Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (35 page)

“Where’s Matthew?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Up here,” he called, merrily, from the roof of the building. He was crouched up there, eating a power bar.

“What the hell are we doing?” I asked the both of them. I wanted to run away and find Ian, so we could watch ESPN and eat ice cream, like civilized people.

“Obstacle course,” Corey said. “You gotta run and jump into each tire and jump back out, all the way down the field. I’m gonna time you.”

“And then you have to climb up here,” Matthew called, his mouth filled with the last of his power bar.

“Using
what
?” I asked. This was beyond stupid. Why did I have to learn to scale a building?

“Your hands,” Matthew said. “And that drainage pipe down there. And anything else you can find to grab onto. And I’m going to time you.”

“How long did it take you?” I asked.

“About two seconds,” he said, and shrugged. “It’ll probably take you a little longer.”

I glowered at him, and then turned my glower Corey’s way. “Exactly what is this supposed to accomplish?” I asked. “Besides making me trip? And fall?” I motioned towards the roof.

“It’s our job to keep you safe,” Corey said, and he was now dead serious. “You have to be able to keep up with us. There’s all sorts of terrain in Brazil. We don’t know if we’re going to be in an urban area or a jungle. You have to be prepared for anything. We’re going to have to move fast. You might have to run over uneven terrain, rocks, roots, underbrush…and we could have to hide anywhere.”

“And you think this will help?” I asked, motioning at Matthew once more.

“I know it will. I promise,” Corey said. “And more importantly, I promised John.”

“So did Liberty,” Matthew called down.
I was going to have to put him on my “To Punch” list.
But he was right. I’d promised John, too.

“Okay,” I said, sighing. “But this is going to be ugly.”

“We know,” they said, in unison. I had to clench both fists to stop myself from giving them the finger.

Corey jogged back towards me. “I’ll do it first,” he said. He turned around, running quickly towards the first tire. He leaped into it, touching down briefly, and then sprung back out as if he had bounced on a trampoline. Then he was running again, to the next one and the next, all the way down the field.

I looked up at Matthew. “I can’t do that,” I said.

“There is no can’t,” Matthew said, and I just held up my hand to him:
stop.

“Please, no Yoda advice,” I said. “I can’t take it — and yes,
I know I just said can’t!
”

“Have it your way. But you know Yoda was always right,” said Matthew, blithely. He took another power bar out of his pocket and tore into it.

Meanwhile, Corey waited at the other end of the field. From where I was, he did not appear to be breathing hard. I knew that the same would not be true for me.

“At your signal,” Corey called, setting his watch. I exhaled deeply and crouched down.

“Go!” Corey shouted. I tore off towards the first tire. It was probably a little higher than a foot, and I stopped awkwardly at its edge. I jumped in, one foot at a time, and hopped back out, scraping my shin along its edge. I started running again, heading to the next tire, and repeated the whole process, including the scrape. I looked up and saw Matthew in hysterics, clutching his stomach he was laughing so hard.

I didn’t stop, even though my sneaker got caught twice on the edge of a tire because I couldn’t lift my sore thighs high enough and I fell. Somehow, I made it down the whole field. I was breathing hard by the time I got to Corey. He had the decency to not
call out my time, and he pretended to studiously read a text message while I collapsed on the grass at his feet.

“You get five minutes to rest,” he said, not looking at me. “Then it’s up to the roof.”

“Awesome,” I said. I looked up at the sky. It was pale blue, with puffy white clouds, a perfect September day. Suddenly, the sun was blocked out. I squinted up: it was Corey, standing over me and scowling.

“Time to roof it, Liberty,” he said.

I scowled back at him as I stood up. We headed over to the building and Corey started jogging; I was forced to keep up even though my muscles were screaming and my legs felt like lead. I approached the side of the building warily. Matthew hopped back down, landing in a crouch, and strode past me to the rain gutter. “This is how I did it,” he said. He put one foot up onto a spigot that was at the base of the building, securing his fingers around the gutter. He pushed off the spigot and swung one arm higher, clasping further up on the gutter and went on like that until he reached the edge of the roof. Then he swung his right leg up and pulled the rest of himself up after it.

It took about two seconds.

“I can’t do that,” I said, looking at Corey. “I can barely do a pull-up.”

Corey looked at me and sighed. “Come back down,” he said to Matthew. “Let’s take the princess to do some pull-ups. We’ll try this later in the week.”

I stalked after them as well as I could with such heavy legs. We went inside and there was the dreaded pull-up bar. I went to it, knowing the drill, and clasped my hands around the cool metal. I pulled myself up, once, twice. My arms were shaking so badly that the guys could surely see it. I dropped down off the bar in a heap and rubbed my hands together, too embarrassed to look up at them.

“That’s okay, Lib. You can’t do it all for the first time in one day. Let’s focus on how awesome your run was. Let’s go get some lunch.
I’m
plating your food,” Matthew said, pulling me up and slapping me on the back, hard.
Ow.
“I’m going to give you the proper fuel to turn you into a machine. You’re going to
love
it.”

“I’m so sure,” I said, heading to the mess hall on very wobbly legs.

Later, when I was supposed to be chanting in hot yoga, I was visualizing punching Matthew instead. He’d made me eat too much at lunch.

“Here,” he’d said to me, setting down a plate packed side to side with food. An open-faced roast beef sandwich, what appeared to be a pound of steamed spinach with lemon and a protein shake.

“Ew,” I said, wrinkling my nose at it. “I like to have pasta and a salad at lunch.”

“Forget about pasta,” Matthew said. “Say goodbye to it. It doesn’t do anything for your muscles.
You need to feed your muscles. And your brain.
” He sounded so intense I just nodded at him, silently, and began to eat. I choked down the spinach. I despised spinach but I didn’t feel like arguing with him anymore today.

“Now, the protein shake,” he said opening it for me, “is your new best friend. As is lean meat, spinach and legumes.”

“What’s a legume, again?” I asked. John had told me once before but I was probably so busy staring at his gorgeous face and big pectoral muscles that I hadn’t heard a word.

“Beans, lentils, peas. All that good stuff,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “
All
that good stuff.” I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to see a bowl of orange macaroni and cheese anytime soon.

“Now, I’m going to tell John this, too, but I want you to set your alarm twice during the night — you’re going to get up and have a protein shake each time,” he said.

“Seriously?” I asked, silently cursing him. He didn’t even answer.

Now we were in a room that was heated to over one hundred degrees, doing downward dog and various other positions that I didn’t know the name of, and all I could think about what that spinach sliding around in my stomach.
Stop it
, my inner voice admonished.
You have to do everything they say.

I tried to focus on what I was doing, but it was extremely unpleasant. Sweat dripped down off of me. They’d hired some instructor to come lead the class, and I was pretty sure they’d picked her up off Catherine’s floor at the hospital: she was totally nuts. She was tiny, maybe five feet, and had a huge bun of reddish-brown hair on top her head and a nose ring. Her appearance, which was extremely pleasant — she was, in fact, adorable — was not what made me think she was crazy. It was what she was doing with her body, and what she was asking me to do with
mine
.

“Okay, it’s time for
Padangusthasana
,” she said.
Whatever the fuck that was.
“This is not only a great stretch, but it will calm your mind and help you focus.”

She went into the pose — it was one legged, with her hand holding her foot out to the side — and I burst out laughing. Everyone turned to look at me and I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry,” I mumbled through my sweaty hand. I watched in awe as John managed to get into the pose and hold it, as did all the other guys who were in there.

I tried to do it, but I was so sweaty my foot kept slipping out of my hand, and I kept tipping over. Giving up, I laid down on my mat and pretended to meditate. I was too tired even to just stare at John’s ass, which looked awesome in male yoga pants. I guess I fell asleep, because I woke up to John nudging me as people were rolling up their mats and leaving the room.

“Long day, huh?” he asked, brushing the sweaty hair out of my face.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m sorry I fell asleep. That’s humiliating.”

“It’s okay, Liberty. You’re beat. We’ve all been there.”

“You missed the instructor doing a head stand, though. That was cool,” said Matthew, sauntering over. He looked at John. “You guys are having dinner at the house tonight, right?”

John nodded. “Please make sure she eats her legumes,” Matthew said, and I wrinkled my nose. “And she has to start getting up twice a night to drink the shakes.”

“I’ll make sure she does it,” John said to him. “See you in the morning.” He turned back to me, offering his hand to pull me up. I winced as I moved.

“I don’t know how you expect me to do all this again tomorrow,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

“We’re running tomorrow, and then doing weights. We’re going to do an intel session in the afternoon. So no yoga, and you get to sit for a couple of hours.”

I nodded at him as I hobbled towards the house, lugging my mat. “How am I supposed to get through dinner tonight?” I asked. “I’m not emotionally prepared for it anyway, and I’m seriously ready for bed.” It was four o’clock, and I felt like I could have slept through till the next morning. I wished we could cancel. I hadn’t met my half-sister in all my twenty-one years…what was a few more nights?

“They’re already on their way, honey.” He put his hand on my back and rubbed it. “Alexandra and Mr. Brown will be here in an hour. You can go shower, we’ll have an informal dinner in the kitchen. You can sign the paperwork and they’ll be gone by seven. We can go straight to bed — I promise, I’ll let you go to sleep for once.” I looked over at him, feeling miserable. On top of all my physical discomfort, I was suddenly very, very nervous.

He leaned down and kissed the side of my face as we walked. Then he put his arm around my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, babe. I promise.”

Turns out, hot yoga was the worst part of the day. Much worse than Alexandra ended up being. Even Billy Brown, the lawyer, was pleasant. Everything went much better than I expected.

Alexandra was a little shorter than me, and a lot more sophisticated. She was in her early thirties, with dark brown hair that hung to her shoulders, straight and thick, with bangs framing her face. She had on large diamond studs, a huge diamond engagement ring and matching wedding band, and a peasant blouse that appeared to be by the same designer as the one I’d bought for Catherine. She was immaculate, fashionable but casual, and smelled wonderful. She looked like someone who had her shit together. I would never have been able to tell we were related. But she saw something she recognized in me right away.

“You have our father’s hair,” she said excitedly, by way of greeting me, and hugged me. I was engulfed briefly in her wonderful smell. She pulled back and looked at me. Then she turned bright red.
Okay, maybe we were actually blood relatives.
“Oh yeah,” she said, “Hi. I’m Alexandra. I just totally forgot to introduce myself to you.” She laughed a great big surprising, honking laugh, making her seem more normal and human than she looked.