Page 27 of All Twerk, No Play

“Remember, Shrimp, you don’t need to move,” Alexander said, holding the door open.

“But it is a fantastic opportunity,” I said, glaring over his sister’s head, "and won't last long."

The vacant unit was previously built out for retail. We dodged the clothing racks and etageres, stepping over disembodied mannequin limbs strewn around like a crime scene.

“Wow, it’s bigger than it looks in pictures,” Grace said, her hazel eyes scanning the high ceilings and dusty hardwoods.

“That’s what she said,” Mallory joked.

“2100 square feet. Your classes consistently sell out, so you’ve proven the marketability.”

“You don’t think it’s too big for her to handle?” Alexander asked.

“I wouldn’t show it to her if I thought that,” I replied, my polite tone accompanied by an icy glare.

I spread my arms, drawing attention to the white oak floors and giant windows, already visualizing the finished studio’s soft lighting, neutral fabrics, and modern point-of-sale system. This would be a dream compared to their current space—the narrow staircase to the second-floor unit, cluttered reception desk, and lounge of bohemian furniture. Photos of the new space would blow up on Pinterest, and may beworth pitching for a feature inYoga Journal.

Now I just needed Mallory to embrace my vision. “Picture this: You walk into reception here—”

“Could we keep the racks to sell yoga pants and props?” Grace asked. “Vendors are always reaching out with wholesale offers, but we don’t have room.”

I choked on my instant denial of Grace's surprisingly helpful idea, with an approving nod like it was part of my existing plan as my hands created a runway to guide them. “Students walk through reception to choose between two studios—”

“Twostudios?” Mallory coughed.

“One regular, one hot. The heated studio will act as a central furnace for the entire building.” I glanced at Alexander, who kept his office chilly so he didn’t sweat through his wool suits. He smirked at my nefarious plan to heat our upstairs offices to a reasonable temperature.

“But we can’t afford to hire that many new team members, can we, Grace?”

“Sure you can,” I cut in before Grace could reply. What did a social worker know about growing an empire? “The second studio means more classes—”

“Just think, Mal,” Grace interrupted, stealing my thunder, “a dedicated space for the teacher training means we wouldn’t have to cancel Saturday classes. And didn’t you want to run workshops?”

“I guess so,” Mallory ran a fingertip along a window ledge.

“Arm balances, inversions, maybe an aerial yoga workshop!” Grace counted on her fingers, and I bit back back annoyance that my walk-through was taking second billing to The Grace Show.

“Think the ceiling could handle that much weight?" Mallory inspected the rafters, her voice playful. "Maybe we could install another kind of swing, for recreational use?”

I considered the ceiling, estimating where load-bearing beams would be.“We could talk to a structural—”

“Let's finish the tour, then discuss upstairs. I don’t want to leave Connor alone too long,” Alexander said, arms crossed over his broad chest. What was his rush? Connor had spent years working for us, why was he treating him with kid gloves?

Grace squeezed his shoulder. “Connor will be fine.”

“The changing rooms stay, you can add equipment storage,” I said.

“Plumbing hookups?” Alexander asked.

“Next to the bathrooms.”

“Showers?” he asked.

“Not worth losing studio space.”

“Too bad, you wouldn’t have to go home to shower after my morning class,” Grace said. Is that why he didn’t breeze into work until 9?

“Maybe I’ll install one upstairs if it gets him to work at a decent hour,” I said dryly, and he pouted. Ugh, living with the human equivalent of a puff pastry was making him soft.

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