. . . . . . .
“I cannot believe you’re making us do this,” Courtney said as they got out of the car. “You know I avoid all situations where the correct attire is athleisure.”
Nik zipped up her hoodie and ignored her.
“Oh hush,” Dana said to Courtney. “I like that outfit on you. I’ve been trying to tell you for months how much more comfortable you’d be in leggings or yoga pants at work all day.”
Courtney shook her head as they walked toward the gym. Nik had almost avoided this class in principle because it was called “Punch Like a Girl,” but it was the only class on the Eastside that started in the next few weeks. And it somehow felt urgent for her to do this now. It wasn’t that she really thought Fisher—or any of the other creepy guys who sent her messages—would actually do anything to her. It was more that she’d realized that she would have no idea what to do if any of them did.
She couldn’t wait to tell Carlos that she was taking the class. She was pretty sure he’d get a kick out of it. That was, if she ever saw him again. They’d texted for hours last night, and on and off again today, but that didn’t mean anything.
“I don’t care how comfortable leggings are; I like my dresses for work, thank you very much,” Courtney said. “I spent years dressing in ugly plus-size suits for corporate America. It’s a relief to wear A-line dresses in ridiculous patterns. Plus, I run a cupcake shop that I named after myself; dressing like a cupcake is very hashtag on brand.”
“I cannot believe you said ‘hashtag’ out loud like that.” Dana pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “You’ve clearly been doing too much store-related social media lately. We might need to have an intervention.”
Courtney pulled her phone out of the pocket in her leggings.
“Are you kidding me? I just hit twenty-five thousand Instagram followers! I’m doing something right.” She smiled at a picture of a cupcake before she tucked her phone back in her pocket. “Yes, I know I’m obsessed; you don’t have to tell me twice.”
Nik pulled out her own phone. Who knows, that source may have emailed her back!
I swear to God, a patient today told me she babysits for a kid named Kaftan.
She hid her smile.
The gym was a big, kind of anonymous-looking building with only a metallic gold sign over the door that said NATALIE’S GYM.
“Where did you find this place?” Dana whispered to Nik. “I’ve never seen a sparkly gold sign at a gym before.”
“Shhh,” Courtney said. “I feel more at home at this place already if there are sparkles involved.”
Nik ignored them and went up to the blond woman in a pink tank top sitting at the front desk.
“Hi, I signed up online for three of us for the class.” She refused to say the name.
“Punch Like a Girl? Fantastic!” The incredibly thin, perky, ponytailed woman beamed at her. “What are your names?”
“Nikole Paterson, Dana Carter, Courtney Park,” Nik said, pointing at herself and each of her friends in turn.
“Nice to meet all three of you!” the woman said. “It’s a sliding scale, so just let me know what you’re comfortable paying. Usually you can pay for one class at a time, but for this class, we like you to pay for the whole six weeks in advance, so we can count you in for the whole run of the class.”
Nik handed over her credit card. She’d never heard of a sliding scale gym in L.A. before, especially not a cute one like this. That would have been useful when she was just starting out, but luckily, she could afford to pay the list price now.
“Great!” The woman stood. “You’re all paid up and checked in, the locker rooms are through there, and we’ll be in Studio A for the class—starts in ten minutes!”
“Great!” Nik said back, and was immediately ashamed that she’d adopted the other woman’s exclamation points. This was just like how whenever she went to the South, she started drawling and saying “y’all” after the first five minutes.
None of them needed the locker room, so they shuffled into Studio A. It was a big, brightly lit exercise studio, with shiny wood floors, mirrors covering one wall, and a water fountain in the corner. A big sign by the door told them—in more metallic gold letters—to turn off their phones and put any personal items in the cubbies by the door.
“Are we in kindergarten?” Dana said, gesturing toward the sign. “I don’t know about this place, Nik.”
Courtney quickly shed her jacket and tucked it and her purse into a cubby.
“I obey any sign that sparkles at me—you know that,” she said to Dana. “Have an open mind! You’re too used to your high-pressure SoulFit or CrossMethod or whatever the hell it is you do when you work out.”
Dana raised her eyebrows at Nik.
“Some sparkly signs and this woman is all in. I’ve never seen her change her mind so quickly about anything.”
Thank God her friends were with her. There were many things in life she would cheerfully do alone—go to movie, out to dinner, on an international trip—but she never would have had the guts to come to a class like this alone.
She took out her phone to turn it off, and what the hell, send one more text.
Now you’re just making things up, but I swear I just heard someone at the gym call someone else Sunshine.
At seven on the dot, the blond woman from the reception desk bounced into the center of the room.
“Welcome, everyone!” All of the murmurs quieted down, and everyone turned to her. “I’m Natalie, and I’m so glad to see all of your beautiful faces here today!”
Oh God. This was the kind of person who said “all of your beautiful faces.” What had she gotten them into? She saw Courtney and Dana exchanging glances.
“So, as you all know, this is a six-week course to teach women how to fight.” She smiled at the half circle of women gathered around her, and they all smiled back. More or less. “Some of you probably signed up for this class thinking about how they do self-defense classes for women in the movies. You know, a man all dressed up in lots of padding, and everyone gets to beat him up and knock him down; we all laugh, right?” They all nodded, more sure of themselves this time. That was exactly what Nik had wanted. To be able to punch a man and walk away from the class confident knowing she could.
“Well, that’s not what we do here.” Natalie’s voice had changed. It was still pink and sparkly, but somehow had steel behind it, too. “We don’t want this to be some fake empowering nonsense that lets you leave here after you knock down a man covered in padding, who was unable to move and who’d given you, like, ten minutes of warning that he was going to try to attack you. What the hell good does that do you?”
Hmmmmm. This was getting interesting.
“If we did that, you’d leave after six classes, still completely unable to face whatever it was that drove you to sign up for this class. That’s not what I’m about. In my classes, we’re going to face those fears head-on. And we’re going to teach you how to punch like a girl. Because you know what?”
Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls)” suddenly blasted from the invisible speakers in the room, and the whole class jumped, then laughed, then sang along.
“That’s right. We run the world, girls. Don’t ever let anyone forget that.” Natalie beamed at them. Nik suddenly noticed the size of her biceps. She had definitely misjudged this woman by her blond hair and cheerful voice, that was for sure.
“I know, I know, you’re all looking around for the punching bags and boxing gloves. That’s next week. Today we’re going to start with loosening up and learning some form.” She smiled at them, a smile that felt like a hug. How did she do that?
“Okay, everyone!” Natalie bounded to the front of the class and faced them. “Now, we’re going to learn proper form. We have to get your hands, your arms, your shoulders, your back, and your legs all in order.” She demonstrated a punch, her ponytail swinging. “That’s what you are all going to look like before the end of next week’s class. Now, let’s talk about how you stand. That’s the most important part.”
Nik imitated Natalie’s stance. She already felt stronger. She bet if Carlos saw her now, he wouldn’t think she was some sort of weakling.
Well, okay, she still didn’t know how to throw a punch, but she would very soon, which was the important part.
“We get to use punching bags next week, you guys!” Courtney said as the three of them walked out of the gym an hour later. They were dripping with sweat and had huge grins on their faces. “I can’t wait.”
Nik looked over at Dana.
“What did you think, D? I know this one became a convert as soon as she saw the sparkles, but you were more skeptical. You going to keep going with us?”
Dana jumped into the front seat of Nik’s car.
“Absolutely. Now that I think about it, I’ve always wanted to know how to punch someone in the jaw.”
“Same here,” Nik said.
Carlos woke up extra early on Friday morning and went for a run. The hell with apples; it was a run a day that kept the doctor away.
He was so tired of Angela bugging him about going to the doctor, and lately Jessie had been doing it, too. They’d started bringing this doctor thing up over a year ago when he made the mistake of letting it slip that he hadn’t been to the doctor in years. He knew it was because they were just paranoid about something happening to him like it had happened to his dad, but he was fine—he kept telling them that. He knew his own family history all too well; he didn’t need to go into detail with someone else about it. And he already knew everything he needed to do for his health, and he didn’t need some other doctor bugging him to cut carbs and exercise more, blah blah blah.
He’d planned to take a few hours off on Friday afternoon, so when he left work early, he drove down to Los Feliz to the bookstore he liked there, Skylight Books. He’d promised Jessie that he would pick up some books for her to read while she was on bed rest. He was pretty sure that Jessie was more stressed about having preeclampsia than she’d let on to him. Books would help her relax, no matter what she was reading.
“Looking for anything in particular?” a voice next to him said. Oh thank God, someone on the staff to give him advice.
“I am, and I need some help.” He turned around to find Nik standing next to him, that worried look on her face from Monday night replaced by a grin.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” he asked. He pulled her into a hug. He’d been on the point of asking her to get a drink last night, but she’d gone radio silent on him for a few hours, and when he heard from her again, it would have been way too late.
“I’m here all the time,” she said. “Today there’s no particular mission other than seeing if I can find a book I’m in the mood for. I have stacks of brand-new books at home, all of which I was excited to read when I bought them, but now . . . none of them seem quite right to me.”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I know how that is. All of the books that you have are sad books when you’re in a happy book mood, or vice versa. Or dense when you want a page-turner.”
She smiled up at him. Her skin almost glowed in the warm light, her hair bounced as her head turned, and her huge smile made him feel warm inside. He couldn’t help but to smile back at her.
“Exactly! All of the books I have right now are either very smart nonfiction books about very important issues that I would rather jump in front of a moving train than read right now or novels where all of their New York Times reviews said the writing was ‘beautiful,’ and I don’t have the patience for beautiful writing right now. What are you looking for?”
They walked a few steps together, away from the woman who seemed to be bothered by their above-a-whisper-level conversation.
“I’m shopping for my cousin who’s on bed rest, and she’s obsessed with true crime. Books like that stress me out, but she can’t get enough of them. But since I can’t read them without having nightmares, I have no idea what I should get her. Plus, she’s a librarian, so I’m always terrified to buy her books.”
Her eyes lit up.
“It’s your lucky day because you’re looking at Southern California’s true crime book expert. I’d call them my guilty pleasure if I believed in guilty pleasures. I can give you as many recommendations as you have bookstore dollars to spend.”
Well then. It was his lucky day for more than one reason.
She picked up a book from the shelf they were standing in front of and paused.
“Wait, is this the same pregnant cousin you were telling me about the other night? What happened?”
He’d forgotten that he’d told her about Jessie. He was impressed that she’d remembered.
“Yeah, Jessie. She has preeclampsia. We found out this week.” He tried not to let on how anxious he was. “She’ll be okay, we think—it’s not the most serious kind, but it’s going to be a long twelve weeks for her.”
She squeezed his arm.
“Oh God, that must be so stressful.” She turned back to the shelves, her hand still on his arm. He resisted the urge to flex. “Okay, this just means we’ve got to get her some excellent books that will make her happy to stay on the couch. Do you know what she already has?”
They walked out of the bookstore forty-five minutes later, a bag of books in each of his hands.
“Can I buy you some coffee to thank you for your help?” he asked her.
“Absolutely not, I owed you this favor,” she said. “But I can buy you coffee to thank you for your help on Monday night.”
He laughed.
“Okay, how about I buy you coffee and you buy me coffee then?”
She steered him down the street.
“Deal.”
They ended up at a coffee shop with outdoor seating a few blocks away and sat down at a shady table with their iced espresso drinks.
“Preeclampsia can be scary, right?” she asked. “How is your cousin doing?”
Thank God someone understood that.
“It can be really scary, yeah. I think Jessie’s doing okay, but I’m not sure if she’s taking this seriously enough. She’s only twenty-eight weeks, so we’re all just hoping the baby stays put for at least another two months.”
He’d been terrified when he got the first text from Jessie. Thank God it wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought, but that terror hadn’t completely dissipated.
She touched his clenched fist. He forced his fingers to relax enough to clasp her hand without breaking it.
“What’s making your face do that?” she asked him.
He scrunched up his face at her, and she laughed.
“My face do what? What is my face doing?”
She touched his cheek with her free hand.
“You have a dimple in this cheek right here. All afternoon and evening on Saturday, I saw it winking at me. The same thing happened when we were in the bookstore just now. But as soon as we sat down, the dimple disappeared. And lines appeared up here.” She drew a line across his forehead with her finger. He closed his eyes at her touch. She dropped her hand, and he opened his eyes.
“Remind me not to go to Vegas with you,” he said. “You’ll let everyone know all of my tells!”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I’m an excellent Vegas buddy. I’ll tell YOU everyone else’s tells.”
He laughed and sighed. His face was probably doing that thing again, but he couldn’t help it.
“This early in her pregnancy, for her to get this diagnosis—there’s a lot that could go wrong. I don’t want the rest of my family as anxious about this as I am, so I’m trying to be calm about this when I talk to them. I’m just worried.”
“Where’s her spouse in all of this, or is she single?”
He shook his head.
“No, she’s married, her husband’s great. But Jessie and Angela and I grew up together, she doesn’t have any siblings, so I’m sort of her big brother, as well as Angie’s.” It had always been his job to take care of Jessie and Angie. And since his dad died, he’d made an effort to always be there for them, even when he’d lived all the way over on the Westside. Jessie was still his responsibility, Jon or no Jon.
“Anyway, I was supposed to go out of town this weekend, but I’m going to have to cancel. My best friend Drew got engaged last week and he and his fiancée are having an engagement party in Berkeley. I was supposed to fly up tomorrow morning, but I can’t leave Jessie now. I still have to cancel my flight and call Drew and tell him I’m not coming.”
He sat up straight and tried to shake all of this off. Why had he just let all of these stupid emotions out to this woman who barely knew him?
“Sorry for spilling all of that. I’m sure you didn’t come get coffee with me in order to hear all about my family drama.”
She shook her head and squeezed his hand.
“Well, you didn’t go get dinner with me in order to become my private security guard, so I’d say it’s about even.” Her face lit up. “Ooh, here’s a thing that I bet a pregnant woman on bed rest will love: cupcakes. Courtney’s shop is just a few blocks away. Want to walk over there?”