[Author's note: Alice is married to James, a professional football player who has found himself at a loose end after retiring from the sport. After attending a charity auction in which she was outbid for her own husband, Alice and James have been blackmailed into service by Jodie and her upper-echelon friends. They have no choice but to do her bidding, letting Jodie pimp James out to clients, otherwise she will release the videos she took.]
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OBEDIENCE TRAINING
I didn't tell James where I was going, which felt wrong. I slipped out of the house on the pretext of going shopping, but my bag was stuffed with lycra. I took the car and drove for half an hour, going across the city to a car park in front of a strip mall. There was a Harbinger's Home and Garden store, and next to it a coffee shop. I grabbed my bag and my phone and got out of the car.
I'd been doing some more digging, keeping tabs on Davis. Kikster had seemed to understand my interest in him, pushing his posts into my feed, showing me his life. His friends, and he seemed to have a lot, called him Davey, showering my Kikster feed with posts about nights out or weekends away, detailing an active social life and one thing that was of particular interest to me.
Time and time again, the same girl kept popping up, the owner of the gym I was now standing in front of. I hadn't said anything to James because he wouldn't have been swayed by female intuition, but the photos told me that the girl was important. I just had a feeling.
I pushed through the doors of the gym, finding a young man behind the reception desk.
"Hi, I'm booked in for an introduction," I told him, "Alice."
"Hi Alice, I'm Jaden. No problem, let me just get someone to help."
I glanced at his name badge, noting the 'Manager' tag.
"You're the manager? Do you run the gym? I heard...."
Jaden shook his head, distracted by the booking calendar on the screen.
"No, it's Rosa's gym."
"Sorry, I heard it was a husband-and-wife team, I just saw your name badge and assumed."
For a moment, Jaden looked up from the screen at me, then he resumed typing.
"She set the gym up with her husband, Aidan, but he's, uh, on leave."
Sometimes you just have to trust your gut. I pressed a little further, extemporising on the spot.
"I'd been recommended the gym, that Aidan was good. Is he available when he gets back?"
"I'm, uh, he's not available, sorry."
I could see that Jaden was uncomfortable. I let the silence lengthen.
"He's on an extended break from the business," Jaden volunteered, "But let me just get someone else to cover here and I can take you through the introduction."
"I should get changed," I said.
"Sure, just over there."
I went into the changing rooms and pulled on my exercise gear. By the time I was ready, Jaden was standing in the middle of the floor waiting for me. He gave me a tour of the gym, showing me the machines, the spin studio, the training mats. I was able to glean a few more details out of him, but Jaden remained tight-lipped on the subject of his boss and her relationships. But one thing became clear: the petite, toned, dark-haired woman conducting the spin class, the one taking a squad of women through their places, was the same woman I'd seen in the photos. Her name was Rosa, and her husband was nowhere to be found.
Jaden took me through a set of assessments. He was polite and professional, but my attention kept drifting back to the spin class in the other room.
"Looks intense," I observed.
"Yeah, they go hard. Gets results though. Are you interested?"
"I might be."
"Well, if you wait a few minutes, you can talk to Rosa about it. They're just finishing up."
I nodded.
"Anyway, let me get the plan entered into the system, and you can decide."
"Thanks," I replied, "I appreciate it."
Jaden left me, and I wandered up to the doorway of the spin studio, listening to the music reach its crescendo. Rosa was working her group hard, and I watched them sweating and straining to reach the end of the song. When the music finished, Rosa clicked back a gear, sitting upright, her hands on her hips, letting her legs spin.
"Good work, spin it out, let's drop the rate. Grab some water."
The class was a mix, but mostly women like myself, probably mothers wanting to stay in shape, skin gleaming, activewear dampened with sweat. At last, Rosa called a halt and one by one, the women dismounted the cycles. She came directly over to me.
"Hi," she said, "I'm Rosa. You looking at the class?"
"Yes, though it looks like a lot of work."
Rosa smiled, replying, "It is. But it's also worth it. Good cardio. What are you looking for?"
"I'm not sure," I lied, "I just came for an intro session."
"Ah, good. Anything I can help with?"
I looked at her for a moment, suddenly unsure of my next move. I needed to ask about Davis, but I had no way to bring him up in conversation. I looked over her shoulder at the women now gathering between the spin cycles, and suddenly all thought of quizzing Rosa on her relationships blanked from my mind.
"Mix of ages," I observed.
It was all I could get out of my mouth, as my skin prickled. Rosa followed my gaze, turning to watch the women as they picked up their bags and sipped water from bottles.
"Yeah, they're a good group. Quite social."
I barely heard the words. My eyes were fixed on a pair of women standing slightly to one side. The shorter one was perhaps a year or two older than me, with expensively styled blonde hair in a loose ponytail that reached down below her shoulders. The other woman was the centre of my attention though: taller, slimmer, older, long blonde hair threaded through with silver. Then I saw the eyes: ice blue, her attention settling on me for a moment before flicking back to her friend.
"I, uh," I stammered, "I might have a think about it."
"Sure," Rosa replied, "Just let us know at the desk if you want to join a session."
She smiled at me, and I returned her gesture, forcing my mouth into a smile too. Rosa turned and headed back over to the reception desk and her class began to file past me. The older woman was last, murmuring something into the ear of her companion. Her gaze locked on me as she approached.
"Hello," she said, "New face."
It was her, I was absolutely certain, the woman from the photo. She had been standing on the right-hand side of the shot, of all five people standing by the graveside, the only one looking up into the camera. The face that I'd studied endlessly over the past few weeks was now directly in front of me: her name was Cynthia.
"Anything I can help with?" she asked.
I found that I couldn't speak. An electric shiver passed through me, staring into those merciless pale blue eyes.
"Ah," she said, "So you know who I am?"
I nodded.
"And there's something I can help you with."
It was a statement, rather than a question. I nodded.
"Shall we step outside?" Cynthia asked.
"Okay."
She made her way to the front doors and I found myself following her, as if mesmerised. I'd messed up, bad. I knew that I needed to get away from this woman, that I simply couldn't afford for her to relay anything back to Jodie. I felt a cold hand grip my guts and squeeze. There was no way to escape, the only exit was the way we were going and all I could do was follow behind, closer and closer to my doom.
Cynthia stopped outside, in the sunlight, turning to appraise me as I emerged from the gym.
"So," she began, "Let's get one thing straight. I don't appreciate being stalked, not on my personal time. I understand that this is important to you, but turning up to the gym is inappropriate."
I stared back at her blankly.
"Am I understood?" she continued, "I'm happy to talk in the club, but not randomly on the street."
"The club?" I echoed.
