Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila (5 page)

"So do we, ah…" I asked, though I was uncertain what it was I was really asking.

"Don't know," the beauty beside responded.  "It's kind of my first time."

"Me, too," I admitted.  I sat down my water jug, mat in its holder and the two bricks that I purchased just minutes earlier.  I had cut all the tags off in the dressing room, stealthily using my cuticle scissors. 

I offered the beauty my hand and copied Crystal-the-phone-answerer's method of introduction.

"Name's Leila."

"Caitlin," she said back shaking my hand.  "I wasn't certain what to buy so I…"

I laughed.  "I'm as new to this as you are.  This is just the stuff the guy in the sporting goods section at Meer's recommended I get for the class.  Who knows if I'll need any of it."

We watched as this tiny, little lithe woman of Asian descent climbed up onto the stage and put on a head-set.

I turned my head and caught Caitlin's eyes.  "Here we go, then."

"Good luck," I heard her whisper.

"Back at you," I whispered back.

*.*.*.*.*

"Yay!  We survived!" I heard Caitlin say when I met her at the doors on our way out of the locker room.

"Barely, " I admitted with a small laugh.  "Was it me or were some of those positions …whoops, I mean
poses
, really anatomically impossible?"

"Totally with ya, sistah," she said with a smile and lifting her hand to me palm out.  I glanced at it not sure what I was supposed to do.  "Don't leave a girl hanging."

Oh!  She wanted to high-five me. 

Terrific!

I slapped my palm against hers.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked as we made our way through the lobby.  "Are you Prof McCarthy?"

"Guilty," I murmured.

"I took one of your classes last year," she said softly.

"And, yet, you didn't have one this year," I replied smiling .

"No, I've discovered I have a real head for numbers and decided to go that direction instead," she laughed.  "I did pretty good in your class and I enjoyed it."

"I'll bet," I laughed as I pushed one of the heavy glass doors open to the street.  "I know I'm called 'Murderous McCarthy' by a lot of the students because I'm a bit of a stickler."

"And that's the nicest that you're known by," Caitlin giggled pushing against me with her shoulder.

"Want to do Buxby's?" I asked not wanting our bantering to end. 

While doing my research, I'd spoken to so many women, had found a connection with such a variety of other gals that I was finally ready to ask for and find friendships with them.

"Excellent idea," she said and we moved off, walking the block or so to the popular coffee hang out. 

I don't care where you are in the States but if you are within yelling distance of a college or university, you're going to find a coffee place that will not only have the best cup of Joe in town but also have comfortable seating in a cheerful atmosphere.

We settled ourselves into a couple of armchairs that were tilted towards each other.

"Mmm, so good," Caitlin said wiping the foam from her lip.

"So why yoga?" I asked.

"Long story, short?  Fiancé owns a gym on the south of town but it's one of those full-on kind of places.  Punching bags, speed bags and a full boxing ring, you know what I mean?  I asked about classes there and Jake said that there was, and I quote, 'no fuckin' way you and your cake faced friends, are gonna be struttin' around the gym with your tits and asses jigglin' in those painted on clothes.  No way, no how.' End quote."

"Did he beat his chest when he said it?" I asked trying to keep my voice light but hiding my expression by lifting my coffee and taking a sip.

"Almost, but it is such a
fine
chest to be beating on," Caitlin said with a warm smile.  "Jake has rather, uhm, definite opinions."

"I'm getting' that," I said, smiling, too and glad she hadn't taken offense at my comment.

"What about you?  Why yoga and why now?" She asked pulling her feet up in the chair and wiggling herself so that her back was against the arm of the chair and she was facing me.

Since she hadn't taken offense with my remark and I was feeling she was genuinely interested, I told her.

I told her about what I had overhead those two students saying and my reaction to them.

I told her how my life was really predictable and safe and how very much I hated it.

Lastly, I told her about the girl and the guy from Henry's and how I envied them and wanted it for myself.

"Wow," she said blinking deeply a couple of times.  "That's kind of…"

"Stupid?" I finished for her.

"No, not at all.  That's more than kind of awesome."

"Awesome?"

"Sure.  How many people do you think get that kind of wakeup call?  I mean, how many, even if they do get the call, actually
answer
the phone?"

"Wow," I whispered, echoing her earlier word.

"You bet your ass, wow," she said on a giggle and reached into her back pocket for her phone.  "So what have you got going for tomorrow?"

And so it was that we exchanged phone numbers and made plans to meet up tomorrow along with her friend Marianne to go shopping.

Made my appointment for my tattoo.  Check.

Went to my first ever yoga class and wore new sassy, sexy clothes to it.  Check and check.

Made a new friend.  Check.

Chapter Seven

I was early for my appointment at Human Hieroglyphix.  I sat in my car and ran my eyes over each and every letter in the neon sign.  I didn't want to forget this moment, ever. 

This was a big step for me; a huge, earth-shaking step for me.

I had dressed with care, wearing my new black yoga pants and a white button down shirt with a jean jacket I had found stuffed in the back of my coat closet. I had trouble with my shoes, though, and had ended up simply wearing a old battered pair of Keds. 

On a whim, I had taken my long, long hair and put it high up on my crown and braided the length of it, making a thick braid that cascaded over my shoulder and laid over my breast. 

I was going for casually chic, if I understood the term correctly from my magazine studies.

Taking a big, deep breath I steeled myself before grabbing my bag and heading towards the front door.

It may have been an award winner for years but it was in a questionable part of town. 

There was Fuego's, one of the town's topless bars, on one side and I saw that Bewitchments, the town's only sex shop, located on the other side of the strip club.

Nice, I thought beeping my locks.

I could hear the music before I was even close to the door.

 I stopped to look before I went in to, what appeared to be, an upscale shop.  Clean with gorgeous pictures of tattoos in huge frames lining the walls.  There was a girl behind the counter, her hair a strange short cut that was white blonde with hot, bright pink tips dancing to some kind of pulsating, almost erotic music that was pouring loudly from hidden speakers.

I opened the door and saw her turn towards me with a small guilty smile as she reached down and the volume of the music lowered.

"Gotta just love Fiddy, right?" She said with a crack of her gum.

I had absolutely no idea what she meant with that question but I recognized the voice, and the popping of the gum.

"Crystal, right?"  I asked.

She tilted her head as her eyes raked me up and down.

"I'm Leila.  Dex's four o'clock?"  I prompted.

"Oh, yeah.  Right."  She said dropping her eyes as she fiddled with some paperwork on the desktop sunk below my eyesight.

"You need to fill out these three pages in full and sign here, here and here," she explained without raising her eyes.  "If I could just get your ID, I'll get a copy made."

I dug my wallet out of my bag wondering what I'd done or said that caused her to close down between the 'Fiddy' and me saying her name.

"Uhm, Crystal?  What's a 'Fiddy'?" I asked and watched her drag her eyes, her heavily mascaraed eyes to mine.  They were a beautiful navy blue and gorgeous in spite of the ridiculously clumped, eyelashes.

"You're shittin' me," she whispered.

"Uh, no, I'm really not."

"Fiddy is Fifty Cent."  She enunciated very carefully.  At my blank look she continued.  "You know, that rapper guy?  Real name is Curtis somethin'-or-other."

I shook my head and watched her tilt her head again in confusion.

"You never heard of Fiddy?" she asked quietly, but incredulously.

"Sorry, no," I replied equally as quiet handing her my ID and picking up the clipboard.

"What about Pink?" she asked watching me fill in the questionnaire.

"Who?" I asked raising my eyes back up to hers, guessing I was right to ask 'who' and not 'what'.  I watched as she did a slow blink.

"Pink!  You know," and I watched as this glorious girl, this wisp of a woman began singing strong, in one of the most beautiful voices I'd ever heard, singing one of the most heart breaking songs  I'd ever heard.

I was stunned.

I was overwhelmed.

I was, in short, awed.

"What
was
that?" I asked quietly, still overcome, blinking the tears back.

I saw her take in the full of my face.

"Pink's, Who Knew."

"Wow," I whispered, recognizing that that was my operative word for that day.

"Mean it?" she asked, and with that question I caught a glimpse of Crystal's scars. 

Scars as deep as my own.

The lump in my throat grew bigger at the view and I could only nod.

"Where've you been, Leila?  The moon?" she laughed.

"Practically," I said laughing with her and trying really hard not to sniff.

She reached under the counter and handed me a tissue. As she bent I noticed that what I had originally thought was a long sleeved top, made of beautiful red flowers with black leaves and stems, were actually her tattoos. 

Full tattoos from her shoulders to her wrists.

Amazing.

"Looks like Dex is running late," she said apropos of nothing.

"How about you turn up Mr. Fiddy and teach me some of your moves?" I asked wiping my eyes and nose.

And we were stretching and stepping, rolling and dipping, giggling as we moved to the primal beats of what Crystal said was 'Candy Shop' when all of a sudden she stopped and ran behind the counter to turn the music down. 

I stopped, too, unsure what was going on.

"Ah, hey, Dex," she said straightening her cute tank top that was emblazoned with some sort of wording that had long since flaked off.  "How's it going?" she continued, pulling up her low riding camouflage pants.

I turned, pushing up my glasses, to see who she was talking to and almost fell on my ass.

It was
him
.

It. Was. Him.

Oh, shit.

Chapter Eight

He'd told her and told her but Crystal never listened.

He hated rap.

He hated hip hop.

And he absolutely hated music played so loud that the fucking windows shook.

And he especially hated it when she invited her skanky friends around to keep her company when she was bored.

"What the fuck, Crys?" he yelled as soon as he cleared the door.

"Uhm, Dex?"

"Don't fucking 'uhm Dex' me, Crys.  Not in the mood, all right?"  Fuck, but she pissed him off when she did stupid shit and lately all she
did
do was stupid shit.  Swear to God, good buddy or no, Crys was gonna have to go.

"You got the fuckin' deposit ready?" he barked not even sparing a glance towards her friend as he moved to the counter.

"Uh, Dex, this is your four o'clock.  You know, a
customer
?"  Crys said with a shake in her voice that wasn't laughter.  She was scared.

Scared.

Of him.

Christ
!

He shook his head.

"Didn't I tell you yesterday that I wasn't available tonight?"

He watched as Crys glanced over at the other girl with an apologetic look.

"Well, didn't I?"

Crystal stared back at him.

Fuck.

"Okay, babe.  What's it you want?  A shamrock, a star or a heart on what?  Your wrist, your ankle, your
forehead
?"  He could hear his voice and it even sounded like a dick when he heard it.