My hands make a show of searching my pockets for the fancy card I already know is there. When I withdraw it, I dangle it in the air between two fingers and feign an air of arrogance. The man looks me up and down appreciatively before smiling.
“Welcome to Fortuna Fitness! I see you’re one of our VIP members, so how about we just skip over the scan? We value our members here,” he says. Too-white teeth are revealed under thin lips. “Let me mist you down with a quick spell so you don’t have any trouble with the wards.”
Up close, I can see the small earpiece he wears. His tight-fitting clothes speak to his apparent addiction to protein shakes and hustling. However, he seems kind enough and eager to please. I nod graciously and wait as he sprays me from head to toe. The mist feels strange and tingly as it settles on my skin.
“Never seen a Mer with legs,” he says casually, and I smile. I notice a business card for the gym and grab a nearby pen. I scribble,
thank you for your help.
When he picks up the card to read it, I am already walking down the hall. With every step, I pray to all the gods above that the man doesn’t get a whiff of this cursed land-bound body.
I faintly hear him say, “Wait, I’m sorry. I’m new here! Could you sign in?”
I ignore him and keep on walking. Moments later, someone else comes to the desk and distracts him. The space behind the front desk is enormous and filled with dozens of machines, which all appeared to be designed in such a way that would inflict pain. It makes me very uncomfortable.
I walk briskly past neon-colored nylon and squeaky, foam-soled shoes. A breath of relief whooshes out of me when I spot the female lockers. It’s good to know that I won’t have to traverse three levels to accomplish my mission.
The thought of a warm shower and cleanliness propels me forward. The inside is lined with something resembling marble, and everything is slightly heated. The luxury of it all shocks me. Flashbacks of the ship’s bathroom cloud my vision and fill me with nostalgia. I shove those feelings so violently that I wince at my gruesome methods.
There are few females in the place. Feeling desperate not to be seen in a bunch of old men's clothes, I peel off the things from Erik’s boat and throw them in the trash. I walk naked to the showers, and not even one person looks up from lacing their shoes or tying up their hair.
The showers are individual, thank goodness. The white tile is also heated and brighter than the matte black lockers in the next room. The whole area is coated with a foggy cloud of steam. When I turn on the hot water and step inside, it feels like I have left my body.
How in all of Aranthium could I ever go back to cold water when such niceties existed on land?
Complementary soap and conditioner dispensers are installed in square indents on the wall. They smell generically like something fruity. It is such a delicious scent, and I’m delighted I’m starting to recognize peaches and strawberries. When finished, I grab the enormous heated towel rack and wrap myself up tightly.
The only problem now is finding clothes. I stare at myself in a fog-resistant mirror, wondering if there is a way to make my towels resemble fashionable clothing. I exhale, exasperated, as I tear the terrycloth from my wet hair.
It is no use. Even in Lethe, a woman clothed in towels would draw too much attention.
It is time to commit even more heinous acts than stealing a forgotten key card. I will need to steal clothes and ensure their owners don't see me as I leave.
A group of six women are still chatting as I leave the showers, staring at some sort of bruise one of them had acquired on her leg. I narrow my eyes, taking in my surroundings. A discarded gym bag lies unattended on the floor, its owner nowhere in sight. I suck in a breath as I spot a piece of red fabric sticking out haphazardly. Taking a deep breath, I know what I have to do.
I grab the clothes, and I run. As I move quickly, I shake out the fabric, disappointed to find it's some sort of red leotard. It’s definitely not what I was going for. But beggars can’t be choosers.
Way to stay under the radar, Helena.
A pair of flip-flops have been abandoned near the showers. I snatch those, too.
Pulling the clothes on under the towel, I walk back to the open floor. Pulsating music comes from one of the rooms, but my eyes light up as I take in the bright red exit sign next to it. I suck in a breath, adjust the tight fabric that has ridden up my rear, and walk as fast as possible.
Glancing in a large window, I watch as men and women gyrate against long metal poles, following the lead of a lithe Spring Fae. The female is wearing a headset, barking orders as she swings around a pole. No one pays me any heed. My stolen outfit isn’t out of place here.
I press both hands on the push mechanism of the emergency exit, and a trio of shocks echo through my hands. I grit my teeth and continue through the door even as an alarm starts. Everyone panics, coming out of rooms with shocked expressions. Others emerge from locker rooms half-dressed. A few steps out of the gym, I hear a shout from behind me.
“Hey!” someone yells. “That bitch stole my clothes!”
Shit.
Giving up all pretense of calmness, I start running. I throw my card on the ground as I pound down the sidewalk. I hear the shouts of angry people and feel the gust of sweaty bodies running past.
One of my flip-flops is threatening to separate and break as I run. But still, I move. I don’t want to be caught and labeled as a thief. Thatcertainlywon’t endear me to my uncle. I ignore the cries behind me as I dart into the crowd.
I continue down the street until my footwear is well and about to collapse between my toes. Seeing no other option, I slip into a narrow alleyway and press my back against the wall. I can only hope the mass confusion and running beings will suppress my scent long enough to catch my breath and find another way out of this mess. At least I no longer smell of Erik.
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