Revealing Annie - Freya Barker Page 0,9

exhale.

“Better,” she says, before moving on to someone else.

I force my thoughts away from my neighbor and let my mind drift, landing squarely on Sumo. The man spent three afternoons this past week, sitting in front of Daisy’s kennel, reading Harry Potter; The Chamber of Secrets to her. My smile is inadvertent when I recall him telling me, the second time he was there, he was surprised to be intrigued by a children’s book. Clearly he’d never been exposed to the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling, but he was fast becoming a fellow fan.

Yesterday afternoon, Daisy had come far enough out of her kennel to lie down with her nose pressed against his knee. Every so often he would let go of the book and stroke her big head, which she allowed. Progress I hope will hold out until he can come back as he promised he would.

I think I’ve been most surprised at his patience; he hadn’t seemed the type. Now I realize along with gaining Daisy’s trust, he managed to gain mine, which is even more astonishing.

“Be well, and see you next time,” Heidi says when I walk past her out of the studio.

I love yoga. I’ve been practicing it for years, mainly because even when I wasn’t able to go out to a class, I could always exercise in the comfort of my own home. I’ve always carried tension in my body and the slow stretch and sometimes burn of yoga, the centering of my often-busy brain, helps me relax in a way little else can. Unless of course you count a good orgasm, but I haven’t had one of those in quite some time.

The Yooba Yoga Studio is beside a boxing gym. As I walk across the parking lot to my car, I glance over to the gym, which always seems to be busy. Tonight a couple of motorcycles are parked in front, and when I look in through the window, I can see a stocky, gray-haired biker in discussion with the black guy I see there all the time. Behind them I make out the ring, where two men appear to be sparring.

A noise startles me and I swing my head around, only to see a stray cat scurrying into the bushes behind my car. When I get closer, I notice something on the hood.

A dead bird—its head almost severed from the lifeless body.

Gross.

I find a stick at the edge of the graveled parking lot and brush the poor carcass off the hood. My body shivers with revulsion. Damn cat.

I try to unlock the door only to find it open. In my rush to make my class, I must’ve forgotten to lock it in the first place. Tossing my bag in the passenger seat, I slip behind the wheel, but when I turn my key in the ignition all I hear is a click, nothing else. No engine sounds at all. That’s not good.

I try again with the same result.

Damn. I know nothing about cars, other than how to drive them, but I find the lever for the hood and pop it anyway. Not that I have any idea what I’m doing.

I lean over the car, shining the flashlight on my phone on the engine, when I hear the crunch of footsteps behind me.

“Car trouble?” I almost hit my head on the hood at the sound of a deep voice.

It’s the guy from the gym; the biker with the gray hair, and I almost inadvertently take a step back. The move doesn’t escape him and he immediately raises both hands, palms out.

“The name’s Brick. I’m a mechanic; swear to God. If it makes ya feel better, lock yourself inside while I have a look.”

From the corner of my eye I see the yoga instructor lock up the studio and head this way.

“No, that’s okay,” I tell the man, emboldened by the sight of Heidi, but I still keep my distance as he pulls a penlight out of his pocket, shining it under the hood.

“Hey, Brick,” Heidi calls out as she approaches. “Oh, hi, Annie. Didn’t see you there, car trouble?”

“It won’t start.”

“That’s a bummer. Brick’ll be able to help you. He runs the auto shop up at the Arrow’s Edge.” I’ve heard the name before and have seen some of the guys in the store, wearing the emblem on the backs of their leather vests. It’s a local motorcycle club. “They own the gym and the studio as well,” she adds, surprising the hell out