A meeting! With relatives—well, sort of. Still, Sara did not want to miss it. Plus, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She groaned. Actually, she did have better things to do, like cleaning out her apartment, donating her furniture, and checking on her stuff in the storage unit she had rented when she left San Francisco. She had not planned on staying in the city very long, a few days at the most, but this could be interesting. Maybe a less ambitious time frame would be better, if she wanted to do some additional research on her great-great-grandmother. Besides, this month’s rent was paid, so if necessary, she could spend the next two weeks taking care of things. She sent a reply to Jean, saying she would love to meet them.
The rest of the day she wandered around the neighborhood and got nothing done. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed San Francisco. There was always something going on. The Marina was bustling with shops and little restaurants, attracting an eclectic crowd of people. The sidewalks were filled with young women in workout clothes—Sara couldn’t tell whether this was a fashion statement or exercise-related—and people in suits on their lunch break. The occasional loner stood about, emanating the distinct scent of marijuana, and in between were throngs of casually dressed tourists, walking around aimlessly and invariably looking like they were lost. Before she knew it, dusk had started to set in.
As Sara made her way back to the apartment, she spotted a new yoga studio just a few blocks away. She stopped in front of the window to look at the schedule.
“If you fancy some yoga, I can help you find a good class to go to,” said a voice from behind her. It had a distinctly British accent.
Sara turned around and saw a young man looking at her while locking his bike up. She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen this studio before. Is it new?”
“Six months or so.” He walked over. “It’s a fabulous place. The instructors are great. I like it.” He was barely taller than her, with a tanned complexion. His jet-black hair was tied up in a bun that jiggled as he walked. “They offer the first class for free…” he said, winking at her.
“Oh.” Sara smiled nervously. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve done yoga before, so I’m not a complete novice. But I’m just here visiting, so you know, it wouldn’t make much sense.”
“You have anything better to do tonight?” The man looked at her expectantly. “If not, I suggest the eight p.m. class. You’ll like it. Hot and steamy.”
Gosh, he was persistent. She thought of something clever to say, but settled for a lame, “Oh. Right. But, you know, I didn’t bring my yoga mat with me. And I’m not familiar with hot yoga.”
“No worries, there’s nothing to it. The studio has mats. You can borrow one.” He was grinning broadly now, flashing his white teeth. He was quite attractive. “Personally, I think it would add something unforgettable to your visit to San Francisco. Some mindfulness and reflection.”
Was he messing with her or what? She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Brilliant,” he said. “I’ll see you at eight. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He made his way to the door.
Annoyed, Sara called after him, “You’re a bit early for an eight p.m. class. It’s only six-thirty.”
He looked back. “Oh, I do two classes in a row. But I don’t think this class would suit you. It’s very advanced. Cheers!” And with that, he disappeared in the studio.
“What a prick.” Sara was fuming. “It wouldn’t suit you, it’s very advanced…” Despite her bruised ego, she had to admit he was probably right. She was not the most graceful person. She thought back to the yoga classes she’d taken in Dunnhill—the resort offered them. They were mellow, so Sara had been able to hide her clumsiness rather well. If nothing else, she excelled at the breathing exercises.
Back in her apartment, she putzed around, annoyingly aware of the time ticking away. Her phone stayed quiet. No emails. No messages. No calls. At 7:45 p.m., she reluctantly changed into her yoga pants. Even if the guy was an ass, yoga might be good for her. Set her mind at ease, perhaps. Quiet the nightmares. It was well worth a try. She made it to the studio just before eight.
Feeling a little uneasy, she went inside the studio. With some concern she looked at the people mingling in the front room. They all had perfect bodies, were wearing the perfect attire, and did not look anything like beginners.
By the time the woman at the front desk had processed her information and Sara entered the practice room, class had started. The heat hit her like a wall. The crowded, dimly lit space revealed a sea of yoga mats tightly squeezed together, and she anxiously looked around for a spot to put her own mat. In the front of the room was a narrow space where she might just fit. She sighed. She hated the front, but she was already here. Making her way forward, she promptly tripped over the long legs of a shapely brunette. Mumbling an apology, and trying to avoid the daggers shooting from the girl’s eyes, she made her way to the front and rolled out her mat.
The instructor, who had been quiet thus far, started talking. With a shock, Sara recognized the British accent. She bolted upright. It was the guy with the man-bun! Unbelievable. The jerk had tricked her into coming to his own class.
“Breathe in and breathe out, and as you breathe out, let go of your day…” He smiled at Sara and winked. Aghast, Sara lay down, contemplating smacking him right then and there. The nerve!
He started with cat and cow pose, which was easy enough, but soon his instructions led them through more complicated poses, and Sara had a hard time keeping up. Her yoga classes in Dunnhill had not prepared her for this. He was practically covering the whole damn zoo, from down-dog to the more exotic species. Despite her irritation, she had to admit that the man-bun’s muscular control was phenomenal. He moved through every stance with a fluidity and strength she could never hope to attain.
She tried her best not to bother the people next to her, but she was always a few seconds late with her poses, which inevitably led to her extremities being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she really did not want to touch anyone. The man on her right was sweating profusely. A steady stream of drops fell onto his towel-covered mat—and hers, whenever he swung his arms with too much enthusiasm.
When the man-bun suggested crow pose, she knew she was in trouble. Hesitantly she placed her hands on her mat and let her knees rest on her upper arms, attempting to lift her feet off the floor, tilting forward. The pose, which caused one’s rear end to stick up, rather unrefined, into the air, always reminded her more of a chicken than a crow. Most of the people around her went straight to headstand, and Sara burned with jealousy. For one thing, a headstand looked much more dignified.
Inwardly grumbling, she tried crow pose again, and much to her own surprise, succeeded. The initial sense of pride was only short-lived, however, as one of her knees immediately slipped off her arm. She let out a soft yelp as she lost her balance and ungracefully tumbled over to the side, almost bumping into the sweaty guy beside her and rolling onto his soaked towel. Even though she had managed to avoid him, he still lost his balance. Sliding out of his headstand, he landed practically on top of her, showering her with his bodily fluid.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, both embarrassed and grossed out, and quickly scrambled back onto her mat. A little giggle came from behind. Glancing back, she saw the brunette she had stepped on earlier smirking at her. She smirked back. Namaste to you too, she thought, finishing the thought off with a few choice words.
All in all, at the end of the class, Sara did not feel like she had gained any Zen—quite the opposite, in fact. As she was angrily rolling up her mat, Mr. Man-Bun squatted down next to her. “What did you think?”
Not knowing where to start, Sara attempted a cold stare. He smiled. “That good, huh? It gets better as you do it more often. Promise.”
“I think I’m good without your promises. The first one didn’t pan out so well.”
He chuckled.
“Hey, Sid.” The smirking brunette wa
lked over. “Awesome class!” She put her hand on his upper arm. “Thank you. So good. No one teaches as well as you.”
“Thanks,” Sid said, smiling.
“I was wondering,” the brunette continued. “A few of us are heading over for a drink. Would you like to join us?”
Sara pulled a face. The brunette had said it casually, but her intent was obvious. They deserved each other. Sara picked up her mat and turned away.
“Actually, Layla,” Sid said, “I have other plans. I was going to ask the new girl—hey, new girl, what’s your name again?”
Sara slowly turned around. “I never told you my name.”
“I know. I could ask Jennie at the front desk, but this is easier.” He stuck out his hand. “Sid.”
She let a few seconds go by before shaking it. “Sara. And I’m leaving.”
“You sure? I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee.” He was completely ignoring Layla, Sara noticed with some satisfaction.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Layla, looking seriously irritated now, stormed off.
Sid grinned. “I heard her laugh at you. I figured it was time for some karmic payback.”
Sara couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, I guess.”
He pulled a sweater over his head, covering up his tank top—although the top had been so revealing, she almost had to wonder why he bothered wearing it at all. He certainly didn’t need it, Sara mused—the yoga was doing wonders for his body.
“Seriously, let’s go for a coffee. Please?” He gave her a convincing puppy face. “There’s a café around the corner. It’s always busy there, but we can be the smelly, sweaty people—no one will come close.”
“Speak for yourself. I use deodorant.” Sara shook her head, astounded that she was entertaining his request, and said, “Oh, fine, one coffee. That’s it. You can explain to me why you misled me about this yoga class.”
“Misled you?”
“Yes! You should’ve mentioned you were the instructor.”
“Ah! It must have slipped my mind. Would it have made a difference?”
Sara didn’t answer. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what the answer was.
The café was busy, as Sid had promised. Somehow he was able to get them a small table tucked away in a corner. The place was cozy and filled with young people. An old Shakira song was playing over the speakers. Sara had missed hanging out in places like this.
She caught Sid staring at her. “So,” she said, “how do you get a job as a yoga instructor?”
“Oh, you have to get your qualifications.” He grinned. “But I’ve also got a day job. San Francisco is an expensive city to live in, and I have high standards.”
“Really?” Sara looked him over. “What do you do—during the day?”
It came out more sarcastic than she intended, but Sid kept grinning. Maybe his Zen had actually been replenished, she thought, still mildly irritated.
“I work for a tech company—well, actually, people work for me. My background is in software engineering. I travel a lot. Mostly to Asia.”
“I see. How do you combine that with teaching yoga?”
“I’m not a regular yoga instructor. I know the owner and I fill in now and then. Only in the evenings, though. It’s relaxing.”
Sara raised an eyebrow. That was not the word she would have used to describe the class. “You pick up girls from yoga class often?”
At this he laughed loudly. “No, this is a first. However, when I see a pretty girl, I have no problem asking her out. If you want something, you’ve got to be assertive. At least, that’s my motto.”
Sara blinked a couple of times. This guy was nothing if not direct. “You should know,” she said, “I have a boyfriend.”
“Of course you do.” Sid grinned. “That doesn’t surprise me. But yet here you are, having coffee with me.”
Sara frowned at his cockiness. That didn’t mean anything, did it? She remembered, though, as her cheeks flushed, that she had forgotten to call David. And her phone was back at her apartment, since she had wanted no distractions during yoga.
“So, Sara, what do you do?” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“I’m a teacher. I sub, mostly. Middle school.”
“Where?”
“I used to live in San Francisco. But now I live in a small town in the Cascades, up in Washington.”
A look of pity crossed his face. “I’m sorry. That must be so boring. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere but here. And if I had to move, I’d stay in California.”
She raised her eyebrows at his condescending tone. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “a few years ago, I’d have said the same thing. I grew up in L.A., then moved here, to San Francisco—I love California. But other places have their own charm, and you get used to it. Seattle is not that far away if I need some city life.”
“No way. I don’t buy it. Tell me you don’t miss San Francisco. Why did you leave? The boyfriend?”
“No. I needed to get away from some unpleasant memories. Living here was a constant reminder.”
“I see…” Sid stared at her—his eyes black as coal—until she looked away. “And has it helped?” he asked. “Have you moved past your unpleasant memories, or have you just moved away from them?”
That was too much, Sara thought. She had come for a coffee, not for psychoanalysis. Draining her cup, she said, “Thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to go. Nice to meet you, Sid.”
Sid got up with her. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t. It’s just—that conversation needs to be had over something stronger than coffee, is all. Take care.” She walked off.
Back in her apartment, she checked her cell phone; there were several text messages from David, as well as a voicemail. He had obviously been trying hard to reach her. Feeling guilty, she called him back right away.
“Well, that took you awhile.” David sounded a bit cranky. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine—I forgot my phone. Don’t get all bent out of shape. You never replied either when I texted you yesterday evening.”
“Sorry, I fell asleep watching TV last night. When I woke up it was very late. I figured you’d gone to bed.”
“It’s okay. It’s just, there’s a lot happening here.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you know, the apartment. Being back here. I have all these memories. It’s good to be back here, but painful too.”
“The city reminds you of your parents...the car accident.”
“Yeah…”
She knew he was waiting for her to say more, but she couldn’t get the words out. Instead she said, “I’m planning on staying longer, like two weeks or so.”
“Oh,” he said, somewhat surprised. “Sure. If you think you need that long. No problem.”
“I just need a bit of extra time. It’s a long story, and I’ll fill you in when I get back.” She didn’t want to tell him yet about the upcoming meeting with Jean. David didn’t particularly like it when she started digging in the past. Last year she had been involved in a few occurrences that fell somewhat outside of the usual. They always started with these incredibly lucid dreams related to the past—something unresolved that needed clearing up. The dreams would pester her until she figured out what happened. David was always concerned she would get hurt, and not without reason. She didn’t want him worrying about her while she was here, and besides, the letters were most likely safe. She hadn’t had any of those strange lucid dreams for quite some time now—maybe they had stopped.
“I understand. Do what you need to do.” David changed the subject. “So, what was going on this evening?”
“I checked out this yoga place around the corner. It’s new. Well, new to me, that is.”
“Cool. They run some late yoga classes there.”
Sara hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to David. “No, I went out for a coffee afterward, with the yoga i
nstructor.”
“Oh. Is she nice?”
Sara bit her lip. “He. It’s a he. And yes, he’s very friendly.”
The other side of the line was quiet for a while. “I see. Sure… Eh, Sara, this is where you tell me he’s really old and unattractive.”
“I would… except he’s not. Not old, I mean. Relax. It was just coffee.”
“Of course. And he was just being friendly. How friendly exactly?”
“David! You know, friendly. Nothing special. I don’t know how I ended up having coffee with him, to be honest. He sort of talked me into it.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“David, you have nothing to worry about.”
“No. Of course not. First you tell me you’re staying longer, for a reason you’ll tell me about when you get back, and then you tell me you’re having coffee with a handsome yogi you’ve never met before because he talked you into it. Why on earth would I worry?”
“Well, I agree, that sounds… not so good. But in reality, it’s not like that. David, trust me.”
“I’d like to.”
Sara grimaced. That was a low blow. “I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me, have I?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“But you’re upset.”
“I’m human, Sara. You’re far away, and you seem a bit detached, if I may say so. You don’t call, and when you finally call, I get this. What am I supposed to think? Or feel, for that matter?”
Sara jutted her jaw. “You could say you miss me. Or better, you could’ve come along.”
A brooding silence on David’s end was her answer. She knew she wasn’t being fair. It was hardly his fault he had to work. How odd—it wasn’t like her to be so testy.
“Look,” Sara said finally. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Let’s not make this into a fight—we’ll regret it. Let’s talk tomorrow, or the day after—give it some rest. Okay? I don’t want to fight, David. Honestly, right now, I just want to sleep.”
A Dose of Deadly Intentions Page 2