Intimate Intuition

by Audrey Carlan

  Atlas presses back onto his heels. “It’s easy. I meditate.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “Fuckin’ yogi bastard. You meditate.”

  Atlas grins widely. “I’m not joking. I take a class at Lotus House at least once a week. Does wonders for me. I’ll take you tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You don’t have a wife and kids at home. You’ve got nothing better to do.”

  Without him knowing about my past, his comment sends a spear slicing right through my chest, obliterating my heart. “No, you’re right. I don’t have a wife and kid at home.” I grit the words through my teeth, hating the sour taste that comes with them.

  It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know. No one does.

  “Great. Then I’ll meet you at Lotus House tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

  I widen my eyes. “Eight in the freakin’ morning on a Saturday? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He chuckles. Always full of laughs, my friend. “Best way to start your day. Promise me you won’t leave me hanging. I’ll never let you live it down if you do. And there’s no escape. I know where you work.” He winks.

  Mallory’s voice rips through the sound room. “Silas, baby, I’m done. Were you listening?”

  Ugh. I look at Atlas, who never loses that snarky grin, and press the talk button. “It was great, honey. Magic.”

  “Dude, you are so in for it with that chick. She is bad fuckin’ news.” He grimaces.

  “I know,” I respond, defeated. I haven’t been able to shake off this client in a year of working with her.

  “Tomorrow, then?” Atlas confirms as he walks to the door and grabs the handle.

  The pain throbs around my temples and shifts to the back of my neck. I rub at it furiously, trying to stave off a migraine. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  Atlas opens the door just as Mallory bounces in with the exuberance only a twenty-year-old girl can have.

  She runs the extra few feet, slams into my chest, and hugs me. I don’t wrap my arms around her. Instead I put them on her biceps and push her the couple feet back.

  “That was so awesome, right? Did you love it, Silas baby?” She blinks pretty brown eyes up at me. Her hair has the beach wave women are so fond of now, and her smile is wide on her glossy pink lips.

  “Mallory, I’m not your baby. I’m your producer. I’ve been telling you that for a year.”

  Atlas coughs and stands near the door with his arms crossed. He knows I don’t like to be alone with her, and I appreciate him staying when I know he wants to get home to his wife and daughter.

  Mallory pouts, puffing out her perfect cherub lips. It would be a sin to deny the girl is beautiful. She is. Part of the reason she’s so damn popular. Though it’s the pipes on her that speak to me. Regardless of what Atlas and I throw at her, she can sing the shit out of it. I just wish her mother had taught her some freakin’ manners about clinging on to men who aren’t interested.

  She runs a finger down my chest and toys with my belt. “Silas, you know we could have so much fun together. I’ve made it clear I’m yours for the taking.”

  I step back as she attempts to dig into the front of my pants.

  “Mal, honey, that is an incredible offer, but I’m your producer, and I’m too old for you. By a decade. And I’m unavailable.” A vision of Dara’s beautiful honey-colored skin skitters through my mind. The waves of her soft brown and gold hair spilling through my fingers.

  “Since when?” Her voice takes on a panicked, almost maniacal tone, her eyes going dark as she stares at me.

  Danger! Danger! Danger!

  An alarm bell rings inside my head.

  Atlas, thank the good Lord above, comes to my rescue. “Mallory, sweetheart, he’s been seeing a friend of mine, one his mama loves.” He grabs her arm and leads her toward the door. Her purse and jacket are in a chair beside it. With his free hand, he lifts the jacket and purse and hands them to her. She takes them as if on autopilot.

  “But, but, I’m perfect for him.” Her chin trembles.

  Atlas shakes his head. “He’s too old for you. Besides, he never goes out, doesn’t have any fun, and spends all of his time in the studio and church.”

  Church? Where the fuck is he coming up with this shit?

  “I can go to church. I can.” Her voice shakes.

  Atlas places a hand to her lower back and leads her out. “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s very devout. And his mama’s already in love with his new girl. We just need to keep this relationship professional. Okay?” I hear his voice teeter off the farther away they get.

  I sigh and slump back into my chair. I’m going to owe Atlas for that one.

  Oh yeah, I’ll be paying up by attending meditation class. Whatever the hell that is.

  Fuck my life.

  * * *

  The small Berkeley street is teaming with people at seven forty-five in the morning. I lean against the side of my gunmetal-gray BMW 5 Series Gran Turismo, aka the bullet, aka my pretty baby, while I wait for Atlas to arrive. He better not leave me hangin’, or I’m not going in. I’ve never taken a yoga class, let alone a meditation class. I wouldn’t know where to start. I didn’t even know what to wear, so I threw on my couch-potato garb of a pair of gray sweats and a white T-shirt. The latest pair of Nike Janoski Max kicks in gray, red, and white on my size twelves completed the bum look.

  Cinnamon and sugar wafts through the air from the Sunflower Bakery next to the Lotus House. My mouth waters at the idea of skipping meditation and just going straight for a gooey treat and an espresso. The bakery is hopping too. Patrons going in and out nonstop since I’ve been here. I glance around and notice a used bookstore called Tattered Pages, as well as the Rainy Day Café, both on the same side as the bakery and yoga studio. Across the street, there’s New To You thrift store, Up In Smoke paraphernalia store, Amanda & Anna’s Antiques, and an empty lot with a metal fence and a sign that says Winters Group with a sold sign over it.

  Winters Group. I know the name. I’m pretty sure that’s the young, rich fella who’s buying out old neighborhoods and building high-profile condos and high-rises. Claims he’s gentrifying the area, but in reality, he’s tearing down all the mom-and-pop businesses like the ones on this street and replacing them with multimillion-dollar skyscrapers or luxury condos for San Francisco executives.

  I shake my head and look around. This neighborhood is beautiful. Quaint. Something you’d find in a small college town, kind of like Telegraph Avenue. Which is not far from here, now that I think about it.

  “Hey, man, glad you came!” Atlas exits the front door of the yoga studio.

  “What? Hey… I’ve been waiting. I didn’t see you go in.”

  He laughs. “Cuz I parked in the back. I still teach here once a week.”

  My eyes practically bug out of my head. “You’re kidding.”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Mila and I met here. She teaches Vinyasa once a week too.”

  “Between running her gallery and having a baby?”

  “Gotta keep in shape somehow, right? Plus, yoga is a calling. It’s something we need to feel balanced mentally and physically. And the owners haven’t found anyone who wants to teach naked yoga on a regular basis, so I keep it up.”

  “Naked yoga?” I sputter.

  He grins. “Yep. Naked as the day you were born.”

  “I don’t… I can’t… Not sure I have anything to say about that.”

  Atlas opens the door for me, and I enter. The scent of spice and trees enters my nostrils. It’s not unpleasant but definitely something I’d need to get used to.

  “Hey, Luna. I’m bringing a guest with me to meditation. He’s going to try it out before committing. Cool?”

  A stunning redhead with snow-white skin and clear blue eyes waves. “No problem, Atlas. He’ll be hooked after one session. I’m not worried.”

  I chuckle. “Confident, eh?”

  Luna places her elbows on the counter, putting her head into her hands. “I’m confident in the teachers here
, yes.”

  Atlas pushes me forward toward an inner door. “Luna is taking over the business. One of the co-owners, Jewel Marigold, is her mother. The other is Crystal Nightingale. They both want to retire and travel the world in their sixties and hang out at the studio when the mood hits them. Luna’s our go-to yogi for all things. If you ever want to talk to someone about the other classes available or anything spiritual, she’d be a great resource.”

  Not wanting to sound like an asshole, I keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. Nothing spiritual has never done a lick of good for me. Sarah loved yoga, though. Toward the end, she went a couple times a week and said she never felt better than when she was doing yoga.

  My heart suddenly feels like someone is squeezing it. Thoughts of Sarah always do that. I clutch at my chest and rub circles over the skin.

  Atlas notices the move and stops in the hall. “What’s going on?”

  “Heartburn. Hits sometimes. No biggie,” I lie.

  He frowns and assesses my face with knowing, intelligent eyes. “If that’s how you want to play it, fine. I’ll give you that. Eventually, your ass is going to talk to me about the shadows behind your eyes. I’m not stupid. I know when a friend of mine is hurting, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been hurting since the day we met. One day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to share those burdens.”

  I purse my lips, rub a hand over the back of my neck, and squeeze the frustration building there. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…” I let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Shit, man, I can’t. Not today.”

  Atlas nods, puts both of his hands on my shoulders, and dips his head close. He’s always been tactile. He seems to want people to feel his words as much as hear them.

  “I’m here for you, when the time comes. Yeah?”

  I grip one of his wrists. “Yeah, man.”

  “You’re my brother.” His tone is earnest and kind.

  “From another mother?” I joke, and he smiles.

  “Preach. Now let’s go get you relaxed. Your shoulders are tense, you’ve got your ‘heartburn’ shit happening, and you need to fuckin’ relax. I’m going to show you what that looks like, and man…it’s going to be beautiful. Trust me.”

  I turn and hook my arm around his shoulder. “I trust you, bro. Let’s get meditated.”

  He shakes his head. “Mark my words. This class is going to change your life.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” I laugh as we walk into a cool, darkened room. Individuals are dotted around the room in random patterns. There is no rhyme or reason to their locations. One person is lying flat on a yoga mat in the center of the room. Another off to the side, cross-legged against a column, eyes closed, hands on her knees, facing up. A big man is settled in a cocoon of rolled pillows, one placed under every limb strategically.

  “For your first class, we’ll sit up against a wall, keeping your back flat. It helps you relax from the pressure of your back getting tired.”

  “I can’t lie down?” I gesture to the person lying comfortably.

  He grins. “She is a regular. She comes two, three times a week. If I let you lie down like that, you’d fall asleep. This is not nap time. It’s quiet time for the mind.”

  “Whatever that means,” I grumble.

  Atlas leads me over to a wall close to the raised platform at the front of the room.

  “We’ll want to be close so you can hear her words. The first few times, it helps to focus on the guided meditation Dara offers.”

  Dara.

  That name is not common, and yet, there’s no way this is her class. Before I can question what he said, my skin heats, and prickles of recognition shimmer down my spine, prodding at my lower back. I look up, and there she is. The woman I’ve thought about every night for the last three weeks.

  She’s a vision.

  Her hair is lifted off her neck in a mess of braids pinned up into a bun shape. She’s wearing a turquoise flowing tank top and a pair of skintight black exercise pants. They have these cut outs in the thighs and calves where black sheer mesh offers a sexy swath of skin. Her wrists are loaded with bracelets, and a large crystal hangs down between her breasts, sparkling in the track lighting above. I watch, fascinated, as she lays out a dark-blue mat, sits down, places two bolsters on the ground, one under each knee, before she closes her eyes, places her hands together between her breasts, and bows her head.

  I can’t breathe.

  Her beauty slams into my being like a wall of warm light.

  Enshrouding me.

  Protecting me.

  Loving me.

  Her eyes open, and I swallow at the heavenly blues.

  “Welcome, class. Today we’re going to focus on letting go. A lot of the time, we spend minutes, hours, days, and weeks wanting what we can no longer have or mourning something we have lost. It’s time for you to let that go. Whatever may be plaguing your mind, your being, your soul…” She blinks slowly and glances around the room until her eyes find mine. I can tell the moment recognition crosses her vision.

  It's like a wave of energy or two magnets reaching for the other when our gazes meet. Still, she doesn’t falter in her words.

  “If it’s not meant to be yours, let it go.” Her eyes stay locked on me. “Perhaps it was never meant to be yours in the first place.”

  I can’t help but think she’s speaking just to me. Every word, every utterance of her breath seeps deep into my psyche.

  My heart squeezes for an entirely different reason when she says four words that could very well change my life.

  “Set your loss free.”

  Chapter Three

  The energy of the sixth chakra allows us to access our guiding voice, deep within. When this chakra is active, especially during meditation, it can cut through the noise of our busy minds. This is where we can find our true selves. The truths beyond the mind.

  DARA

  When the air around me changes, suddenly getting warmer and filling with a magnetic energy that seems to throb against the surface of my skin, I should know why.

  He is here.

  “Welcome, class. Today we’re going to focus on letting go. A lot of the time, we spend minutes, hours, days, and weeks wanting what we can no longer have, or mourning something we have lost. It’s time for you to let that go. Whatever may be plaguing your mind, your being, your soul…” I blink and glance around the room, my gaze settling on his, locking into place, the most natural thing in the world. And yet, it can’t be. Shouldn’t be.

  He’s not meant for me. Though the child I’m carrying has other rights. Our living proof of a night I’ll never forget. Don’t want to. Still, the energy weaving around his form, flickering a bright sunflower yellow is calling to me. It speaks of his curiosity, playfulness, awareness of self, and the power he holds firmly within his muscled form. I swear it’s a siren’s call, battering against my mushy heart. I want nothing more than to jump off this platform, wrap my arms around him, and burrow into his light, but that’s not possible.

  He has a family, and I have a secret. One I’m not ready to lay at his feet.

  Silas smiles softly, the furrowed brow he had moments before now smoothing out as my presence registers. For a few long moments, I give my eyes the gift of taking in his masculine beauty. Sitting cross-legged, in a simple pair of sweats and a white tee, he may as well have been in a three-piece suit, because the casual attire takes nothing away from his sexiness. His hair is shorter than the last time, buzzed tight to his skull so only the shading of hair covers his round head. Those kissable lips are a force, even from this distance. Like two perfectly soft pillows that form into a breathtaking smile when he offers one. Though none of that holds my attention the way those pale-green gems do, perfect jewels against his mocha-colored skin, piercing me with their glory and honesty. But it’s a farce, a smokescreen of glass and mirrors. Tricks of the eyes I can’t fall prey to again.

  With extreme effort, I break his gaze and glance at Atlas, who’
s beaming his pearly whites at me, a curl of unruly hair flopping into his eyes. A kelly-green aura shows my friend is balanced, full of love and contentment today. Just what I want to see surrounding my friends. He’s fought hard to get to this place, and I’m thrilled that he has.

  “As I was saying…if the thing plaguing you is not meant to be yours, let it go.” I stare at Silas, trying to force myself to believe the words I’m speaking. Today, I need them just as much as my class.

  I continue, breaking my own heart. “Perhaps it was never meant to be yours in the first place.”

  Silas frowns and rubs his hands over his thighs, gripping his knees like he’s uncomfortable. Right before my eyes his aura changes, going from the playful yellow to a muddy brown. A disquiet ripples through my body.

  He’s insecure.

  Silas closes his eyes, almost as if he’s pained to hear my request for the class to let go. I carry on, committed to healing everyone in this room, including the man who holds my attention. He’s been on my mind during my every waking hour, my consciousness invaded with thoughts of him and our single night together.

  Knowing that nothing is going to change the outcome of what we shared, especially now that I’m carrying his child, I say my piece.

  “Set your loss free.”

  I close my eyes and hold that thought within myself.

  You must set the loss of him free. He’s not yours.

  Never was.

  Never will be.

  When I open my eyes, I’m shocked to see Silas now has a blackness pressing down around him. The only time I routinely experience an aura this color in such alarming detail is at a funeral. Straightening my back and my resolve, I inhale long and slow. I’m going to make that blackness disappear. I want to see the sun surrounding his form again. Something I said changed his energy so severely, I can almost feel the despair dripping off him, even fifteen feet away.