“I’m going to check out a nearby gym this morning,” I told Jeremy when he wandered into the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. “Emmy’s still asleep, and probably will be for quite some time. In fact, I’ll probably be back before she wakes up. We’re all going out this afternoon to do some shopping, so you’ll be on duty then.”
“What time do you expect to be back?” he asked.
“It depends on how good the gym is,” I replied. “I might be as late as eleven, if it’s everything I hope it’ll be. If it is,” I added, “I’m going to sign you up as well.”
“How long will we be here in London?” Jeremy asked, surprised.
“We might be here for a few more weeks,” I told him. “Em says she wants to spend some more time here, getting familiar with the house and also with the city. I don’t need to be back to the US for anything anytime soon, so we’ll stick around here as long as Emmy wants. She promised Jackson that she’d help him on his solo album and they’ll start recording in December, so we have some leeway.”
“I’d like to get to know London a bit better, too,” Jeremy admitted. “I think I told you that my mother was born and raised here. She used to tell me stories of the things that she had seen. When you gave me the time off during the tour I went to some of those places, but not very many. I’d like to be able to see more of the city that she told me so much about.”
“Is your mother still alive?” I asked.
“Yes, she is,” he replied. “She lives in Reno.”
“Do you think she’d like to come back here for a visit?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I think she remembers London fondly, but she’s never told me why she left and came to the US. She also really doesn’t get around all that much anymore- she’s gotten pretty set in her ways.”
“You should give her a call and ask her. Maybe not this trip, but sometime she could come with us for a while when we return,” I suggested.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” he replied, but I could hear the doubt in his voice.
The ten minute walk in the dark with its cold morning drizzle wasn’t bad enough to make me want to get a ride, but close. It would be an hour yet before the official sunrise, and only early risers were out on the streets so I had those few minutes to let my mind wander.
The club was located in two of those barrel-shaped spaces underneath elevated railroad tracks, reminding me of the club I’d trained at in Melbourne. The sign out front proudly proclaimed that they had been granted license by Queen Victoria, which I found amusing. On the other hand, the signage on the windows listed the modern fighting forms they offered, so this wasn’t some sort of ‘Queen’s Rules’ kind of gentleman boxing club.
The layout inside was reminiscent of the place in Melbourne, too, but I guess that was a constraint of the the brick walls limiting what could be done.
“Well, don’t you look a bit wet,” said the heavyset middle-aged man behind the counter.
“It’s raining out,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s what brollies are for,” he said, good-naturedly giving me a hard time.
“Eh, I don’t mind a bit of rain. I’m used to it, being from Southern California and all,” I replied.
This got a laugh from the guy, which is what I’d intended.
I told him that I was going to be in London for a little while and needed a place to get good workouts in, and wanted to check out the facilities. Coming out from behind the counter, he gave me a tour of the place while explaining their membership packages and classes.
“I won’t be needing any of the classes, but if I like the place I’m going to sign up my friend, and he will,” I said.
“D’you fight?” Gabe (at least, that’s what the name embroidered on his shirt said) asked.
“I’ve been known to do so on occasion,” I admitted.
“Well, you’re too big for any of the official women’s weight classes,” he said, looking me up and down.
“I spar with men,” I said, “at my regular gym back in Los Angeles.”
“Really?” Gabe asked. “What’s your style?”
“Mixed,” I told him. “I don’t really specialize in any one technique.”
“Interesting,” Gabe said. By then we’d finished the tour, because really, how much time does it take?
“Well, the place looks good and you’ve got the equipment and stations I need. All this matted area- how much is available during class time?” I asked.
“The classes are held in the other side,” Gabe said, indicating the low archway that led from the barrel-shaped chamber we were in to the other. “This side is for strength training,” he explained, indicating the weights area, “personal training and self workouts. The rings on the other side are for class use only, unless there are no classes scheduled. This side, you sign up there,” he said, pointing to a white board. “You can reserve certain times, or first-come, first served. If there’s a waiting list you’re limited to no more than twenty minutes.”
“Tell me about the personal training,” I urged.
“It’s sixty quid an hour. You can book a specific trainer, depending on their schedule, or luck of the draw,” Gabe said.
“Alright, sounds good. How about I sign up for your trial one-day for today, then if I like it, we book something more long-term?” I suggested.
“I think Donna might be available for training,” Gabe said, hunting around for the trainers’ schedule.
“I won’t need it. All I need is access to the weights and then some mat space.”
“Easy enough,” Gabe said, sliding the necessary form across the counter for me to fill out.
When I slid it back, he looked it over to make sure it was complete. His eyes landed on my name, and I could see when recognition hit.
“Leah Farmer? The Leah Farmer? The one from Atlanta?” he asked, appraising me with a new interest.
“I’m not from Atlanta, but yeah… That’s me.”
Gabe looked around to see if anybody else had heard our exchange, but nobody else was close. “Look here,” he said, his voice low. “I get it- you need a place to train, right? But this is a good, clean gym. Strictly by the regs, you get me?”
“That’s all I ask,” I told him, my voice low to match his. “I promise I won’t do anything… unsanctioned… while I’m here. Like you said, all I want is a place to work out and keep myself in shape. I can promise you I won’t kill anyone here.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
At the look on his face, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Unless they really deserve it. Then all bets are off.”
Gabe sighed, trying not to crack a smile. “You had long, blonde hair in the video,” he said, “so hopefully nobody here will recognize you.”
“That’s why I cut my hair and dyed it,” I said.
“If I sign you up, you have to promise me that you’ll stick to competition-allowed moves, even in practice. I see you do anything else, you’re out of here- and no refunds.”
“Fair enough,” I said, sliding the filled out form back to his side of the counter again.
He took it and slipped it into a shredder behind the counter. “Fill it out again, but use some other name,” he instructed, handing me a fresh one. “You’ll use that name when you’re here, right? Don’t let anyone know who you really are, or you’re out- no refunds.”
“My local gym in LA- they all know exactly who I am, but everybody’s cool with it,” I protested.
“We’re licensed by the crown,” Gabe said. “We’re not some sort of underground fighting gym.”
“Neither is the place in LA,” I countered. “I can give you the phone number and you can call them to ask about me, if you want.” After a moment’s thought, I added, “They’ll likely be secretive about me training there and won’t tell you anything unless I give them the O.K., so if you think you are going to call, let me know and I’ll tell Eddie he can talk to you.”
“You aren’t really doing a bang-up job of convincing me this is a good idea,” Gabe grumbled.
“Hey- you see me doing something you don’t like, kick me out. I think that’s fair.”
“Right,” Gabe said, taking my credit card to charge me for the one-day trial membership.
I did get in a good workout, and at that early hour there was no real competition for the weights. Gabe had mentioned that the place got busy after working hours but not many people came in before work, and that was perfect for me.
“That was three hours,” Gabe said, checking the big wall clock when I went to sign up for a longer-term membership. “I was watching you. You stuck to the rules and didn’t do nothing wrong, so I’m going to go ahead and sign you up. Remember our agreement and all’s well.”
“Great,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll be bringing a friend, and he’ll need classes and personal training. I’ll work with him tomorrow to get a feel for what he needs, and then we’ll sign him up with your trainers. Right now I’ll pay for a month for both of us.”
“You can’t sign him up. He has to fill out the paperwork and sign everything himself,” Gabe said, sliding only one membership form across the counter to me.
“Makes sense," I admitted. In a moment I had my membership in the name of Lizzie Castro filled out and handed back.
Gabe looked it over, nodding in approval. "We open at six,” he said, “but hardly anybody comes in before seven. If you want the place to yourselves, early is the time.”
“How was the gym?” Jeremy asked when I got back to the apartment.
“It was good,” I told him. “We’re going tomorrow morning at six to get you signed in and start on your training.”
“What time do we need to leave?”
“If we’re out the door by six we’re fine,” I assured him. “So be up no later than five thirty, so we have time for a quick bite.” Then thinking about it, I asked, “Did you pack any workout clothing? We can get your fighting gear there at the gym.”
“I only brought shorts and T shirts,” Jeremy admitted.
“That’s alright,” I assured him. “We can get you everything else when we’re out shopping this afternoon.”
Emmy woke up in time for lunch, which was about what I’d expected. We’d gotten to sleep quite late, after all, and she was never a morning person.
“Thank you,” she said in a sleepy voice when I set a plate in front of her.
“Eat up, babe,” I told her. “You need to put on a little more weight- doctor’s orders.”
“I know,” she agreed. “But she also said that it should be lean muscle and not simply fat. I should get back in the habit of dancing every day.”
“You should,” I said. “You used to dance all the time, but it’s been a few years.”
“I had not felt as if I had the time before,” Emmy admitted. “But now, I have nothing but time.”
“Let’s hit up a music store and get some CDs for the stereo when we’re out,” I suggested. “You can start back up again.”
“We will have quite a busy day!” Emmy exclaimed. “Shopping for clothes and then for music… What else do we need to buy?”
“I’m sure we’ll find something else to spend money on,” I said.
After we finished eating I called a limo service chosen more or less at random. I booked us the full day so we wouldn’t feel rushed. It would also give us a way to transport all our purchases back to the apartment without having to carry a bunch of shopping bags as we went, too.
“Record store first,” Emmy commanded as we piled into the big Mercedes sedan. “Then clothes.”
“Sure, that works,” I agreed, so off we went to a record in East London store so famous even I had heard of it.
There was a line to get in, but we didn’t bother with that. We just barged up to the front. This earned us a few complaints until the people in the queue recognized who it was, then the shouts changed tone. The guy manning the door and only letting people in a few at a time didn’t hesitate to allow the three of us in immediately, a treatment I’d come to expect when with Emmy.
What we hadn’t known was that a band I’d never heard of was going to do an in-store and signing afterwards, and Emmy’s arrival completely stole their thunder. Those poor bastards had to compete with one of the world’s most famous rock artists for attention, and it just wasn’t going their way.
Of course Emmy was sensitive to their plight, so she went over to the stage they were setting up on to talk to them and give them some encouragement. I didn’t hear what she said, but when they were ready to start she took the stage, microphone in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, “I would like to introduce one of my favorite up-and-coming new bands to you. Please give a warm welcome to The Hotdog Warriors!”
With that, she gave a sweeping hand gesture indicating the five musicians, who bashfully acknowledged the crowd. Emmy handed the mic to the singer and stepped off the stage.
“Like Emmy said, we are The Hotdog Warriors, straight from the beautiful city of Leeds!” said the band’s frontman, who looked as if he ate too little and did too much dope of various kinds.
“Let me guess- you never heard of them before just now,” I said into Emmy’s ear when she rejoined Jeremy and me.
“Never,” Emmy admitted. “I have no idea what kind of music they play, either. But it was the least I could do to introduce them like that.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I agreed. “It was probably the highlight of their short careers to have you share the stage with them, even if it was only for a minute.”
We did our shopping while the band played what was to me eminently forgettable emo pop of some kind. All those people that had been standing in line had come to see The Hotdog Warriors, so the rest of the store was more or less empty, giving us plenty of room to browse. Of course there was still a fairly steady stream of people who wanted to tell Emmy that they loved her, or get her photo, but that was to be expected.
I filled a shopping basket with CDs, as well as a few store-branded T shirts for gifts back home. I knew my mom would know the name of the place, so I got her a hoodie to go with the T shirt. Tiffany and Grace just got shirts.
Poor Jeremy was given the task of carrying Emmy’s shopping basket, which was quickly filled, and then the next, which got filled as well. By the time we were done Emmy had bought literally hundreds of CDs. It took several employees to carry the boxes out to the car when we were finally done.
“We will need to buy a storage rack for all the music,” Emmy said as we headed to the first of a series of flagship boutiques.
“My vote is we get Simon and William to get us something. They’ll know what would fit with the decor, and where to get it,” I suggested.
“That is an excellent idea,” Emmy agreed, pulling out her phone to text the designers.
Burberry was our first stop on what seemed an endless afternoon and evening of clothes shopping. Emmy insisted on buying an overcoat and scarf for Jeremy, along with plenty of stuff for the two of us. She suggested buying a coat for when Tiffany or Cecilia come to London, but I nixed that idea, pointing out the the two were growing and anything we bought would be a rough guess on sizing in the best of circumstances, and besides, wouldn’t she want to bring them shopping anyhow when they actually get to visit London?
It was gratifying that the boutiques we visited were accustomed to celebrity shoppers and understood the need to be discreet. We were well assisted every place we went without being mobbed by other customers or overly fawned on by the staff.
Emmy suggested that we have all our purchases delivered since we had bought so much, but again, I vetoed that idea.
“The fewer people who know our address here the better. It won’t remain a secret for very long, but still…” I said, and Emmy gave in with an understanding nod.
“That makes sense,” she agreed.
After returning to the apartment tower and unloading everything we’d bought, we went to the same Indian restaurant that we’d found when The Downfall had stopped in town. Of course I went straight for the lamb curry again, and it was just as good as I’d remembered. Savoring my meal, I made a mental note to return to London more often in the future.
“I had a lovely day today, Leah. Thank you very much,” Emmy said as we relaxed in the tub that night.
“Even though the weather was terrible?” I asked.
“That did not matter to me,” she replied, leaning back against me and gently splashing water on her chest. “I merely enjoyed spending time with you, as we used to do.”
“Yeah, it was nice,” I admitted. “And now our closet is half full.”
“And we have music to listen to,” Emmy said.
“I noticed that you bought the CD from that band that had the in-store,” I teased.
“I will probably only listen to it one time,” Emmy confessed. “I did not enjoy their music very much, but I felt I should show support.”
“Just you introducing them did that,” I responded, kissing her silky white hair.
“I felt terrible for upstaging them. It was the least I could do to help them regain the spotlight.”
“I think it worked,” I agreed.
Emmy wrapped my arms around herself and snuggled up more closely. “Would you be up for more lovemaking tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful. “But perhaps a little less vigorous than last night?”