The Supermodel's Best Friend

by Gretchen Galway

  “Fantastic, I was hoping to see you there. Tell me about your practice.”

  “My what?”

  “Yoga. Have you been practicing long?”

  “Now and then I drop into a class at the Y. Nothing fancy.”

  “Oh, you really should give yourself more time to benefit from it. I’ve found yoga to be a great gift,” he said. “Six times a week is ideal, but I tell myself if five is what the universe can give me, five is what I’ll take and be grateful for it.”

  She smiled politely and wished he’d get off her bed. If she changed into her pajamas would he get the hint and leave?

  There was a knock on the door. She went over and jerked it open, reflecting that staying home was a lot more relaxing than this rejuvenating, renewing resort.

  “Hi,” Miles said.

  Chapter 11

  SHE STARED AT THE BROAD figure filling the doorway. His hair stuck up on one side of his head and his cheeks were pink. Under one arm was a motorcycle helmet, and the other—

  He held out a paper bag. “I got you a hamburger. Sorry it’s a little squished, I had to put it in my tank case.”

  After a split second, she took the McDonald’s bag from him and felt a wave of confusion so acute it made her feel like keeling over again. The paper was slightly warm and sagged at the bottom.

  “I couldn’t get you a soda on the bike,” he continued, “which left milk and orange juice, which, given the color thing, was a no-brainer.” He searched through the pockets of his leather jacket until he found the little bottle of juice and held it out to her.

  Their eyes met. She felt a funny pressure in the middle of her chest. “Thanks.” She took the juice, her mind going blank, not knowing if she should invite him in or—

  “What are you doing here, Miles?” Alex was right behind her in the doorway.

  The faint smile on Miles’s face disappeared. He stood up a little taller. “Alex.”

  “He brought me dinner too,” she said, still surprised.

  Alex leaned closer, then laughed. “McDonald’s? Going all out, eh, buddy? Well, sorry you wasted a trip, but Lucy’s already eaten. Fresh local fish and vegetables can’t compete with”—he took the bag out of Lucy’s hands, looked inside—“a Big Mac, but she didn’t have much appetite anyway.” He thrust the bag at Miles.

  “I kind of asked for it.” Lucy gently retrieved the bag and touched Miles’s arm for a second. “Thanks.”

  He stepped backward, tripping down the top step and grabbing the railing for support. “No problem. I went out for a ride and happened to pass it. It’s probably cold by now.”

  “It was nice of you. Really.” Why did she feel like he’d caught her in a criminal act? She had no reason to feel guilty. She hadn’t asked him to get her a hamburger, hadn’t asked him to do anything.

  He was already turning away, arm raised in a wave. “Hope you feel better. See you around.”

  She felt silly standing there watching his back, so she closed the door and turned back to Alex, the bag still in her hand.

  She was ready for Alex to go. Her head ached again and she didn’t think it was because she’d fainted earlier. “Alex, would you take that tray back to the restaurant for me? It was nice of you to bring it here. Very nice.”

  The annoyance on Alex’s face flickered only for an instant before he went and got the tray. “You want me to take that for you, too? It’ll stink up the cabin.”

  Her fingers tightened on the wrinkled paper. “No,” she said, walking back to the door and pulling it open, “I don’t mind. He was sweet to get it for me.”

  “Worried about his feelings? Tough guy like that?” Alex walked past her onto the landing, pausing when he was closest to her. “Well, I’m glad you were able to be honest with me.” He leaned over the tray between them and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  It was fine. Just fine. “I was. You’re right,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “First thing.”

  He walked off with another wave and she bolted the door after him.

  The Big Mac was delicious.

  * * *

  The Soul of Muir resort had designed many of their public buildings to resemble those of traditional Native Americans yurts. The small brown buildings huddled under the redwoods were shaped like gumdrops and had rough, unpretentious exteriors, but inside each was decked out with all the modern amenities of health-seeking rich people everywhere.

  Miles wasn’t seeking health so much as release. After he’d left Lucy, he’d stripped down to a T-shirt and shorts and found the Cardio Yurt—a miniature 24-Hour Fitness in the forest.

  He’d pushed himself like a bat out of hell on the treadmill, way past his usual pace, trying to obliterate the image of Alex and Lucy together in her cabin, trying to forget the feel of her warm little body in his lap.

  It wasn’t working. When Alex strode in after an hour of endurance training, Miles was dripping wet and half-crazed with a runner’s high that wasn’t nearly high enough.

  Alex walked over, placing himself next to the treadmill. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He thought about slowing his pace and discarded the idea. Maybe Alex would get the hint he wasn’t in the mood to chat. “Here I am,” he said between breaths.

  “So, you’d rather run in here on a machine than hike outside through one of the most beautiful places on earth?”

  Miles glanced at him, then back at the status screen.

  “Listen, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Not a good time.” Anger gave him another wind, and his feet pummeled the belt, every ounce of his two-forty pounding into the machine like a techno dance hit.

  Annoyance flashed over Alex’s face. “Could you slow that down for a minute? It’ll only take a minute.”

  It was already taking too long. Miles stabbed the green downward-facing arrow button and waited for the belt to slow to a walking pace. The plantar fasciitis in his left heel was flaring up and he’d probably be limping tomorrow. Wouldn’t be able to carry any more swooning maidens. From the looks of him, Alex spent a lot of time in the gym; no doubt he’d love the opportunity to show Lucy that Miles wasn’t the only manly man around. Even if he was a shrimp.

  “Thank you,” Alex said.

  Miles grabbed his towel and wiped it across his face while he walked and tried not to stumble off the machine due to exhaustion. “Well?”

  “I think you must have some idea what I want to talk to you about.”

  “If Huntley’s asking for a stripper again, tell him he shouldn’t have trapped us in rural Mendocino for his bachelor party.”

  “No, Miles, I didn’t want to talk to you about strippers. Quite the opposite.”

  “He wants a nun?”

  “Very funny. I know this is awkward, but I felt it was my obligation to warn you about something. So you don’t make a fool of yourself.”

  Pressing his molars together, Miles looked down and jabbed the speed up again. “That does sound awkward.”

  “It’s about Lucy.”

  “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

  “More than that, I think. Huntley tells me she used to be in a doctoral program in biostatistics.”

  “Sounds hard.”

  Alex gave him a pitying look. “I’m sure it was. She’s quite brilliant, he said.”

  “Guess she wasn’t brilliant enough.”

  “Miles, not everyone drops out of school because of a lack of intellectual power.”

  “Like me?”

  Alex looked at his hands, shifting his weight between his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  “Oh, that’s good. I thought maybe that was a dig about me bailing after one quarter at Stanford.”

  “No, of course not. I meant that Lucy had realized a master’s was ideal for her corporate career, and she’d be better served devoting her energies to working her way up in the private sector since she never wanted to be an academic like her father.” Alex ran his ha
nd down the front of his button-down yellow shirt. “You did know about her father?”

  He knew very little about Lucy, but Alex didn’t need to know that. He picked up his water bottle and took a big gulp. “You’ve lost me, dude. Why tell me all this?”

  “Unlike her father, Lucy has goals. Her father never had the ambition to get tenure, find a management job, make a salary anywhere near his talents.” Alex sighed, his eyes bright. “She’s the type to appreciate hard work and long hours, because she’s done the same and she knows what it’ll get you.”

  Miles toasted him with the water bottle. “She has a nice ass, too.”

  “This is what I’m talking about. You don’t—you don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you think she has a nice ass?”

  Alex closed his eyes for a second. “I saw the look on your face tonight. You were hoping your little fast food offering would get you somewhere. Before you get hurt, I wanted to warn you that it’s hopeless. She and I have already agreed to start seeing one another.”

  “Exclusively? Seems kind of fast. Didn’t you just meet yesterday?”

  “In person, yes, but our connections are more complex and go back for years.”

  “Meaning your friends set you up.”

  “Some of us value our friendships very highly.”

  Miles stared at him, looking for malice but only seeing a cloud of smug. Did Alex really think he was too stupid to be insulted? “I value my friendships.”

  “Of course. Though you gave Huntley a hard time about being his best man, I hear.”

  “Just looking out for him.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  Wrapping the towel around his neck, Miles hit the stop button on the treadmill and let it come to a slow creep before stepping off. His legs were wobbly, but he held himself up to his full height and looked down his sweaty nose at Alex. Getting Lucy the burger had been his version of an apology, not a come-on. He wondered what Alex would have called the way he’d pulled her into his lap. A marriage proposal?

  He shook his head and sent sweat flying onto Alex’s cheek. “She mentioned she wanted a burger, I was glad to get out for some air, end of story.”

  “Right. Good. So we understand each other?”

  “I’m trying to understand you, Alex, but you’re not making it easy.”

  “I’m not trying to be a dick here, man. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. She might have seemed grateful when you helped her down from the zip line, but that doesn’t mean what you might have thought it meant, you know?”

  “She doesn’t want to fuck me, you mean.”

  The smarmy concern drained out of Alex’s face. “Exactly,” he said tightly.

  Miles almost said, Then why did she stick her tongue in my mouth? But unlike Alex, he wasn’t an asshole. He wouldn’t kiss and tell. “Too bad,” he said instead. “She’s hot.”

  The condescension came back into Alex’s features. “More than that, my friend.” He forced a smile and slapped Miles on the arm, then drew back and walked to the door, surreptitiously wiping the sweat on his hand onto his khakis. “Thanks for taking that so well. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it.”

  “I’m pretty bummed, actually.”

  “There are other single women here. I’m sure one of them is looking for the same sort of thing you are.”

  “Pussy?”

  Alex blinked, his face turning red, but he managed to force another smile. “You never grow up, do you, Miles? Must be fun.” He opened the door and stepped out with a wave. “Maybe tomorrow we can talk to Huntley about stripper alternatives.”

  Miles watched the door for a few minutes after he’d left, more confused than ever. The urge to seduce Lucy was, as Yoda would say, strong in him. If anyone deserved to be taken down a notch it was Alex. And he liked Lucy, really liked her. It would be no sacrifice.

  He rubbed the towel roughly over his face and cursed into the thick organic bamboo fibers. Alex couldn’t have any influence over him. If he went back on his previous decision to stay away from her just because Alex had insulted him, he’d be a loser. He had more spine than that. If the smug little lawyer wanted to think he was a shallow, womanizing dimwit, let him.

  Lucy knew better.

  Didn’t she?

  * * *

  The yoga class was at six-thirty the next morning. Wednesday was looking identical to Monday and Tuesday: white sky and damp, cold air, an unlikely August anywhere else in the country but typical for the northern Pacific coast. Lucy wore black yoga pants, black tank, black sweatshirt, and black flip-flops with a large silver rosette over her big toe, wishing she’d packed her black puffy vest and maybe a black cap to keep out the chill.

  If Krista didn’t like her palette she could bite it.

  She hadn’t slept well. The nap after the tree ceremony had messed up her biorhythms, and she’d stared at the dark room for hours, burping up McOnions and hoping Fawn and Huntley were having cathartic make-up sex in his cabin because she’d never come back after dinner.

  She viewed her indigestion as a reminder of another kind of incompatibility. Something could taste good going down but would kill you in the long run.

  Not that she was thinking about going down.

  “Lucy! You made it!”

  Krista jogged over from the path ahead, looking bright and perky. The Yoga Yurt was in the cluster of spa buildings to their left, the morning so early and dark the solar-powered lanterns still glowed from each rounded doorway, casting off a faint blurry light through the fog.

  Lucy waved half-heartedly. “Where’s Betty?”

  Smile turning sour, Krista glanced at the treetops overhead. “Naked, hungover, and snoring like a lawnmower.”

  “At least somebody had a good night.”

  “Why, what happened to you?” Krista looked her up and down, then grabbed her wrist. “Oh, that’s right, you totally fainted yesterday. Are you better now?”

  “Fine. Just didn’t sleep very well. And Fawn didn’t come back to the cabin.”

  “Well, duh. I wouldn’t expect her to.”

  “She’d intended for them to spend the nights apart this week.”

  They walked up the stairs into the yurt. “Knew that wasn’t going to happen,” Krista said. “The night before, sure, but all week? He’d never make it.”

  Lucy paused at the door. “Did you notice how standoffish he was yesterday?”

  “Just because his parents are a little conservative. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Krista pulled the door open and warm light poured out over them, illuminating Lucy’s inky ensemble. “Didn’t we buy you a pink tracksuit?”

  “Did we?” Lucy avoided her gaze and walked past her into the small studio, relieved to see Alex there, sitting cross-legged on a mat near the front mirrors. His presence would stop Krista from giving her a hard time.

  Sure enough, as soon as Krista saw him, she squeezed her lips together and gave Lucy an eager, bright-eyed stare. “You know, I just remembered I promised to have breakfast with Betty. I’ll have to catch you later.”

  She really didn’t want to be alone with Alex just then. Wasn’t anyone else in the wedding party awake yet? “Krista—”

  “Sorry!” Krista shoved the door and hurried back outside, leaving Lucy alone inside the quiet, bamboo-floored studio with Alex. Krista may have been desperate for a man of her own, but she was a generous person willing to live vicariously through her friends.

  Alex rose from sitting to standing without moving his feet, a smooth maneuver that had Lucy momentarily staring. “Feeling better this morning?” he asked.

  She glanced around, confirmed there was nobody else there, and got a mat off a rack near the door. She unrolled it several feet away, parallel to his, hoping her eyes didn’t give away what she thought of his outfit. His white T-shirt and navy bike shorts reminded her of the time a Shakespeare company had performed at her high school and caused a giggle riot. There was just something about men’s fabric-mold
ed genitals that bugged-out her modern American eyes.

  “Much better, thanks.” She sat down in the middle of her mat and smiled at him in the mirror, grateful when he sank back down to the floor, and his reproductive organs disappeared behind his folded legs.

  Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t anything personal, she just didn’t like seeing penises mushed up with testicles under tight, shiny Spandex. Even if Miles came in wearing a Speedo that was three sizes too small…

  She twisted around to look at the door.

  No, of course he wouldn’t come to yoga at six-thirty in the morning. Or any time of day. He probably couldn’t even reach the floor from way up there.

  Big Mac.

  Just then a forty-something woman came into the yurt wearing Uggs and a big smile, her brown hair tied up in short pigtails and her long, lean body draped with an off-white tunic and matching harem pants. “Morning, yogis, I’m Mary. Sorry I’m late.” She strode over to a rolling stereo cabinet. In a moment the sound of rushing water filled the air. “Middle of your sticky mats, please, and I’ll come over and you can tell me about your practice.”

  “Don’t worry,” Alex said to Lucy. “Just tell her you’re a beginner.”

  “You don’t have to tell me what to do,” Lucy said.

  Mary walked over to him and squatted down; they began talking so quietly, their voices were drowned under the sounds of synthesized rushing waves. He held himself bolt upright, hands on his knees with the palms up, and never opened his eyes.

  Lucy felt a huge yawn rise up inside her, swamping her like the waves in the music, and she had to fight the urge to lie down and go back to sleep. She heard a squirting sound and smelled lavender; Mary was spritzing the air with a small bottle as she walked over to her.

  Mary kneeled down and looked into Lucy’s face with small, amber-colored eyes that didn’t blink. “Tell me about your practice.”

  Alex turned his head without moving his shoulders, like a doll that could swivel a three-sixty. “She’s a beginner.”