Avril looked pale – or rather, paler than usual – when she opened the door to him on Monday.
"Rough weekend?" he asked, taking in the dark smudges under her eyes and the greasy hair. "Been overdoin' the Buckfast?"
He referred to Buckfast Tonic Wine, commonly known as Buckie and a drink long associated with Glasgow neds and jakeys, credited in numerous assault trials with alleged powers to turn an unassuming punter into a rabid hooligan. "Ah'd been on the Buckie, m'lud."
She smiled briefly. "I wish. I haven't had a drink in six weeks. Teetotalism is part of the prep work for filming. No...I, oh just some personal stuff."
"Ah," he nodded in a way that he hoped conveyed neutrality. Yes, he was open to listening if she wanted that, but no she didn't have to. He also hoped his expression made him look trustworthy – and not the kind of person who listened, and then phoned the gossip magazines. An insider said...
Observing the dejected slope of her shoulders as he followed her through to the dining area she'd turned into the house's gym, he thought that a work-out on top of such tiredness would be irresponsible of him.
"Avril, I dinnae think you should work out today. I think you're too tired. I wouldnae be doing my job properly if I made you train."
Stood in the central space of the room, he could see her mind working through the alternatives, tempted by the prospect of doing nothing. Perhaps she might go to bed for the rest of the day, or don a bikini and lie out on a recliner next to Bet Armstrong's swimming pool.
He added to the possibilities. "You could camp out on the sofa with a good book – and a box of chocolates maybe."
Again, that same look – a longing not to be Avril Taylor for the day.
"You don't need to pay me," he added.
In the personal training world, it was standard practice for clients to be charged if they cancelled the appointment in less than 48 hours. Nate was rather more generous, making it only 24 hours' notice.
A flash of a smile again. "That's very sweet of you. But I better go ahead. All those roll-outs and squats will take my mind off it anyway."
He made it a gentle work-out anyway, focusing more on long stretches, this time using his bodyweight against hers so she could stretch out in full. He wasn't used to Hollywood bodies, that was for sure. Hers felt thin and insubstantial, reminding him of the bones you felt when holding a small animal, a bit like his daughter's short-lived hamster. (An unfortunate accident with the vacuum cleaner.)
Together, they worked through some yoga poses. He deliberately went for the gentle, non-showy off poses. The trouble with yoga these days was that it had become competitive, with celebrities trying to out-do each other as to exactly how far they could bend their bodies, posting the photographic results on Instagram. It rather defeated the purpose of yoga. He opted for the child pose, downward facing dog, the cat stretch and the corpse pose, holding that one for a deliberately long time.
As the two of them lay there on their backs, eyes closed, palms facing upwards and taking deep breaths in and out, she spoke up.
"I split up from him a long time ago, you know."
Nate was reminded of what his mother always said when he uttered the phrase, "y' know". "I don't know – that's why ye're tellin' me!" He settled for "Oh?" instead.
"Matt. We haven't been together for more than a year now. He came on the skiing holiday with the Armstrongs to keep up appearances, but we're in the middle of discussion with our management teams about how we –"
YOU ARE READING
High Heels and Pink Glitter (18+) COMPLETE, FREE TO READ CHICK LIT
ChickLit"The characters were very real and i guess that's what kept me glued to it.so cheers to everyone is not perfect and u should accept the people for what they really are" "A great read - can't wait to see it in paperback!" "This is so good 🥺" High...
