Her Escape

Chapter 9

Cake and Mystery Phone Calls

"There's something to be said for how you hold yourself together and keep moving, even though you feel like shattering." – Maxwell Diawuoh

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"You can just go on back." I smiled politely, handing Mr. Maxwell back his keycard. "I'll let Chase know you're here."

"Thank you, Lexie." He nodded, his eyes raking over my body one last time before strutting back. As soon as he was out of sight, I let the smile fall from my face and visibly rolled my eyes.

That man was a fucking pervert. Actually, pervert was putting it mildly. Every time he came in for his private lessons with Chase, he'd always hit on the girls and stare at them while they worked out. He had to be in his fifties at least, and clearly couldn't take a hint to save his life.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket to text Chase, I quickly typed out the message and hit send. Our entire message history was me telling him Client X is here, followed by an okay from him.

To say things were tense between the two of us would be an understatement. We weren't exactly on speaking terms since the nightmare/kitchen incident, and we were avoiding each other like the plague.

I'm not exactly sure why he was avoiding me – to be honest, he doesn't seem like the type to give a shit about being a total dick – but I was beyond mortified that I had woken him up with one of my nightmares. I knew I should have left that morning when he got home – getting mugged while walking home would have been better than that what followed that morning.

As soon as I put my phone down, the door chimed and a group of girls walked in. Ah yes – the 3 PM Pilates girls. Or as I liked to call them, the 3 PM pariahs.

Plastering on my best fake smile, I greeted each one of them and checked them in. As soon as every single one of them was gone, the smile was replaced with a scowl. Satan's sacrificial waterfall had also decided to make an appearance this morning, and I was just in an overall mood.

I wanted to go home and crawl under the covers with the blinds closed, not interact with a bunch of bitches sipping their green juices from the juice bar across the street. I know that sounds kinda harsh, but you should hear the way some of them talk about the other girls behind their backs. Friends my ass.

Did I mention it was only Tuesday?

Angrily replying to an email asking what time we're open on the weekends, I didn't notice anyone else come in. "Your customer service voice has gotten better since the last time I saw you."

My head whipped to the sound of the voice. "Catherine!" I yelped, nearly jumping out of my skin. "What the hell?"

"Shh!" Catherine nodded towards the sleeping baby in the carrier. "She just stopped screaming her head off."

"Sorry," I mumbled apologetically, but my glare remained. How the hell did I not hear her come in, I scolded myself.

As if reading my mind, Catherine said, "I came in through the back door."

"There's a back entrance?" My brows furrowed together and I gave her a questioning look. How did I not know this?

"I showed it to you that first night when you came in to apply for the position." Catherine reminded me, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement.

"That was almost four months ago, Catherine."

"Touché."

"How are you guys doing?" I asked, edging closer towards her and her daughter. Emma Antonelli was born three weeks ago and had been slowly driving Catherine towards insanity one scream at a time. Catherine had been stopping by almost every day for the past week, just after lunch. Apparently, driving around was the only way to get Emma to sleep without blowing anyone's eardrums out.