Ava's Roulette

Chapter 7: A Classy Thanksgiving

I woke up with the business casuals I had from the day before. I changed and quickly went to the kitchen. I noted the chef was new. She asked me if I wanted anything special. I smiled at the request and told her I tended to make myself breakfast.

"Ah, you're an independent one" she said as she flipped pancakes. In the meantime, I pulled different fruits out of a basket. Pineapple, mango, and strawberries.

"Almost. I don't partake in the cooking of Thanksgiving dinner" I said over the running water in the sink. Once the fruit was clean, I peeled and removed strawberry calyxes. "But I can if you need more hands."

"I'll keep that in mind honey, but I think you may be busy" I stopped right before pushing the start button on the blender.

"Why?" I asked tentatively. Does she know something I don't?

"Your guests."

"Oh, of course." I laughed masking my ignorance, or at least I hoped it did. I had almost forgotten the Larsons were in the house. I guess I hoped it was all a nightmare. Maybe they are here to discuss the punch. Assault - as it would be called in court. Maybe they decided on today for symbolic reasons?

I poured my smoothie in a tall glass and quickly poured some yoghurt and granola into a bowl. I moved to eat it in the dining room but decided against it in case I ran into my parents or the Larsons. When I had washed the dishes, I left to the gym we had in the basement floor. I did some cardio on the treadmill and then ran some drills on the sandbag hanging from the ceiling. I had been doing kickboxing for two years now, and really enjoyed it. I was just training the basics, doing new things on your own is never good. You can reinforce bad technique if you haven't gone over it enough with your coach. At least that's what Fabio, my coach had told me. But I guess there are always different schools of thought.

Kick, kick, punch. Kick, kick, block. Punch, punch, I suddenly felt self conscious.

Charles.

"That explains a lot" I heard his smooth vocals behind me. I stopped the sandbag from swinging and turned to look at him. Sweat rolled down my brow and my breaths were heavy. He was in shorts and a white t-shirt. The shirt looked tight around him, that will cover nothing as soon as he sweats. Even now his shoulders and chest pushed against the soft fabric showing individual muscles as he flexed them through his hand movements. I scowled at him. He did not react, but something flickered behind the calm blue of his eyes.

"I was just leaving" I said as I removed my fingerless gloves. He moved to block the exit, but I slipped under his arm just in time.

"Why do you avoid me?" He sounded genuinely confused. I was not going to sit with him and recount everything my classmate had told me. Or go through the lists of failed romances he had had over the years. Or tell him he had flirted with Liz. He had never done anything to me personally, but based on his reputation I had no interest in getting to know him.

"I don't trust you." I walked down the hallway and up the stairs to the main floor.

There I saw my mother texting or doing something on her phone as she shoveled pancakes into her mouth. She did a double take when she heard my steps on the hardwood floor. When she looked back up at me, she ushered me to her. I took a deep breath preparing for a scolding, I could imagine what this was about.

"Why didn't you tell Charles about the gym?" she whispered. Despite the pancake in her mouth and the whispering, I detected anger and a hint of fear in her voice. Odd. I knew she wanted to impress Mr. Larson, but surely their business went beyond whatever his son thought of me. I could act cold to Charles, but still their deals would be unbothered by it.