Page 19 of The Brooklyn Way

Before she could elaborate, other women walked up to us and started talking to her. I wasn’t surprised, she was the bride and everybody at the bridal boot camp was connected to her in some way. She was the hostess, for lack of a better term. She couldn’t spend her night whispering to me in the corner of the room.

Cameron’s back was to us as he messed around with what looked like the music setup. When he was ready, he turned around and faced the group. “All right, ladies. We’re getting ready to start.”

I walked away from the group, finding a place along the wall to put down my belongings. There were ten to twelve of us in the room, so that made it easy for me to select a spot at the back of the medium-sized room.

A blur of movement happened by the door. The next thing I knew, the chick from that first brunch, Tiara whatever her last name was, had breezed into the room.

“Whew.” She pretended to wipe sweat from her brow in an overly dramatic fashion. “I’m here.” She waved at everybody else in attendance.

I noticed that her reception was lukewarm. The other women waved and spoke half-heartedly.

“I knew she was a mean girl,” I mumbled under my breath.

“And a bitch too,” came a voice from the left of me.

I glanced over to find Nyrah standing there. “Hey.” I gave her a bright smile, which she returned.

“Hey.”

Tiara positioned herself in the front of the class. “Are we gonna need floor mats today, twin?”

“Yeah.”

It bugged me that he hit her with a grin as he replied. It bugged me more that she returned his grin.

“It’s leg day. Get ready for those legs to burn,” he announced to the class, as the women began unrolling and positioning their mats on the floor.

“So, make my legs burn then, daddy.” Tiara’s back was toward me when she spoke, but even though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was grinning… and smiling in his face.

Stop tripping, I told myself. We’re trying to get over our unrequited crush on him. I reprimanded myself.

“Yo, set your mat up, Tiara,” he told her. Then he donned his headset and started the music.

“Bonita Applebaum” by Tribe Called Quest floated through the speakers and filled the room, followed by Camerons voice. “A’ight, let’s warm up on this lovely… leg day.” His deep, husky baritone traveled to every corner of the room, and he smirked at the disappointed groans that came behind his proclamation. “I don’t care about your groaning. I care about you getting warm. Step jacks in… one.” He counted us into the first move of the evening, which was a variation of a jumping jack. Instead of jumping, while lifting our arms in the air, we stepped out on alternating legs, while lifting our arms in the air. “Let’s go!”

Fifty minutes later, the music blended into “Feel It” by Jacquees, and we moved into the cool down. We were on our mats, on our backs. Cameron canvassed the room as we completed the workout, lifting and lowering our pelvises in rhythmic unison.

I couldn’t speak for the other ladies, but I was done for. While some of the women were still going strong, their energy still on the same level as it was at the beginning of class, I was losing steam fast. Swimming apparently used different muscles than the ones Cameron was working. That was my sign that I needed to vary my workout routine.

When the music blended into Nas’s “One Mic,” Cameron’s voice once again rang through the speakers. “Let’s finish up with a good stretch. On your feet.”

I fought my way to my feet, moving through the stretches he demonstrated, as “One Mic” blended into Boys II Men “This is My Heart” and finally into Etta James’s “Sunday Kind of Love.”

When Cameron released us from the last stretch, the rest of the class broke out into a loud clap, while I stumbled over to my belongings, grabbed my water bottle, and guzzled down almost all of the contents.

“Don’t even think about leaving here yet.” Carrington caught me off guard, causing me to choke on the water a little bit.

I fought to clear my airway. “What?”

“You, Nyrah, and I are going to get food in a minute. Just let me see the rest of my people off.” She turned to walk away but then turned back to me quickly. She pointed her finger at me. “Do not leave, Brooklyn Waverly.”

I sighed, because she knew me too well. Of course, my plan had been to dip out of the room the moment she was preoccupied with her other friends. “It’s been a long day, Carri.”

“It’ll be even longer if I have to whup your ass,” she promised me, “which is exactly what’s gonna happen if you leave here. You, Nyrah, and I are going to get something to eat.”

We ended up at a really cute little restaurant called The Coastal Cafe on what had to be the equivalent of Rodeo Drive, on Jackson Island. Lockhart Boulevard ran for about a mile and featured the most darling clothing boutiques, specialty shops, and restaurants.

Once we were seated, Carrington put her attention on me. “Brook, how are you feeling?”