Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,22
tour think I’m crazy because I won’t skip a training session or cheat on my diet to go out and have drinks or get pizza. But I truly believe my refusal to compromise is what has set me apart from them this year.
As much as I want to inhale some of that dank weed and just drift off into a place where rankings and renovations and retirement are distant thoughts, I can’t do it. I have to stay focused or I’ll lose my edge. And with Carlos Ferreira nipping at my heels, I can’t afford to slow down, not for a second.
“Nah, I’m good, man. I’ll just watch you two get baked, then I’ll put on my tap shoes to keep you entertained.”
Lena puts her feet up on the coffee table in the sitting area and leans back on the sofa next to me. “Yeah, I think I’ll sit this one out, too,” she says, taking a long sip from her beer. “We have to get up early to make the flight back.”
Yuri shakes his head. “You know how hard it was for me to get this strain? I had to go through three middlemen.” He stands up and heads for the door leading out onto the balcony. “I’ll be chillin’ outside, enjoying my last night in California, while you suckers sip that cancer juice.”
He closes the door behind him, because Lena is very strict about him smoking indoors, and disappears into the dark shadows of the balcony. I sit up to set my beer on the coffee table and the sudden movement makes Lena drop her beer on her shirt.
“Shit! I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for her shirt, then immediately drawing my hands back when I realize what I’m doing. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean to do that. Sorry.”
She laughs as she stands up, setting her beer down on the table before she peels her T-shirt off. My heart stops for a moment, until I realize she’s wearing a bikini top underneath. She uses the dry part of her T-shirt to wipe the beer off her abdomen as I apologize a few more times.
“Dude. It’s just a little beer. I’m not gonna die,” she says, spreading her arms wide. “See? Still alive.”
I glance at her calf to keep from staring at her bikini top. “How’s your leg?”
“Good as new,” she says, brushing off the question as she turns her body so the injury is facing away from me.
“Are you trying to hide your shark bite? ’Cause if it were me, I’d be down in the lobby getting my picture taken with that thing. I’d having a fucking Shark Bite Photo Booth set up, five dollars for a snapshot with me. I’d be calling news stations and reenacting that shit in slow-mo.”
She shakes her head. “That’s because if you got bitten by a shark, it would be the shark bite heard ’round the world. You’d have shark experts flocking here from all corners of the world to put their two cents in. I’m not you. No one gives a shit if my leg is torn off by a shark.”
“That’s not true. I would give a shit.” I smile at the way she blushes. “I mean, who else is going to tell me my 360s are shittier than a baby’s diaper? I need you around to keep me on my toes.”
She suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Speaking of babies… you should probably call Lindsay and ask how the twins are doing.”
I sigh as I realize she’s right. I spoke to Lindsay briefly right after I stepped off the stage, but it was a rushed conversation. I need to call her to say good night to the girls. I hope they’re still awake.
“I’m gonna turn in,” I reply. “Don’t let Yuri get frisky with your shark bite. I need you ready for France in two weeks.”
She smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I close the door to my bedroom and slide my phone out of my pocket. When I dial Lindsay’s phone number, there’s a brief moment of tension in the pit of my belly, a moment where I chastise myself for hoping she’s already asleep. Letting out a deep sigh, I lie back on the bed and smile when I hear her voice.
“Hey, champ,” she says, her voice low and silky. Mila is probably already asleep next to her.
“Hey, baby. Are the girls asleep?”
“Mm-hmm. Mila’s in her own bed tonight. The electrician came and finished up what you started.”
“And by finished what I