“You whore,” Angel said, but she was laughing out loud as she padded back into the bedroom. Becca joined in, her high-pitched laughter tinkling over the phone. “I have to go now or my slave driver best friend will kill me.”
“The clock starts now.”
“Guh!” Angel giggled and shut the phone off, carelessly tossing it on the bed. She hurriedly dressed in black yoga pants and a lavender top, grabbed some socks and her New Balance trainers. She rushed to pull her long, thick hair up into a messy knot on the top her head before grabbing the bag and darting down to the parking garage in the basement of her building.
She glanced at her watch and tossed her gym bag in the passenger seat of her Lexus HS hybrid before sliding in behind the wheel. The car was luxurious without going overboard. Angel’s conscience wouldn’t allow her to spend unnecessary money when she didn’t have to. She’d rather send it to her dad or give it to one of her causes than waste it on things she didn’t need to be happy. Her three bedroom apartment was her one splurge. It was more than she needed, but it had extra room for Becca and Jill in case they needed to stay with her, and it offered convenient access to her office and the courthouse. In Angel’s hectic world, time was much more valuable than money.
She still had 14 minutes to reach her destination; as she merged onto the 290, her phone rang in her purse. The ringtone this time was her father’s and she happily picked it up.
“Hey, Daddy!”
“How’s my baby?” His deep voice was gruff and scratchy from years of smoking. Each time Angel thought of it, her heart fell a little. He hadn’t had an easy life, but he somehow managed to be so happy all the time. She often wondered how he did it after her mother split. Angel had tried numerous times to get him to pack up and move to Chicago to be closer to her, but he liked his friends and his life in Joplin. The lack of bustle was what Joe enjoyed, but Angel had felt claustrophobic in the little town, and she was never really accepted at high school. Kids were mean due to her position as ‘the janitor’s daughter’. “I’m good. Becca has me on the way to work out. What are you up to?”
“I’m headed to pick up William and Benjamin. We’re going to the Ozarks for the weekend. The weather’s nice and the fish should be biting.”
Inwardly, Angel groaned at the memory of how lame she’d found those trips. Joe dragged her along more times than she could count, and sitting in a boat, waiting for the fish to bite, was boring as hell. William’s son, Ben, was the only real friend she had in high school, but even he went over to the dark side when it came to fishing.
“Dad! Do something fun! Go to Branson, at least! See some shows.” Branson was a bustling tourist trap with lots of musical shows, amusement parks, restaurants and golf courses. She’d abhorred the golfing, but the rest was something Angel had enjoyed the two times they went there together.
“Fishing is fun! Besides, Will’s been a little under the weather, and this is what he wants to do.”
“Oh? Is he okay?” Angel was concerned. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“Sure, Angel. He’s not one to talk about his troubles. He had some stomach problems, that’s all.”
“Okay. I hate to run, Dad, but I’m at the gym, and Becca threatened me with extra squats if I’m late. Tell the guys hello for me.”
“Love you, hon. It wouldn’t kill you to come see your poor old dad sometime, ya know?”
“Yes, I know. I will soon. Love you, too. Bye.”
Angel took her bag and rushed through the doors of the club, stopping briefly to swipe her membership card at the desk before rushing to the locker room to stash her things. Becca was waiting for her on the bench in front of their lockers and glanced in exaggeration at her watch. Angel pursed her lips and rolled her eyes in response. Becca was pretty, with shoulder-length blonde hair, a very muscular build, a pert nose and bright green eyes. Physically, she was sturdier than Angel’s waif-like frame, but emotionally, much weaker.
“Stop with the watch watching. I’m here, aren’t I?” Angel scoffed, closing the locker and quickly pushing the padlock in place. “Lead on.”
“Barely.” It didn’t take Becca long to begin drilling Angel about her late night caller once she had her on the elliptical to warm up. “Angel, ten minutes at 3.5.” She leaned on the frame of the machine as she looked expectantly into Angel’s face, who tried not to make eye contact but bit her lip to keep her smile at bay as she started the machine.
As she worked out, Angel kept her mouth shut and waited for Becca to crack, wondering just how long it would be until she couldn’t stand it anymore. It didn’t take long.
“Well?” Becca said with her hands outstretched in front of her, palms up, and Angel burst out laughing. So predictable.
“Well, what?” Angel teased.
“Stop fucking around and spill!”
“Bec, you heard it! What are you expecting me to say?”
Becca was exasperated. “Shit, Angel. Am I the only one with a vagina? I almost came at the sound of his voice. Alex, right?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she repeated his name, and Angel smiled despite her attempts to keep a straight face. Becca had a wonderful sense of humor and wicked wit that often left her laughing so hard she cried. Angel wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to admit that she was definitely aware of her vagina last night, simply from speaking with the faceless caller. She felt ridiculously out of control, and it was disconcerting, to say the least.
Her warm up completed, Angel reached out and pointed at the timer on the machine. Becca nodded and increased the speed and the resistance. Angel ignored her but her mind raced, wondering if his face and body matched that silken voice.
Fuck, yes, Alex! She felt a flush spread beneath the skin of her neck and face, thankful for the workout so Becca wouldn’t notice how this guy affected her. “Was that his name?”
“Angel,” Becca admonished. “If you don’t think he was hot, I might as well call the morgue to come and collect your corpse.”
“Stop being so over-dramatic.” Angel wrinkled her nose at her friend. “Yes, he sounded hot, but he could be a slug, for all I know. It’s like that joke Kyle used to make about those phone sex girls on the late night commercials. Remember?”
Kyle was Angel’s boyfriend while they were attending Northwestern; a music major and a bad boy, complete with tattoos, a rock band, and a vintage Les Paul electric guitar that was his pride and joy. He was smoking hot, but even he hadn’t shaken her like this.
“Sorry, no.”
“He used to say that they were probably overweight trolls in hot pink, velour track suits, shoving bonbons into their mouths and reading Tolstoy while they pseudo-moaned with over-exaggerated pants into the phone.”
They both chuckled. “Angel, if you’re trying to convince me that this Alex is anything but breathtaking, I won’t believe you.”
“You always were the more delusional of the two of us. I keep my head on straight; less disappointment that way.”
“Please don’t confuse delusion with optimism! What’s his story?”
Angel could see that Becca’s curiosity would not be denied, and she sighed in defeat as she climbed off of the elliptical and used the towel hanging around her neck to wipe the perspiration off her brow.
Out of habit, they walked into the room that housed the free weights next; usually they were the only women in there and surrounded by several men pumping iron. Angel found it funny how the men always stared at themselves in the mirror while they worked out. She didn’t particularly like all of the ogling they did either, but Becca insisted that if you got the form right, free weights worked the muscles harder in a shorter amount of reps. Angel was all for expediting.