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> “Everyone knew that Madison’s plan would set the foundation for the debate at the Convention. With my ink stores replenished, he and I began a fruitful correspondence.”
By the time I got off the subway, my guilty conscience from using Jane as a pawn occupied an equal space in my mind as the prospect of me having to stop at a random garbage can and puke my guts out.
I should have expected as much, I wasn’t 19 anymore, when I was able to rebound from a hard night of drinking with Lisa and Stacy and still make my nine a.m. lab. Plus, I had used up the final bits of Steve’s gummy last night so the entirety of the second bottle of whiskey was still wreaking havoc on my liver and my head.
And really, was what I had done so bad? So what if it was me who helped Jane mourn her breakup and not her friends? The results were the same, right? I had given her a fun night of distraction, and now her real friends could help her through the next part.
What was more concerning to me now though was the complete silence from Beatrice. I checked my phone four times as I walked to Velo Bike, but there was no message from her. Things were going to get interesting in a hurry if I actually had to participate in this spin class.
The bright green paint covering the outside of the Velo Bike spin studio hurt to look at the second time around and the interior was a madhouse again, with all manner of woman milling about, chatting about things I couldn’t even begin to understand. I weaved my way through the cacophony to the reception couches and waited. It was 7:20, still time for Beatrice to show up and for this Raid to not become a total dumpster fire.
I texted her again.
“At spin. Where ru.”
Another ten minutes passed and I tried once more.
“Not really in any condition to spin. Plus will need both of us to get the tattoo. U close?”
I put my phone away and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. Time was running out. Maybe if I hurried into the locker room, I could catch Frankie before class and not even have to spin, so I got up and walked to the front desk. There was a different chipper girl there than the one from yesterday, and this one was decked out in green Velo Bike gear from head to toe.
“Checking in for Lanie’s class?” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jane Hutchinson. I usually go to Todd’s seven p.m. class,” I lied. “I like to end the day on a high note, you know?”
“Oh totally. That’s a good class, too. Hutchinson, Hutchinson, oh.”
Check-in Girl stared at her computer screen while I pretended not to be concerned. I already felt like I was going to vomit from last night alone and the girl’s pregnant pause made the bile start to rise even more.
“Ah, here we go. Good news! You’ve been promoted to the head of the class!” She beamed at me as if I was supposed to know what that meant, and waited for me to shriek in excitement.
“Oh, umm, err, that’s amazing! Remind me again what that means. I’ve never been promoted before.”
“It only means that you get the bike in the front row, dead center, of course! We always leave that one open for the random VIP of the class and that’s you! Plus you get to wear the yellow jersey and our special green spin shoes.”
Crap. Not only was I in no shape to spin on a good day, but now I was going to be on display for everyone to see. And how was I supposed to get a look at Frankie’s tattoo from the front bike? What a disaster this was turning out to be. My stomach agreed and I scanned around the foyer for a garbage can.
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“Oh awesome! Can you excuse me for one second?”
I didn’t give her time to answer, as I made a beeline for the can right behind a huge pack of girls.
They parted like the Red Sea and I reached it in time, only to be hit with a bout of dry heaving that seemed to go on forever. I hunched over the green (of course) can until it finally subsided. But now it was 7:50 and all thought of ambushing Frankie in the locker room had gone up in flames.
Then someone tapped me on the shoulder and I slowly lifted my head up.
“Are you OK?”
The foyer was empty, except for the check-in girl and the one person who decided to be a normal person and see if I was alright. It was Frankie. Just my luck.
“Y-yeah, I’m OK. Must have been something I ate last night.”
Frankie was taller than I expected, and from my crouched position over the lid of the garbage can, she seemed to tower over me. Her bright red hair was tied back in a familiar high ponytail and she was sporting a purple Lalamango tank top. Which meant…
I pushed myself up from the garbage can only for my arms to give out halfway.
“Ugh. Maybe I’m not. Could use some water. Is there any at the front desk?”
Frankie nodded. “Yeah, let me get you one.”
She turned and I quickly grabbed my phone out of the back of my yoga pants. I didn’t even have time to look at what I was pointing at before I hit the camera button a dozen times. A rapid-fire of clicks sounded in the near-empty foyer and I hoped like heck she didn’t hear them. Only when I tucked the phone away did I see that it had all been in vain. Where the tattoo should have been was instead covered by a big, square bandage.
Before I could wallow in my failure, Frankie returned with a room-temperature bottle of Velo Bike-branded water. I grabbed it greedily, twisting off the cap and gulping down the water, which ran down my workout clothes. I must have looked pathetic.
“Sorry, I just, uh, really needed that.”
“It’s OK. I’ve been there. Well, not here. But elsewhere. Anyway, you sure you’re alright?”
I nodded and took another swig, this time swirling the water around in my mouth and then spitting it into the can. I needed to prolong this interaction somehow, needed to give myself another chance to talk to her. Then a crazy idea crystallized in my head. One that would hopefully reveal the tattoo but also get me (really, Jane) banned for life from this place. Which was fine because this was the last spin class I ever hoped to do.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Can’t miss this class. I’m the VIP today.”
Frankie laughed.
“Honey, you’re in no condition to spin. Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll call you a cab.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Honestly.” I pushed myself up from the garbage can and finally got back on my own two feet, but Frankie looked at me and frowned.
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you in there then.” I got another look at the bandage as she walked away. I was so close to actually pulling off this crazy Raid (and all by myself to boot), a thin layer of fabric separating me from glorious victory.
The check-in girl handed me the VIP jersey and green spin shoes and I grabbed them before buzzing myself into the locker room using the pass I had “borrowed” from Jane. The music blared through the locker room door, indicating that the class had already started. Great. I quickly changed and walked slowly to the door and pushed it open.
Memories of seventh-grade gym class flooded my mind, as 20 women swiveled their heads in unison to watch me walk awkwardly toward the glittery green VIP bike. Lanie, in the middle of some ridiculous set of arm gyrations, glared at me while barking out encouragement into the tiny microphone attached to her ear. I ignored her and tried to locate Frankie in the crowd, which wasn’t difficult because she was right behind me, in the second row. She nodded at me slightly and I continued onward with my walk of shame, finally reaching my bike.
“Let’s give a warm VB welcome to Jane, our VIP of the class, ladies!” cried Lanie into the microphone.
“Welcome Jane!” the spinbots replied.
“Now I understand Jane here was feeling a bit under the weather just now but that’s nothing a little spinning won’t fix, right ladies?”
“Right!”
“Excellent, now let’s Velo!”
The next hour seemed to stretch on for ages, as I struggled to both maintain the pace and copy Lanie’s ridiculous “dance” moves. When the final cool-down whistle went off, I was barely able to lift my right leg over the seat to dismount, and it was a miracle I hadn’t vomited. Which was good, for more than one reason.
“Wow. I didn’t think you would make it all the way through,” said Frankie, who was looking at me with a mixture of respect and disbelief. The rest of the class had petered out, leaving us alone.
“Haha, well, you know what they say. The body does what the mind commands. And all my mind was saying during that torture was ‘just keep going, just keep going.’”
We started walking toward the locker room, me a step behind her, and I was eager to dispense with this stupid yellow jersey once and for all. But not before I executed the final part of my plan.
“Oh, one of your straps on your spin shoes came undone, Frankie,” I said. Her name slipped out of my mouth just as I realized that she hadn’t actually told me what it was.
“Huh?” said Frankie. She looked down for a second to see that her straps weren’t in fact undone and that’s when I vomited all over her back.