished, I almost believed she had placed a bet on how long I could survive.
Goody made a little jumping move that reminded me of Pepito.
“I think you’re stalling. What happened when she took you to Mrs.
Margolis’s? What did you two talk about?”
I was saved from having to answer because Jackson’s assistant, Robin, walked into the room carrying an empty water bottle with red lipstick and God knows what else crusted around the opening. “Excuse me,” she said and pointed with the bottle toward the sink.
I moved out of her way, tucking my Pop-Tarts box protectively against my breast.
“You still eat that crap?” she asked while sticking her bottle beneath a stream of water.
“Yup.” The question would have annoyed me, normally, but I was grateful we’d moved on from the topic of Ryan.
“So?”
“So what?” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but I don’t think I was successful. One of the reasons we didn’t hire Robin when Henry’s longtime sales assistant Eleanor retired was Robin’s propensity for gossip. A broker has to be able to trust her or his sales assistant implicitly. I trusted Goody with two exceptions: his taste in men and his taste in friends.
• 77 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Goody told me that you went home with that construction worker?”
“I didn’t tell her that.” Goody’s denial was too feeble to be believed. “I just said she gave you a ride home.”
“Same thing,” Robin said.
“Glad to hear I’m all you can talk about when you’re off work, Goody.”
He shrugged, unperturbed by the scathing look I shot his way.
“The ‘construction worker’ was kind enough to take me to my client’s house because I had taken the bus to work,” I informed both of them. “And yes, she did take me home…”
“You mean she waited for you?” Goody did his little excited jumpy thing.
I didn’t want to answer, I really didn’t, but something about the way he was looking at me kind of made me feel proud. “Yeah, she did.”
“So what’s she like?” Now Robin was looking at me the same way Goody was. I felt like I did when I was thirteen years old and everyone at school found out that the popular boy had asked me to the dance.
Later, I discovered that he had bet his friends that I would let him touch my, by then, 32D’s. He had lost that bet and that was the end of my popularity.
“She’s very nice. Kind of quiet.” My Pop-Tart devoured, I got on tiptoe trying to Þ nd something else to shove into my mouth.
“Is it true she was a fashion model?” Robin asked. “I hope it’s true. I love pageants!”
“Are you freaking serious?” I abandoned my search for more sugar in order to turn and glower at Robin. “Where would you get a crazy-ass idea like that?”
Robin looked at Goody, who had the sense to blush.
With a hint of defensiveness, he said, “Cathy, in the cage, said they heard her talking on the phone about not being in pageants anymore.”
“We think some crazed fan stalked her and cut her face to stop her from competing. You know those Texans are serious about their pageants,” Robin said.
“Look, I don’t know her well. Hell, I barely know her at all. But I can’t imagine her being in any kind of beauty pageant. Did you see the size of the woman’s tool belt?”
• 78 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
“That doesn’t mean anything. They’ve got this chick on Fine Homes Network that used to be a fashion model, and now she can build a house in, like, two days,” Robin said with the surety of an expert.
“Fashion models and beauty pageant contestants are two different things.” I was trying hard not to sound condescending. “Figure out which one she’s supposed to be and then ask her about it. Don’t blame me if you end up with a screwdriver broken off in your…”
I caught my breath because Ryan had just walked past, probably on her way to the new ofÞ ce space. She glanced casually into the room, so she must have seen me standing there, but she continued on without speaking.
I pushed past Robin and Goody and walked out into the hall.
Fashion models didn’t move like Ryan; strong, purposeful, not the least bit interested in a man’s approval.
“Hey, Ryan,” I called out. She turned around and I was acutely aware of Goody and Robin behind me. Part of me was glad that they were there—that is, until both of them joined me in the hall like two children waiting to see a Þ ght on the playground. I tried to smile at her, but I saw Goody give a quick shake of his head in my peripheral vision.
At best, I had lipstick on my teeth; at worst, bits of Pop-Tart were stuck between them. “I just wanted to, you know, thank you again for taking me to Mrs. Margolis’s.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
After a long pause Ryan pointed toward the room she had been working on for the last few months. “I should probably get to work.”
“Oh, of course.” She turned away and I heard myself call out to her again. “Ryan, I was wondering if I could take you to lunch some day. You know, to thank you . ” And to apologize for leading you on and to Þ nd out if there’s any possibility of a repeat and to Þ nd out how you got that scar…
Her face went from surprised to unreadable.
“You don’t need to do that, I enjoyed myself.”
Later I would think of all sorts of snappy comebacks, but right then I could think of absolutely nothing to say. Robin’s ridiculous theory about Ryan being a beauty pageant contestant seemed so, well, Christina. Still, I couldn’t help wondering what someone like Ryan would do for the talent part of the competition.
I must have stared at her too long because Ryan’s next words were
• 79 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
rushed, as if she wanted to get away from me. “It’s going to get loud in there today, but after that, it’s just painting and a few touch-ups. I’ll be out of your hair in a week or two.”
“Good,” I said, and then almost choked on my words. “I don’t mean good you’ll be out of my hair. I mean, you’re not in my hair at all.”
“It’s a nice ofÞ ce. I understand why you would be excited to move in.”
“Thanks for letting me know about the noise.”
“You’re welcome,” she said and walked away.
I had almost convinced myself that I had imagined the awkwardness of our conversation, the curtness of her tone, and the fact that she walked away faster then I thought humanly possible. But then I turned around and saw the look of false compassion on Robin’s face and the embarrassed ß ush on Goody’s. I felt like I had just been dumped in front of my entire senior class. The worst part of it was, I couldn’t exactly blame her.
v
A week and a half later I was forced to admit that Ryan was going out of her way to avoid me. I saw her, of course. She was working right next door, but the door was often closed, even though I heard no loud hammering inside. The wonderfully accented “hi’s” had been replaced with strained smiles or dips of the head. It was as if the kiss we’d shared at my front door had never happened.
“I rescheduled your appointment with Selena for one thirty today,”
Goody announced from the doorway. He didn’t come in and sit down as he normally would have, probably because I had been in a foul mood all morning. I removed the pen clenched between my teeth.
“I didn’t mean for you to reschedule it for today. I meant,” I waved my hand limply, “you know, some other day.”
Goody frowned and leaned his shoulder against the door frame.
“You want me to call her back?”
“No, I should go.” The thought of Selena’s constant prattle set my teeth on edge, but I was reluctant to admit that I hated the gym; Goody never missed a chance to work out.
“Hey, what’s with the sad look?” Goody’s voice sounded
• 80 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
concerned, which made me think that some of what I was thinking had become evident on my face.
I shrugged. “I just feel so inept. Everything she asks me to do just feels like…I don’t know, such a trial. I can’t believe you love this stuff.”
Goody walked into the ofÞ ce and shut the door behind him. “Is that what’s really bothering you? You’ve been quiet since Monday.”
He sat down in the visitor chair across from me, his customary perch during our gossip fests. But he didn’t pull out his nail Þ le as he usually did; for once, I had his full attention. “Something else happen with Ryan?”
“No, how could it? She’s been avoiding me all week. I can’t say as I blame her.”
“I knew it.” Goody leaned forward and stage-whispered, “You slept with her, didn’t you?”
“What the hell do you take me for? I hardly know her.” But my face heated because he wasn’t far from right. In fact, if it wasn’t for my own guilty conscience, I could have slept with her. The idea was so unexpected, so unlike me, so unbelievably hot, that I bit my bottom lip.
Goody caught his breath. “Oh, my God. Was it good?”
“Okay, listen to me. I—did not—sleep with her.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His eyes were wide now. “I think you slept with her and you’re ashamed to tell me.”
“Goody, I swear to you on my aunt Virginia’s homemade enchiladas, I didn’t. I wanted to, but something happened and it didn’t work out.”
Goody sat back in his seat and I stood up, and walked to the window. I hadn’t done anything with Ryan, but I felt as guilty as if I had, and I was still thinking about the what ifs. The fact that she was treating me like a one-night stand didn’t help matters.
When I Þ nally turned, Goody was looking at me with such pity that I regretted telling him. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m sure she won’t tell anybody.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hang on a second. Maybe I’m missing something here. Why are you upset, exactly?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t really know why I’m upset, but I can’t help feeling like…I don’t know, I messed something up.”
• 81 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Okay, so I’m going to ask you straight up. Did you try to have sex with her and Þ zzle out?”
“Lesbians don’t Þ zzle out. Damn it, all I did was kiss her. Hell, I don’t even know if I was the one doing the kissing. I think I just stood there and she did all the work. Things got heated so fast I must have gotten scared. I told her about Brenda.”
“Was that before or after cunnilingus?”
“I didn’t have sex with her,” I repeated through gritted teeth.
Goody would never understand. To him, Brenda and I were separated; there was no reason for me to feel guilty, no reason for me to even have called off what no doubt would have been great sex. Why had I called it off? “I could have, I wanted to but—I just couldn’t.”
“You got scared, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Did she come on too strong? Start acting like she wanted to get married? What?”
“No, none of that. She just…I don’t know. We were standing in front of my door and she kissed me and…I just forgot about everything…nothing else mattered. I just wanted—”
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