Page 43 of How to Get Even

Of course I am, love.

But bring your leggings.

Bella

Leggings?

Astrid

You’ll see…

Less than three hours later, Bella walked, somewhat nervously, intoNamast-ay. She hadn’t missed the women walking out on her way in, covered in sweat, bright red faces, one stumbling against the building.

She’d told Maurice she’d be working ‘off site’ that afternoon, which wasn’t technically untrue. She was definitely working. Just against Chase rather than for him.

She searched the women dressed in workout gear, looking for a familiar face when?—

‘Carmichael! Get your cute tush over here right now,’ Astrid yelled across the serene, ylang-ylang scented foyer.

Old Bella would have been horrified. The coarseness, the brazenness. But new Bella,herright now, saw her friend and loved every minute of it. Bella hurried over to where Astrid was standing and they embraced like they hadn’t just seen each other for brunch a few days ago. Bella felt herself well up a little at the rush of affection she felt.

‘You okay?’ Astrid asked without letting go.

‘Yes. You?’ Bella replied, also not letting go.

‘Just about.’

And then they laughed and untangled themselves and sat.

‘What is this place?’ Bella asked, half on a laugh.

‘This is the most extreme hot yoga in the whole of New York. It’s legendary.’

Bella looked about her, even more worried than she had been.

‘And this is where you bring me so we can talk about, ouryou know whos?’ she whispered.

Astrid smiled at her. ‘It’s good to multi-task. Which is kind of how I feel taking on the Titan twins. Do you know what it’s like facing that level of testosterone, not to mention all-round freaking hotness on an almost daily basis?’ she said. ‘I need to drain myself nearly of the will to live just to get my nipples to stand down, so distract me. What do you need?’

* * *

Bella and Astrid queued up in front of the studio with about another fifteen women, all wearing expressions that covered grim determination to fear, with just a few serenities to make it not clear that she should leave before the class even started.

‘What do you know about Chester C. Carlton?’ Bella whispered into Astrid’s ear.

Once Bella had seen Chester’s article on Chase from nearly four years ago now, she knew he was perfect. The piece was bitter, asinine and amusing rather than accurate. It had been in a culture section blog for an international newspaper so hadn’t really caused any damage or impact.

But Chester C. Carlton was now working as an arts editor for a popularist lifestyle magazine having made a name for himself with bombastic, scathing write-ups of art and culture. He wrote like a food critic who hated food.

Astrid squinted in disgust. ‘The man’s a literary assassin. He’s been called a “wit”, but he’s not funny in the slightest. He’s just mean. Why do you ask?’

And then realisation hit.

‘Oh! I like where you’re going with this… But,’ she said, looking off into the distance again. ‘Your PR company won’t go near him.’

Bella nodded, Astrid having confirmed all her suspicions. ‘But I take it Carlton is the kind of man that would think I’m a stupid, spoiled socialite?’

‘Absolutely. He’d think you’re a stuck-up rich princess,’ Astrid said in agreement. ‘Wait!’ she half yelled. ‘You know you’renotthat, right?’

---