Hidden Secrets

Rick arrived at ten minutes after three, retrieved his toolbox from behind the driver's seat of his truck, and walked to her back door. After knocking several times on the door, it suddenly opened and there she stood.

"Hi Rick, I was expecting you to come to the front door; you didn't have to come through the back door."

"It was easier this way. I got a parking spot right outside the door. This way if I need any other tools, I can get them quickly, and when I'm done, I can load the boxes and packing materials to haul away."

"OK then, can I get you anything to drink before we begin, water, soda, or coffee?"

"No I'm good for now; let's get started."

They entered the main room and proceeded to the back wall.

"We'll start with these. Do you want to watch and learn how to put one of these together?"

"I was hoping you would allow me to help."

"Good, we'll go step by step. I'll complete each step and you'll watch how it's done, then you can work on the next one, and I'll supervise. Then, we will each take one of the next ones and work side by side. I don't think you'll have much of a problem after the first one; they seem to be engineered really well. If you have any questions just ask. It will go a lot quicker that way, than if I have to do them all by myself. I just happen to have an extra set of tools for you to use."

He opened the first box, cut it apart to use to cover the floor, and placed all the parts on the cardboard. Sasha did the same. The frames were made from dense hardwoods and were pre-drilled to accept bolts to create a rectangular box. He placed each piece on the cardboard, opened the bag of hardware, identified which bolt to use and, using a ratchet set, began to assemble the frame. As he worked, he explained what he was doing and why. Sasha, looking over his shoulder, and mimicked his technique.

Next came the legs; each was pre-drilled and were to be placed into the corners of the frame. They were two different lengths. The longer legs were for one end and the shorter ones for the other.

"Sasha, please come here and hold the frame while I attach each leg."

When he had completed the installation, he turned and held the frame that she had been working on while she installed the legs. When they were installed, Rick stepped back and looked at what they had made. To him they resembled a medieval torture rack, which he imagined some of her students would think as well.

Rick was tempted to ask her if she wanted him to tighten all of the bolts on her assembly. Then he thought better of that. She was a woman who prided herself as being just as strong as a man; and based upon what he had already seen of her strength, he had no doubt that she was. She would take his question as an insult; that was the last thing he wanted to do.

The next steps were to hang all the remaining parts to the frames. Rails were hung on the inside of the frame; a rack with hooks was fastened to the low end and a stabilizing bar with pulleys was connected high on the other end. Another set of pulleys was fastened to the frame below the high ones, and nylon cords with handles, were threaded between the pulleys and attached to a heavy vinyl covered platform that road on the long rails. The last step was to connect a set of springs to the inside of the front frame and the sliding platform.

When he was done; there were no left-over parts; everything was tight and ready to be used. Sasha was just completing her final steps. She stood back and smiled, admiring her work.

Jubilantly, they high fived each other and placed the first two reformers where Sasha wanted them to be placed.

Rick glanced at his watch; it had taken them about forty-five minutes the first two. There was no time to waste, he knew they would get a little faster as they worked on the next ones, but he wanted to make sure that they would be done in time to clean up and go out to dinner.

He picked up the packing materials and garbage and took them out to the truck. While he was doing that, he had Sasha place the flattened boxes in place to be used for the next assemblies.

By the time they had finished the fourth set, they had their time down to a half an hour. They attacked the final one together. They were able to knock off another ten minutes off that assembly time.

When they were all done, they stood side by side admiring a job well done. Rick, absentmindedly, put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

Quickly, she turned to face him, for a split second he thought he had somehow offended her, but then she placed her arms around his back. The next thing he knew, his feet left the floor, and his ribs began to compress.

Sasha quickly let him go, both turned scarlet with embarrassment; she from her outburst of emotion, Rick from the realization that he was becoming sexually aroused by her strength.

Both tried to apologize at once and then there was an awkward silence between them.

"I'm going to bring the rest of this garbage out to my truck; then I'll take it to the company dumpster."

Sasha replied, "How much do I owe you?"

"Have dinner with me."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"I promise to be on my best behavior."

"I was talking about me."

"This will just be dinner, no more than that, a chance to get to know each other better. Besides, you still owe me for my work here. That is all that I want from you; nothing more. I'll be back in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

"Make it twenty, I have to close up, lock the front door and make myself presentable."

"You look beautiful just as you are."

He turned and left her standing there before she could respond.

Twenty minutes later, he returned, left his truck running, and knocked on the back door. Before he had finished knocking, the door swung open and she stepped out, shutting the hall light as she left. Rick walked her around the front of his truck and held the door as she climbed in.

Moments later they heading out of the parking lot, took a left on 75^th Avenue heading north. At the Aqua Fria Freeway, they headed east then took the Piestewa Freeway, State Highway 51, south into Phoenix. They took the exit for East Shea Boulevard and headed east once again.

"Rick, where are we going?"

"We're going to a little Mexican restaurant call La Fonda del Sol, it's family owned and run, not much atmosphere, but the food always comes out hot and is the best I have ever tasted. You do eat Mexican, don't you? I'm sorry; I just assumed that everyone who lives in Arizona eats Mexican. If you want, we can go somewhere else."

"Yes, I love Mexican food; just as long as they have cold beer on tap to go with it."

"How does an ice-cold mug of Dos XX's Amber sound?"

"Lead me to it."

They parked in the back parking lot and entered the restaurant. Rick introduced Sasha to Jeanine, the owner, as his friend, and they were seated in a small alcove off the main dining room. One of Jeanine's sons, Carlos, took their drink order, "Two, Dos XXs Amber."

When they were alone again, they perused the menu. Rick decided on two enchiladas, one chicken, the other cheese, with refried beans and rice, Sasha, a burrito, and a side order of black beans.

Carlos returned a short time later with two frosted mugs of beer, a large basket of chips, and two types of salsa. Pulling a small pad from his back pocket, he took their orders.

'Watch out for the thinner salsa, it's 'muy caliente'."

Rick lifted his mug and asked, "What should we drink to?"

"To a job well done, nine reformers, and to friendship."

They clinked glasses and took a healthy drink. Sasha said, "oh that is so good. Thank you, Rick. It has been a long time since I've been out on...."

She stopped in mid-sentence, not quite sure if she should continue.

Rick rescued her a moment later.

"This is not a date; it's just dinner with a friend for now." However, both knew that this was the beginning of something more than friendship; as Sherlock Holmes would say, 'the game is afoot.'

Just then, Carlos returned with their meals. The steam was rising from both their plates.

"While we wait for our food to cool down a little, tell me about yourself. There is just a hint of an accent in your voice; is that Russian?"

"Yes, you have a good ear. I was born in Moscow. My parents were born in a small village about thirty miles north from there. Both were party members. My mother worked as a file clerk, my father was a low-level bureaucrat, in some department or other. They had two sons. One died in Afghanistan, the other died in Chechnya. I never knew either of them. I was a change of life baby. When the Wall came down and the communist party collapsed two years later, I was just three years old.

My parents were lost in the chaos that followed. My father was a functional drunk. Without the Party he had no purpose. Ten years later Putin consolidated power. My mother feared for her life. She begged my father to get us out. I don't know how he was able to do it, but he got my mother and I on a plane to London. Once there, we were able to fly to New York. My mother and I lived with an uncle who lived in Brighton Beach in Brooklyn.

He got my mother a job in a deli and got me into the school system. I learned English and did well in school. I did gymnastics until the age of fourteen, when I had to quit because of a bad back. That was when I started Pilates. I didn't know where the money came from, and I never asked. One day my mother told me that she was returning to Russia. When I asked her why, she said she had no choice. She knew too much. When I asked her what she meant she said, "I worked as a file clerk for the KGB. They don't know what I know or if the FBI knows I was KGB. They want me back in Russia. They have been watching us since we got here. It's either I go back willingly, or they eliminate their problem."

I told her I did not want to leave the United States. She told me I didn't have to; but that I had to leave Brighton Beach at once. I was eighteen years old, when I was placed on a train; I had one suitcase of clothes, a new passport, and a new name. I never questioned why. To this day I don't know what my mother did or what her fate was once she returned to Russia. I thank her every day for the sacrifices she must have made so I could live my life in freedom."

They ate their meal in relative silence. Rick watched as she ate half of her burrito, then unwrapped the second half and ate the chicken, rice and beans, leaving the wrap.

"I try to watch my carbs. I don't have to worry about calories or putting on weight. I do at least six hours of Pilate's exercises every day. My body craves protein. Some night's before I go home, I stop at Costco, buy a rotisserie chicken for dinner; or two deli sandwiches, throw away the bread from one and chow down. But that's enough about me, tell me about you."

"After that story, there's not much to tell. I've led a rather borrowing life. I was born in Phoenix. My parents met in high school, got married two years after they graduated. My father's ancestors came from Spain, by way of Mexico. He could trace his lineage back to the Conquistadors. My mother was born in Phoenix. She had two older brothers who were contractors. When I graduated college, I tried office work, but didn't like it. I wanted to work with my hands like my uncles, so a few years ago I went to work for their maintenance company."

"You used the past tense when referring to your parents."

"I lost my parents in a crash two years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks"

"Where do you live?"

"Well, right now I'm between homes; technically, I'm homeless. My last apartment was far too noisy for me. The couple above me were either screaming at each other or shaking the bed in the room above mine, if you know what I mean. So, I let the lease expire and moved out. But before I did, I answered an ad looking for a house sitter for a place in Phoenix. Some big-wig was transferred to the corporate headquarters in Germany and would be spending the next two years there. I'm living in what he called the casita in the back of their house. It's right next to Camelback Mountain. All I have to do is take care of the pool and check on the house, making sure the systems are all working properly, and that the landscaper is taking care of the outsides. I send him a report once a week by email."

Rick was just about to ask her where she lived, when they were interrupted by Carlos with their check. "Rick it was good seeing you again; senorita, it was pleasure to serve you, come back to see us soon."

Sasha smiled and grabbed the check off the table. She reviewed it quickly, and then looked up at Rick with a puzzled look on her face. Knowing what was troubling her, he smiled and said, "I told you this is a family run place. It is also family budget friendly as well."

The bill came to just over forty dollars; Sasha put a fifty-dollar bill on the table. They both stood and as they walked towards the rear exit, Jeanine approached Rick and gave him a big hug, and then turned to Sasha and extended her hand. "I hope we will be seeing a whole lot more of you in the future."

On the drive back to Glendale, Rick said, "They're good people. I've been eating there all my life." When they got back to the shopping center, Rick pulled in front of the Studio. "Do you want me to drop you off by your car?"

"No, I have to go in, clean up a little, and then do some stuff on my computer. Rick, thank you, I had a really good time tonight and thank you for all your help with the Reformers, I couldn't have done it without you."

"I had a great time too, both this afternoon and this evening, you are a fascinating woman."

That said, Sasha leaned over the console and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Before he could release his seatbelt, she had opened her door and began walking towards her studio. He watched as she opened the door, stepped into the building, turned, and relocked the door. With a friendly wave of her hand, she disappeared deeper into the building.

With a toot of his horn, Rick drove around the shopping center and parked in the parking lot behind the office building. He left the truck and took the elevator to the fourth floor, checked for any messages at the reception desk, then walked around the floor until he reached his corner office. He didn't bother turning on the lights, the glow from the parking lot lights was enough for him to check his desk and phone for any messages. Finding none, he was just about to call it an evening, when he noticed the light escaping from an open door in the back of the shopping center. He watched as a lone figure walked quickly from the doorway to the dark colored VW Beetle, which was still parked in the far corner of the office building's parking lot. Sasha, opened the door, climbed in, and started the vehicle. He watched as she drove around the buildings and disappeared, only to appear a few moments later as she guided the vehicle to the far corner of the shopping center's parking lot. Once again, the interior dome light came on, she exited the vehicle and closed the door. He watched her walk towards the front door and stood by his window until he was sure that she was safely inside.

He left the office, took the elevator back down to the ground floor, exited the building and walked over to his Dodge Challenger Hellcat, which he had left earlier that afternoon, and drove around to the front of the shopping center. He stopped for a few minutes in the center of the lot, in front of The Studio, far enough away that he was sure she could not see into the car. He watched the front window until he saw her silhouette as she straightened out the waiting area. Convinced that she was safe, he slowly left the parking lot and headed for home.

As he drove home, he chuckled to himself. 'She thinks she's so smart; concealing the fact that her car is always here overnight. I know your little secret Sasha; you're living in the building, aren't you. You're lucky I'm the only one who knows. If my father had known or my cousin ever found out, I'd have a major argument on my hands. But for right now, your secret is safe with me. Good night, Sasha, sweet dreams.'

Chapter 4

They saw a lot of each other during the next six months. It started out as coffee every Monday morning; a way to delay the start of the work week. But soon it morphed into breakfast. Rick would stop at a fifties-style diner on his drive into Glendale. He would get himself the mainstay for a tradesman's breakfast, an egg on a roll, for Sasha he would get the protein special, an egg white and chicken omelet, no potatoes or toast.

When he pulled into the lot, he would find Sasha sitting in one of the two chairs she had taken from the waiting room, and a small table placed between the chairs.

Their conversations came easy; they had quickly become the other's best friend, in reality, their only friend. Sure they both knew numerous people that they worked with, but they only socialized with each other.

During this time, Arizona's early spring season, which ran from mid-February to the middle of April, had given way to the ever-increasing temperatures of May and June. By the beginning of July, the temperature was consistently flirting with the hundred-and-ten-degree mark. Worse still, there had not been a measurable amount of precipitation in the last two months.

"Rick is there any way to get more fresh air into the building other than opening both doors? The air in there is getting pretty funky."

"What do you mean, funky?"

"It smells. For eight hours a day I have women of all ages and fitness levels working out. Some come here before they shower for the day or week; others occasionally come in wearing workout clothes that haven't been cleaned in a while, or wearing their favorite scent. It's also not unheard of to have certain gases slip out during our bends and stretches. All that combines over time to make the air funky."

"I understand. About seven months out of the year we have the air conditioning units pulling in about ten percent outside air into the building. We have to shut that down during the summer because much of that time the outside temperature is so hot that the system actually begins to raise the inside temperature while it is running. If you think your utility bill is high now, you can image what it would be if we left it at ten percent year-round. We shut that down at the beginning of May."

"What can I do; I've got to do something soon. I'd open the doors when the sun goes down, but that's not really safe. I'm back in my office, I don't know who or what is coming in those open doors."

"Let me think about it. I'll come up with something. Give me until next week. Look at the time," he said as he looked at his watch, "I've got to run."

They both got up, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked back to his truck.

During that week he searched the company's small, but part-filled workshop. He told his uncle about his dilemma and what he envisioned as a possible solution.

"If I remember correctly, back when we first built the first of the shopping centers, there was a small coffee shop. The owner couldn't afford to run the A/C during most of the year. He had us install a transom window above the front door and an exhaust fan in the back wall. That worked for most of the year. It cut his annual utility bills almost in half. When the shop changed over to retail, the new tenant had us remove the exhaust fan and the window. Let me think, where did we put that stuff?

After several minutes of thought he exclaimed, "Got it, they're in the loft, over the office." Rick scampered up the ladder and stood gazing over the dust covered collection of old parts and forgotten pieces of equipment. Leaning against the far side wall of the loft he spotted the nearly three-foot square exhaust fan. As he crossed the space, he saw the window and framework as well.