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"Minnow, what do you call this?" Marc Gaines yelled to his government issued wife, working partner, and Mo's half-sister. He pointed to the floor of the small apartment Mo had vacated. He and Minnow were waiting to move in, pending needed repairs. He watched as the tall, slender woman with long brown hair, blue eyes, and sparse freckles bent down to look at the floor.
Her nose crinkled with laughter as she pulled out a cork plug from one of the holes their new landlady, Iris Abernathy, had blown through the floor with her double-barrel shotgun.
"I guess she improvised," Minnow chuckled as she stuffed the cork back in the hole, then stood and dusted her hands. "Repairs are complete."
He frowned. "I don't think that passes housing standards."
Min snorted. "And the nightmare house the government bought us did? Don't make me laugh, Marc. Besides, Mo left us her furniture which is also in better shape than the government house."
"Dibs on the bed," he yelled.
Min's eyes narrowed. Mo's former apartment had a twin bed in the only bedroom and she had it on good authority from her other half-sister, Jo, that the couch was not comfortable for sleeping. But she ignored Marc's claim for now because they needed to move from the Bed and Breakfast to the apartment.
Minnow grabbed his arm. "It's not going to get a better fix, Marco, so we need to get our things and settle in. We still have the grand opening of the fitness center ahead of us, so let's focus on that for now." For once they agreed on something. It didn't take long to move their personal belongings to the small upstairs apartment of the converted older house. Their landlady lived on the main floor.
"Carter didn't give her back that shotgun, did he?" Marc asked as they carried another load into the apartment.
"I'm pretty sure I heard him tell Walter he was taking it apart and dropping the pieces into the bayou," she joked. Their landlady looked out for the women in her house rental units and had blown holes through the floor when she thought Mo was in danger.
"Well, I hope so," he said emphatically. "A woman like that shouldn't be allowed to have a firearm. Or any weapon for that matter!"
Minnow thought about the past few weeks in Sinful and wondered how Marc would feel knowing several Sinful seniors toted guns. Thank goodness they weren't all poor shots.
"Have you cooked your brain already?" Marc asked waving his hand in front of her face. She came back to the present with a questioning glance.
"I asked if you're ready to give the fitness center a final check and look through the suggestion box?"
Min's brow went up and her natural sarcasm kicked in. "And you can't find it by yourself? We're only about two blocks now, honey pie, but if you need to hold my hand to cross the street, then I'll help you. And when our boss asks why you've been sent to the taxidermist I'll make sure to let him know it's a gift for your mama. Wait, maybe she'd prefer a photo of you lying flat on the street with your skull crushed."
"You're a real witch, Min!"
"And yet you married me." She giggled to irritate him because their marriage was just a signed piece of paper, part of their cover for the job. "I guess we're just the perfect couple." She sighed in mock bliss and took his arm. "Lead the way, sugar plum."
"After you, fish bait. Minnow, when you've taken a fatal tumble down these stairs I'll have you made into a puzzle for your grandfather," he told her as he slammed the apartment door behind them. He turned and Minnow used her arms to leverage one of his and drop him to his knees on the landing. Then she released him and walked down the stairs.
"Marc, I think this second-floor apartment might take the joy out of married life. What's the point of having the tactical advantage if I can't finish you off without having to answer stupid questions like why did I throw you off the balcony and was it on purpose? I don't think anyone understands our rules."
He playfully patted her head. "I guess we'll have to save it for after hours at the fitness center."
"Do you think they'll buy the 'it was an accident' story if I wander off when I should have been spotting you lifting free weights? A crushed throat can happen so fast."
He laughed as they walked to the fitness center. "You might want to be careful of those treadmills you love, Thin Mint. They've been known to short out and electrocute people, especially when they aren't properly grounded and you wear through the tread and connect with metal. Maybe all those electronic gadgets will be the cause of your demise. But don't worry. I'll put up a warning picture of a fried minnow and install old fashioned bikes and treadmills so no one else gets zapped."
A smiling old couple passed them on the sidewalk, so Minnow grabbed his jaw and squeezed it tight. "Ooh, Marky! You're such a sweet talker!" The old couple paused and watched as Minnow gave him a kiss she knew he was dying to wipe off. But all he could do was smile and threaten Minnow under his breath.
"I'm going to break your fingers," he said through his teeth after the couple moved along.
"You can try," she taunted as they stopped at a corner and waited to cross the street. When the intersection cleared, Minnow headed to the fitness center just ahead. She was halfway across the street when she realized Marc paused so she walked back and took his hand. "Don't be scared. I won't let go of your hand until you're in danger."
Instead of shaking off her hand and giving her an insulting comeback, he yelled for the second time that morning, "What the hell?"
Minnow looked at the two men hanging a sign on the side of the building. "It's about time. I bet that moron we call a boss ran an ad for a fitness center without a name." She turned to see Marc still scowling. "What's your problem?"
"Did you read it?" he bellowed. "It's not what we ordered."
She inspected the large white board with red stenciled letters Gaines Fit And Trim Center. She read it a second time and began laughing while Marc complained it wasn't funny.
"Great. Now we'll be known as the FAT Center," he griped as he stomped across the street and gestured to the men hanging the sign. "Hey! That's not right. You need to take it down and fix it."
The two men exchanged a glance and climbed down their ladders to take a look. One crossed the street and held out his hand as if measuring. Then he shrugged at his partner. "Looks straight to me," he called across the street.
Minnow tried to keep a straight face while Marc's face darkened to the same color as when he did squats with heavy weights- nearly purple. He turned to the man still on their side of the street. "That's not the right name."
The worker pulled a grimy, overused small spiral notebook from his pocket, then reached behind his ear for a stubby pencil. Marc opened his mouth and the man held up a finger, then leaned down and rubbed the end of the pencil on the concrete sidewalk.
"Pencil's a little dull," he said before flipping through his notebook, looking for an empty space to write. Minnow elbowed Marc when he mumbled the pencil wasn't the only thing that was dull. Finally, the man said, "Okay. How do you spell your name?"
Marc's neck turned purple and Minnow leaned against the building as she howled. "The whole damn sign is wrong!" he snapped. "Can't you take it down and fix it?"
The man waved to his partner who crossed the street, still trying to figure out what was wrong with the way it was hung. The man with the notepad said, "He wants us to take it down and fix it. Says it's spelled wrong."
The second man pulled out his notebook, then compared it to the sign. "G-A-I-N-E-S. Ain't that right?" Minnow shoved Marc to the side and nodded at the men who appeared confused while Marc looked ready to launch.
"It's supposed to say Gaines Health and Fitness Center," Minnow told the men.
They both looked up at the sign. One scratched his head, while the other held his chin, then they shook their heads in unison. "Nope. Can't be done." Minnow restrained Marc with her hand before asking why. "Board's too short. Not enough room for all them letters."
Minnow gave into another bout of the giggles while Marc cussed in frustration. The men looked offended. "Listen, we ain't the sign contractor. Chippy subbed this side out to us because he ran out of red paint doing the one on the front. If you got an issue, call him." Tools and ladders were thrown into the bed of the old pickup truck while the men complained about picky city folks and their impossible demands. Like the other old vehicles in Sinful, it emitted a cloud of exhaust as they drove off. Then the truck hesitated slightly and Minnow feared Marc would chase them down and drag them out to beat them. But the hesitation was just a backfire, then the truck roared off leaving Marc and Minnow to contemplate the sign.
"I'm going to check the front sign," Min said. "At least if we have one done right it won't be so bad." Marc ignored her while he glared at the sign as if it would miraculously change because he was mad. "Hey, Marc. I was wrong. It's worse," she yelled from the front of the building.
He tore around to the front, stopped in outrage and shook his head. "No," he protested in a faint voice. The sign was huge, and it proudly advertised Gaines Fit And Reduce Training Center. "Who do I call?" Marc clamored.
"Chippy's out of red paint, remember?" Minnow joked as she tugged him to the door. She knew he was still in denial because he didn't pull his arm away. Once inside, she turned on the lights and said, "I guess we can offer them a choice now."
"Minnow, it's not funny," he claimed even as the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I know," she agreed solemnly, wiping her eyes. "So, baby, did you come for the fat or the fart?" Even as he finally gave in and chuckled at the goof up, he insisted they would be a laughingstock.
"It's far too late for that." Minnow opened the small box with a slot to the outside of the building. They had put up a box so the residents of Sinful could make requests or suggestions. "I have a feeling our sign painters might have a few suggestions for you," she grinned with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Then she slapped a stack of notes into his hand and followed him to the office. "Seriously, Marc? This is like stuffing the ballot box. There's no way this many women in Sinful want to learn a stripper pole dance," Minnow complained as she slammed the final suggestion onto the office desk where she sat next to Marc.
He grinned. "Maybe it's the husbands putting in the requests. You're the one with the bright idea to ask the public what they'd like. I guess you got your answer." He pointed to the largest pile of papers and Min sighed.
Then she smiled. "I can't wait to see the boss' face when we expense a stripper for teaching the class."
"Well, add it to the sign up list along with the yoga and Pilates," he told her. "And Min? I'll be happy to interview the applicants for the stripper position."
"And this surprises me?" she responded in a sour voice.
"Minnow, you sound jealous. Were you planning to be part of the class?" he mocked. "Well, just stand still and hold onto a rafter. I'm sure you'll make a sufficient pole. Although you might find it uncomfortable once the women get past the basic moves."
"Okay, Marky. And don't feel bad that no one wants to dance with you." Marc flushed and gave her a dark look. "Oh, they do?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"I think you'd better quit and not because you're ahead," he rumbled. Then she caught him off guard by reaching over to give his cheek a light pat.
"I'm sorry. I'll try to behave myself." The soft pat on his cheek was as unexpected as her apology, but she continued before he remarked on her unusual behavior. "Now, we have to find an instructor and fast! If we're offering a class, I'd like her to be here for the grand opening so students know what they're paying for and, no, you may NOT comment on that."
He cleared his throat and she lifted a warning brow as she glanced at him. "I can make a few calls," he offered. Her other brow rose, and he hastily added, "I'm sure my friends can recommend an instructor." He waited for a snide reply, but she wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, she stared at the desk thoughtfully.
Then her face cleared, and she said, "I'm going to call Jo. She might know of someone in the business since she gets around so much." She grabbed the phone to call her sister while Marc insisted he could make calls. Min waved her hand to silence him when Jo answered. She was smiling when the call finished because she had a lead.
"Hey! Remember that woman we met at Bucky's?"
"Which one? If they weren't kicking my butt, I really didn't notice," he said.
She gave him a smile of satisfaction. "Sweetie, that was me kicking your butt."
"That's funny. I remember a woman who looked Mo with dark hair and she cheated like you. Oh, yeah, that was Jo. Between the two of you that's all I remember and I'm not going back without reinforcements!"
Min chuckled. "Stop being a drama queen and think. Every guy in the place got upended when they paused to stare at her. Now do you remember?"
Marc's face lit up. "How could I forget?" He stopped Min's hand as she reached to give his hair a tug. "Her name is Tabitha and I'll never forget because Jo about killed me as soon as she crushed Ryan for taking a quick peek." Then just to rile Min, he added, "I think she told me to call her Tabby."
It backfired. "Good. I hope you got her phone number. See if you can track her down while I run over to Francine's to check on the catering."
When Min stood, Marc yanked her down onto the chair. "You track down Tabby and I'll check things at Francine's."
"Okay, but please remind her to use extra virgin olive oil on the roasted veggie-bobs. And just a dash of sea salt! It's a miracle the people of Sinful can even move after years of eating there." Min shook her head and mumbled about heart disease and high blood pressure as Marc left.
While he was gone, Min called Jo back to see if she or Ryan knew how to contact Tabby. Min could almost see Jo's grin over the phone. "I'll see if anyone has her number and call you back." Ten minutes later Jo had a phone number for Minnow.
"Ryan gave it up?" Minnow teased.
"Nah. Ryan gave it up the second I saw her give it to him," Jo sniffed. "So I called Bucky and told him the situation. I guess Tabby's interested in the job because she called me with her phone number after Bucky contacted her."
"Thanks, Jo. I appreciate it!"
"Hey, Min? Just be careful. Tabby's earned the name and the reputation. And from what I've heard, she's more than just catty."
"So am I," Minnow joked. "You're coming Saturday, aren't you?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for anything," Jo promised before disconnecting. The day was primed for spectacular fireworks because Jo had been around long enough to know Francine wouldn't cater Minnow style. Jo shook her head. Poor Minnow didn't seem to understand the folks of Sinful weren't ready for oven baked vegetables and wheat grass smoothies at the buffet table. In Sinful, if it hadn't come from a deep fryer, it had at least better have come from Francine's kitchen or been made with a pound of butter. Otherwise, there would be a revolt. But on the plus side, the residents of Sinful would be enthusiastic over the food if not the fitness center.
Marc thought the same thing as he compared Minnow's menu to Francine's.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't have time for last minute menu changes."
His eyes wandered to the paper he held. Apparently Francine didn't have time for menu changes period. But even Marc recognized the warning stance and knew one didn't argue with Francine at that point. Well, not if they were smart and wanted to eat at her cafe again. He held back a grin knowing Min would blow a fuse, but the food would be a crowd pleaser. He'd just have to make sure Mo and Jo kept her from opening her big mouth and insulting Francine. So Marc told Francine she was a world-class competitor in the kitchen and tucked her menu in his pocket. There was no need for Min to know about the menu change. When he returned to the fitness center, he deliberately looked at the sidewalk so he wouldn't get mad over the sign mix up. Inside, he heard Min finishing her conversation with Tabitha.
"And Tabby? Please don't wear the catsuit you wear to Bucky's. I don't think Sinful's ready for that." Min disconnected and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Let's hope she teaches better than she communicates."
"No catsuit?" he teased. "I thought all you women were wearing them for the grand opening."
"You're welcome to suggest it to my sisters, but I wouldn't mention it to Gertie. She's liable to show up wearing one."
"Maybe you should borrow Gertie's."
She laughed. "I don't think a stick woman in a baggy catsuit will have them lining up for classes. Should I call Tabby back and tell her I changed my mind? We could just turn all the classes over to her and sit back."
He frowned. "I was kidding, Min." He expected another verbal sparring match, not an admission that she considered herself a stick.
"I know," she smiled. "How did things go at Francine's?"
Was this the same Minnow he worked with for three years? The Minnow who had a sassy comeback for every insult he dished out? She looked like Minnow, but she didn't act like Minnow. Well, maybe being around Mo was mellowing her. Marc realized she was waving to get his attention, and he gave his head a small shake to clear it.
"Everything at Francine's end is perfect," he lied. "So far we seem to be right on track. Except those signs!"
"I'll call Chippy and find out when he's expecting more red paint," Min sighed, knowing the conversation's path would likely be circuitous. "I guess I'd better remind him he'll need primer and white paint or we'll never get the signs fixed. Oh, and Tabby's coming over for an interview later, just to make it official. But Jo knows Tabby has a professional dancing background, so I don't think there will be any issues with hiring her for one class."