chapter 6

"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?"