Callie and I rush into work, and Inga squints at the two of us, preparing to scold, but then I say, “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault we’re late.”
Inga nods. “Your check is in the office.”
“Getting paid?” mumbles Callie. “What does that feel like?”
I nudge her with my elbow. “Thanks, Inga. Kiss Luka and Nikolai for me.”
“They’re monsters,” she says as she gathers her keys and things. “Little hairless monsters who just eat and poop. Eat and poop. I tell your uncle every day that if men could have babies, we’d be making people in labs instead of bellies.”
Callie nods her head. “Yeah, and if they had to deal with periods, you better believe tampons would be free.”
Inga nods toward Callie. “She gets it.”
Callie keeps a straight face, but I can tell that Inga’s slight approval has not gone unnoticed.
After I grab my check, Callie and I settle in behind the counter to see what’s left of the daily checklist.
Callie gasps.
I look up just in time to see Mitch pull the front door open. He’s not wearing workout clothes and he hasn’t got a gym bag with him.
“Uh, hey,” he says.
“Hi,” Callie and I say in unison.
I shrink back a little when I feel Callie tense up beside me.
Callie holds out the sign-in clipboard. “You can go ahead and sign in.”
Mitch clears his throat. “I’m, um, actually not here to work out today.”
“Okay,” says Callie.
Mitch nervously pops his knuckles until they won’t pop anymore.
I so desperately want to jump in and mediate the situation, but I do everything in my power to restrain myself.
“Could we maybe talk?” he asks.
“Totally!” I say.
They both look to me with raised brows.
I grin sheepishly.
Mitch turns back to Callie. “Maybe in private?”
That’s my cue. “I have so much to do,” I say, taking the checklist. Trying my best not to sound awkward, I turn to Callie and add, “Callie, could you watch the front desk while I work on my super-long to-do list?”
Her eyes are wide with panic, and her cheeks are turning pink, but she says, “Uh, yeah. You go do that.”
I skip around the gym, trying to make myself look busy. I don’t purposely eavesdrop, but it’s not like this place is very big.
After a while, I hear Mitch say, “What about Saturday?”
“Saturdays aren’t good,” says Callie.
“Saturday’s good!” I say before I can stop myself.
