The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay)

by Susan Mallery

  Several clients strolled in. She greeted them. Her Tuesday-Thursdays four-o’clock session was a mat class, done with minimal equipment. Some people thought that made it easier and maybe in some places it was. But not at Mischief in Motion. She prided herself on a killer workout. People were taking time out of their lives and paying money for their workout. She made sure they limped away knowing they’d gotten the best bargain possible.

  “Hey, Judie,” she called as a pretty blonde with brown eyes walked in. “How’s it going?”

  “Great. I’m ready for you to kick my butt.”

  Nicole grinned. “You’ll be kicking your own butt.”

  “I really hope you mean that as a figure of speech and not literally.”

  “You’ll have to wait to find out.”

  A couple more clients walked in, followed by the one person Nicole had never, ever expected to see in her studio again. Jairus wore loose jersey shorts over fitted bike shorts, and a T-shirt. He had on sandals, but carried a pair of Pilates socks in his hand.

  “I called earlier,” he said. “I was told I could be a walk-in if the class wasn’t full.”

  Nicole opened her mouth, then closed it. No. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t take a class.

  She wanted to say she was full. That he had to go away, only the mats were laid out on the floor and it was obvious that two were empty. As it was 3:59, the odds of anyone showing up in the next eight seconds seemed slim.

  She wanted to say the class would be a hundred and fifty dollars. Or five hundred. Or whatever number it was that would make him go away. Behind her she heard low rumbling. No doubt the women were upset that there was going to be a guy in class. A man always changed the dynamics, and generally not in a happy way. She didn’t know what to say, what to think and she really, really hated how deep down in her chest there was the smallest little ping of interest.

  “Have you been to a Pilates class before?” she asked.

  “Never. I run and lift weights.”

  “Interesting but not useful. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  His dark, curly hair was too long and he hadn’t shaved that day. He should have looked scruffy, only he didn’t. He looked...good.

  She pointed to the empty mat on the end. “We need to get started.”

  He nodded and walked across the studio. He kicked off his sandals, then faced the six women already sitting on their mats.

  “Ladies, I’m sorry to invade your class like this. I promise, it won’t be a regular thing.”

  Judie raised her eyebrows. “So we should pretend you’re not here?”

  “That would be great.”

  Nicole stood in front of her class. If she turned just a little to her left, she barely had to see Jairus. She told herself he was just another student. She would do what she always did.

  “We’ll start with the hundred,” she said.

  Jairus had put on his Pilates socks. He glanced at the other women and assumed the same position—balanced on his butt, his arms straight, legs straight and raised.

  “Tummies in and up,” Nicole said. “Begin.”

  She counted to one hundred, patting her hand against her thigh between each number, stretching out the length of time, as she usually did. Jairus hung in to about forty-seven, then he started flagging. By eighty, he was flat on his back.

  The class continued. He did his best to keep up. Leg circles were easy for him, although he didn’t have much control. The open leg rocker was more difficult and toward the end, he went over on his side.

  Several of the women giggled. A couple called out advice. Nicole had to give him points. He tried hard and he didn’t complain.

  He also had a pretty decent body. He hadn’t been lying about working out. She could see he had muscles and endurance. Just not the right kind for what they were doing here.

  About twenty minutes into the class, the students seemed to forget he was there. Conversation flowed—it was the usual discussion of husbands, kids and bosses. Jairus didn’t join in, which surprised her. She was sure he would want to offer advice.

  “Teaser,” she said toward the end of the class. She glanced at him. “You should sit this one out.”

  He looked at the other women. They all lay on their backs, their arms extended up over their heads. As she gave the count, they rose gracefully into a V, toes pointed, arms straight.

  “Good idea,” he muttered as he collapsed onto the mat.

  She held in a smile. Class wrapped up quickly with a few stretches. Everyone applauded when it was over and got to their feet.

  Jairus moved a little more slowly. A couple of the women spoke to him before leaving. When he was the only one left, he stood and hobbled over to her small desk.

  He was sweating just a little. She would like to think he was nervous, but knew it was a lot more about the workout.

  “You teach a great class,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s hard.”

  “It’s supposed to be.”

  He ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Look, this is my last shot. If you say no, I’m done. I’m not interested in being some weird-ass stalker guy. I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. You’re interesting and that’s important to me.”

  “Plus you haven’t been getting any lately.”

  He winced. “Did you have to bring that up?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not easy.”

  “That’s true.” She studied him. “I like that you don’t go to prostitutes.”

  “I hope you like more than that because otherwise, you need to work on your standards.”

  That made her laugh.

  She thought about what Shannon and Gabby had said to her about hiding. She thought about how long it had been since she and Eric had split up. She thought about how Jairus had been a trouper in her class. He’d made a real effort. That had to be worth something.

  “Dinner?” he asked.

  “Dinner.”

  * * *

  Hayley pulled a dress off the rack and studied it. Spending money on something as ridiculous as clothes bugged her, but she needed a few things for herself. Her clothes were all so threadbare. It didn’t take much for a seam to rip. In the past week, she’d had two skirts and a shirt fall apart in the wash. She’d been careful to throw them out before Rob saw. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just go to a department store, like everyone else. Even a discount one. He believed if they needed something, they should get it. For him, it was only money. For her, wasteful spending might mean the difference between having a baby and not.

  “Great selection this time,” Nicole said from the other side of the rack. “Did you see this one?”

  She held up a simple blue wrap dress. The knit material would wear like iron and the subtle pattern meant stains would be less noticeable.

  “Love,” Hayley said, walking around the end of the long rack.

  It was lunchtime and she and Nicole were spending their precious hour at the local thrift store. The Goodwill was bigger, with a better selection, but too far to go to on a lunch break.

  She’d dressed for their outing in a tank top and shorts, so it was easy to pull on the dress and wait for Nicole to react.

  “Looks great,” her friend said. “Nice color. And hey, five bucks. You can’t beat that.”

  Hayley went over to the large mirror on the wall and studied herself. She was too thin and pale. She still looked sick. She hadn’t had a period since her last miscarriage, so she wasn’t ovulating. Dr. Pearce had warned her that all the hormones would mess things up and she’d been right.

  It was going to get better, Hayley promised herself. Once she got the hu
ndred thousand dollars she needed for the treatment in Switzerland, she would get pregnant and stay pregnant. Then she would have a baby. Everything would be worth it after that.

  Nicole walked over with another dress. A simple, sleeveless, red sheath made of a quality woven cotton.

  “With a black sweater, it could be perfect,” she said. “Seven dollars. Still a steal.”

  Hayley didn’t want to spend more than twenty dollars. Which meant she could get both dresses plus a couple of tops.

  Nicole found a few shirts and shorts for Tyler while Hayley looked through the women’s shirts. There was a nice green blouse that looked as if it had never been worn. As she slipped it off the hanger, it drifted to the floor. She bent over to pick it up only to realize a half second too late that she’d stood up too fast. The room spun, folding at the corners before she could grab on to the rack.

  Nicole was immediately at her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Just dizzy.” Hayley straightened and forced herself to breathe slowly. The room steadied. She smiled. “I have low blood pressure. It’s not hard for me to get light-headed. Don’t worry.”

  “I do worry.” Nicole’s gaze was sympathetic. “You’re still recovering, aren’t you?”

  Hayley nodded. “It takes longer each time.”

  Her friend squeezed her hand. “That was your third miscarriage?”

  “My fifth.”

  “That many? Is that okay for your body?” Nicole shook her head. “Sorry. That was the wrong question to ask. Do you need to get something to eat? Would that help?”

  “I have a sandwich back at the office. I’ll be fine.” Hayley never knew how much people wanted to hear. She also didn’t know how much she wanted to listen to. Tell someone you’d miscarried and chances were they had advice. Especially women who’d had successful pregnancies, like Nicole.

  Was it worth it? Did she have the right doctor? What about adoption? Sometimes Hayley wanted to grab the speaker and shake them. Really? Was it possible she and Rob hadn’t already had that conversation fifty-seven times?

  “I have a protein bar with me,” her friend said. “You’re welcome to it.”

  “Thanks.” She held up the blouse that had fallen. “I think it’s pretty.”

  “Me, too. With white or khaki now and with black in the winter.” Nicole smiled. “It’s not like we have to worry about it getting too cold in January. A light sweater over that top would be great.”

  Hayley relaxed. “Thank you for not lecturing me.”

  “Not my business.”

  “That doesn’t seem to matter to most people.”

  “The heart wants what it wants. Having a baby by carrying it to term is important to you.”

  The right words, Hayley thought. “But you don’t get it.”

  “I don’t have to. I’m not dealing with what you are.”

  No one was. At least Nicole understood that. But she was only one of a few. Nearly everyone else wanted Hayley to get over it. To accept reality and adopt.

  Nicole unbuttoned the blouse and held it out. “Let’s see how you rock this. Then we’ll buy what we found and head back to work. On the way, we’ll splurge with a latte at Latte-Da.”

  “They’ll cost more than this blouse.”

  Nicole grinned. “Which is what makes it a splurge.”

  * * *

  Gabby, we know you can hear us. Gabby, we love you. Come back to the kitchen and eat us.

  Gabby wasn’t sure which was more psychotic—hearing the cookies downstairs calling to her, or wanting to answer.

  It was her own fault, she reminded herself. Her family was perfectly happy with store-bought cookies. But did she buy those? Of course not. Instead she made them from scratch so the smell of chocolate and peanut butter wafted through the entire house.

  It was day six of her diet. Day six of being hungry and annoyed and had she mentioned hungry? She missed sugar and bread. She missed not caring about what she was going to eat next. She missed the feeling of being so full that she never wanted to eat again. Even if that only lasted for a few hours. These days she was either starving or ravenous, there wasn’t much in between.

  She reminded herself that she’d already lost two pounds and that she didn’t give a rat if it was only water weight. The scale was going down. She would be strong. She was strong. Hear her roar. Or maybe that was just her stomach.

  She sorted the load of laundry by owner, then started folding. In theory she could take Makayla’s clothes back to her and the teen would fold them, but sometimes that wasn’t worth the argument. Which made her just as guilty as Andrew on the mixed-message front. Of course, it was tough to be strong when she was weak from hunger.

  “I can do that.”

  She turned as her stepdaughter walked into the master.

  “Those are mine,” Makayla said. “I’ll fold them.”

  “Thanks,” Gabby said, even as she glanced out the window to see if day was now night and it was raining some strange animal. As the weather seemed completely normal, she pushed the pile of whites to the other side of the bed.

  In her shorts and a loose tank top, her hair pulled back in a braid, Makayla seemed younger than usual. More approachable. Jasmine lay tucked between the decorative pillows on the bed and stuck out a paw to catch stray socks.

  “School’s going to start soon,” Gabby said, not sure if she was supposed to make conversation or wait for Makayla to talk. “Your sophomore year is a big one.”

  “Uh-huh. Cami’s getting her learner’s permit.”

  Cami was one of Makayla’s friends and a little older than the other girls. As Makayla had just turned fifteen at the beginning of summer, Gabby and Andrew had a few more months until they would be faced with that. Fortunately California had graduated license requirements. Teens had to earn their way into a driver’s license, which meant even if Cami got her permit, there would be no driving her friends around anytime soon.

  Makayla finished folding her clothes and pairing her socks. She sat on the bed and picked at the duvet cover. “I’ll be taking geometry for math. Everyone says it’s hard.”

  “Geometry is weird,” Gabby said. “From what I could tell, either you get it or you don’t. If you get it, it’s super easy. If you don’t, it’s very challenging. But you’ve always done well in math.”

  “Yeah.”

  Gabby finished with the twins’ clothes. Even though the next logical step was to pick up the items and take them to where they belonged, her gut said to stay where she was. Until she found out what Makayla wanted.

  She had no idea where the conversation was going. Was this about body piercing? A tattoo? Going on a trip with one of her friends and her family? Painting her room purple? There was really no way to tell. She didn’t think she had to worry about Makayla being bullied. She was popular with her friends and didn’t seem to have that many who were mean.

  For a second she thought about mentioning Boyd and the kissing. To try to find out how far things had gone. She held back, wanting Makayla to get to whatever was bothering her first.

  “When did you know you were in love with my dad?”

  Of all the questions, that was not even close to being on the list of those expected.

  “About two months after we started dating,” she said. “He was a really great guy. Kind and funny and smart.” She smiled. “He cared about you a lot and that was important to me.”

  Makayla finally looked at her. “Why? I thought second wives hated the kids from the first family.”

  “Not at all. I liked how your dad was with you. I knew he was the sort of man who would put family first.” The answer was automatic, while Gabby processed the “I thought second wives hated the kids from the first family.” Was that the problem? Did Makayla really think Gabby hated her?

&n
bsp; Sure they didn’t always get along, but hate was so strong. Gabby felt herself flushing as she wondered if she’d been more bitchy than she realized. Had she made the teen feel unwelcome?

  “Some of my friends have stepmoms who are really mean,” the girl said, turning her attention back to the duvet cover.

  “I’m sure it happens.” Did she fall in the mean category?

  “You were planning on having the twins, right? They weren’t an accident.”

  “I was trying to get pregnant,” Gabby said. “I didn’t think there would be twins.”

  “That would be hard.” Makayla looked at her, then away. “Um, a friend of mine thinks she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to be sure. I, ah, said I’d ask you.”

  Gabby was incredibly grateful she was sitting down because if she were standing, she would have collapsed. Now all she had to worry about was screaming. Or swearing. Something she hadn’t done out loud since the twins were born. This time “sugar” was not going to cut it.

  Pregnant? Pregnant? She flashed back on the kiss. They hadn’t seemed like they were that intimate, she thought frantically. If anything, she would have said they were awkward together. Maybe there really was a friend.

  “How far along is she?” Gabby asked.

  “A few months. Maybe two or three.”

  Makayla’s voice shrank with each word until there was barely any sound. By the end of the sentence, the world shattered and Gabby knew there was no friend. Makayla was pregnant. Now what? What were they supposed to do? Was being pregnant better or worse than being on drugs? Better or worse than stealing or being a bad person or...

  Gabby stood. “Can you please stay with the twins? I have to go to the drugstore.”

  “Um, sure.”

  Gabby started for the door, then turned back. “Start drinking water. Lots and lots of water.”

  Chapter Ten

  The pregnancy test sticks were lined up on a paper towel in the master bath. Each one of them showed the same result. Whether it was a plus or lines or the word yes, the answer was clear. Makayla was pregnant.