The Hacker - Nancy Herkness Page 0,4

email came back from Leland.

Ah, the joys of a family-run business. Not only office politics but domestic dynamics to contend with. This may be more than I can handle.

She snort-laughed. Mr. Southern Charm could probably talk a state trooper out of giving him a ticket after being clocked at a hundred miles per hour on the New Jersey Turnpike. Even worse, she was enjoying his email messages way too much.

I have a client. Catch you later.

She shoved her phone in her pocket and strode past the grunting, sweating gym rats to the lounge, where her next client, Leslie, was chatting with the blond ex-jock, Chad.

“Dawn, baby,” he said, flashing his whitened smile. “If I didn’t respect you so much, I’d steal away this lovely lady and train her myself.”

Leslie, a frazzled mom with three small kids and a husband who traveled for business three weeks out of every month, trilled a giggle. Dawn didn’t begrudge her the pleasure of flirting with a guy whom some considered good-looking. So she just narrowed her eyes at Chad in a warning before turning to Leslie with a wink. “Don’t let that dazzling smile fool you. He’s way meaner than I am.”

“Did you just call me dazzling?” Chad pressed his hand to his chest in mock astonishment.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Dawn said. “Leslie, let’s get you warmed up and ready to work.”

Leslie rose from the couch and touched Chad on his bulging biceps, her fingers lingering slightly. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“My pleasure.” Chad looked deep into Leslie’s eyes. “I hope our paths will cross again.”

Dawn controlled the urge to gag and shepherded her client away from her cliché-spouting fellow trainer.

Dawn was eating a kale-and-quinoa salad in the employee break room when Vicky sashayed through the door and up to the small white plastic table where Dawn sat.

“Ramón told me about your offer,” the owner’s wife said, jutting out one hip and resting her ring-laden hand on it. “That’s real nice of you, but my guys say the Wi-Fi will be fixed by the end of today. So no need for your consultant friends to get involved.” With her free hand, she toyed with her dark-blonde curls.

Although Dawn didn’t like Vicky, she admired her. The woman had big hair and snapped her gum like a diehard Jersey girl, but she ran the administrative side of the gym like a corporate CEO. Bills got paid on time, payroll was never late, there were always clean sweat towels, and the equipment was updated regularly. That’s why Dawn had been surprised when the Wi-Fi problem had persisted.

Dawn put down her fork. “That’s good news. Thanks for letting me know.” But disappointment tweaked at her chest. No more email exchanges with Leland.

Vicky nodded. “I’ve got the tech stuff covered. No need to worry about it.”

Dawn forbore to point out that the issue had continued for a couple of weeks. “Got it.”

“By the way, you’re doing great on billing training hours,” Vicky said. “You’re headed for a quarterly bonus at this rate. Good job.”

The comment might have been patronizing from someone else, but Vicky cared intensely about how many training hours could be billed to clients.

“Thanks,” Dawn said again. “I always like getting bonuses.” She just socked them away in a conservative mutual fund because she had all she needed in the way of material things like furniture and workout clothes. She also had an apartment five minutes from the gym, a job she cared about, and a few trusted friends. She was as safe and secure as she could make herself without becoming a recluse.

“You’ve got a good touch with the customers,” Vicky said. “Tough but encouraging. It keeps them coming back.”

A surprising glow of satisfaction warmed Dawn. She put a lot of thought, study, and effort into her work. It was nice to have the hard-to-please Vicky notice. “It’s a pleasure working here.”

Vicky gave her a thumbs-up, the rhinestones decorating her leopard-spotted manicure glinting in the fluorescent light. She turned toward the door but stopped to say over her shoulder, “And you don’t create drama. I appreciate that.”

Dawn laughed. Her fellow trainers, both male and female, sometimes acted like feuding cats. “I try to stay away from the hissing and clawing.”

“Thank God!” Vicky swayed out of the break room on her four-inch silver stilettos. She wore them with a tight-fitting turquoise tracksuit that somehow worked for her.

Now Dawn had to call off the big gun at KRG. She pulled out her phone but couldn’t