Page 69 of Let’s Make a Scene

Her eyes run over me in a very slow inventory and then she asks in a heavy accent, “Who are you?”

“Um, hi,” I say moving toward her and holding my hand out. “I’m Jack.”

The woman looks at my hand for a moment, and then instead of shaking it she places her smoothie down, takes my forearm in both of her tiny paws and turns it, folding it up so that my bicep flexes.

“Wha—” I manage, casting a look at Cynthie, who is no help because her face is buried in her hands. I have a horrible suspicion she might be laughing again.

“Hmmm,” the tiny woman says clinically, “not bad, but how is your core?” She blinks up at me with enormous blue eyes.

“It’s… fine, thanks.”

She huffs. “We will see. Who is your trainer?”

“My trainer?”

“You do have a personal trainer?”

“Yes, it’s Gunther Meyer in New York.”

Cynthie lets out a little squeak of distress, and the blonde hisses like an alley cat. “Gunther,” she spits, her voice laced with poison. “I should have known. All these muscles. Your cardio will be all to shit. Probably you cannot even row a boat.”

I am bewildered by this requirement, by this entire conversation actually.

“Jack, this is Petra.” Cynthie finally decides to join in. “She’s my trainer. And I should probably tell you that Gunther is her nemesis.”

Petra nods and then releases a string of words that I think may be Serbian and that I’m certain are not complimentary.

“What does that mean?” I ask, dazed.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Cynthie cuts in before Petra can enlighten me.

“Jack is just… visiting,” Cynthie says to Petra, whose eyes gleam appreciatively.

“Ah yes, a new sex partner for you!” She sounds delighted. “This is a good idea. It has been too long.”

There’s an awkward pause. “Well, at least it’s good cardio,” I say finally.

Cynthie looks aghast, but Petra’s smile widens. “This is funny. You are funny and you have big muscles. That is good for Cynthie. She deserves a nice time.” She narrows her eyes. “I know you from somewhere?”

“Jack’s an actor. He’s in Blood/Lust,” Cynthie says quickly.

“Ah,” Petra nods. “That is right. The sexy vampires.”

I choke on a laugh.

“Well, come on, sexy vampire. Today you join our workout,” she continues airily.

“I don’t actually play a vamp—” I begin and then the rest of what she said registers. “I don’t want to crash your session,” I say uneasily. “And I don’t have my workout gear with me…”

Behind Petra’s back Cynthie makes a frantic shut up gesture, swiping her hand across her throat.

Petra scoffs. “What do you need, princess? Special tights? You forgot your Lulu Lemons?” She giggles at her own joke. “You have sneakers?”

“Well, yes…”

She eyes the gray jogging bottoms I pulled on before my trip to the coffee shop. “Then you are fine. You wear those and you just lose the shirt. It is not so complicated.”

Cynthie’s eyes close, and I think she mutters something under her breath.