Flowers for Her Grave

by Judy Clemons

  Casey held up her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Just making conversation.”

  Maria looked at her for a few seconds before saying, “This is our aerobics room,” although it needed no explanation.

  The room was large, one entire side filled with mirrors. The other walls had been painted a faint yellow. The floor was blond wood, and the lighting was recessed, spread throughout the ceiling at even intervals. Mats stood in neat stacks in one corner along with racks of exercise balls; hand weights and resistance bands lay in individual cubbies. As in the weight room, a full water cooler sat in the corner, minus the fruit bowl.

  “There’s a sound system,” Maria said, pointing to speakers in each corner, “with portable mics for the instructors. And a wide selection of music, unless you have your own.”

  “May I look?”

  “Of course.”

  Maria was right. There was anything she could want, from Golden Oldies to classic rock to hip hop to Top Forty. She flipped through and selected a CD for Pilates the next morning. Six AM would come awfully early—she might as well know what she was going to use before she got there.

  “You’re finished?” Maria said. “I’ll show you the locker rooms yet.”

  “What?” Casey said. “No spinning class?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But that’s the one thing left to do. They’ve run out of space. It would mean either major renovation to change the two condos on this floor into a cycling room, or taking up room in the aerobics and weight areas. Nobody wants to do that, and the two residents on this floor don’t want to give up their spacious suites.” She pushed open the door marked, “Women,” and Casey shook her head with disbelief.

  These were way more than locker rooms. Roomy lockers, benches and comfortable chairs, multiple individual showers, and a sauna.

  Death gave the sauna a pass. “Why people want to sit and sweat is beyond me. You may be boring with all your workouts, but at least you’re doing something.”

  Casey agreed, but wasn’t about to tell Death that.

  “This is the training room, which separates the men’s and women’s locker rooms.” Maria unlocked the door. An examination table sat against the wall, along with a whirlpool, a sink, and cupboards, filled with first aid supplies. A large metal desk was wedged into the corner with a new iMac, and a rack of hand weights rested on the floor beside it. As Maria had mentioned, there was a door on the opposite wall leading to the men’s locker room, which apparently opened into the hallway across from the weight room.

  “This would also be your office,” Maria said.

  Office? Computer? Casey’s head spun.

  “So, do you think you could work here?” Maria’s voice was dry.

  “I think I could manage.”

  It was nicer than any place she’d ever dreamed of working. Her old dojang, back home, was a tiny little room on the third floor of an old warehouse. It was hot, and cramped, and they were lucky if they had enough mats for everybody to use on a given day. But it worked. Casey had learned what she’d needed.

  “Come on, then,” Maria said. “I’ll show you an apartment.”

  She took Casey up one flight, and opened a vacant condo. It was a furnished two-room space, with hotel-type furniture, and a few generic paintings above the bed and sofa. Apart from the bedroom and living room, there was a small kitchen, a full bath, and a good-sized closet.

  “Nice,” Death said. “If a little small. And it smells like mothballs.”

  “It’s perfect,” Casey said.

  The sliding glass door opened onto a little balcony, which overlooked the outdoor pool. Several people floated on mats, or lay beside the pool on lounge chairs. A lifeguard perched in a tall chair, and a hot tub sat close below him, with one person in it.

  “The higher-priced condos are further up, where you can actually see the ocean beyond the trees,” Maria said. “Those, of course, are for the paying residents.”

  “Of course.” Casey looked around the room. She could see herself being…well, not happy, exactly…but comfortable there. Yes, she could be comfortable.

  Maria walked back to the door. “Would you like a walk around the grounds?”

  “Sure.”

  The tour took them past the bar, where Jack the bartender gave Casey another amused wave, and included a peek into the mailroom and kitchen, the lobby of the Palm building, and a glance at the maintenance shed. Well, it wasn’t a shed, exactly, being a full garage and storage area for the lawnmowers and a Gator, besides two pick-ups with the Flamingo emblem on the side.

  They ended up on the private beach, where Casey breathed in the salty air and looked down the shoreline toward the marina on one side, complete with a restaurant over the water, and a line of condos down the other. The water was clear, the sand was white, and Casey didn’t know what she did to deserve this opportunity.

  “Job’s not yours yet,” Death reminded her. Death now wore a bright blue bathing suit with Hawaiian flowers, a visor, and shades, and sat on a lounge chair under an umbrella.

  Casey held her hand over her eyes and looked toward the horizon, watching as two sailboats moved smoothly toward each other. “What a beautiful place.”

  Maria sighed heavily. “It is. Most of the time.”

  Casey was going to ask what she meant, but when she turned to say the words, Maria was already on her way back to the Flamingo.

  Chapter Six

  Casey spent the evening in her over-priced hotel room going over plans for classes. The schedule for the next few days would include a dizzying array of sessions, including Pilates, step, low and high impact aerobics, abs, body sculpting, BODYPUMP, Zumba, circuit training, yoga, boot camp, and senior exercise. Sissy had decided to wait on any individual personal training until Casey actually had the position. There had been a day in the past Casey could have taught every one of the classes in her sleep, but with all that had happened the last year and a half, it was like returning to another very foggy world.

  Casey also went shopping, and invested in some workout ensembles. From what she’d seen at the Flamingo, her usual shorts and T-shirt wouldn’t cut it, and her Dobak wasn’t conducive to all-day exercise. Casey avoided the skin-tight Spandex, opting for gym shorts and tank tops, which were a bit colorful, but would do the job. If Sissy actually hired her, she would find something more her own style. She did, however, get a new pair of cross-trainers, which she could use no matter what happened.

  “So, what do you think?” Death asked.

  Casey was in one of Reuben’s old, over-sized T-shirts, and lay in the very comfortable, very cozy bed. Her eyes had just begun to close when Death jerked her back awake. “About what?”

  “The Flamingo. The job. Sissy’s clothes.” Death lay on the far side of the king-size bed in a nightshirt like the one Scrooge would’ve worn. All that was missing was the cap.

  “The Flamingo itself isn’t quite my thing, but the job would be great, for a while, anyway.”

  “And Sissy’s clothes?”

  “She seems nice. And professional.”

  “But the clothes, Casey, the clothes are hideous.”

  “Personal choice, L’Ankou.”

  “Right. I need to remember who I’m talking to. You’re not exactly Fashion Central.”

  “I never asked you.”

  “But what about the last two instructors? Aren’t you curious?”

  “About their clothes?”

  “About what happened to them. What exactly they did. Who the woman was who put the last guy in her will. And what if there were others?”

  “They’re gone, okay? That’s all I care about. The residents have a clean slate, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “But the last two guys were scoundrels. At least the one was. The one before him was just unqualified.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Okay, fine. But can you at least turn on the TV?”

  Casey pulled the covers over her head, and Death gave u
p.

  Five-thirty rolled around awfully early, but Casey was ready. She wasn’t surprised to find herself alone as she drove to the Flamingo. Death wasn’t exactly a morning person. Or spirit. Or whatever.

  She signed in with the Flamingo’s guard and walked across the empty lobby. The bar was closed, of course, with no sign of Jack. The shop on the other side of the room looked just ready to open, and the smell of coffee and muffins wafted across the air, making Casey’s stomach rumble.

  Casey arrived in the aerobics room fifteen minutes early, but already a group was forming. All women, and all of the age they would be heading out to work before eight. They eyed Casey with a look of half appraisal, half defiance, so Casey smiled and behaved in as non-threatening a manner as she could. According to Death, women weren’t always excited to be around her, either because of her low body fat percentage, or because she could beat the crap out of them.

  Casey thought perhaps the woman she’d seen in the lobby that first day would show, but no one who entered came even close to her stature and presence. Casey was disappointed, but not surprised. A woman like that probably had a dojang or dojo she attended. She was obviously much more than someone who wanted a tight butt, or a reason to dress in Spandex. Casey hoped she would at least see the woman in the lobby again sometime, so she could start up a conversation. She would like to have an ally—although with women like that there was no telling if she would be an ally or an enemy. Casey would simply expect the better of the two choices, but be prepared for the worst as well.

  She found the CD of ocean sounds and slow music she’d chosen the day before and got the sound system set up, including the mic pack, which she clipped to the back of her shorts. She was hooking the mic over her ear when someone thrust a hand in her face.

  “Andrea.” The woman’s light hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her eyes still puffy from sleep. “Welcome to the Land of the Dead.”

  Casey shook her hand. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what we call ourselves. The six-o’clock crew. We don’t exactly want to be here at this ungodly hour, but it makes the most sense in our schedules.”

  Casey laughed. “Gotcha. I’ll try to make the session enjoyable.”

  “Enjoyable? I’ll take bearable.” The woman grinned and found a spot on the floor, between two others who looked just as asleep as she.

  When the clock read six, Casey turned on her mic. “Good morning. My name is Daisy Gray. I’ll be doing your classes the next few days as kind of a try-out for the job, so if you have comments, you can direct them to Mrs. Williams. Are you ready?”

  There was a collective groan, and Casey started the music. By the time the hour passed and the women had stretched, sweated, and held positions most normal people couldn’t halfway manage, they were finally starting to wake up. When Casey turned off her mic, Andrea and another woman came to the front.

  “That was great,” Andrea said. “Better than the last instructor, for sure. You’ll be back tomorrow morning for aerobics?”

  “I’ll be here. Anything in particular you like to do?”

  “Like to do? Not exactly. Whatever gets our blood pumping, I guess.”

  “She’s not bringing men, Andrea. At least no one’s tried that yet.” The other woman slung her towel around her neck and gave Casey a slow smile. “I’d be up for it, though. Give me a good man in the morning, and I’m ready to go for the day.”

  “Krystal!” Andrea laughed. “You’re awful.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  Casey didn’t doubt it. Krystal, with her curvy body and bleached blonde hair, looked like she spent a good bit of the time attracting the opposite sex. Even Casey could feel her magnetic pull. It was amazing that while Andrea, the first woman, had the same coloring as her hottie friend, she definitely had the girl-next-door appeal, while Krystal was undoubtedly the femme fatale.

  Casey looked around the all-female class. “Do men ever show up for this?”

  Andrea giggled. “Never. But there are some over in the weight room right now, praying for a glimpse of Krystal as she leaves.”

  Krystal shrugged. “It’s my gift to them.”

  Andrea swatted her, but smiled at Casey. “The last two instructors were guys, but they don’t really count, as far as attendees.”

  “You didn’t like them?”

  Krystal harrumpfed, and looked at her fingernails, like she had more important things to think about.

  “They were all right,” Andrea said. “Richie is a total sweetheart and Brandon was super buff, but neither one really fit here. I sometimes think people here didn’t give Richie enough of a chance, but it wasn’t up to me.”

  Krystal took a step away and pulled at Andrea’s arm. “Enough about him. Come on.”

  Andrea gave Casey one last smile. “I guess we’re off then. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  There were no more classes until eight-thirty, the empty hour and a half being time that would be filled with personal training, should Casey get the job. But once it got close to eight-thirty, people began to trickle in for step class, much more lively than the group at six. This was more of a mixed bag, age-wise, but again it was all women. Casey had a feeling any interaction she might have with men would take place in the weight room.

  Sissy bounced in, this time in a raspberry-colored warm-up suit, with lipstick to match. The contrast with her orange hair was enough to make Casey go a little cross-eyed. Sissy came right up front. “Pilates go okay?”

  “Great. Nice group of women.”

  “They are.” Sissy hesitated. “I suppose you met some of them? Maybe one named Krystal?” An unreadable expression flitted across her face.

  “Yes. And her friend Andrea.”

  “Andrea’s a nice girl. I’m glad she’s here.”

  Not Krystal, though, apparently.

  “Ah, here’s Laurie. Laurie! Over here!” It was the woman from the pool the day before who’d been leading the water aerobics. She approached slowly, as if unsure what was going to happen once she got there. Casey decided her original assessment held—Laurie was a fit forty-something, her dark hair obviously helped along by a bit of color, and her skin beginning to show signs of age around the eyes and mouth. It probably didn’t help that she was tanner than what would be natural, and probably had been most of her life. Right now the fine lines were accentuated by her obvious anxiety.

  “Laurie,” Sissy said, “this is Daisy Gray. If she gets the job, you’ll need to work with her on a schedule. We can’t have her working every hour of the day.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Casey smiled at her. “I watched a bit of your water aerobics class yesterday. I liked the way you led it.”

  Laurie relaxed visibly, her shoulders dropping and her eyebrows traveling upward. “Really?”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve taught in the water. Perhaps you could give me some pointers? Get me up to speed?”

  Laurie smiled, taking several years off her appearance, just like Del’s smile had the day before in the weight room. “Well, sure, I’d be happy to. Do you have time before your class at one?”

  “I’ve got Zumba at eleven, and then I need to grab something to eat.”

  “We can eat together.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Laurie smiled again, and found a place in the middle of the group.

  “Okay, ladies!” Sissy clapped her hands, and the chattering ceased. “This is Daisy. She’s doing our classes the next few days, and may be staying on. So give me feedback, to help me know whether to hire her, or not.”

  Great, Casey thought wryly. At least there’s no pressure.

  “All yours,” Sissy said, and took her place in the middle of the front row.

  Casey started the CD, turned on her mic…and froze. Death stood in the back row of the class, waving and smiling and wearing an outfit that would have fit in Flashdance. Leg warmers, headband, the whole works. Casey clos
ed her eyes, but when she opened them, Death was still there.

  She would just have to deal.

  “Good morning, ladies, my name is Daisy Gray. Let’s start with some slow up and downs.”

  She took them through an easy, low-impact session, so she could study them and see where they rated in the proficiency scale. She suggested extra platforms for some, fewer for others, and always gave an alternative exercise for those who might have bad knees. Death had a great time in the back, spinning and jumping and generally being a distraction. By the time class was over, Casey was ready to wring Death’s neck.

  Sissy trotted up and grabbed Casey’s hand. “Wonderful class. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. Glad you enjoyed it. Was it what you were hoping for?”

  “Even better.” Sissy clasped her hands. “I think I’ll come back this afternoon for BODYPUMP.”

  “Great.”

  The women filed out, sweaty but happy, thanking Casey and saying they looked forward to the next day.

  When they were all gone, Casey rounded on Death, who was still stretching. “Thanks a whole lot.”

  Death paused, halfway in a squat. “What? That was a great class.”

  “Could you have been any more distracting? And what is that get-up? Are you auditioning for Fame?”

  “Well, I am gonna live forever.”

  Casey groaned and drained her water bottle. “From now on, you cannot take my classes.”

  “Why not?” It wasn’t Death asking. It was Laurie, who’d apparently been in the locker room.

  “Oh. Not you,” Casey said. “Of course you’re welcome to take whatever classes you want.”

  Laurie looked around the empty room. “Then who were you talking to?”

  Casey waved toward the door. “Someone who just left.”

  “Oh. It wasn’t Krystal, was it?”

  Oh, boy. Another woman worrying about the bombshell from six AM.

  “Nope. So, I’ll see you at noon?”

  “I’ll come by to get you.”

  “All right. See you then.”

  Again time was built in for personal training, so Casey meandered over to the weight room, where several people sweated on the cardio equipment. She walked through the maze of machines, familiarizing herself with what was there so she would be able to put together programs. When she got to the free weights she tried them out to find where she stood—it had been months since she’d touched a barbell. She did better than she’d hoped, and stopped pumping when she realized she was gathering an audience. She set the weights down, waved to the onlookers, and meandered over to the weight machines, trying her luck at those.