Page 30 of The Yes Factor

“Thank you for leading the class, Skip. I sense we have some new energy here today. Welcome.” Guru Stan nods to Bex and me, keeping his eyes on Bex as Skip spritzes scented rose water around her.

I’m seriously starting to feel dizzy, like I’m hallucinating, the hot air and heavy incense going to my head. I better leave this infrared heat a size four and without one wrinkle on my face because this is torture. My perspiration towel and T-shirt are balled up in a wet pile at the top of my mat, and the bikini top that’s a sorry excuse for a sports bra is itching like hell. Bex meanwhile still looks fresh. Maybe I should think about buying some proper sportswear after all.

“Now, everyone, close your eyes. Embrace the release of letting go.” Guru Stan waves his hand as if it is a magic wand. I can’t help but close my eyes.

“Everyone, tap into the deep well of your subconsciousness. Release the first word that comes to your mind.”

Amidst a chorus of “Love,” “Harmony,” and “Peace,” I blurt out “Bacon!” I clasp my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. The girl with the blond mane of extensions actually starts to move her mat away from me. Guru Stan looks physically repulsed, and out of the corner of my eye I see that other students are shaking their heads in disappointment. Skip looks at Bex, then me, then back at Bex with a confused look on his face as if he’s been betrayed.

Without even having to say a word to each other, Bex and I pick up our things and make our way out of the studio, trying to disappear in an awkward series of backward steps. We’ve hardly closed the studio door behind us when we both burst out laughing. Making a fast escape, we head downstairs and almost make it out of reception.

“Are you okay?” Jennifer says. “Guru Stan’s meditation lasts for one more hour. The vegan buffet hasn’t even been set up yet. Do you want to try some dried rosemary kale? It’s got roasted chia seeds. We sell them for eight fifty a box…” Her voice fades as we race out to Bex’s car, that even without air-conditioning feels like an ice box compared to the hot yoga studio.

* * *

“One with extra bacon!” Bex leans into the counter. “And a side of chili fries and onion rings. Oh, and two cokes please. Thank you!” We couldn’t have made it to Pink’s faster than we did. We were practically levitating through traffic. A glorious escape!

“See what happens when you don’t make me pancakes?”

“Well, this still counts as carbs. Namaste.” Bex takes a huge bite of her chili cheese dog.

“Bon appetite.” Damn, this hot dog tastes good. “Do you ever think about becoming vegetarian? Or vegan?”

“Sometimes. I tried being vegetarian for a few months. Some of Maddie’s friends are vegan. I do admire them for being so disciplined and conscientious at such a young age. But no, come on, we grew up in Tennessee. I’m not sure I could live without bar-b-que!”

“I suppose we’ll have to try Guru Stan’s vegan brunch another time. Hey, on Wednesday night I want to check out this place called Glamour & State. Have you heard of it?” I say, in between a bite of my extra bacon hotdog, hoping that my suggestion sounds casual.

“You’ll fit right in. You look really glamorous right now.” Bex points to sauerkraut that’s dripping down my face. “How do you know about Glamour & State? It opened like a month ago.”

“Uh, I read about it in a Conde Nast travel blog. Isn’t it supposed to be really trendy? I need a bit of Hollywood glamour. I’m a tourist, you know.” I didn’t read it in a Conde Nast travel blog, and I have no idea if it’s trendy or not. But if Jason the Channing Tatum Look-Alike wants to meet Bex there on Wednesday night, then it’s the trendiest joint in town. Besides, what’s a little white lie to help out a friend?

“How could I say no?” Bex says. “To Bacon!” We clink our Coke cans and take a swig.

Chapter Eleven

Who Wants to Date a Millionaire?

BEX

“Liv! Look what I bought!” I toss my keys down on the kitchen counter and wave a pair of quarters in the air.

“Scratchers? Yes!” Liv eagerly reaches out for one. “I have a good feeling about this.”

Liv has been doing scratchers for as long as I’ve known her, and yet she still isn’t a millionaire. She told me she won a hundred dollars on a Lucky Fortune once, but I have my doubts.

I sit down at the table across from her and dramatically fan out the scratchers like a magician preparing a card trick, six in total, three for her and three for me. “You go first. You may choose three, and only three, so choose wisely.”

Liv proceeds to do her usual song and dance of flipping the scratchers over, holding them up to the light as if there is a chance she might see something, and chanting “Cungee, Cungee, Cungee” over and over.

Still perplexed by this strange ritual I know by heart, I ask for the fiftieth time, “Liv, what the hell does Cungee mean and why do you insist on repeating it? It drives me crazy. I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous.”

She stops me with a look. “Please. You know it was my great aunt Maeve’s good luck chant. She always won at bingo. If it worked for her why, won’t it work for me?”

Not seeing the correlation between scratchers and bingo, I shake my head and mutter, “Why not?” and grab a quarter to begin scratching at Liv’s cast off “loser” cards. After all this time, one of us is bound to win something, right? I’d run out earlier this morning to pick up some milk for coffee, and when I saw the colorful rolls of scratchers next to the cash register at 7-Eleven, I thought What the hell. I knew it’d give Liv a thrill. Back in Atlanta, after rent was paid, we’d spend our last few dollars on scratchers hoping for a miracle. Liv would only ever buy them at 7-Eleven—she was convinced that was the place to buy them if you wanted to win.

“Hey,” I say, looking to Liv mid-scratch, “if either of us wins, we split it fifty-fifty. You in?”

Scratching away at her card, she grunts, “Yup.” Then she looks up and stops mid-scratch, her voice a bit unsure, “Actually, it’s funny you bought these because I wasn’t sure how to tell you this…”

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