Frenemy Fix-Up, page 1
Frenemy Fix-Up
Yahrah St. John
To my publicist, Keisha Mennefee, for her encouragement and support in helping me write something new and fresh.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Excerpt from The Devil in Blue Jeans by Stacey Kennedy
One
SHAY
Rise and flow. Restorative yoga. Abs and booty.
People come to my studio to restore and reset, and hot yoga wasn’t supposed to be on offer today. But it’s mid-eighties in March and the air-conditioning has gone kaput!
I don’t have time for a broken down AC, but that—and a thousand other small things—are what come with being a business owner.
You wanted this, remember?
Yes, I wanted this. I toiled for nine years as a group fitness instructor for some of the largest health-club chains in San Antonio, Texas, but I have always wanted to be my own boss. Set my own hours. Create the environment I want to be in. And thanks to an unexpected windfall from my honorary aunt, I renovated and leased my own yoga studio.
But I’ve yet to figure out how to make Balance and Elevate support me with a sustainable income.
When it first opened, I was the only instructor, but once word got out, my regulars left other gyms to come here. Within months, I had to hire two instructors, Dawn and Maribeth, to handle the influx. That allowed the studio to reach its max—good for business, but a strain on overhead. To make the math work, I need to expand.
Luckily, the adjacent suite in this shopping center will be available soon. The bakery owner, Mr. Yang, comes over for free classes, and he shared the news that he’ll be leaving when the lease expires. He hasn’t told the landlord yet. So if I want the space, now is the time to strike.
My AC unit has other ideas. When it comes to mechanical stuff, I know how to turn it on and off and search for repair companies on my phone. But dealing with clogged toilets and HVAC units is part of owning a business—even when the funds aren’t available. Even when I won’t turn to my big-time divorce-lawyer brother for help. Even when I can’t turn to my mama because she’s the one who turns to me.
But I don’t fall into negative thinking, even when the studio is falling down around me.
Instead, I find a repair company who can make it out within the hour. Of course, they want to charge a trip fee...add it to the bill. My tank top is sticking to my toffee-colored skin and sweat trickles down my yoga pants into unmentionable areas. I pull my long dark brown locs into a quick updo to get them off my neck and crack open the door for a breeze.
But the blast of hot, humid San Antonio air is worse than what’s in the building. Soon, the next class will be ending, and Dawn won’t have anywhere to cool down. It’s a sweltering eighty-five degrees inside, and it’s not even noon. By late afternoon, it’ll likely be close to a hundred. Frozen drinks are what we need on a day like today. I grab my purse and head to the nearby smoothie place located several doors down.
I don’t bother changing my attire because I’ll be sweating until the repairman arrives. Who am I going to see?
I sigh with relief when I open the door of the smoothie shop and a cool blast of air hits my skin. It’s nearly lunchtime, and there are several people in line. A few extra minutes of AC is a win.
As I’m deciding what to get, someone bumps into me. I spin around, folding my arms across my chest, waiting for an apology. None is forthcoming.
The perpetrator is one of those corporate types, earbuds in, his forehead creased in a frown, deep in thought if the firm line of his mouth is any indication. Yet, confidence radiates from his tall frame. The jacket sleeves of his blue suit are pushed back and his black and silver tie is loose. The color of his skin makes me think about rich honey; his full lips surrounded by a sexy five-o’clock shadow make me think about the rasp against my inner thighs if his face were buried deep between them.
Jesus, am I really thinking this way about a stranger?
Yeah, because since my divorce, there haven’t been many opportunities to get busy with anyone except my vibrator. Lord knows, I’ve worn the poor thing out.
While I’m not deliberately celibate, avoiding the opposite sex equals avoiding bad luck in the love department. I don’t usually dwell on the downside, but the truth is love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Exhibit A: my father ran out on the family when I was young. Exhibit B: my brother Riley hightailed it off to college and law school, leaving me to care for Mama. Exhibit C: my short-lived marriage, an epic failure.
Much safer to ogle Mr. Corporate and wonder what he’s packing beneath those clothes.
And since he can’t be bothered to say excuse me, I spin around on my heel and face forward. “Jerk,” I say out loud.
“What did you just call me?”
I spin around again. “You heard what I...”
The remaining words evaporate as his heavy-lidded gaze makes contact with mine. An unfamiliar sensation slithers from my abdomen into places that have been dormant for too long. My cheeks warm.
I know him.
Colin Anderson.
Aka my first crush. Aka the boy who completely ignored me in high school. What the hell is he doing here? Didn’t he move away?
He steps backward to regard me. His eyes travel from my sneakers up my snug-fitting Lululemon cayenne-colored yoga pants to my keyhole sports bra before finally landing on my brown eyes. My face flushes. “Do you always come out of the house half-naked?”
Anger flares inside me. He bumps into me, and now he wants to criticize what I’m wearing? “Are you always this rude?” When he begins to speak, I continue. “It was a rhetorical question. Earlier, I called you a jerk, and I stand behind the comment.”
“Ouch!” He touches his chest. “If your goal was to wound me, you missed your mark.”
“That’s too bad,” I respond. “Wonder what it would take to knock that giant-sized chip off your shoulder, Colin.”
His brows furrow. “How do you know my name?”
I roll my eyes and turn away just as the worker at the counter is ready to take my order. “I’ll have the Detox smoothie and an Acai Berry Boost.”
“Coming right up.”
Within seconds, I’m all paid up and moving to the side to wait for my order. I ignore Colin like he used to ignore me. He was rude back then and clearly hasn’t grown out of it. His eyes burn the back of my skull until his phone rings and he’s forced to answer it—just before coming to the counter.
Rude.
I keep my head low and play Wordle on my phone. I ignore the approaching footsteps until he’s standing directly in front of me.
“How do you know me?” Colin demands—because he sure as hell doesn’t ask.
I hazard a quick glance at him before returning to my phone. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
He won’t let it go.
“Yes, you do. You just called me a jerk and insinuated I have a giant ego.” Colin frowns. “You don’t even know me.”
I shrug. I know enough.
“So that’s it?” He folds his muscled arms across his broad chest. “You’re really not going to tell me who you are?”
Part of me wants him to stew, to wonder exactly who I am. But what purpose will that serve?
His dark enigmatic eyes are trained on me.
“I’m Shay. Shay Davis.”
“Wait a second.” He points at me. “Didn’t we go to high school together?”
“We did indeed.”
“And you thought I was arrogant back then?” he asks, rubbing his chin.
“Well, this interaction certainly hasn’t changed that opinion.”
He cocks his head to one side, watching me. “Did something happen between us in high school?”
“Of course you wouldn’t remember me. You were all about Claire Watson. She wasn’t a nice person, and you know what they say, birds of a feather...”
Colin steps into my personal space, and I catch a faint whiff of his cologne. It’s earthy, and heady.
“You didn’t know Claire like I did. She can be amazing.”
I huff, and his eyes narrow.
“Perhaps you should get to know someone before making snap judgments, Shay. If I recall, not everyone thought highly of you
“Don’t talk about my girls,” I warn. I’m fiercely protective of the women I consider my sisters: Wynter, Egypt, Asia, Lyric and Teagan. We call ourselves the Six Gems. They’ve gotten me through the worst of times. From my parents’ divorce when were teenagers to my ill-fated early marriage and subsequent divorce from Kevin.
“You started us down this path, Shay,” Colin responds.
“Number seven,” the cashier calls.
That’s my number. I push past Colin, grab both smoothies and head outside. I hear my name but don’t turn around and instead keep going until I get to the studio, where I open the door and walk inside. Several women are already in the lounge area waiting for the next class to begin.
Colin fills the doorway and then navigates through the throng of women until he reaches me. “What is this place?”
It should be clear, but I answer, “It’s my yoga studio. You know, where people come to take classes for fitness. Or to relieve stress. And from the looks of it, you could use a stress-relieving class.”
He glares at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Without even thinking, I walk toward him and touch his shoulders. Strong and wide. Heat emanates from him to me. I ignore it.
“Your shoulders are hunched. And your posture is terrible.” I walk around to face him. “You were tense during that conversation earlier. The strain was all over your face, from your forehead to your mouth.” And oh, what a mouth it is, surrounded by that almost-beard. “You should consider taking a class. It might improve your health.”
His eyes flare. “Don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I’m too busy at work to spare time for all this.” He motions with his hands to the room, marking my life’s work as insignificant.
“That’s too bad because it might help relieve the stress you’re under.”
“You think I’m stressed?”
“Aren’t you?” I shrug. “If you keep allowing work to consume you, you won’t make it to fifty. I’ve worked in the fitness industry for a decade, and corporate types, just like you, have had heart attacks at a young age. Heart disease is the leading killer of men in America. Just trying to help. Though, quite frankly, you’re not my business.”
I’m one to talk about not letting work consume you. I’ve been working night and day to make B&E successful. It hasn’t been easy. But I have the benefit of my own classes to keep me balanced.
“Don’t try to scare me with your new-age mumbo jumbo. Yoga isn’t even real exercise,” Colin says.
“Right. Don’t listen to me,” I reply. “I’m only certified in fitness and nutrition,” I add hotly. “But I don’t have time to argue with you. Class is starting, for people who value my expertise.”
I start to move away, but Colin touches my arm. The action, although small, is electrifying. My heart rate speeds up. His dark eyes are hooded, and I can’t tell if he felt the spark too.
“I have to go,” I say again, snatching my arm away.
“You’re very opinionated, Shay Davis,” Colin replies, “and judgmental. If I had the time...” His voice trails off, but his dark eyes shamelessly stare at me.
My stomach tightens. In anticipation? I don’t know, but I don’t back down. “You would do what?”
His full lips twist upward slightly. “I would teach you a lesson.” His gaze goes to my mouth this time, and there’s no mistaking what he means. He would kiss me...and more. I’m certain of it. The atmosphere throbs, and I remind myself he’s a jerk. And I’m not interested in relationships.
“As if,” I snort, turn on my heel and don’t look back.
Colin Anderson is not the boy I used to know. He’s a stunningly beautiful man who, although arrogant, could make me want to forget swearing off men.
It’s good this was just a passing encounter. I have classes to teach and a repairman to pay, and B&E takes priority over any fleeting attraction.
* * *
After class and AC repairs and way too much time spent thinking about what it would feel like to have the bruising weight of Colin’s mouth on mine, I drive over to my mama’s. Because of her battle with mental health, I often check in on her.
When I pull into her driveway, my brother Riley’s Lamborghini Urus is already there. It’s flashy and bold and nothing like my Hyundai Sonata, which is all I can afford. Riley offered to upgrade me since he’s a hotshot attorney. He feels guilty because I’ve been Mama’s sole caregiver for the last decade, while he was away making partner. Now that he’s back in San Antonio, he wants to help me too. But I’m used to taking care of myself and have politely declined.
Turning off the ignition, I use my key and enter Mama’s. She and Riley are in the kitchen holding glasses of wine. I am happy to see them huddled together. They both have dark brown hair, but that’s where the similarities end. Riley’s is closely cropped and Mama’s is shoulder-length. Their eyes are different too. Hers are dark brown like mine, while his take after our father with his ebony irises. He’s dressed in trousers and a crisp white shirt, like he just came from work, while she is in jeans and a tank top.
“Hey, Mama.” I walk over and press my lips to her cheek. “Riley.” I give him a kiss on his cheek too. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be with Wynter finalizing Operation Wedding.”
Riley is marrying my best friend in two months. There’s still a lot to be done according to the daily texts from Wynter.
“Ha,” he lets out a laugh. “That’s exactly why I’m here.” He towers over me at six foot three. “Mrs. Barrington’s endless chatter about place settings and menus for the rehearsal dinner drove me away. I honestly could care less. All I want to do is marry the woman I love.”
“Wynter wants that too.”
“Yeah, but the fuss the Barringtons are making over this wedding...”
“It’s their way of making it up to Wynter,” I offer. “They messed up when they turned against her at the reading of Helaine’s will.” The Barringtons and Wynter had a falling-out after the reading of her aunt’s will: Wynter was the main beneficiary, and her aunt left each of the Six Gems an inheritance.
I loved Wynter’s aunt. Helaine was a shoulder to lean on when I needed to vent about Mama, about missing Riley, about having so much responsibility at a young age. She gave me advice and guidance I didn’t get anywhere else. And the gift of her inheritance was such a blessing. Prospects of starting my own business were bleak until that windfall. There weren’t enough classes or training that would have brought in the funds to cover B&E’s renovation and rent.
“I wish they would figure out another way to show their penance other than driving me and my fiancée batshit crazy.”
I laugh and head to the counter. Opening the drawer, I pull out a stopper, place it over the wine and put the bottle back into the double-sided Samsung refrigerator.
“Sweetheart, we’re still drinking that,” Mama replies.
“You know alcohol can have a negative effect with your antidepressants.” I give Riley a pointed stare because he brought over the bottle. He doesn’t know the effects of mixing liquor with meds because he wasn’t around when the meds were prescribed. I love him, but part of me hasn’t forgiven him for his disappearing act, leaving all of Mama’s care to me. He’s making amends now, but it’s still frustrating.
“I’m sorry, Shay,” Riley responds. “Mom and I were celebrating my latest case. I won custody for a mother who fought her abusive ex-husband for their daughter”.
“That’s great, Riley. Way to go.”
“I should be able to celebrate,” Mama replies, stuck on the fact I put the wine away. “You don’t have to treat me like a child, Shay.”
But you’re acting like one.
I glare at her. Looking out for Mama is ingrained in me and has been since I was a teenager. But it’s exhausting. And I can’t believe her attitude. After everything I’ve done. After everything I’ve given up. My marriage may not have been the greatest, but taking care of her was one of the reasons it failed.
When will it be my time?
“Don’t give me that look, Shay,” Mama adds. “The last few years, I’ve stayed on my antidepressants and followed the program.”
“Yes, you have.” It’s the what-ifs I worry about. What if she has an episode, sending her careening back into depression? After all these years, she is self-sufficient, and that’s a load off my shoulders. I have more freedom now than I had growing up.
