Mother's Little Helper by Karen MacInerney

Author:Karen MacInerney [MacInerney, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477820094
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2017-05-15T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

By the time Sylvester was done with me, I had learned nothing, but caused what I hoped wouldn’t be irreparable damage to every part of my body except—possibly—my skull.

“Same time next week?” he asked.

“I’ll . . . I’ll call when I have my schedule,” I said, and limped toward the stairs, hoping Geneen hadn’t given up on me.

He nodded and turned back to the office; I got the feeling he could tell I wouldn’t be signing up again soon. If this was how he handled incoming clients, I thought as I hobbled down the first flight of stairs to where a swanky silver sign read “Roots Café,” no wonder the place was dead.

Geneen was waiting for me, looking dewy and disturbingly fit as she perched on a chair in the corner with a mason jar of water.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Terrifying,” I said, and squinted up at the menu above the bar. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll just have a LifeBoost,” she said.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and went to place an order with the bored-looking college-aged employee behind the bar. She looked up from breaking off her split ends and gave me a dull smile. I couldn’t help but notice a piece of kale stuck to her braces.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Two LifeBoosts, please,” I said.

She gave me a vacant stare. “Slim, or Focus?”

I glanced back at Geneen. “Slim,” she said.

“What she said.”

The young woman slid two glass bottles filled with green sludge across the counter to me. “That’ll be eleven dollars.”

“Excuse me?”

“Eleven dollars,” she repeated.

“For two drinks?”

She nodded.

“Are they multipurpose drinks?” I asked. “Do they do my laundry and clean my kitchen, too?”

She looked confused. “Uh . . . I don’t think so.”

I fished in my wallet for cash and put it down on the counter. “I’ll need a receipt with that, please,” I said. I was definitely charging this to Pansy Parker. With a bottle in each hand, I waddled stiff legged back across the floor, feeling like John Wayne in a green-juice shootout.

“Thanks,” Geneen said as I handed her one of the bottles and levered myself onto the chair next to her.

“What’s in this, anyway?” I asked, inspecting the murky drink.

“I don’t know, but it makes me feel great,” she said, opening it up and taking a swig. I squinted at the back of the bottle. Proprietary blend of herbs was listed as the fourth ingredient; it was bottled in East Austin. I opened it up and took a careful swig.

“Gritty,” I said. And green. Very green.

“It’s fiber,” she said. “It’s good for you.”

I took another sip, trying to ignore the weird taste, and focused on Geneen. “So,” I said. “Tell me about the gym.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, what happened to the owner, for starters? Was there some kind of argument between the partners?”

“Oh, Tristan was a big thinker. He was always a pie-in-the-sky kind of person. I was surprised he managed to get this place built.” She lifted her drink. “Same with this .

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