Rebecca grinned at him. “It’s not.” She had known Nick since theirjunior year of high school. They were probably the two people least likely tomaintain a friendship of anybody in their very large school, but here theywere, thirty-five now, and nobody knew her better than Nick. She trusted himimplicitly, as much as her own family, and he rarely steered her wrong. “Butsome of the clients who sign up are…difficult.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Bridezillas?”
She groaned. “You have no idea.”
“Change the attitude,” he said again. “If anybody can do it, youcan. You know your shit.”
Rebecca was still thinking about Nick’s words two hours later asshe finished up with a client. Kara would hate it if Rebecca messed with herclass, but she couldn’t really complain if she altered the mindset of it alittle bit. Could she? And would it matter? Kara might have been high up on theseniority list at the gym, but Rebecca held her own. She hadn’t been there aslong, but she got great feedback from her clients and lots of referrals. Andnot for nothing, Nick was right: she knew her shit. She’d studied—and continuedto study. She wasn’t there to make her clients skinny. She was there to getthemhealthy.There was a massive difference.
It was Friday afternoon, which meant the gym was pretty sparselypopulated. No classes were held after one o’clock because too few people showedup. Thus, the spinning room was dark, the yoga rooms were empty, and only a fewdiehard bodybuilders were groaning up a storm and clanging down free weightsone floor below.
Rebecca sat at her desk in the open space that ran along a wall ofwindows overlooking the weights section below. The gym was set up in twostories. The second story—the main one—housed the front desk, the trainers’desk spaces, the day care center, the spinning room, and all the cardioequipment. The first floor contained the locker rooms, the yoga rooms, all theweight machines, and the free weights, and part of the second floor opened sothat the free weight section of the first floor had a high ceiling.
From her desk, Rebecca could look down and see the free weightsand some of the weight machines, and a lot of the time after a long shift, sheliked to just sit and watch. Decompress from her day. The clients who knew whatthey were doing with the free weights were something to behold, and they oftencaptured Rebecca’s attention for moments at a time. The flexing of muscles asthey worked had always fascinated her. The bodybuilding men who were enormous,as well as the experienced women who weren’t necessarily bodybuilding but werein amazing shape, both caught and held her attention. She watched technique andform and found herself impressed more often than not.
“Hi, Rebecca.” The words yanked her back to reality. “Have you hadan awesome day? I have.” Bobby Pine stopped pushing the wheeled cart full ofdirty towels and held out a fist for Rebecca to bump.
“It’s been okay, Bob,” she responded with a grin, as she touchedher fist to his and they exploded them together. “You working late?”
He nodded. “I’m gonna make it a great evening.” Bobby was tall andgangly, all limbs. The lenses of his glasses were very thick and made his browneyes seem much bigger than they were. He’d been hired by the gym’s owner abouteight months earlier, part of an outreach program for intellectually disabledadults. He emptied the garbage, washed and dried the towels, mopped the floors,and did odd jobs around the facility. He was easily the friendliest, mostcheerful person Rebecca had ever met.
“You do that,” she said to him, as he resumed his path toward thelaundry room, humming a tune as he went.
Pecking at a couple of keys on her keyboard, Rebecca called up thelist of participants for the Be Your Best Bride class, which would start onMonday. Five of them total, so not a huge class.
Change theattitude.
She heard Nick’s words again. Maybe a smaller class would makethat change a bit easier.
A few more pecks and she pulled up her boss’s email, along withKara Laughlin’s “curriculum,” as she called it. It wasn’t bad—Kara might havehad a questionable outlook on body image, but she knew fitness pretty well—butthere were a few tweaks Rebecca would’ve made had she been designing theprogram herself. With a little half shrug, she decided she’d make them anyway,so she copied and pasted the outline, then edited it with her own ideas. They wouldchange as the class progressed; she knew that. It was natural. That was anotherof her issues with Kara’s stance. Rebecca was a big proponent of changing withyour client rather than “sticking to the script,” so to speak, no matter what.
A large shout and the clang of dropped free weights startledRebecca from her concentration and she looked down to see a couple of verylarge men laughing and high-fiving.Somebodyhit a new goal. She grinned, totally understanding that feeling.
“Remember that?” The question came from Sherry Vincent, fellowtrainer and yoga instructor, who stood next to Rebecca’s desk and gazed down atthe weightlifters. “From when you first got into fitness? Remember when youlifted a weight you never thought you’d be able to? What a rush it was?”
“God, yes,” Rebecca said quietly. And she did remember. Theexhilaration. The high. The sense of accomplishment.
“We thought we could do anything after that.” Sherry blinkedrapidly, then turned her gaze to Rebecca. “Well, I did.”
“Oh, me, too.”
“You’re taking Kara’s bride class, I hear.” Sherry propped herfoot up on a chair and tightened the laces on her cross-trainer.
Rebecca made no effort to contain the sigh. Sherry understood.“Yes, I am.”
“Good.”
A laugh barked out of Rebecca. “As in, better you than me?”
“No.” Sherry looked at her then, tilted her head as if surprisedRebecca didn’t get what she was saying. “As in, you can put your own spin onit.”
Brow furrowed, Rebecca said, “You’re the second person to say thatto me today. Did I miss a memo?”
“We all know Kara knows what she’s doing when it comes to fitness.We also all know that she’s rigid and annoying and has questionable…opinionson what itmeans to be in shape. It would just be nice to see this class be somethingpositive instead of debatable.”
Sherry was in her late forties and was their main yoga instructorand one of the spin instructors, but she’d been a personal trainer for yearsbefore that. An injury to her back—as well as the birth of her children—hadshifted her focus a bit, and she’d studied feverishly to get certified in yoga.Her classes were always full, people from all over the city jockeying for aspot on her hardwood floor several times a week. She’d been a sort of mentorfor Rebecca when she’d taken a position at the gym, and her opinions were veryimportant.
Pen in hand, Rebecca pointed to a few things on the computerscreen.
