Shakespeares Counselor Page 0,11
and threw it at me. Mandy didn't look like a well-groomed young matron any more as she yanked my twenty out of my purse and thrust it into the same pocket. She was sneering in my face.
I had seldom seen anyone look quite so ugly, male or female. I thought Mandy Easley was just as much a waste of space as Byron, and I wished her out the door. I was sick to death of her.
She read something in my face that stopped her manic rant. Yanking off the towel, she let it drop to the floor while she pulled on her shorts and a T-shirt and thrust her feet into sandals. She gathered up her purse, spitefully knocked over the stack of towels as her parting shot, and headed out the door to the hall leading to the main room. She spun on her heel to fire some comment my way, something that could be heard by everyone in the weights room, but I began moving toward her with all my disgust in my face. She hurried out of the gym for the last time.
I had to straighten up the locker room, of course, and though it made me sick to do so, I had to pick up the card Mandy had thrown at me. While I was refolding the towels and placing them in the resurrected rack, I pictured many gratifying ways to make Mandy pick up her own card. By the time I had to take my place beside Byron again, I was in at least an equitable mood.
"What happened to Mandy?" he asked casually, taking a moment away from his absorbed fascination with his own face reflected in the gleaming counter. "She took outta here like a scalded cat."
I couldn't tell him she'd been stealing. That would jettison the whole idea. But I could tell him something else. "I had to take her membership card," I said, even more seriously and quietly than normal.
He goggled with curiosity. "What? Why?"
I was drawing a blank.
"Did she... make a pass at you?" Byron supplied his own scenario. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "Did she actually... was she actually doing something? In the shower?"
I wasn't supposed to disclose Jack's business arrangement with Mel Brentwood. I looked away, hoping to indicate embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it," I said truthfully. "It was really ugly."
"Poor Lily," Byron said, laying his hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "You poor girl."
Was he blind?
Biting the inside of my lips to keep from snarling, I managed to indicate to Byron that I wanted to go work out, and he let his hand trail off my shoulder while I went to the leg press. After I'd warmed up and put the first set of forty-fives on, I dropped down into the sleigh-type seat and placed my feet against the large metal plate. Pushing up a little to relieve the pressure, I flipped the prop bars outward, and let the plate push my knees to my chest. I pushed, and felt everything tighten in a surprisingly relaxing way as I exhaled. Legs to chest, inhale. Legs out straight, exhale. Over and over, until the set was done and I could add another pair of forty-fives.
Toward the end of my workout, I realized I should be feeling proud that I had successfully completed my first assignment as a private investigator. Somehow, television and the film industry had not prepared me for the mundane satisfaction of detecting a thief. I hadn't gotten to run after anyone waving a gun; the police hadn't threatened me; Mel Brinkman hadn't tried to sleep with me. Could it be I had been misled by the media?
As I pondered this, I noticed that Byron had been so anxious to start spreading the "news" about Mandy that he'd actually gotten the glass spray out and begun cleaning some of the mirrors that lined the gym walls. This brought him into murmuring distance of some of his cronies and the many sideways glances at me were a clear indication that my brush with Mandy was being mythologized.
At least I'd gotten some good workouts, being on this job. I wondered how long Mel would want me to work after this; this might be the last time I'd have to come to Marvel Gym.
Jack picked me up at the end of my shift. I was so glad to see him it made me feel almost silly. Jack is