Read Card Sharks for Free Online Page B

the next fifteen minutes it was pedal, swivel, slump . . . pedal, swivel, slump . . .
    â€œThis is so lame,” Bijoux said after they’d been pedaling for nearly forty-five minutes without a legitimate sighting.
    â€œOkay, seriously. There you go. Four sixteen. Rolex, no wedding ring. Clearly male.”
    Bijoux looked. Her eyes widened, telegraphing an unspoken “go” signal to Marianne. Immediately the two girls doubled their efforts on the machine, hair flying, legs pumping, doing the whole making-a-thing-out-of-gulping-a-lot-of-water-for-their-efforts thing. The object of their admiration began to walk down the row of machines between them, and the girls immediately acted as if they’d been working out forever and were just now cooling down.
    They’d timed it perfectly. The object was close enough to start a conversation with either one of them. He raised his head and smiled broadly—at a girl riding a bike a few feet down. Her muscles gleamed with perspiration and her skimpy black workout shorts didn’t even begin to contain what there was to be contained.
    Marianne looked over at the girl and snorted. “Ass implants. I’m sure of it,” she whispered.
    Bijoux exhaled deeply, still trying to catch her breath. “You should have said something. He would have stopped.”
    â€œI thought he was more your type,” Marianne said. “ You should have said something.”
    â€œThat’s what you’re for,” Bijoux wheezed out. “If he’s for me, then you, as wingman, need to start the conversation.”
    Marianne just gave her look.
    â€œOh, God. This is so not going well for me,” Bijoux said. “I’m going to throw up or pass out. Take your pick.” She hunched over the handlebars of the workout bicycle, pedaling sloppily. “I don’t even want to meet someone anymore. I’m all gross. I can’t believe Susan Saunders met her husband this way.”
    â€œWell, stop working out so hard. This isn’t supposed to be about the exercise.”
    â€œI know,” Bijoux muttered. “How can it be about the exercise when we drive over a hill in an SUV and let valets wearing head-to-toe white park us?”
    â€œLet’s try one of the classes. It won’t be so exhausting. You think?”
    â€œSure,” Bijoux said, eagerly stepping off the machine. She staggered forward as her apparently jellylike knees buckled under her on unfamiliar firm ground. Steadying herself with one hand on the handlebars, she picked up the perfectly snowy white towel and dabbed at her face, working to avoid smearing her full faceload of makeup.
    The girls walked over to the schedule of classes and had a look. “Prenatal yoga or candlelight stretching. I think that pretty much decides things for us,” Marianne said.
    Bijoux nodded, and they headed for the candlelight stretching class.
    The wood flooring alone was gorgeous. Honey colored and shiny, it picked up a nice glow from the candles arranged around the room. Low, vaguely Middle Eastern music floated through the air entwined with a mild sandalwood incense. The participants sat perfectly spaced apart on mats, already in lotus position. Marianne and Bijoux adjusted mats in the back of the room and quickly took their spots.
    â€œNow try to imagine the energy flowing through your body . . . feel your arms elongate, let your limbs stretch out nice and limber and strong and long . . . Now imagine the energy flowing and cycling and circling through your body until all that energy is just shooting out your fingertips into the collective spirit of everyone present as we create one massive energy ball. . . .”
    â€œThis woman is beginning to frighten me,” Marianne muttered under her breath, raising both arms up above her head. They felt extremely short for some reason, and not particularly flexible. The only thing