Taylor pulled into a parking spot next to a sky-blue minivan parked at the far end of the aisle, a good distance away from any other vehicle. She got out of her car and met a grinning Melonie Phillips standing at the rear of the minivan.
“I see you’re taking advantage of some of the tips I taught you,” Taylor said in greeting. “Did you even look for a closer parking space?”
“Nope.” Melonie held up her wrist, showcasing the fitness tracker she’d purchased at Taylor’s insistence when they began working together this past summer. “I upped my daily goal to twelve thousand. It’s not as easy to get in those extra two thousand steps as I thought it would be. I’ve had to get creative.”
“You’d be surprised at how many steps you can get in by adjusting your routine just a little bit here and there. One of my favorite tips is to keep the TV remote next to the TV instead of on the couch or bedside table. I can almost guarantee you’ll get another few hundred steps going back and forth to flip channels.” Taylor gestured toward the grocery store and rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get to shopping. I’m excited to see what you’ve come up with as a sensible meal plan.”
Once in the store, she followed Melonie to the produce department, observing as she loaded up on leafy greens, colorful bell peppers, and broccoli. When she reached for a bag of russet potatoes, Taylor stopped her.
“If you’re going to have potatoes, which I recommend limiting as much as possible, go for sweet potatoes.”
“Really? I would have thought sweet potatoes had more sugar.”
“They do, but they’re also much higher in vitamin A. With your family’s history of eye disease, they’re the smarter choice. Better yet,” she said, reaching for a butternut squash, “go half sweet potatoes, half squash, whether you’re roasting or mashing them. It will lessen the carbs and sugar and you won’t be able to tell the difference.”
A grateful smile lit up Melonie’s face. “This is the kind of advice I was hoping for when I hired you. It’s all so much to keep track of, especially with three kids to run after. I swear, Taylor, you have been a godsend.”
Melonie’s praise was the kind of validation Taylor’s battered ego had been thirsting for. Screw all those people who thought she needed a degree to do her job. She had as much fitness and nutrition knowledge as anyone she’d come across. She studied her ass off, making sure to learn as much as she could, determined to provide her clients with the most up-to-date advice.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Taylor said. “Remember, this is a partnership. How much weight have you lost since July?”
“Twenty-two pounds.” Melonie preened. “I cannot wait for my ex and his new fiancée to drive down from Omaha in a couple of weeks to pick up the kids. I bought a new pair of jeans that make my ass look amazing. I want him salivating.”
“Now that is the kind of vindication I live for.” Taylor held her hand up for a high five. “Gimme some!”
They slapped palms, then migrated to the meat department, picking out lean cuts of beef and protein-rich salmon. By the time they were done shopping, Taylor couldn’t stop herself from beaming like a proud mama.
“You did a great job, Mel. You ready to do it again next week?”
“That would be wonderful, but . . . ” Melonie trailed off, her lips tilting downward in an apologetic frown.
A sinking feeling immediately settled in the pit of Taylor’s stomach. “But . . . ?” she asked.
“I found out last week that Avery, my middle daughter, needs braces. I have to sacrifice something to cover the dental bill, and unfortunately, that something is having a private fitness and nutrition coach.”
No! God, please. She couldn’t lose one of her few steady clients.
“Are you sure?” Taylor asked. “Maybe we can negotiate a new rate?”
“You’ve been a great help, Taylor, but I just can’t justify this expense any longer.”
Taylor knew she shouldn’t allow her disappointment to show, but dammit, this sucked.
Melonie placed a hand on her forearm. “I’m forever grateful for everything you’ve taught me. It’s been priceless.”
Actually, it did have a price. Sixty dollars per session, to be exact. She’d already earmarked the two hundred forty dollars she’d expected to earn from Melonie Phillips this month. Guess her car insurance wasn’t getting paid.
“I understand,” Taylor said. Because she did. If she understood anything at all, it was having to sacrifice to make ends meet. “We can always start the sessions again if your circumstances change.”
She gave Melonie a hug and helped her load her minivan with the groceries she’d purchased; then she got in her car and tried her hardest not to burst into tears. Her dad loved to bring up that old adage When it rains, it pours. Well, Taylor was in the midst of a freaking downpour that refused to let up for a single second. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take before she cracked under the deluge of pressure.
Once home, she found an empty plastic storage container propped against the door, a thank-you note taped to the lid. It was from Rob, her downstairs neighbor.
She baked when she was stressed—and not any of that healthy stuff like chickpea blondies or chocolate cake made with black beans that she encouraged her clients to eat. Give her all the sugar and butter. But, because she didn’t want the temptation of sweets around, she often shared the baked goods with Rob.
She unlocked her front door and made her way inside, dropping her backpack on the couch. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of elderberry kombucha from the fridge. She’d become addicted to this stuff, but a couple of weeks ago she’d started limiting herself to a half bottle per day.
Sacrifices.
She returned to the living room and plopped down on her couch. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her, as if no matter what she tried, nothing could get her out of this financial mess.
“You can get yourself out of this. You always do,” she said. But her voice didn’t hold the same conviction it usually did. She felt . . . defeated.
She despised this feeling. She’d made a promise to herself a long time ago that she would never allow defeat to enter her mind again. Because once you gave that insidious notion just the smallest bit of leeway, it took over. She could not allow that to happen.
She jumped up from the couch and returned to the kitchen, grabbing the bag of flour and canister of cocoa from the tiny pantry. She opened the refrigerator to retrieve a couple of eggs, but then she shut it.
“You do not need brownies.” And neither did Rob. The way things were going, they would both end up diabetic if she didn’t turn her life around.
Instead of baking, Taylor reached for her cell phone. A group video chat would get her mind off her problems without the added sugar rush of brownies.
London was the first to answer. She was on her desktop.
“What’s up, chica?” she said, the bright yellow walls of her office at the hospital serving as her backdrop. It was decorated with cute stick figure drawings and photos of smiling kids.
“Nothing much,” Taylor said. “I was just calling to check in.”
“You started looking at colleges yet?”
Taylor should have known London would bring this up. “It’s on today’s to-do list,” she lied.
A second later, Samiah appeared. Her face was scrubbed clean and her hair was in a sloppy ponytail. It was a bit jarring. Samiah was always so put together.
“Hey, ladies, what’s up?” she greeted. “What are we talking about?”
“The twist on Taylor’s new project,” London supplied as she tilted her computer screen up. “Oh, just an FYI, I can’t stay on for too long. I have rounds in another fifteen minutes and I need to return my stepmom’s call before the end of my break.” She shoveled in a forkful of salad.
“Well, since you have to leave us soon, why don’t we talk about your project,” Samiah said. “How is your search for a hobby going?”
London had decided that finding a way to disconnect from her stressful career was what she needed the most. Becoming a renowned pediatric surgeon had consumed her every waking minute since medical school.
London put up one finger as she continued chewing. She swallowed, then said, “The hobby search is . . . Yeah, it’s going nowhere. I tried Googling hobbies, but when I typed the H in the address bar, my previous search on hepatoblastoma came up, and I got distracted.”
“Who has to Google hobbies?” Taylor asked.
“Me,” London said. “How about if I make sitting on Samiah’s couch and drinking wine my new hobby? I’m so good at that.”
“Ha ha,” Samiah deadpanned. “Joke’s on you, because that’s actually close to one of my suggestions. I just read about this shuttle that takes you from Austin to several of the wineries in the Hill Country. We can make a weekend of it and stay at one of the cute bed-and-breakfasts out there. Should I book it for next Friday?”
“Wait! I can’t!” Taylor blurted. Sweat instantly pebbled along her hairline. “I—” She briefly closed her eyes. “I’m not sure I can go on vacation right now. I have to consider my clients.”
“Can’t you reschedule?” Samiah said. “It’s just a couple of hours away.”
“I just . . . ” Taylor started. Shit. This conversation had taken the wrong damn turn. “The truth is, I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch. Financially.” Understatement to end all understatements. “I honestly can’t afford to do anything extra, even a short weekend.” She shrugged. “I’m trying to look on the bright side. I could be living out of my car,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Of course, there’s a pretty good chance I will be living out of my car if I can’t pay my rent this month.”
London’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “What are you talking about?” she asked, leaning in closer to her computer screen.
“That’s my question too,” Samiah said.
Well, this had gone sideways in a hot-ass second.
Taylor massaged her temple with her free hand. Was there anything she regretted more than making this phone call? Maybe stealing Skittles from the commissary back when they lived at Baumholder Army Base in Germany. Or that time when she used bleach to dye her own hair when she was in the seventh grade.
Okay, so she’d made her fair share of effed-up decisions in the past, but this group call definitely ranked up there.
Yet . . .
If her friends were willing to play the part of sounding board, why not go ahead and let them? She was tired of shouldering all of this on her own.
“Taylor?” Samiah said.
“I’m broke,” she admitted. “That’s it in a nutshell. I made a bunch of dumb moves while trying to find new clients, and now I can’t pay my rent.”
“What kind of dumb moves?” Samiah asked.
“And exactly how broke are you?” London added.
After weighing each question, she determined Samiah’s was the least demoralizing of the two. Addressing that one first, Taylor told them about the discount coupon site she’d signed up for in an attempt to drum up business for Taylor’d Conditioning.
“I use those websites all the time,” London said. “It’s how I discovered my favorite bakery.”
“Yeah, well, those deals work just fine for bakeries because people like cupcakes and scones. They’re more likely to become repeat customers. Most of the people who bought my coupon were the same people who join a gym on New Year’s Day and stop going by the second week of January.”
“Guilty,” Samiah said with a shrug.
“I’d hoped to keep at least a few on as clients.” She shook her head. “Instead, I’ve been working my ass off for seventy-five percent less than my normal fee, and I haven’t been able to make a dent in the mountain of debt I’ve been sitting on.”
“I’ll ask again, how broke are you?” London said.
“If I say it out loud, I’m going to throw up.”
“Come on, Taylor,” Samiah said. “I have some money put away. I can make you a loan.”
“No. No way.” She shook her head. “I knew you would say that. I am not borrowing money from you. From either of you.”
“I didn’t offer any,” London said. She put both hands up. “Not that I wouldn’t. I just have to make my student loan payment first.”
“It doesn’t matter, because there will be no loans,” Taylor said. “Seriously, who goes around offering to loan someone they met just a few months ago twenty thousand dollars?”
She clamped a hand over her mouth. Shit.
“Um, wow,” London said. “Twenty thousand, huh?”
“I’m not sure I can send that much through Apple Pay,” Samiah said, not missing a beat. “But maybe I can send half through Apple and the other half through Cash App? I’ll do that once we end the call.”
“Stop it! I’m not taking any more money from you!” She still owed Samiah the eighty-dollar booking fee from her stint in the city jail. Taylor dropped her head back and sighed up at her apartment’s water-stained ceiling. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I got myself into this mess. I’ll figure a way out of it.”
“Will you figure it out before or after you get a crick in your neck from sleeping in your car?”
“If you angle your head just right, you won’t get a crick in your neck,” she retorted.
“This isn’t funny, Taylor,” Samiah warned.
Who was she telling?
“I know,” Taylor said. “But I think I’ve found a solution. Maybe.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Have either of you ever heard of Jamar Dixon?”
“The football player?” Samiah asked.
Taylor sat up straight. “Wait, you know about him? How? You don’t even watch football.”
“Actually, I do watch when Daniel is here on a Sunday afternoon, but being from Houston means I can’t escape high school football even if I tried. Jamar Dixon went to Katy High. He was one of the top recruits in the country his senior year. He went pro, but I can’t remember which team.”
“The Bears,” Taylor provided. “He was injured during his rookie season. Apparently he did a lot of rehab after surgery, but I guess the Bears thought he was still too much of a liability to keep him.”
“How do you know all of this about him?” Samiah asked.
“He signed up for the boot camp workout I held in Zilker Park earlier today. He wants to hire me to be his personal trainer.”
“Wow,” Samiah said. “Fancy.”
“Are you sure that’s all he wants?” London asked.
Taylor laughed. “My self-esteem is as healthy as the next chick’s, but even I don’t think I’m worth going through that much of a hassle.” She shrugged. “He said he needs a personal trainer and nutrition coach, so I’m going to take him at his word. I’m meeting him at a café in Round Rock tomorrow. If we decide to work together, I can at least use his fee to start paying down my debt.”
“Text us when you get there, when he shows up, when he leaves, and when you get back home,” London said.
“Sure, Mom. I’ll do just that,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be upset that people care about you, Taylor Marie.”
“Oh my God, now you do sound like my mother. And it’s Taylor Renee,” she said. “And, don’t worry, I promise to call you both as soon as I’m done speaking with the hot football player.”
“Is he hot?” London asked.
“Oh yeah,” Samiah said. “He’s too young for me, but so damn fine. You should Google him.”
“I’ll do that after my shift. I need to go,” London said as she shut the plastic lid on her salad container. “Oh, shit! I was supposed to call my stepmom. Forget it, she’ll just have to call my mom if she needs to bitch about my dad.”
“Wait,” Taylor said. “Your stepmother actually calls your dad’s ex-wife to complain about him?”
“All the time,” London said. “My mom loves to tell her that he’s her problem now.” She shook her head. “It’s a strange relationship, but surprisingly healthy.” She stood and threaded her arms through the sleeves of her white coat. “Talk to you guys later,” she said before clicking out of the call.
“I need to go too,” Samiah said. “But my offer still stands. If you need to borrow rent money, all it takes is a phone call. No sleeping in the car.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said, even though she knew she wouldn’t take her up on it.
After saying goodbye to Samiah, Taylor pulled up the browser on her phone. She did another web search for Jamar Dixon, clicking until she reached web hits that she had yet to read. She knew as much about football as she knew about botany or hieroglyphics, but based on the numerous sports blogs she read, Jamar had been one of the most promising running backs to make it to the NFL in a generation.
He’d also made it onto a number of Hottest Players in the NFL lists and Pinterest boards. She couldn’t refute that. The man was hot.
“Yeah, you’re fine and all,” Taylor said. “I just hope you’re legit.”