Tales from the Yoga Studio (34 page)

The weather is still beautiful, and as they walk, she notices the way people stop and turn around, point, and pull out their phones to snap pictures of Becky. What would it be like to be so visible and under a microscope? More to the point, why would anyone want to be? Becky seems to have made peace with it. She walks with a combination of disregard and haughty imperviousness that only draws more attention to her.
At the Crème, they get their drinks and sit at a table on the sidewalk.
“Somehow,” Stephanie says, “I didn't think Lee would go through with this. How long have you known, Kat?”
“She told me a few days ago. She's already signed the contract.”
“I'm still floored by how good she is,” Becky says. “I'm the most promiscuous yoga
slut
in this town, so when I say she's good, you can believe she's
good
.”
“I still don't see why she can't teach here, too,” Graciela says.
“YogaHappens only wants her to do an exclusive contract,” Katherine says. “She's worth more to them that way. And they're giving Alan a contract to play live music at classes.”
“He's cute,” Imani says.
Katherine decides to hold her tongue.
“You know,” Stephanie says, “I used to think you were screwed once you'd signed a contract. But all you need is a good lawyer. The woman who's producing our movie has lawyers who seem to be able to do anything. Break any contract.”
Becky is sipping an enormous cup of coffee to which, Katherine noticed, she had a double shot of espresso added. High-octane movie stars. She spills some coffee on her T-shirt and blots it with a napkin. It's funny how someone can be so glamorous and famous and completely casual and unaffected at the same time.
“A friend of mine,” Becky says, “had a little studio in Santa Monica. Big following, packed classes. Alan Cumming took me to her years ago. Anyway, YogaHappens gave her a fat contract, forced her to close her studio, and then a few months later they claimed she broke the terms she'd agreed to over some ridiculously minor thing she said in class, probably about the fucking water bottles. She had to renegotiate the contract and ended up making half the original offer. They started up in Denver, and they did it all over the place there. I guess word hasn't really gotten out here yet.”
“Sleazy!” Stephanie says. “It figures.”
“Has she met the owners? Zhannette—with a ‘Zh'—and Frank—with an ‘a,' one assumes. I've heard they're weirdos.”
Although Lee never quoted an exact figure to Katherine, she knows that it's something outrageously high. And on top of that, the contract with Alan. So it makes sense that something that sounds too good to be true actually is a setup, a trap, and one that Alan led her into. Blackmailed her into, in fact.
She feels a new rush of anger, this time not at Alan or YogaHappens or anyone other than herself. She should have told Lee what she knew a long time ago. She finishes off her drink and gets up from the table. She isn't going to make that mistake again. She can at least pass along what she has just heard.
“I have to head back to the studio,” she says and rushes out. She tries not to run to the studio, but she can't stop herself from doing some crazy speed-walking that's close to a jog.
Lee is still there, in the yoga room, straightening up and talking with Alan. She'd rather tell Lee alone. She pushes open the glass doors.
“You rushed out,” Lee says. “I wanted to ask you how you thought that went.”
“It went all right. I mean, a lot of people were shocked, but what can you . . . Listen, Lee, I just had a conversation with Graciela and Stephanie and . . . Anyway, Becky Antrim said something about YogaHappens. . . . Can I talk with you for a minute? ”
“Of course.”
Alan turns around from the wall where he's stacking blocks. “You can talk to both of us,” he says. “We're in this together, something you keep forgetting.”
Later, when Katherine goes back to revisit this moment, she realizes that she probably did sound a little crazy. Her delivery was too rushed, and maybe hysterical. The wacko owners, the sleazy business practices. The fact that Stephanie has been working with someone who has lawyers who can get you out of a contract with Satan if need be. She didn't make a strong case for the information she had. So, in retrospect, it wasn't really a surprise that Alan accused her of making this up, of coming up with a desperate attempt to get them to keep the studio open for her own selfish reasons.
He goes to Lee and puts his arm around her shoulder. “Did you really think we'd believe you?” he says.
Lee doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. The look she gives Katherine says it all. She feels bad for Katherine. Bad for her that she has to go to this extreme to try to change their plans. Even in the moment, Katherine understands. Lee and Alan are a team again, and if Alan is playing captain, Lee has to go along with him. Couples. It happens all the time, and if she were ever in a position to actually be in a solid, lasting couple, she'd probably behave the same way.
She leaves the yoga room and walks outside. You just learn to accept the things you can't change, even if you never learn to love them. She'll go for a long ride and work it out of her system. Then she'll go home contented and finish the dress for Lee.
She walks up the street and when she's halfway to the sign where she locked her bike, she notices that it's gone.
S
itting in Café Crème nursing an iced tea, Graciela starts to feel overwhelmed by the company. She's disappointed in herself for feeling this way. After all, she is now officially a person who has credentials and standing in her field, a person whose talent has been recognized. She beat out hundreds of dancers and made it into a major video shoot. She was selected by Beyoncé herself. When the great lady (exactly the way Graciela thinks of her) met her for the first rehearsal, she looked at Graciela closely, shook her head, and said, “I might have made a mistake.” Graciela's stomach dropped, but Beyoncé laughed and said, “Relax. You're just so
gorgeous
it's going to be tough dancing next to you.”
Graciela doesn't know if that comment was calculated, but it made her feel more confident, more of an equal somehow. It made her dance better, all in an attempt to live up to the confidence everyone had in her.
Since then Graciela has heard rumors—little whispers from the choreographer—that she's being considered for one of the backup dancers on the upcoming tour. That would take her to a whole new level. She can't even let herself dwell on it.
Still, you would think she wouldn't feel
so
intimidated by these women, still hear echoes of her mother's insulting criticisms telling her she's stupid and unworthy every time she's about to open her mouth and add to the conversation. Too bad that voice is still so loud.
“I just hate pigeon pose,” Becky says. “You know what it reminds me of? It reminds me of lying down on a really cheap pullout bed—you know, where you feel the metal bar across the middle of your stomach?”
Imani bursts out laughing. “When was the last time you were on a cheap pullout bed, honey?”
“For your information, I had a boyfriend in college who lived in a group house and slept on a convertible sofa in the living room. I should have married him.”
“Sounds kind of romantic,” Stephanie says.
“Uh-huh,” Imani says. “Now, let's talk about what you were doing lying facedown.”
Graciela wants to say,
Maybe she just had her hair blow-dried
. Not a brilliant comeback, but at least it's
something.
But what if it comes out sounding as lame to them as it does to her? What if no one laughs? If Daryl were here, she'd at least have company in her silence; he rarely speaks up during these kinds of conversations, either. Their shared insecurity is a bond.
“I used to feel that way about pigeon, too,” Stephanie says, and the moment for Graciela's comment has passed. “Then I started pretending I was lying down with a cozy pillow under my chest.”
“Oh, God,” Becky says. “If I started thinking about my thigh as a ‘cozy pillow' I'd probably have a panic attack.”
Graciela's waiting for the day when her success in the past month will sink in and make her believe she deserves to be real friends with these women, not a mascot. (
Como una animala.
) Obviously she's going to have to wait a little longer.
Not long ago, Graciela could have counted on Stephanie to be her supporter in a situation like this, but since Imani is so excited about Stephanie's screenplay, Graciela feels on the outside there, too.
“Since Lee brought it up,” Imani says, “what pose makes you afraid you're going to fart?”
“Halasana,” Stephanie says. “Every time.”
“Burrito-asana,” Becky says. “Especially with sour cream.”
“Right,” Imani says. “You skinny thing, what do you know about
sour cream
?”
“You
gringas
,” Graciela says. “What do you know about burritos, period?”
To her huge relief, they all laugh. Her phone starts to ring, and she gets up from the table to answer it. It's Katherine, her voice low and hesitant, as if she's upset.
“Are you still in Silver Lake?” she asks.
“Still here at the Crème,” Graciela says. “What's up?”
There's a long silence on the other end of the phone, and then Katherine says, “I hate to pull you away, but when you're done there, would you mind driving me back up to my house?”
It's a relief to have an excuse to leave the café and her impressive friends, especially since she managed to say
something
before she left. “I'll be right there,” she tells Katherine. She goes back to the table, picks up her pack and her yoga mat, and apologizes for leaving.
“Katherine needs a ride home,” she says. She bolts down the last of her iced tea. “It was really great meeting you,” she says to Becky. “I know it's nerdy to say so, but I'm a huge fan.”
Becky gives one of her trademark pouts, an expression Graciela has seen dozens of times on TV and in movies. “We didn't get a chance to talk,” she says, and she really seems to mean it.
Graciela can feel herself blushing, as if she's a kid being lavishly praised for a small, insignificant accomplishment.
“Imani told me you're in the new Beyoncé video,” Becky goes on. “I was dying to hear what she's really like.”
“Let her go,” Imani says. “She can tell you next time. Or you could just ask me.”
As Graciela is going to get her car, she realizes that while she was feeling intimidated by Becky, Becky was dying to ask
her
about
her
experiences. Who would have guessed it? Maybe Becky was feeling a little intimidated by her.
Katherine is sitting on a bench a few doors down from the studio. She has on her cheerful little yellow print sundress and she waves and smiles at Graciela, but when she gets in the car, Graciela can see right away that something's wrong.
“Everything okay?” Graciela asks.
“Someone was supposed to give me a ride home and she bailed. I could walk, but I'm a little tired after class, and it would take almost an hour.”
Graciela can tell this isn't it at all, but she figures it's best not to push. As upset as everyone is about the studio closing, Katherine has reason to be most worried. Her business is there, and she's known Lee the longest by far.
She drives up the hill slowly, silently watching as the neighborhood gets quieter and prettier as they go. Katherine once mentioned that she lived in a nice place, but Graciela didn't imagine it as being this lush and exclusive. How much do massage therapists make, anyway?
“It's this one,” Katherine says, pointing to a beautiful little bungalow half hidden by purple bougainvillea.
“Wow” is all Graciela can manage. There's something unbelievably romantic about the house, and even more so knowing that Katherine lives here alone. Why is it, Graciela wonders, that being single looks so appealing to her these days? She knows very well that if she were solo she'd be miserably lonely and spend half her time looking for a boyfriend anyway.
“No one can believe I live here. It makes more sense when you consider that I could be asked to leave any minute. The terms of my lease, so to speak. And with the way things are going, I probably will be.”
“Bad day?” Graciela asks.
“You could put it that way.”
“It must be tough for you with the studio closing. Do you think Lee's really making a wrong decision?”

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