“Ooh, I want to hug you again. But I won’t.” She marches into the aisle, tossing some tampon boxes into the cart. “Now to the wine! I can have that, right? If you tell me no, I’m going to be such a bitch.”
“In moderation,” I answer in a daze.
“That’s not in her vocabulary,” I swear I hear Manuel mutter as he passes by me, following his bubbly employer.
CHAPTER 25
LUNA
“How does someone become a self-defense dietitian?” Charlie’s question comes with genuine curiosity in his voice, so I don’t immediately put my shields up.
When I’ve stated my job title in the past, people have looked at me like I declared I wanted to be mayor of the moon.
Self-defense dietitian isn’t that weird of a word combination.
Okay, maybe it is, but people could still give me the benefit of the doubt.
“I went to college for nutrition. Here in Nashville. I got a full academic ride. Applied for every scholarship I could find and landed a few.”
I spent all my days after school at the public library, using the computers to find the funds to get out of my parents’ house. When I got the congratulations letters, I cried in my car, the only safe place I had at the time.
“Still had to pay for food and my apartment. I got a few jobs. One was the graveyard shift at a twenty-four-hour gym.”
Charlie winces on my behalf, but I shrug, taking a slow sip of my mint chocolate milkshake. After picking him up from theguitar shop, I decided to treat my fake husband to one of my favorite desserts in the city and walk him around downtown. Now we meander along the sidewalks, dodging tourists and listening to the country music spilling out from the different bars. The sun is high and hot, and I tilt my face up to soak in a few more rays as I continue laying out the map of my past.
“Working nights wasn’t bad. I slept in the evenings after I got out of class and before my shift started. I did all my classwork at the desk because there wasn’t much to fill the time. When I finished my assignments, I needed something else to keep awake, so I grabbed a few pieces of equipment—just weights and stuff—and worked out at the desk. Couldn’t use any of the machines while I was on shift because it would’ve meant abandoning my post.”
The life I grew up in made me tough, but not necessarily physically strong. The amount of money Bill and Vivian Lamont left for their kids’ food was a lot less than they spent on the latest TV or knockoff designer bag. When I had my own money, access to a gym, and finally some actual knowledge about nutrition, I watched my body get stronger each day.
I’ll never be huge, but I’m hardier now.
“Working out got you interested in self-defense?” Charlie glances down at me as we wait at a crosswalk.
“Not exactly. There were security cameras set up around the gym, and my boss saw the video of me doing my desk workouts. Instead of getting mad, he was impressed. He asked if I’d be willing to do an instructional video for them to put on the website.”
“Nice.”
Charlie toasts me with his milkshake before taking a long pull from the straw. He opted for strawberry, and I wonder if kissing him would taste like the pink drink.
Stop imagining kissing your fake husband.
I shake my head and return to the story. “Yeah. I felt awkward at first. I’m not the bubbly, motivational type. But Treyvon—the gym owner—told me to go through reps just like I was explaining the steps to him. No need to cheerlead. He posted the recording, and people liked it. We guess because I showed a full-blown workout they could do at their desk. Most desk workouts are more about getting people to stand up and get their blood flowing again. Mine involved building muscle. Getting stronger.”
Charlie nods as I speak. “Okay. Some of the dots are connecting now. What happened next?”
“Treyvon was a retired vet. He was on a team that would be sent in to rescue hostages. Really intense stuff.”
Was one of the reasons I never minded working for him. He wasn’t just a random guy who decided to get ripped one day and open a gym the next. Not that there’s something wrong with that. Only I’m not about to hand out my respect to a person just because they’ve piled muscle onto their frame. That’s no true strength in my book.
But Treyvon went through some shit and came out on the other side. And he didn’t brag about it.
“He had an idea for a side business. One that taught people how to escape kidnapping situations on their own.”
I was in awe of the concept when he mapped everything out for me. And intimidated. And wildly excited because I wanted to learn every tip and trick he had.
“His goal was to get some A-list clientele, but he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be taken seriously, seeing as how it was a new business.” Which baffled me because who wouldn’t take Treyvon, the war-hardened vet, seriously?
“After my desk workout video did well, he had the idea to make a whole series of videos where we’d demonstrate self-defense techniques and escape maneuvers. He’s a big guy—I’mtalking taller than you, three times the muscle. While I might be strong, I’m still a short woman. So, we teamed up, with me showing how anyone can learn the moves. We made a whole series and got an online following. That built a buzz, which bled into a few pieces on us in local papers and a couple of visits to local morning shows. Once that happened, the business got clients. When I graduated, Treyvon offered me a full-time job.” I pause to take another sip of my treat before continuing, “It was a great opportunity, but I’d spent all this time on my degree. Even after I graduated, I went on to become a certified dietitian, and I hated that I wasn’t doing anything with that knowledge.”