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.
Time passed quickly, and before she knew it, she was back in the aerobics room, picking out music for Zumba, which was basically a dance class. The class consisted of all new faces this time, except for Death, who now wore skintight Spandex and a smile. Casey ignored the back corner, and led the again all-female class through the exercises.
The class sped by, and the women seemed happy with their workout, clustering around Casey and introducing themselves afterward. Not that she would remember any of their names after one session. Laurie came in as the last of the residents trickled out, Death studying their clothes as they passed.
Casey smiled. “So, where can we get some lunch around here?”
“Don’t you want to change first?”
Casey looked down at her sweaty outfit. “You’re right. Give me a sec.”
Casey hated leaving Laurie alone with Death, but there was no alternative. She couldn’t exactly tell Death to beat it with Laurie there listening.
Fifteen minutes later, after a speed shower, Casey and Laurie sat in a little café across the street.
“The Flamingo has breakfast and dinner—if you like bar food—but you’ve got to go out for lunch, unless you want to make your own.” Laurie made this sound like it was the least appealing of any other option. “Most of the residents eat somewhere close to work, except for the retirees, who hang out at the neighborhood restaurants. You’ve got your variety just on this road—Italian, Amish, Chinese, you name it. There’s more exotic stuff on the other side of town—Japanese, Cuban, Ethiopian. Not all of the closer ones are great, but it doesn’t get boring, at least.”
It was no wonder the residents needed so many exercise classes. If they ate out every meal they would be complete blimps, otherwise.
“So how have you enjoyed the morning?” Laurie said. “Do you like the variety? What do you think of the facility? Has Sissy said whether or not you’ll get the job?”
“No, she hasn’t. Yes, I enjoyed it. And the facilities are great.”
“The senior ladies are especially appreciative. They like the attention, and it keeps them from growing too restless during the day when their husbands are out sailing or playing golf. Not that the older men don’t use the fitness facilities, because they do, but usually the weight room, and swimming laps. They don’t do classes.” She giggled. “Could you see it? Old, saggy guys trying to kickbox? They’d throw their backs out for sure.”
“I don’t know,” Casey said. “I’ve seen older men who have done a great job—”
“And some of the younger women. Can you believe them? They show up in their tight little outfits, with the perfect make-up. It’s like they think they’re going to land a man at aerobics.”
“Maybe they’re just more comfortable going out in public afterwar—”
“At least with water aerobics the old ladies wear one-pieces instead of skimpier ones. I certainly wouldn’t want to see that first thing in the morning, or even in the afternoon.”
“Good lord, this woman never shuts up, does she?” Death stood beside the table, tablet in hand, chomping on chewing gum, and wearing the typical server outfit of a striped shirt, khaki pants, and an apron. The nametag on the shirt’s breast pocket said El Muerte. “Do you think she’s ever going to order, or is this merely a ‘working lunch?’”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Laurie said suddenly, shivering and casting a glance around at the other tables. “I’m going to use the little girls’ room. We can talk water aerobics when I get back.”
“Of course.” Casey breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone.
Death took Laurie’s seat across the table. “What’s her problem all of a sudden?”
“You mean other than somehow feeling that you’re in the room?”
Death shrugged. “Not my fault she’s a head case.”
“No, she’s not. She’s just nervous.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Me taking the job. What I think of the place, and of the people. I’m not sure. Maybe she’s worried I’ll take her spot.”
“Has she said anything about the last guy?”
“Not a peep.”
“Bet you could find out some good stuff if you asked. It would all come gushing out, the way she goes on.”
“Oh! Daisy! You’ve found our little café.” Sissy came waltzing in, blinding Casey with her