by Gina LaManna
“Yep,” I agreed.
I looked behind me and saw Anthony sitting uncomfortably, looking attentively at his nails.
“Now, we’ll gently start breathing. Take long inhalations, in and out…” Ira sat cross-legged on his mat.
Nora took breaths so deep and loud it sounded like a helium tank had sprung a huge leak.
“Clay,” I whispered. “What’s with that phone number?”
Clay opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Ira.
“Let’s stand and move into warrior one.”
We all stood and poked our arms out.
“His name is Kim Cho.” Clay pinwheeled his arms, struggling for balance.
“Is he tied to the mob at all – Italian or otherwise? What’s his story?” I asked, as we moved into downward dog. All of us except for Carlos, who lay deep-breathing on his mat, still flat on his back, his eyes clamped shut.
My face turned red as the blood rushed in that direction. I chanced a peek through my legs, and became suddenly self-conscious. Anthony was sitting on his mat and staring straight at my rear end.
“You like the view, slacker?” I hissed at him, feeling like my head was about to pop off at any second from the pressure.
Ever so slightly, his cheek twitched as if a smile was fighting to get out. But he didn’t once take his eyes from my butt. To my left came a loud riiiiiip.
“’Scuse me,” Meg said. “That was a friggin’ stinker.”
A stinker? It was as if I’d been bombed by a nuclear rotten egg machine. I tucked my nose inside my shirt. It seemed hard for Clay to speak through the fumes. “He lives…cough, cough…Kim Cho lives in Maplewood.” Maplewood was suburbia, about fifteen minutes outside of St. Paul, an easy drive along I-94.
“What is he doing there?” I asked.
“Cough, cough…ahem. He owns properties. Rental properties. I think—”
Clay stopped talking as I felt two hands grip my waist from behind. I could see this type of situation happening in the privacy of one’s bedroom, but in public it just felt weird.
“Really push backwards with your heels,” Ira’s soothing voice coached. “Push.”
I tried really hard to push with my heels, but my calves felt like they were stretched out about as far as they could go. I caught another glimpse of Anthony’s face through my legs, and it made me feel just a twitch better that he looked quite murderous.
But why, I couldn’t be sure. It was either that he was jealous of another dude touching me, which seemed unlikely, or he was mad that another person was training me, which seemed even more unlikely. The third option could be that he was upset he had no control over putting an end to this nonsense for his Boss.
Ira leaned into me, his pelvis brushing against my yoga pants.
“Whoa buddy,” I said.
“Do you feel that?” Ira asked.
“Feel what?” Beginning to feel nervous, I gave a skeptical glance at Meg, who was staring open-mouthed at Ira. Seeing me glance in her direction, she gave a huge, obvious wink, licked one of her fingers and touched it to her skin, making a psssst, hot gesture.
“The stretch in your lower back.” Ira pressed a smooth hand to my spine. His movements were graceful, and even though the situation was pretty weird, I had to admit there was something calming about being in his presence.
“Yep, I feel that.” The stretch he referenced was more of a mind-numbing, fire-breathing burn. Regardless, I gave a nod before giving up the pose entirely and sitting back.
From up close, Ira was cuter than I’d expected from a distance. He was probably in his mid-to late thirties, with the sun-weathered look of a surfer and the split-ends of a traveler. I could see how he might not look like a homeless person, and might almost be attractive if one liked the shaggy-chic, hippie look.
“Hot,” Meg winked again as Ira made his way back to the front of the room.
“Eh,” I said. “Not my type.”
“Not mine, either,” Meg said. “But if given the choice, I’ll take a buffet of options over one perfectly cooked steak any day.”
“Are you talking about men?” I asked.
“Men, food, it’s all the same,” Meg said.
Anthony made a noise low in his throat behind me. Meg turned and surveyed the Head of Security. When she turned back, she spoke to me. “Good thing you don’t got VPL’s today. Lots of times you do in them yoga pants.”
“VPL’s?” I asked.
“Visible Panty Lines,” Meg said. “I’m guessing that you’re currently commando, am I right?”
Clay hiccupped and Anthony coughed.
“What do you think about the rental properties of Maplewood?” I asked Clay. I wasn’t admitting guilt in front of this crowd.
My cousin looked at my yoga mat, avoiding eye contact. I didn’t really blame him. “Kim Cho makes money owning various properties and scam businesses. On a day to day basis, he does jack shit. If you want my opinion, I don’t think he’s the highest guy in the operation.”
“Some sort of middle man?” I asked.
“That’s my guess. I assume he owns apartment buildings in order to appear legitimate on paper. But I’m guessing he makes a good chunk of extra cash doing some dirty business for the spa.”
“Well, that’s certainly interesting.” I looked forward to see Ira’s current state of contortion, since I’d lost track of the flow during my conversation with Clay. What I saw was not good. I elbowed Clay, and nodded towards the left side of the room.
Clay’s eyes followed my gaze. “Uh-oh.”
Ira approached Carlos from the side. The room hung in trepidation, and I knew the outcome wouldn’t be good. The situation was the equivalent of a hamster poking a lion with a stick. Or a wiener dog signing up to race a cheetah in the hundred meter dash. In both instances, the smaller guy didn’t have a chance. Ira was the smaller guy in this situation, and he was looking to fight a losing, potentially bloody, battle with Carlos.
Ira bent over and placed a hand on Carlos’s knee. “I’m just going to slowly adjust—”
“Adjust and you die.” Carlos’s voice cut through the air like an icicle dropping from a shingle: cold, sharp and dangerous. Anthony got to his feet and took confident strides towards Carlos.
“All right, then.” Ira stood and backed away slowly, his hands raised as if under arrest.
“Touch him again and I’ll adjust your head so you get a beautiful view of your intestines.” Anthony crossed his arms, standing behind his boss’s yoga mat. Carlos went back to closing his eyes and breathing deeply, though his eyelid twitched dangerously.
“Enough, you two,” Nora said. “Ira, please continue. Anthony, sit.”
My grandmother might weigh a hundred pounds and have a disposition as sweet as a pixie stick but dang, could she command a room. Nora had an army of mob guards armed to the teeth running for cover. I had to admit, I had a pretty bomb woman to call grandma. Or, scratch that, Auntie Grandma.
Anthony obeyed, probably because the only person he respected and obeyed as much as Carlos was Nora. Although he didn’t mask a disgruntled sigh as he returned to sit on the black mat.
I turned around and slid back, joining him on his mat. “Maybe you should participate,” I whispered, not quite able to hide a smug smile. “Time might go by faster.”
Anthony slid a commanding hand around my body and wrapped me close. “I want to see downward dog again. Stat. Or else someone might become dead.”
My heartbeat sped up a bit, and I scootched back to my own mat. I didn’t trust myself sitting too close to him, not when he was in that kind of a mood. Kind of scary, kind of sexy – I guess it was business as usual for him.
“Back into downward dog,” Ira said a short while later. “We’re nearing the end.”
I reluctantly straightened my legs, pressed my hands down, and hung my head between my arms, entirely conscious of Anthony’s eyes on my backside. “Stop staring,” I hissed. “And participate. I thought you were Mister
Fitness.”
“I don’t listen to other people.” Anthony’s face was stony and grim.
“Now you know how I feel during our training sessions.” The blood flooding to my brain must’ve given me extra confidence to mouth off, considering he was in such a snarky mood. Anthony ran his tongue over his teeth and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“I haven’t been adjusted,” Meg called out. “Am I doing this right?”
Meg’s downward dog resembled a sluggish leaning tower of Pisa. It was bent a little awkwardly, kind of saggy, but still a hard sight to take your eyes off.
Ira strode around back. “Beautiful. Really, beautiful.” He nodded to Meg, and then approached me. “Now you, Lacey…just tilt your pelvis back this way.”
Ira ran a hand gently up my spine, and I immediately felt relaxed. This man had the hands of a master yogi. He pressed on my neck lightly. “Let your muscles hang loose.”
“I’m loose,” I squeaked. “I’m just dangling here, hanging out. Don’t worry.”
“And your arms,” he said, running his palms down the outside of my arms. “Let them rest.”
Let my arms rest? They were holding me up. But when he ran his hands down my ribcage, an involuntary shiver ran down my sides. I was very, very confused if this was normal behavior for a yoga instructor. I was leaning towards no, but I’d also made out with, and often fantasized about, my gym trainer. So in all actuality, the problem with over-touchy trainers could be me.
And – speaking of my gym trainer – a shadow clouded my vision, and a hulking presence stood over Ira and me. Ira’s hands immediately left my hips, and I slumped into a position I liked to call “Sitting Woman.”
“Are we done here?” Anthony growled.
“Yes, yes.” Ira clapped his hands. “Thanks everyone for your participation. I hope we’ve made a change in the way you think today. I want to bring mindfulness to your attention.”
I stood up, grasping Ira’s proffered hand. His crystal blue eyes met mine. “Have your thoughts changed from the beginning of the session to now?” Yes, I thought. But I hoped he didn’t ask how they’d changed. Because all I’d been thinking before class was: who would be the first to embarrass themselves with an inappropriate bodily function? Now, I was wondering if Meg needed to change her pants.
“Absolutely,” I nodded.
“Good.” Ira bowed to me. “Namaste.”
“Namaste, motha fracker.” Meg bowed at Ira.
I glanced her way. “Um, language? He’s a yogi.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just feeling it. Speaking with tongue, you know?”
“Speaking in tongues, first off,” I said. “Second of all, that’s a religious thing.”
“She’s enlightened,” Ira said. “I like that. Freedom of speech.”
“Whatever,” I bowed back. “Namaste.”
The room cleared as people stood up and threw the yoga mats in a corner. Nora and Ira stood in deep conversation, while Butch and his lady friend made out on the pink mat. Carlos had already vanished, along with his guards, and Anthony followed them at a brisk pace.
“So, what’s next?” I asked Clay. “Do you have Kim’s address for me?”
Clay nodded. “It’s in your inbox. You need a ride over there?”
“Nah,” I said. “I have my car. Thanks for your help.” I clapped Clay on the shoulder and turned to Meg. “Need a ride home?”
“Yeah,” Meg said. “But Clay here can take me. Right?”
Clay turned a little red. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Meg and Clay liked each other. In that kindergarten way where they’d never act on it, they’d just be really, really awkward around each other.
“Sure,” Clay said. “Unless Lacey wants to.” He looked imploringly at me.
“Crapola,” I said. “I forgot about Marissa and Clarissa. I have to find them and bring ‘em back to Nicky.”
“Hi dear,” Nora said, sneaking up behind me.
“Hello,” I said hesitantly. Nora was more touchy feely than Carlos, but the dear was an unusual term of endearment from her, and I was a bit suspicious, especially as Ira was standing right behind her.
“Ira here needs a ride home. He doesn’t drive because it’s not good for the environment. But I told him there is no way he’s walking home. I offered him the front seat of your car.” She cleared her throat. “Now.”
“Ah, uh. Okay.” I nodded. “Sorry, Meg. I now have no room left. I don’t even have a spot to drop Anthony back at the Laundromat.”
“Which is no problem,” Meg said, tossing her arm around Clay. “And when have you known Anthony to not get someplace he needs to go? He’ll be able to catch a ride. Or, you know, fly. I think he’s magic.”
Truer words had never been spoken. I waved for Ira to follow me. “We gotta grab two devil children and then we can go.”
Minutes later, after finding Marissa and Clarissa hiding in Nora’s private bathroom, their faces painted with more makeup than two clowns, we loaded into the car. The girls’ eyes, rimmed in a shocking shade of sky blue, were wide open at the sight of the strange guy in the front seat.
We pulled out of the spiky front gates and I gave a brief wave to the guard, who ignored me as usual. I was small fish in the scheme of the Family, apparently.
“Are you guys in love?” Marissa asked.
“Are you guys going to do it?” Clarissa asked.
“Do what?” I glanced towards the back seat.
“It,” Marissa said. “You know. Wrestling.”
“I like to call it yoga,” Ira said. He reached over and put a hand on my knee. “But I’d love to do yoga with your aunt, if she’ll have me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I moved his hand right back to his side of the seat. “Whoa.”
“I’m sorry,” Ira said. “Way too forward. I was just making a joke, you know?”
“Watch it,” I said. “They’re my nieces.”
“Absolutely.” Ira looked sorrowful. “I apologize profusely. I simply meant I’d like to invite you to my practice for a complimentary yoga session. Group or private, your choice.”
I held in my breath, not sure how to respond. If I blew him off now it could be a long car ride – especially since I didn’t yet know where he lived. A long sigh escaped my lips when I noticed his crestfallen expression.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I just thought you meant…” I paused. “It.”
“No, no. Not at all.” Ira smiled. “Miscommunication.”
“Okay, then.”
“So you’ll come check out my studio?” he asked, eyes hopeful.
“Uh, sure. Maybe. Sometime.”
“Yeah, you can kiss my aunt,” Marissa said. “She likes to kiss people.”
“No,” Clarissa said. “Remember? She almost threw up after she kissed the other one.”
Ira raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m sorry – I didn’t know you were attached.”
“I’m not,” I said. “Definitely not attached.”
“That was fast,” Clarissa said. “We only drove over here like one hour ago or something.”
“Uh,” I said. “Girls, it’s complicated. Also, remember about our five dollar settlement?”
“Oh, yeah,” Marissa said, glancing at her sister. “We were thinking about that. Maybe ten dollars would be better.”
“You cleaned me out,” I said. “I have nothing more.”
Marissa and Clarissa looked at each other as if contemplating a multimillion dollar merger. Seeming to communicate in some foreign language, they must have reached an understanding.
“All right, we’ll let you off the hook this time,” Marissa said.
“Get out,” I said. “We’re here.”
I pulled in front of the Laundromat, waved to Nicky. I peeled out of the driveway as soon as both girls’ feet were on the asphalt.
As Ira directed me towards wherever home was for him, I breathed out deeply.
“Can I ask if you are committed or no
t?” Ira looked over, extremely hesitant.
“Committed? To what?” I asked. “If you’re talking about a boyfriend, then no. Not at the moment.”
“Okay.” Ira said. “Can I ask you out for a drink? I know this great place where we could grab fresh green teas or wheat grass shots.”
“Yeah, uh,” I said. “I’d love to, but I can’t now. I have to head to work. Could we do it at a later date?”
“Sure, sure. No problem. What do you do for work?” Ira asked, unnecessarily prolonging our conversation.
“That’s a story for another day,” I said. “Is this it?” I’d pulled up in front of a motor home park with a huge orange teepee in the front.
“This is me,” he said. “I like to live off the land.”
“Wow,” I said. “Good for you. So, I’ll see you?”
“Definitely,” he said. “Can I get your number?”
“Uh, you have a phone? That’s not exactly the land, is it?”
“Well,” he smiled sheepishly. “I gotta run a business, you know.”
I punched my number into the latest version of the iPhone. Ira gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, a wink, and headed off into his teepee. As I drove away, I briefly wondered where he slept in the winter months.
I pulled a safe distance out of sight, then stopped the car and punched in the address Clay had given me for the apartments Kim Cho owned. Thinking I should swing by and check it out, I was pleasantly surprised to find the place was only twenty minutes away. Traffic was light, and I could head over there now. I could even pretend I was looking for an apartment and had simply forgotten to schedule a viewing. The former wasn’t a lie. I was looking for a new place.
But I didn’t want to go now. Yoga, Anthony, Ira, the twins – I was an antsy mess after this morning, and I could use a distraction before facing Mr. Cho. Maybe I could stop by Blake’s and bug him about his new girlfriend. She said she’d been around the spa before; there was the slightest possibility she may have mentioned the services on the second floor.
I slipped out my phone, leg jittering – even my eye twitched. Plus, there was a small part of me wondering how serious Blake was with this new girl, Laura. He hadn’t dated anyone seriously since me. I was surprisingly fine with him having a new girl every month, but I wasn’t as fine with the idea of him totally moving on. The thought hurt at a remote location, deep inside my gut, a little more painful than I wanted to admit.
