Page 63 of Spinning Out Of Control

I just need to get through this conversation first.

Kira is still in a deep sleep when I remove myself from the bed. I slip on the sweatpants I discarded in the middle of the night as well as a t-shirt and head to the kitchen in pursuit of caffeine.

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans invades my senses as I make my way through the house. Everyone is already in the kitchen, munching on eggs and toast and sipping from steaming mugs. A TV plays a live podcast, a morning show where the hosts are known for their snark and pop culture stories as well as the pajamas they wear during their broadcast.

“Wow, there’s actually coffee? I’m surprised you let the stuff within fifty feet of your doorstep, Am,” I say as I busy myself with the fancy espresso machine on the counter. Amir’s disdain for coffee is widely known. Ironic, considering he married a coffee shop owner.

“What my little wife wants, my little wife gets,” Amir says, kissing the top of Rachel’s head.

“Such bullshit. When we lived together, you made me drink my coffee outside,” James says around a mouthful of toast.

“Your blowjobs weren’t as good as hers,” Am shrugs, laughing when James reaches over to flick him in the forehead.

I settle in at the breakfast bar with my cappuccino, helping myself to a blueberry-lemon muffin. Once Kira and I went public at Spin Sync and the muffin-embargo was lifted, I learned that the muffins are brought infrom a bakery nearby, the same place where Rachel gets her pastries for her shop—and, apparently, her home.

“Hey, you big British butthole, you left me in bed all alone,” Kira says, a sleepy whine to her voice. I turn to find her padding towards me in a threadbare Knoxville Crushers t-shirt and black leggings, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.I find it ridiculously endearing that the silly name she used to try to insult me with is now laced with…love?

I really hope its love.

“I’m sorry, darling. I had a caffeine emergency,” I say, holding out my arms for her. She walks right into them, snuggling her face against my shoulder.

“Vanilla latte, Rach, and make it snappy,” she says, barking an order at her friend from her place in my arms. I’m not used to Kira being so…snippy in the morning. But the mornings I’ve spent with her thus far have all included orgasms, so that might have something to do with it.

Rachel doesn’t seem to mind, though. She gets right to work, pulling espresso and steaming milk. I think part of it is because coffee is Rachel’s love language, but it’s also because Kira has a group of friends who understand her. She can appear abrasive or bratty, but her aggressive exterior is not only part of her charm, it’s a suit of armor that she wears. When she’s snapping her fingers like she’s Emily Gilmore and Rachel is the poor maid who is one wrong step away from being fired, what she’s really saying is–

Good morning, Rachel. I’m sleepy and would love a cup of coffee. Would you mind making me one since you’re the best and I love you?

I get that, and I’m so happy that she has friends who get it, too.

Kira McKenna is a woman with a heart of gold and a lot of love to give.

Taking a robin’s-egg blue mug from Rachel’s outstretched hand, I watch in rapt fascination as Kira brings the steaming cup to her nose and inhales deeply before taking a sip. Her eyes flutter close, her shoulders shrug, and her feet do the tiniest little happy dance when the coffee hits her taste buds.

The morning sun shines in from the floor-to-ceiling window, casting my girl in an ethereal glow as she moans through another sip of coffee. She’s luminous, a radiant being for whom my heart beats, with lips like caramelized sugar and a soul that calls to mine, beckoning me into her warmth.

I’ve got to let her in on my secret. Spin Sync is Kira McKenna’s entire world, and Kira McKenna ismyentire world. I reach out and cup her cheek, taking a steadying breath before asking if we can go somewhere private like the balcony to continue the conversation I’d tried to start last night.

But as my fingertips trace her silky skin, still warm and dewy from sleep, her eyes go wide in shock. My stomach drops as I immediately tune into the panic coursing through her. As though my thoughts from amoment ago are being broadcast out loud, my ears pick up the words ‘Spin Sync’ and ‘Kira’, but I recognize the voice I’m hearing as someone who has no business being in this room. I whip my head around, and there on the screen, being interviewed by the pajama-clad morning show hosts, is JonathanfuckingGraham.

“So, okay, catch us up here. You worked with Kira McKenna for years, right? I’m surprised that you don’t have…I don’t know? Better things to say? She’s got a stellar online reputation. Can two million followers really be wrong?”

“Oh yeah, they can be really, really wrong,” Jonathan answers the redhead host wearing the blue pajama set. Fucker is wearing a three-piece suit as if he isn’t sitting on an intentionally casual stream at seven in the morning. He should be knocked out for his lack of self-awareness alone.

“Kira is a lion in sheep’s clothing. She had a huge crush on me when we first met back in Venice Beach all those years ago. I didn’t return her affections, but that didn’t stop her from latching on to me. I didn’t mind at the time. Sure, she was a little “psycho-stalker”, but I’m used to that kind of attention from women. And as much as she sucks as a person, she’s a good fitness instructor. So I kept her on the back burner until I was ready to launch. Biggest mistake I ever made. Kira is insane. For years she’s been trying to take credit for my ideas, my vision, my work. I gave her a high up position in the company that she didn’t deserve. I gave herthe best time slots for classes. I let her run her mouth to anyone who would listen, allowed her to take credit for shit she didn’t do, all because it was easier than trying to keep that crazy bitch quiet.

“Plus, let’s be honest, her last name brings recognition with it. It doesn’t hurt a fitness platform to be associated with professional athletes, but Kira has gotten by on her father’s and brother’s success for long enough. It was always my intention to build Spin Sync as big as I could and sell it at the top, so I stuck it out because I knew I’d be rid of her, eventually. But then I see shit like this, and I can’t sit back and let her pull her bullshit on another hardworking man. Women like that are the ones who give feminism a bad name, trying to use their bodies and sexuality to get ahead.”

On the screen, a photo of Kira and me is blown up and overlaid in the background. It’s a photo taken by someone on the production team–Jackie, I think–of Kira and I sharing a sweet kiss in the Spin Sync lobby, blueberry-lemon muffins and green juices in hand. Someone later asked if the photo could be shared to Spin Sync’s social accounts for some sort of cutesy trend. We’d given them the all clear. Once Kira and I went public, we wentpublic. Neither of us were intent on hiding what we’d worked hard to get to.

Looking at my sweet girl’s ashen face as she seems to stare through the picture on the screen, a part of me wishes we’d kept what we have to ourselves for a bit longer.

“Kira, darling,” I whisper, brushing a thumb over her chin. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. She only continues to stare.

The interviewing couple asks more invasive questions and encourages Jonathan to continue spilling his lies. My blood boils. I want to turn around and punch a hole through the offending screen. I want to find Jonathan and give him the beat down he should have gotten in New York. I want to take Kira into my arms and shield her from the things that hurt her. Vile acid churns in my gut as Kira fades further into a ghostly grey pallor, her breaths coming in rapid pants.

“It’s always the bitches with the hot bodies that are fucking crazy. They think just because they’re keeping it tight that they can take advantage of the dudes around them–” the male morning show host says, and I’m about to scream for someone to turn the bloody screen off. Thankfully, Rachel has the wherewithal to shut the show down before we have to listen to it anymore.

“Keeks, don’t listen to–”

---