To Die For Read Free

hated my guts. She overdid the fake sweetness when she talked to me, you know? In Nicole-speak, “Oh, honey, that’s just the greatest pair of earrings!” really meant “I want to rip them out of your ears and leave bleeding stumps, you bitch.” One of the other gym members—a woman, of course—even commented once, after watching Nicole sashay away, body parts bouncing, “That woman would like to slit your throat, pour gasoline over you, set you on fire, and leave you lying in the gutter. Then she’d come back and dance on your ashes after the fire was out.”
    See? I’m not just making it up.
    Because I was open to the public, I pretty much had to allow anyone who wanted to join admittance, which was generally okay, though perhaps I should have made some of the more hairy members submit to electrolysis first, but there was a proviso in the membership agreement—which all members signed upon joining—that if three other members complained about said member’s behavior, dressing-room etiquette, or a number of other transgressions, in any single calendar year, then the one being complained about wouldn’t be allowed to rejoin when his/her membership expired.
    Being the professional that I am, I wouldn’t have booted Nicole’s ass out just because she annoyed the hell out of me. It griped me, having to be that professional, but I managed. Being Nicole, however, she regularly annoyed, insulted, or generally pissed off just about every woman she dealt with during the day. She made messes in the locker room and left them for others to clean up. She made snide remarks to other women who weren’t in the best of shape, and hogged the machines even though there was supposed to be a thirty-minute limit to an individual session.
    The complaints were mostly in the form of bitching, but a few women came up to me with fire in their eyes and insisted on filing a formal complaint. Thank you, Jesus.
    The number of filed complaints in Nicole’s file was way more than three when her membership expired, and I was able to tell her—gently, of course—that her membership wasn’t open for renewal and she should clean out her locker.
    The resulting screech probably scared cows grazing in the next county. She called me a bitch, a whore, a slut, and that was just as a warm-up. The shrill invective got louder and louder, drawing the attention of just about everyone in Great Bods, and I think she would have slugged me if she hadn’t known I was in better shape than she was and would definitely slug her in return, only harder. She settled for sweeping everything off the countertop—a couple of potted plants, membership applications, a couple of pens—onto the floor and flounced out with the parting shot that her lawyer would be in touch with me.
    Fine. Whatever. I’d match my lawyer against hers any day. Siana was young, but she was lethal, and she didn’t mind fighting dirty. We get that from our mother.
    The women who had gathered to watch Nicole’s tantrum broke into applause as the door closed behind her. The men merely looked bewildered. I was pissed because Nicole hadn’t cleaned out her locker, which meant I’d have to let her back inside once more to retrieve her belongings. I thought about asking Siana if I could insist on Nicole making an appointment to empty her locker, and having a cop present to both witness the removal of her personal belongings and prevent another tantrum.
    The rest of the day passed in a golden glow. I was free from Nicole! I didn’t even mind cleaning up the mess she’d made, because she was gone, gone, gone.
    Okay. That’s the deal with Nicole.
    Back to me leaving that night by the back entrance, et cetera, et cetra.
    The streetlight on the corner illuminated the parking lot, but the shadows were deep. A steady drizzle was falling, which made me mutter a swear word because the street crud would get my car dirty, and the night was turning misty on top of that. Rain and fog are not a good