G-Men: The Series (4 page)

“Now, this is just what the doctor ordered, right Sam?”

“Yeah. It does feel great.”

“Come on, talk to me, Samantha.”

I knew that Becky wouldn’t let up until I shared whatever I was feeling with her. She knew me too well.

“It’s just that, with Lindsey gone, I have nothing, Becky. I need something of my own. I even promised Lindsey I would find it.”

“Okay, I get it. Lindsey is right, you know? I just can’t figure out why you had to hear it from your daughter. How many times have I told you the same thing?”

I got up from the bench and dipped the wooden ladle into the bucket of water, pouring it over the hot stones. I took my place back on the bench, pulling my knees up and resting my chin on them.

“I don’t know. I guess it was easier not to think about myself as long as I had Lindsey to take care of and to occupy my time with her activities.”

“That’s kind of a lot of bullshit, you know?”

I looked over at her quickly. Where was this coming from?

“You haven’t had to take care of Lindsey for quite some time, Sam. She just didn’t suddenly go from diapers to college in a day. You chose to fill your time over the past eighteen years by caring for her as an infant, then as an adolescent, but face it, once she hit her teen years, it was more of you and her buddying around together.”

“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re saying.”

“What I’m saying is that, once Lindsey reached the point where she was independent, you know, dating, going to dances and parties, you kind of lived your life vicariously through her. I mean, come on; think about it.”

I contemplated what she had said silently. She continued on a roll.

“All of the photos you took, the scrapbooks you made, the video journals you created to document the sports she played, the hobbies she had. What about you always being one of the chaperones on the class trips she took throughout high school?”

“What about it?” I asked, now getting a bit defensive.

“All I’m saying is that I can see why you’re suddenly out of sorts with what to do next. You can’t plan your life around Lindsey’s anymore. You need to find a life of your own.”

“What do you
suggest
? It’s different with you. You still have your two kids at home.”

“Yes, but I still have my own life, too.”

I thought about it, and it was true. Everything that Becky was saying was true. I’d centered my life on Lindsey’s. I’d not developed any interests or hobbies of my own. My only social activities, outside of volunteering at Lindsey’s high school, were occasionally hanging out with Becky, or Jack and I having dinner with my parents. My father was retired now. He and my mother traveled quite a bit, so even seeing them socially was rare these days.

“You’re right. I need to focus on myself. Jack has been nagging me to finish decorating the house. I guess I could throw myself into that.”

Becky rolled her eyes and sat up from her reclining position.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something for you, Sam. You aren’t into decorating. Let Jack decorate, if it’s so damn important to him.”

She shook her head as if she was becoming impatient with my cluelessness.

“I don’t know what you want me to say? I agree with you, okay?”

“You’re not getting it, Sam. Your daughter is off to college, so what? You’re going to try and build some kind of life around that mannequin husband of yours?”

I was taken aback. Becky had never taken such a harsh attitude with me, ever! She had always stood by me through everything, as far back as high school. She was Lindsey’s godmother, for Christ’s sake. Why was she giving me shit? I didn’t respond to what she said. I grabbed my thongs, putting them on my feet, and exited the sauna room, heading for the showers.

Once showered, I dressed and headed out to the front to pay the bill. Becky was just a couple of minutes behind me. I paid our spa bill, though Becky protested when I picked up her tab as well.

I was signing the credit card slip when I saw a stack of business cards on the counter in a holder that was labeled, “Take One.” I did, not even sure what the card said, but I liked the artwork on it. It was a slender woman in a kick-boxing pose. I shoved it into my pocket and headed out the door.

“Samantha, please,” Becky called after me. “Stop, I need to explain.”

I stopped on the sidewalk outside to look at her.

“Look,” she said, “all I’m saying is that you need to do something for you, Sam. Get a job, go back to school, or take an art class. Start living for yourself because you never have, and it hurts me to see that you have no identity of your own.”

“Gee, thanks Becky, I think. Have you considered that my fate is to just be a
mannequin’s
wife?” I hissed.

“I won’t apologize for that, Sam. You know how I feel about Jack. I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

She was being honest about that. Becky had little use for my husband. She considered him to be self-absorbed, demanding, and unable to bond or to be intimate with a woman.

I wasn’t sure how qualified she was to make such a diagnosis, but I felt it was likely due to my intermittent complaints about him over the years. Perhaps it was my fault that Becky had developed the opinion she had of Jack. I never shared with her the good things about our life together.

“I know that you’ve never cared for him, but he is my husband and Lindsey’s father.”

“Just think about what I said, okay? I’ve got to run now. I’m late picking up Shawn from football practice. Call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, later,” I said, suddenly absorbed in the business card that I’d picked up inside.

The name of the establishment was Foxy & Fierce Body Shaping Shop. It boasted several types of martial arts training, along with kick-boxing and yoga classes. Why the hell not?

I located Foxy’s in a somewhat seedy neighborhood not far from campus. I decided that if everyone in there was Lindsey’s age, I would turn around and leave. There was always the YWCA.

Once I stepped inside the doors, I was pleasantly surprised. The receptionist looked to be about the same age as my mother, but holy hell, was she ever fit.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted me, “what can I do you for?” I noticed her nametag read “Vonda.”

“Vonda,” I said with more enthusiasm than I’d felt for quite some time, “I want a body just like yours.”

^{chapter 3}

It had been nearly four weeks since I started my membership at Foxy’s. I’d lost a total of twelve pounds, and dropped two sizes. My sweats were practically falling off of me. The part that I was most proud of, however, was the muscle tone that I’d developed, both in my lower and upper body.

The kick-boxing was awesome for building muscle tone in the legs. My other workouts included lifting with free weights for arms and shoulder toning, along with a Pilates class for my torso and abs. I’d been spending about four days a week at the gym. I hadn’t told Jack any more than that. He’d mumbled an obligatory, “That’s great, Sammie,” not bothering to feign interest.

I’d just wrapped up my workout for the day and showered when Vonda came into the locker room looking for me.

“Glad I caught you, Sam,” she said. “We need one more person to sign up for pole-dancing lessons. The instructor has a minimum registration number in order to meet what she charges. I figured you’d be perfect.”

“Pole-dancing? Me?”

“Why not you? You’re pretty damn limber and it’s a hell of a way to build up your biceps and triceps that you’re always whining about, sweetie.”

“I know, but Vonda, come on. Don’t you think I’m a little bit old for that type of --?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is
exercise
, Sam. Good grief, it’s not stripping. It’s a great dance art form, and to answer your question, no. I’m on the roster. Do you think I’m too old?”

Vonda had me there. At fifty-six-years-old, there wasn’t too much that Vonda couldn’t do. Maybe it wasn’t out of the question. After all, I’d taken three years of ballet under the tutelage of Madame LeBlanc when I was in grade school. She had told me I had natural grace. I had taken it to appease my mother, who insisted on lessons of some sort during my formative years.

“Okay Vonda, I’m in. When does it start?”

Vonda was tickled pink that we had enough members signed up to bring in who she claimed was the ‘queen of pole-dancing.’ The instructor’s name was Ginger Cooper and she’d actually won a third place trophy in the Midwest Pole Dancing Competition the year before.

The lessons started the following week and were daily for the following three weeks. I had no clue that pole dancing was recognized globally as a competitive sport and art form. I’d always regarded it as being a second cousin to stripping. Boy, had I been misguided.

Ginger was extremely talented and driven. She expected no less from her students. She was brutal in her training and assessments.

After the third day of lessons, I told Vonda I was contemplating dropping out. I could barely move a muscle. It had certainly burst my “I’m in great shape” bubble. My God, I hadn’t known the muscles that were now feeling a slow, burning pain even existed.

“No, you’re not,” Vonda stated, in her authoritative tone. “If I can hang with it, you sure as hell can, Sammie. Besides, you’re doing great.”

“How do you figure, Vonda? You heard Ginger today telling me to get the lead out of my gluteus maximus while she was instructing us on the snowflake or pretzel, or whatever the hell she called it.”

“She’s tough, I know, but really Sammie, you’re doing great. Hey, I bet your husband would love a pole dance demo once you finish this class.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, getting clothes out of my locker. “He hasn’t even noticed my new svelte body,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“What’s his problem?”

“I guess he doesn’t find me attractive anymore, maybe he never did,” I replied with a shrug.

“Humph,” Vonda said, shaking her head. “You’re gorgeous. You do realize that, right? I hope to God you don’t see yourself through his clueless eyes, Sammie.”

“You’re required to say stuff like that to paying members, right Vonda?”

“You’re so full of shit, girlie,” she replied, still shaking her head. “I hope to Christ you wake up and smell the coffee one of these days. That’s all the pep talk you’re getting from me today. I’ll see your getting-tighter ass in here tomorrow for our lesson.”

I started to say I wouldn’t be coming, but then I thought about it. Maybe Vonda was right; maybe I did have potential. Maybe I would give Jack a demo when classes finished. Maybe he’d even want to touch me again.

I stopped by Becky’s on my way home. I hadn’t talked to her in the last couple of weeks. She knew I was totally wrapped up in my “exercise” classes as she called them. She was simply relieved that I was finally doing something just for me.

“Holy shit,” she said, her eyes widening as she held the door open for me. “You’ve lost a ton of weight, Sam. You look fantastic!”

“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn’t do well with compliments. It was probably because I wasn’t used to getting them.

“No, I mean it. Your damn body looks like a teenager’s. What type of exercise class is it? Maybe I’ll join you.”

“It’s kick-boxing and Pilates. I just added pole-dancing to it.”

“Oh, God! There’s no way I could hang with that, but Sam, it looks so freaking good on you! I bet Jack is drooling, right?”

“He thinks I look great,” I lied.

“I bet the mannequin hasn’t even noticed, has he?”

Becky knew me so well. She seemed to know Jack much better.

“You know, he’s been pretty busy these days. He’s been traveling for work quite a bit. We barely see one another.”

“Uh huh,” she replied. “He’s such a fuckwad.”

“Becky,” I said, my tone cautioning her to just let it go, “how have things been with you?”

“Everything’s good. Shawn’s playing junior high football. Megan’s doing well with her piano lessons. George still fucks me at least three times a week.”

“Braggart,” I said, with a smile. We both laughed, and the mood lightened.

I loved my best friend, but our worlds were different. That was just the way it was. She’d finished high school and college, married George, had two great kids: a boy and then a girl. She had done everything right. Her life was the American dream. It was the way that things were supposed to work out.

We made plans to meet the following day. I needed to shop for new clothes, she’d pointed out bluntly. She was right.

I was surprised that Jack was home by the time I got there. He’d been in Charlotte, North Carolina, for the past three days on business. Banion Pharmaceuticals had plans to open a large distribution center on the east coast.

Jack had been negotiating with members of the Chamber of Commerce both in Charlotte and in Charleston, South Carolina, for tax incentives. The two cities were competing with each other to be awarded the location where the facility would be built. It would employ up to five hundred people when completed.

He’d just finished up in the shower when I came into our bedroom. I made it a point to undress in front of him, hoping that he would notice and perhaps get the hint.