CHAPTER 5 : DESPARATION AND DESPAIR

They started before dawn on Saturday morning. Adrian had what she

called “craft services” set up with juices, bagels, fresh fruit, and since she’d

learned all three of her friends went for fancy coffee, a pod coffee maker

with a variety.

She’d have to store that in her room afterward, as Lina ran a strict nocaffeine household.

Pleased with the first segment—the light had been perfect—she went

down to change her gear, maybe her hair before starting the next.

Teesha went with her as wardrobe assistant.

If it surprised Teesha that Adrian stripped down to the skin without a

blush once the bedroom door closed, she tried to pretend otherwise.

“I was going to see if I can get my hair pinned back, but unless I spray it

with concrete, it probably won’t stay through fifteen of cardio dance.”

Teesha pursed her lips as Adrian wiggled into sleek, snug, midcalf

leggings. “Why don’t you braid the sides, pin those back?”

“Braids?” Adrian pulled on a matching blue sports bra. “With this hair?”

“Hey, I got Black girl hair. You see these braids? I can do it. What

product you got?”

Adrian slipped a bright pink tank over the bra. And since she’d

choreographed a hip-hop-influenced routine, she’d tie a plaid hoodie around

her waist and wear high-tops.

“All of them, out of desperation and despair.”

“Sit down, girlfriend. I got this.”

And she did. Adrian stared in the mirror, awed with the results. “I can’t

believe it. It’s a miracle. It looks cute and, you know, funky, but contained.

You’re going to have to teach me.”

“Can do.” Teesha smiled into the mirror. “It’s nice, you know, having

another girl join the club. I got me some balance now. You know, Rizz,

maybe you can teach me some of the yoga stuff. It looks like fun.”

“It is fun. I’ll teach you.”

The cardio dance segment was fun, too. It took three takes before she and

the others signed off with Loren working the audio, Hector the camera, and

Teesha moving between both.

By the time the lunch she’d ordered in arrived, they had three segments.

They fit in two more before the dinner break, and finished the day with the

evening yoga at sunset.

“I didn’t think we could get so much done in one day. That only leaves

the total body session, the voice-overs, and the introduction.” Adrian

flopped down on one of the outdoor sofas. “Maybe I’ll work in a ten-minute

ab bonus.”

“I’m going to burn a copy,” Hector decided. “I want to play around a

little.”

“Like how?”

“Just try some stuff. No problemo if it doesn’t work, we’ve got the

master. How about we start at like ten tomorrow? We keep up this pace, it’s

done by one or two. Some production, editing, la-di-da, we get it up by the

end of the week. If we need to reshoot anything, we can work that in, but I

think we’re good.”

“That would be amazing.”

By the time they left, ravaging through any lunch and dinner leftovers, it

neared midnight. Adrian stretched out in bed and smiled into the dark.

She had friends, she had work, she had a path, and she knew just where

she intended to go on it.

* * *

They rolled right into it with Adrian doing the intro first so she wouldn’t get

sweaty or need another change. She looked right into the camera, the city at

her back.

“Hi, I’m Adrian Rizzo, and this is About Time.” She slid into her spiel,

highlighting each segment, emphasizing the fifteen-minute length, the

ability to do one, do a combination.

“You’re good at this,” Hector told her. “I hang with my dad sometimes

when he’s shooting. The actors never—hardly ever—get it in one take.”

“I practiced. A lot.”

“It was solid, but let’s do a second take, just backup. And you could

move around more. I’ll follow you.”

They wrapped the video by noon. They had to drag the furniture back

into place before they set up in the quietest spot in the triplex: her mother’s

dressing room.

“Wow.” Wide-eyed, Teesha wandered the ruthlessly organized room.

“Your mom’s got some awesome clothes. I thought my mother had the

duds, but yours beats her to hell and back squared. There’s like …” Her

gaze tracked back and forth. “A hundred pairs of shoes. Twenty-six athletic

shoes. Nice colors.”

“It used to be when she did a video or an appearance, they’d give her the

workout clothes and shoes she wears in them. They get credit on the DVD,

and she gets the gear. Now she has her own line.”

And so would she, Adrian thought. One day.

Adrian stood in the center of the room, Hector’s laptop open on a shelf in

front of her and cued up to the first yoga segment.

“The mic has a pop filter,” Hector told her as he fixed it to the stand. “So

you don’t like pop your p’s and all that shit. Dad let me borrow it. And the

headphones. Everybody’s going to wear a pair and be like totally silent. You

gotta fart, you hold it in.

“Loren’s on sound. He starts the recording, I give you the signal, I start

the video, you start talking.”

“Got it.”

She put on her headphones, took some slow, easy breaths. When Hector

swiped a finger through the air toward her, she began.

“Morning Sun Salutation. Stand at the top of your mat.”

When she finished with a Namaste, Hector waited a moment, then gave

Loren the cut signal. “That was freaking perfect. Tell me you got it all,

Loren, because that was freaking on!”

“Sound’s good. It’s really quiet in here. All inside walls. And she—you,

Adrian—sounded, like, soothing.”

“Then the plan worked. Can we go ahead and do the sunset one, since

we’re on a roll?”

“Fucking A!” Hector told her, and set it up.

At the end, Loren pulled off his headphones, shot up both thumbs.

“Dudes, we got the gold.”

“We need to play them back, make sure everything worked like my dad

said it would. Any screwups, he said I could call him and he’d walk us

through.”

“He sounds nice,” Adrian said.

“Yeah, he’s a good one.”

“Let’s take it downstairs.” Blowing out a breath, Adrian rolled her

shoulders. “Sit down, spread out, check it out.”

“And order pizza.”

She looked over at Loren. “We had pizza Friday.”

Rising from her seat on the floor, Teesha angled her head. “Your point?”

“Okay, I’ll order up pizza.”

She’d stocked Cokes, and knew she had to have any evidence of them

out of the apartment before her mother’s return. She worried, a little, she’d

developed an attachment to them that wouldn’t be so easy to break.

But as she sat slouched next to Teesha on the sofa while Hector cued up

the video, she decided it was worth it. It was all worth it.

“You’re sure I sound okay? Not boring?”

“Calm,” Teesha said. “You got the calm down, Rizz.”

“Soothing,” Hector said at the same time.

“Do the cues really work? Wait! Let’s find out. I’m going to get a couple

mats. Teesha and Loren can do the practice.”

“What? I can’t do that stuff.”

Adrian spared Loren a glance as she jogged up the stairs. “How do you

know? And I’ll show you how to modify. Then Hector and I can do the

sunset segment.”

Hector opened his mouth to protest, but she’d already jogged up to the

third floor.

“I can’t do that stuff,” Loren repeated, his head ticktocking between his

friends. “I could puke, or maybe break something.”

“Don’t be such a dumbass.” Teesha got up when Adrian ran back down

with the mats.

“This is just what we need to make sure. Test out the segments. I

should’ve thought of it before. Let’s take it out on the terrace. Fresh air,

plenty of room.”

“I’m game.” Teesha marched over, opened the doors to the main level

terrace. “Come on, Loren. Don’t be a wuss.”

“If I puke, it’s not my fault. And I could get like vertigo from the height.”

“Vertigo, 1958, Alfred Hitchcock classic starring Jimmy Stewart and

Kim Novak.” Teesha shrugged. “I saw it on TV.”

Loren didn’t puke, but he did groan a lot. And flushed hot pink whenever

Adrian moved to him, adjusted his stance or position with hands on his hips

or shoulders.

“It’s working,” Adrian murmured to Hector. “I can see it’s working.

They’re both total beginners but they can follow the cues. Just need help

with alignment, need practice. But that’s what yoga is. It’s continual

practice so … Pizza. I’ll get it.”

Thrilled, Adrian grabbed the money she’d set on the table inside and

danced her way to the door.

Then froze when she opened it. “Pizza party?” Harry Reese, Lina’s

publicity director, held two pizza boxes.

His left eyebrow arched up the way it did when he was being sarcastic or

amused, or both. As always, he looked trim and stylish in black jeans, a

black leather jacket with a pale gray T-shirt, and low black boots.

“Harry. I didn’t think you were back until …”

He angled his head. “Until it was safe?”

“No. No. And it’s not a party. It’s work.”

“Uh-huh.” He stepped inside the foyer, six feet of handsome with

perfectly styled brown hair, clever brown eyes, and a face her grandmother

once said had been chiseled by skilled and magic elves.

“It is! You can see for yourself.” She took the pizza boxes. “My friends

and coworkers.” She gestured to the glass doors through which she could

still see Teesha and Loren trying to do the segment, and Hector grinning at

them.

She also saw, as he did, the Coke bottles, the bag of chips, the pairs of

sneakers, somebody’s hoodie, scattered over the living area.

“Did she send you to check up on me?”

“No. I came home for a couple days because Lina has this afternoon and

all day tomorrow off, and I wanted to deal with some things. And I wanted

to see Marsh. I ran into the pizza guy downstairs. I took care of it.”

“Thanks.”

Marshall Tucker and Harry had been together for three years, and though

she adored them both, Adrian still cursed the timing.

“Going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Sure. Listen, Harry …”

“I’m not going to bust you for having friends over, unless I discover

you’re holding sex orgies and didn’t invite me.”

“As if. We’re working, I swear. I had a project, and they’ve helped me

put it together.”

Maybe her stomach jittered as she crossed to the doors, but she did her

best to radiate confidence as she pulled them open. “Hey, guys, let’s pause

it. This is Harry. He’s my mother’s publicity director.”

Maybe they could have looked more guilty, but Harry figured they’d

have needed to work on it.

“How’s it going? Outdoor yoga with a pizza chaser. Sounds pretty good.”

“Harry, this is Hector and Teesha and Loren. We go to school together.”

So she’d made friends already, which he considered a positive—as he’d

argued on her behalf when Lina decided to transfer her in her junior year.

“We’ve been working on a video,” Adrian continued. “Hector’s a

videographer—his father let us borrow some equipment.”

“Yeah?” Harry moved toward the laptop. “What kind of video?”

“A seven-segment fitness video. We’re going to put it up on You-Tube.”

“For school?”

“No. No, not for school.”

“Does this mean I can stop?” Loren pushed at his hair. “I’m getting

sweaty.”

Harry walked around the table to look at the laptop screen where Adrian,

on pause, held in Warrior II with the sun rising over the river at her back.

“Wow, that’s great light.”

“It’s the first fifteen-minute segment. The morning Sun Salutation. We

were just trying it out.”

“Don’t let me stop you. Hector?”

Hector, who’d very carefully said nothing, shoved his glasses up his nose

and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Jesus, let’s not do the ‘sir’ thing. How about pushing play.”

“Ah, sure.”

Continue to gaze over your right hand as you turn it, palm up,

then raise your right arm up, looking up to your palm, lowering

your left arm down the back of your left leg as you move into

Reverse Warrior.

“I’m getting a Coke. Anybody want a Coke?”

Teesha gave Loren the bug eye and said, “Ssh!”

“What? I’m thirsty.”

“Got enough for the whole class?” Harry asked as he continued to watch

Adrian on-screen. “Wouldn’t mind one myself. And the pizza smells good.

A slice is the price for my silence.”

“I’ll get plates and stuff,” Teesha volunteered.

“Thanks. Harry,” Adrian added.

“Ssh.” He gestured her back, watched another minute before he hit

pause. He looked at Hector again.

“You shot this?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, yeah.”

“How old are you?”

“Um. Seventeen.”

“What are you, a freaking prodigy?”

Hector hunched his shoulders, let them fall.

“Seven segments, Ads?”

“Yeah, I thought seven to—”

“How many have you finished?”

“Seven.”

“Jesus. Show me another.”

“Cardio dance. It’s instruction in eight-count beats, cumulative, repeating

until we’ve got the whole deal, and we do that three times. I got the music

from public domain. It’s okay, we just needed the beat.”

He watched the first few minutes, taking the glass of Coke from Teesha

when she brought it over. “Changed your outfit and hair, smart, different

angle on the city backdrop, that’s good. Lighting and sound are good, too.

You’ve got presence and talent, Adrian, but you always have.”

He hit pause himself, sat back. “And you’re not putting these on

YouTube.”

“Harry!”

“You’re not putting them up when your mother has a production

company.”

“This is mine. We did this. It’s not hers.”

He took a slow sip as he studied her stubborn face. “You’ve got a

product, she’s got the means to highlight and market that product. If the rest

of this is as good as what I’ve seen, I’m going to bat for you. If it’s not,

you’ll make it as good, and I’ll go to bat for you. What are you calling it?”

“About Time, and my company is New Generation. My company, when I

work that out.”

He smiled at her. “I’m going to help you work that out. Don’t be stupid

and not use what’s in your lap, Ads. Your mother’s agent, her wellestablished company, me. New Generation works, and for now that

production company can be under the wide umbrella of Yoga Baby. DVDs,

Adrian. The agent, the lawyers, you, and your mom will work out all the

details, and the deal. You’ll get money up front, you’ll get a solid

percentage of sales. The lion’s share—I’m going to push for that, don’t

worry. I’m on your side here.”

“You’re always on my side.”

“That’s right.” He put an arm out to draw her close to where he sat. “You

know you can trust me to look out for you.”

“I do trust you.”

“Then listen to Daddy. Let me bring this to your mom—after I preview it

all.”

Considering, trying her best to weigh each side—she’d really wanted just

her own, but … “You guys have a say, too. We did this together.”

“Yeah, but it’s your project,” Hector reminded her.

“DVDs would be cool. Like for sale and everything. I’m just saying,”

Loren added when Hector stared at him. “I mean YouTube, that’s cool, too,

but if you look at the big picture …”

“Teesha?”

Teesha lifted her shoulders. “Your call, Hector’s right. But we did a

really good job. I mean, like seriously.”

Adrian paced to the wall, stared out, paced back. “Say we did it your

way. Say Mom agrees to produce and market. It’s my production company

on the DVD, under the umbrella, like you said. And I’m billed as executive

producer and choreographer.”

“That’s fair.”

“Hector’s billed as producer and videographer. Loren as producer and

sound, Teesha as producer and lighting. And they get scale for each title.”

“What’s scale?” When Loren murmured it, Hector waved him away.

“And five percent of the profits on the back end. Each.”

“I think, realistically, your agent’s going to say two percent.”

“We’ll negotiate. If it gets that far.”

“DVDs like this sell for—it’s going to be a two-disk set because of the

length.” Teesha, head angled, looked up at the sky. “Like $22.95.”

“She’s already a brand,” Harry pointed out. “Two-disk set, we’ll price it

around $29.99.”

“Okay. Figure what Adrian’s invested, the cost of production and

manufacturing, producing the cover and case, the vendor discount,

marketing costs … Call it net $10.50, but that’s a guess until I do some

research. So that’s—at the two percent—like twenty-one cents for each of

us per sale, on top of the scale payment. Maybe it sells like a hundred

thousand copies. That would be like twenty-one thousand dollars. Each.”

“With Yoga Baby behind it, the Rizzo brand, the fresh take?” Harry

studied Teesha as he spoke. “We’d project a million in sales.”

She stared at him. “Two percent’s good.”

“Are you all prodigies?”

“We’re nerds,” Hector told him.

“Okay, nerds, let’s eat some pizza and look at what you’ve got here.”

When he finished, when nothing remained of the pizzas but fond

memories, Harry sat back. “Okay. Okay, boys and girls. In my never

humble opinion, you’ve got something here. Hector, can you burn me a

DVD?”

“Sure. I could email you the file.”

“Do both. I’m flying out Monday afternoon to hook up with Lina in

Denver. I’ll show it to her, give her the pitch.” He rose, rolling his shoulders

as he strolled around the terrace. “It’s too late to get it produced, promoted,

and distributed for holiday sales, but we can hit the January guilt spike in

workout sales and interest.”

He turned back. “Nerds, if you haven’t told your parents what you’ve

been doing, now’s the time. They need to clear you to sign contracts.” He

dug into his pocket, pulled out his silver business card case, set a few cards

on the table. “Any questions, your parents can contact me. Hector, you can

send the file to the email address on the card. And be prepared. This is

going to move fast.”

Hector carefully labeled the disk he’d copied. “My dad knows. I mean,

except all this today. And, you know, he’s in the business and all.” He cased

the disk, handed it to Harry.

“All right then, I’ve got to get home. Thanks for the pizza.”

“You paid for it,” Adrian pointed out as she rose to walk him out.

“You’re right. You’re welcome.” He draped an arm around her shoulders

as they walked. “Does Mimi know?”

“No.”

“Tell her. She’ll be on your side.”

“Okay, but, Harry—”

“Trust me.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

Two seconds after she closed the door, cheers erupted from the terrace.

Awkward dancing ensued.

They didn’t know Lina Rizzo, Adrian thought. But what the hell, they

had Harry in their corner.

She did a handspring.

Some thirty-six hours later and at thirty thousand feet, Lina watched two

segments on Harry’s laptop. She sipped sparkling water—no ice—as the

plane soared toward Dallas.

“Seven of these?”

“That’s right.”

“She should have done six ten-minute segments to make it a clean hour.”

“Two-disk set, the intro and opening and three segments on the first, four

segments on the second. Two clean hours. Fifteen is more of a commitment,

and put two together, you’ve got a thirty-minute workout.”

“What was that music in the cardio routine—and that outfit?”

“It’s hip-hop, Lina. It’s a good, fresh, energetic vibe. A fun one, and she

outfitted herself to suit it.”

Lina just shook her head, played the next two segments. Knowing his

quarry, Harry said nothing.

“You knew nothing about this?”

“No. She wanted to do it herself. She was enterprising, creative, workfocused. She found contemporaries at school who had the skills to help her

realize it. They’re good kids.”

“You spent, what, a couple hours with them and know that?”

“Yeah. I also spoke with their parents, but yeah, they’re clearly good,

smart kids. Seriously smart,” he added. “She’s made friends, Lina, and with

them she accomplished something special.”

“And now, saying nothing to me, going behind my back to do this when

I’m out of town, she expects me to not only approve, but to produce.”

“No, she doesn’t. I do. You can look at it as her doing it behind your back

or you can look at it as her wanting to do something on her own. To prove

herself. And you can’t look at what she did and claim she hasn’t proven

herself. You should be proud of her.”

Lina studied her water, then took a slow sip. “I’m not saying she didn’t

do a decent job, but—”

“Stop there.” He held up a hand. “Don’t qualify it. And we both know

it’s a damn good job. Let me set aside my personal relationship with you,

with Adrian, and talk to you as your publicity director. You help her set up

her company, and you produce this two-pack DVD, you’re going to help

her boost her brand. And you’re going to add more shine to your own.”

“A bunch of teenagers as producers.”

“It’s the hook, Lina.” He grinned, and grinned broadly. “You know a

shiny gold hook as well as I do. And that story’s going to sell a crap ton of

DVDs. I can pitch the angles to the moon and back.”

“You can pitch dirt to the moon and back.”

“That’s my skill,” he said cheerfully. “But this? This is solid, shiny

gold.”

“Maybe. Maybe. I’ll think about it. Watch the rest and consider it.”

And he was right, she thought. She knew he was right. She just didn’t

want to give in too easily.

“If you hadn’t gone home and dropped by … Which irritated the hell out

of me,” she added, “you taking those two days.”

“I needed to keep an appointment, which I told you before we left.”

“Deserted in Denver.”

He smiled as she’d meant him to. “It was important.”

“And apparently a deep, dark secret.”

“Not anymore.” He blew out a breath. “Marshall and I have a surrogate.”

“A surrogate?” She’d lifted her water glass and now set it down with a

clink. “For a baby?”

“Yeah. And before you start, we agreed not to say anything until she hit

twelve weeks. It’s like the line. We want a family, Lina, so we have a

surrogate, and Monday morning, we went with her for that twelve-week

check. And we—we heard the heartbeat.”

His eyes teared up. “We heard the heartbeat and …”

He pulled up the briefcase at his feet, opened it to take out an ultrasound.

“It’s our baby. Mine and Marsh’s.”

Lina leaned over, studied it, blinked at her own tears. “I can’t see a

fucking thing in there.”

“Me either!” On a watery laugh, he gripped Lina’s hand. “But that’s my

son or daughter—somewhere in there. And on or about April sixteenth, I’m

going to be a father. Marsh and I are going to be daddies.”

“You’ll be great ones. You’ll be great.” She signaled the flight attendant.

“We need champagne.”

“I want to tell the world, but you’re the first.” He gave her hand a hard

squeeze. “Give me a present, and produce Adrian’s DVD. You won’t be

sorry.”

“Tricky of you to get me when I’m emotional.” She let out a sigh. “All

right.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t have things to say to her daughter, advice

and demands she expected to be heeded. When she walked back into the

apartment, tipped the bellmen for taking her bags into the master, she

wanted nothing more than a long shower and the eight hours’ sleep she

found impossible on tour.

But first things first. She couldn’t seem to help putting first things first.

She unpacked, separating laundry from dry cleaning, putting away her

shoes and the small selection of jewelry she allowed herself on the road.

She hung up the scarves and jackets she’d needed in the cooler cities.

She went downstairs, poured herself a sparkling water, added a slice of

lemon. And decided she’d timed it very well when she heard the door open.

She walked out to see her daughter in her school uniform with a light

jacket, as the weather had cooled enough, a backpack on one shoulder. And

a careful expression.

“George said you were back. Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

They crossed the room to each other, exchanged light cheek kisses.

“Let’s sit down and talk about this project of yours.”

“I spoke with Maddie, and since you approved, she’s willing to represent

me and my friends. She said the contract should be ready soon.”

“I’m aware.” Lina sat, gestured for Adrian to do the same. “You can

thank Harry for cheerleading you through this.”

“I do thank him.”

“Which wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d consulted with me.”

“If I’d consulted with you, it would have been a collaboration. I wanted

to do it myself, and I did. Or I did it with Hector, Teesha, and Loren.”

“Whom I’ve never met, and know little to nothing about.”

“What do you want to know—that you haven’t already looked into?”

“We’ll get to that. If you’d wanted to do a project like this, I could have

provided you with some guidance, a studio, professionals.”

“Your studio, your professionals. I wanted something else, and I did it.

And it’s good. I know it’s good. Maybe it’s not as slick and polished as it

would have been with your studio, your professionals, but it’s good.

“You started from scratch,” Adrian continued before Lina could speak

again. “I know I’m not. I know I’ve got advantages you didn’t because you

built something important. I know there are people who’ll say I have it all

easy, breaking in, because you held the door open and boosted me up. Some

of that’s true, but I’ll know I could do this. And I know I can build my

own.”

“And how? On a rooftop with borrowed equipment and schoolmates?”

“It’s a start. I’m going to get into Columbia, and I’ll major in exercise

science, minor in business and nutrition. I sure as hell don’t intend to get

knocked up and—”

She broke off, shocked at herself, as Lina stiffened and sat forward.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was ugly and wrong and disrespectful. You

make me feel like I have to justify everything I want or don’t, everything I

do or don’t. But I’m sorry.”

Lina set her glass down, then rose to walk to the terrace doors. She

opened them to the air. “You’re more like me than you realize. That’s a

tough break for you. The video’s good—you have talent, we both know

that. The concept and delivery are … interesting. Harry will hype the crap

out of it, you’ll do whatever publicity he pulls out of his hat, and I’ll,

naturally, endorse it. We’ll see where it goes.”

She turned back. “How long have you been working on this?”

“I’ve been working on the idea, the routines, the timing, the approach for

about six months, I guess.”

With a nod, Lina walked back for her glass. “Well, we’ll see where it

goes. I want a shower. We can order in for dinner.”

“I planned to make that chickpea curry you like. I thought you’d be tired

of room service and restaurant food.”

“You’re right about that. That would be nice.”

New Generation, in association with Baby Yoga, launched About Time on

January second. Adrian spent her winter break doing publicity, and so

deeply missed spending Christmas with her grandparents she vowed never

to do so again.

The sales for the first month told her she’d chosen the right path, and that

she’d keep right on climbing it.

She started planning her next project.

She got her first death threat in February.

Lina studied the single sheet of white paper. The block printing, black

and thick, composed a poem.

Some bring roses to the stone that marks the grave

As to their grief they are a slave.

But you will have no flowers and no stone,

For when I bring you death, you’ll be alone.

“It came in this.” With a trembling hand, Adrian held out the envelope to

her mother. “It was in the post office box we got for the fan mail on the

DVD. I picked it up after school. There’s no name or return address.”

“No, of course not.”

“The postmark, it says Columbus, Ohio. Why does somebody in

Columbus, Ohio, want to kill me?”

“They don’t. It’s just someone being ugly. I’m surprised this is the first of

this type of thing you’ve gotten. Harry keeps a file of mine.”

That shocked nearly as much as the poem.

“Threats? You have a file of threats?”

Lina reached for a towel. She’d been choreographing a new routine when

Adrian burst into the gym.

“Threats, equally ugly sexual suggestions, garden-variety bitchiness.”

She handed the letter back to Adrian. “Put it in the envelope. We’ll report it,

make a copy. The police will take the original. But I can tell you, it won’t

go anywhere. So we put it in a file, you put it away and forget it.”

“Forget somebody said I should die? Why would anybody want that?”

“Adrian.” Lina tossed the towel over one shoulder, reached for her water

bottle. “A lot of people are just screwed up. They’re jealous, obsessed,

angry, unhappy. You’re young, pretty, successful. You’ve been on TV, you

were on the covers of Seventeen and Shape.”

“But … You never told me you’d gotten threats.”

“No point in it. And no point in you worrying about this. We’ll give it to

Harry, and he’ll take care of it.”

“So you’re saying death threats are just part of the rest?”

Lina hung up the towel, set the bottle aside. “I’m saying this won’t be

your last, and you’ll get used to it. Call Harry. He knows what to do.”

Adrian glanced back as she left, saw her mother facing the mirrored wall

again as she restarted a series of burpees.

She’d call Harry, Adrian thought. But she’d never, never get used to it.