by Grievous Sin
“Did they set themselves up with someone good?”
“I’ve got a name and a number. That’s all I know about him.”
“Poor little girl…girls, actually—both Lourdes and the baby.”
“It’s a real tragedy,” Decker said. “I’m off to see Nurse Jamison. I’ll check in with you in about an hour. Oh, and one more thing, Dunn. Who the hell is Marc?”
It was one thing to be on unfamiliar ground. It was quite another to be on alien soil. Garbed in bicycle shorts, a green muscle shirt, and sneakers, Cindy had dressed the part, but her body didn’t fill out her clothes the way the others’ did. She took a quick peek in a cracked wall mirror. Besides her having been cursed with pale, freckled skin, her arms and legs had absolutely no shape or definition.
It was only nine in the morning, and yet the place was hot and smelled of sweat. About half the machines were taken; those remaining idle beckoned her forward with a malevolent finger. She didn’t know what to do with her gym bag, she didn’t know where to begin on the machines, and no one had given her so much as a glance, let alone a smile. It was moments like these that let her know how truly stupid her ideas usually were.
She found an unoccupied bench, dropped her bag at her feet, and sat down. Rather than looking stupid, trying to fake out that she knew what she was doing, she felt it was probably better to observe a while. Then, afterward, maybe she’d try to imitate.
She chuckled to herself.
As if imitation were possible. These guys were lifting Mack trucks. Staring at the grunting masses, bodies sculpted and defined, she could almost discern the striae in the voluntary muscle and the vessels that fed them. It was weird—like looking at three-dimensional pictures from Gray’s Anatomy. She found it interesting, but not at all sexy. The muscles seemed too waxen to be real. Probably because all the guys were hairless. Still, it was fascinating to watch the human body being stretched to the limit. Like observing a freak science experiment. So entranced by the motion, Cindy didn’t even notice the blocky body looming over her until he cleared his throat.
His bronze skin was shiny with oil. He had blond hair past his shoulders and wore a headband to keep the tresses out of his eyes. He looked like the cartoon character He-Man. His smile was nice, though. He sat beside her.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Cindy stared at her feet. “Not really. I thought…you know.” She looked up. “That maybe it was about time I started to do something with myself.”
His eyes slowly scanned her body, and he nodded. He was agreeing that she was a wreck. It made her feel terrible.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Cindy admitted.
“That’s obvious.”
“Thanks.”
He stuck out his hand. “Eric.”
She took it. “Cindy.”
“So what brought you here, Cindy?” Eric said. “Why not a health club?”
“I’m interested in building my body, not in getting picked up.” She smiled. “No offense.”
Eric smiled again. His teeth were too white to be real. “None taken. That’s the correct attitude. So much of what we do is attitude. The other part is hard work.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“By who?”
Cindy paused for just a second before she thought of a response. “By friends.”
“Who are your friends?”
“You don’t know them. They live in New York.”
“You’re from New York?”
“No, I just go to school there. Columbia.”
“Columbia, huh? That’s cool. There’s nothing wrong with brains and brawn.”
Cindy laughed. “So where do I begin?”
“What are you interested in?”
Cindy paused. “My arms, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“My whole upper body maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I don’t know really.”
“Well, you’d better figure out what you’re after, or you’ll never last.”
Cindy bit her lip, trying not to get sucked in by the dare. “Any girls around here?”
“Why? You a les?”
“No, I’m not a les. And even if I was, it would be none of your damn business.”
Eric smiled. “Hey, now you’re getting good!”
Cindy stared at him. “Good at what?”
“Getting mean. You’ve got to get mean, or you’ll never last.”
“I’m supposed to be mean?”
“Yep.”
“How mean?”
“As mean as you can. You’ve got to look at the weights as enemies to conquer and control. Without that attitude, you won’t last. Believe me, I’ve seen chicks come and go in this place. The kind of girls who bitch and moan every time they break a nail? We don’t put up with that kind of ’tude around here. That was the first thing I noticed about you. You have short nails. It tells you a lot about a person.”
Cindy sneaked a look at her hands. She had tried growing her nails, polishing them. It was fun but too much work. “Are you a teacher here?”
“Two days a week.”
“What does it cost to join?”
“Fifty a month to use the equipment. But the boss always gives newcomers a month free. If you last a month, you’ll probably last, period.”
“Are there any girls around here?” Cindy asked again.
“We’ve a few dedicated chicks.”
“No offense, but maybe I’d be more comfortable if there were some girls around.”
“No one will hit on you here, Cindy. We’re all friends, but that’s all. Friends in work. Guaranteed.”
“Still…when do they come around?”
Eric frowned at her. “We’ve got about six serious chicks. They pop in and out all during the day and night. We’re open twenty-four hours, in case you’ve got a bad case of insomnia.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yes, it really is. Anyway, do you want a little help starting up? First lesson is on the house.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
Cindy stood. Why not? “Sure.”
Eric said, “First, I’ve got to take your measurements.”
“Why?”
“Because how are you going to know if you’re improving if you don’t have a baseline?”
“True.”
“Yeah, true.” Eric pulled out a tape measure and stretched it across her back. “Now lift up your arms.”
Cindy obeyed.
Slipping his arms around her body, Eric placed his hands over her breasts. Quickly, she spun around and stepped backward. “What the hell are you doing?”
Eric growled at her. “I was trying to measure you—”
“You were feeling me up!”
“I was feeling you, but not up—”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Hey!” Eric grabbed her right hand. “It’s muscle, Cindy. That’s all it is! Just fat and muscle.” He wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Muscle.” He placed her hand over his chest. “Muscle.” Around his leg. “Muscle. Over his groin. “Muscle. That’s all we humans are. Fucking bone, muscle, and fat. The idea here is to get more muscle than fat. I can’t tell a fucking thing about your chest if I can’t feel your tits, see what the condition of your underlying muscle is. From the quick feel I got, it looks like you’ve got some decent pecs under all that mammary fat.”
He released her hand. Cindy stared at him but said nothing.
Quietly, Eric said, “I probably should have warned you. I’m used to people who know the routine. You want to try again?”
“I would really feel more comfortable if this was being done by a girl.”
“Get used to guys, Cindy. ’Bout ninety-eight percent of our clientele is guys. And just for your info, ’bout a third of them are gay. They don’t give a shit what’s between your legs. Like I said, to a dedicated builder, it’s all muscle.”
“Are you gay?�
�� Cindy asked.
“No,” Eric answered. “But I’ll say yes if it’ll make you feel better. Will you relax?”
“It’s difficult.”
“Just go with the flow. Lift your arms up.”
Cindy wondered if Marge had ever been in a situation like this. Of all the dumb things she’d ever tried to pull off, this had to be one of the dumbest. But she was here already. She lifted her arms.
Again Eric snaked his massive limbs around her body. Each arm must have weighed fifty pounds. Again she felt his hands on her breasts and involuntarily flinched.
“Just take it easy,” Eric said, “you’re doing fine.”
After a moment, it was clear to Cindy that old Eric was telling the truth. He was feeling her breasts, but it wasn’t sexual.
“See…right there,” Eric stated. “That’s where the fat of your tits ends and where your underlying pecs are. Did you ever do lifting before, Cindy?”
“No.”
“You’ve got good raw material.” He let go of her breasts, then measured across her bust. It took him twenty minutes to finish charting her body, recording the inches of her waist and hips and thighs. When he was done, he said, “Good raw material. I’d like to take you through the first month myself. You want to set up some dates?”
“Can I call you on it?”
Eric gave her a disgusted look. “Are you committed or what?”
“How should I know?” Cindy placed her hands on her hips and stared at the entrance. Just then a woman walked through the door. She was absolutely gorgeous—perfect skin, sleek black hair, and black eyes as luminous as obsidian. She was wearing a black lace body stocking, filling it out in all the right places. She turned to Eric and said, “Can you turn me into her?”
Eric let out a deep laugh. “Tandy’s certainly an example of everything that can go right.”
“Tandy?”
“That’s her name. She was over two-fifty when she first walked through the door.”
Cindy’s eyes widened. “What?”
“No lie. I’ll introduce you.”
Cindy watched Eric duck-waddle to Tandy. He threw his arm around her lithe shoulder, leading her over to Cindy. He said, “Hey, Roberts, come and meet the new kid on the block.”
Cindy suddenly felt her heart race. This was the whole reason she was here, and now that she was face-to-face with Tandy, she had no idea what to do. She looked up at Eric as if he had the answer. All he had was a goofy grin on his face. With deliberate motion, Tandy sidled up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were long and delicate, but the nails were clipped short. She didn’t just rest her hand on his muscle, she kneaded it. Then she offered her hand to Cindy.
“Tandy Roberts.”
“Cindy.” Her answer had an odd rhythm because she didn’t state her last name. Just in case Marge had given her Dad’s business card. She felt her face go hot.
“Your hands are sweaty,” Tandy said.
“I’m nervous.”
Tandy laughed. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you get nervous when you’re in a strange environment?”
“I used to….” Tandy’s dark eyes peered into Cindy’s. “But I don’t anymore.”
“It’s great to have that kind of self-confidence.”
“I owe it all to building. It’s given me control over my life.” Tandy turned to Eric. “Did you work out a routine for her yet?”
“I’ve just finished measuring her. She’s got potential. Lots of raw material.”
“Potential, huh?” Tandy’s smile was secretive as she walked over to the weight rack. “So let’s start with something a little bit more challenging.”
Lifting a fifteen-pound weight from the rack, Tandy sat on the bench. She supported her right arm by resting the elbow on top of her left hand. She extended her right arm downward until it was straight, then slowly brought the weight up to her shoulder by bending at the elbow. “That’s called a curl…an arm curl. See?”
Cindy nodded, watching Tandy’s bicep bunch as she curled the weight again.
“Do you want to try it?” Tandy asked.
“Sure.”
“Come sit. Remember to keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. Don’t use your back when you lift. And breathe normally.”
“You’re not giving her a fifteen-pounder,” Eric said.
“You said she had potential.”
“Stop teasing her, Roberts. Give her a three-kilo. If that’s too easy, give her a five.”
“I’ll try the fifteen,” Cindy said.
“It’s too heavy for you,” Eric stated. “You might hurt yourself, and that would be really dumb.”
Cindy thought a moment. If she didn’t try it, she knew she’d lose Tandy’s dare and respect. The idea was to get close enough to talk to her—woman-to-woman. She said, “I’ll be careful. And if I fail, big deal. I don’t mind looking like an idiot.”
Eric said, “Tandy’s just being evil.”
Tandy laughed. But Cindy knew where the truth lay. “You said the idea was to get mean.” She glared at Tandy. “Give it here.”
With a slight smirk, Tandy handed it over to her. Then she added, “Really. Watch your back.”
The weight was heavy, Cindy thought, but didn’t seem unmanageable.
“Breathe out first,” Eric said.
“What?”
“Exhale, Cindy.” Tandy blew out air forcefully. “Then inhale. While you’re lifting, you exhale again. You always exhale on the exertion, okay? Like this.”
Cindy watched the perfect breasts heave as Tandy demonstrated the curl. Eric was hypnotized, and Cindy understood why. The woman was exotic, as captivating as a black widow. When she was done, she handed the weight to Cindy.
“Your turn.”
Cindy shrugged. “Here goes nothing.”
Slowly, she brought the weight upward, her muscles feeling a sizable tug as the dumbbell neared her shoulder. Carefully, she brought the weight back down, then curled it two more times. By the time she was done, she was surprised how sweaty she had become. She was also shocked by how good she felt, despite the strain in her arm. “I think that’s it, guys.” She placed the weight on the floor and massaged her overworked arm. Looking at Tandy and Eric, she thought they seemed stunned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Eric smiled. “See, Roberts, I told you she had good raw material.”
“I did well?”
Eric’s smile formed to a grin. “Don’t let it go to your brain, Cindy. Even though you have the potential, you’re still a sack of fat.”
“Nothing like a backhanded compliment to massage the ego.” Cindy’s eyes fell on Tandy, and she remembered why she was here. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Would you mind working with me? Even if it’s just for today. I told Eric that I’d really prefer working with a woman. I guess I’m a little shy.”
“That’s not good,” Eric chastised.
“One thing at a time, okay, Eric?”
He-Man smiled. “Up to you, Fat Sack.”
“Oh, go stuff it!”
“Now, that’s more like it!” Eric stated. “Got to get mean, Cindy. Only way to reach your full potential. Lifting is not a game. It’s a commitment, and it’s not for wimps.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Eric.” Cindy laughed. “Do you mind helping me out, Tandy?”
Tandy looked down, then up. “Hey, it’d be my pleasure. I’m impressed.”
Cindy studied Tandy’s face. She really did look impressed. Impressed and mean.
27
Marge tossed the magazine in the passenger seat of the Beemer and was ready to start the car. But Tandy wasn’t walking toward her Audi. Instead, she was chatting animatedly with a redhead, the two women crossing the street in the direction of the juice bar. Quickly, Marge picked up her binoculars and began focusing on the moving figures. Then her hands began to shake. In shock, she lowered the glasses to her lap and tried to unscrambl
e her thoughts.
If Marge didn’t intercede, Pete would strangle her as well as Cindy. But if she did intercede, it would blow the tail, putting Tandy wise to their suspicions. But Tandy was being watched as a suspect in a kidnapping/murder; she could be dangerous. How could Marge, in good conscience, allow Cindy to remain in the presence of this woman?
Of course, she and Decker had no evidence that pointed to Tandy’s involvement. But Roberts was a nutcase. Marge knew that by letting Cindy proceed, she could be endangering the teenager’s life.
Marge swore out loud. Decker’s kid must have gotten a taste of excitement, and the adrenaline had kicked in. Teenagers—pains in the butt. The shy ones got eaten alive, and the bold ones believed they were immortal. Pete wouldn’t be the only one who’d have a few choice words to say to Cindy. What to do! What to do!
The girls had gone inside the juice bar. Marge could either put a stop to it now or wait. Again Marge cursed, trying to be rational and careful at the same time. After a minute of conflict, pros and cons competing for brain space, Marge finally decided to cool her heels. She could see the entrance to the bar as well as the Audi. Tandy couldn’t escape without Marge detecting her getaway.
Let the ladies have their chat. Afterward, when they went their separate ways, when Marge was calm, she would have a long, long talk with Cindy.
But the decision gnawed at her gut. What if Tandy went crazy?
Marge could see the screaming headlines: mass murder in juice bar: people die as cop looks on. Subtitle: Victim daughter of cop’s partner.
Forced to resign in humiliation, Marge would spend the rest of her life as a security guard in a mall—guarding teenagers!
She shook exaggeration from her thoughts. Passing seconds seemed like hours. Eyes darting back and forth, Marge felt the tension of every muscle in her body. She thought, Why should Pete have the honor of killing Cindy? The pleasure should be exclusively hers.
Darlene Jamison lived on the ground floor of a two-story beige stucco apartment. Each unit had an individual entrance, and Darlene’s was located on the left side. Decker knocked on the door and waited. He had to knock again before Darlene answered the door. The petite woman was swallowed up by a tentlike algae-green smock that approximated the color of the place’s swimming pool. Her hair was tied back, her round face mottled and doughy. She stepped backward, allowing him to come inside the small living room.
