I moved into down dog and definitely felt my leg pop out of socket, like an overworked hand-me-down Barbie doll.

“Shit. I’m going down,” I hissed, slowly sliding down onto my borrowed yoga mat until my face made contact with the sweaty rubber.

Josephine glanced over at me, sweat slipping down her face. She picked up her hand to flick it off, but it was no use. We were in a heated yoga class. The thermostat read 98 degrees and we were both going to die a slow death. The last sight I was going to see was the ass of the old hippie directly in front of me.

Did he have to wear the bike shorts?

Did they have to ride up so high?

“You’re not supposed to just lay there,” Josephine whispered.

The instructor told us to root down through our chakras and become one with the earth as we moved into our next round of sun salutations. I wanted to salute the sun with my middle finger.

“Lily. Come on! We can’t go get crêpes after this if you don’t work out.” Josephine pushed to downward dog and then hopped to the front of her mat. My eyes followed her movements, but my body had no intention of getting up.

“Class! Class! I want you all to take a breath and look toward this student,” the instructor said, sounding dangerously close. I glanced up to find her bulbous eyes hovering over me, hands motioning toward where I lay on my mat, face down, ass in the air. I’d quite literally collapsed in a heap of skin and bones. “Do you see how she listens to her body? She’s taking this opportunity to do child’s pose. While others push themselves toward unattainable goals, this student has set her own intentions for her practice today. I commend your work today, child.”

HAHAHA. I was getting a gold star for being lazy.

I sent a gloating smile toward Josephine as Old Hippie started clapping, and soon the other students were joining in.

I’d officially won at yoga.

After class, I wiped down my body with my towel and then sprayed down my mat. They’d probably be better off just burning the thing, but whatever. Josephine and I grabbed our sandals and slipped out of the class before we could get stuck talking to the instructor. She was cornering students by the door, asking them how their bodies had responded to her words.

“Go, go, go,” I hissed, pushing Josephine through the doorway just in the nick of time.

She called out after us. “Oh, girls! Great work in class today. Don’t forget to pick up some tea tree oi—”

“Oh my god, she’s still talking to us,” Josephine said, reaching back for my hand and pulling me farther down the street. We picked up the pace and didn’t slow down until we were a few blocks away from the studio.

“Why in the world did we just do that?” Josephine asked.

I peeled my tank top off my chest, away from where it was suction-cupped to my skin with sweat. The fresh morning air was much better than the temperature of the yoga studio.

“Josephine, you just don’t get it. Yoga is about far more than just exercise. For people like me—y’know experienced yogis—it’s a way of life.”

“Oh really? Name one yoga pose.” She challenged me with an arched brow.

“Easy. Upper…moonbeam.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Fine. Downward Dumbledore.”

“There are no yoga poses named after Harry Potter characters.”

I frowned. “Are you sure?”

She wrapped her sticky arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close. “Let’s agree to never go back.”

I nodded. “Never.”

“Maybe we can pick up cycling or something?”

I groaned. “Can’t we just be like those French women that stay skinny by walking a lot and doing the cayenne pepper cleanse?”

“You realize that when people do that cleanse, they don’t eat or drink anything but juice for days?”

I stopped walking. “Oh god no. I thought you drank that crap on top of eating whatever you wanted.”

“Yeah, Lily. ’Cause that’s how diets work.”

I shook my head. “Okay listen, let’s go eat some crêpes, and then tomorrow we’ll worry about the long-term effects of eating a pastry full of Nutella.”

She pulled the door open to the crêperie and ushered me inside. “Deal.”

The inside of the shop smelled like a funnel cake had exploded. Small French-inspired tables were set up on either side of the center aisle and as we passed by the other patrons, I assessed their crêpe choices. There were savory ones with eggs and bacon, and sweet ones with fruit and chocolate sauces. One woman had a crêpe piled high with cinnamon apples and my hand actually itched to steal it from her.

The line to order was five people long, so we browsed the menus as we waited. I want one of everything.

“So how was the first day on the job? Was it nice having Julian there as your moral support?”

I bristled at the reminder of work. I’d barely managed to survive the meeting the day before, what with Dictator Dean stomping around like he owned the place. I mean, he did in fact own the place, but did he have to act like it all the time?

“It was okay. I met the rest of the team I’ll be working with.”

“Oh? Who else was there?”

“Zoe, the manager I told you about from my first night at Provisions. She’s super awesome.”

Josephine nodded.

“And then this guy named Hunter who gave off major creeper vibes the entire meeting.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“He was just so smarmy, like a New Jersey car salesman or something. He was covered in sweat when he got there and his suit barely fit over his beer belly. He gave me this flirty smile when I introduced myself to him, completely ignoring the big fat wedding ring on his left hand.”

“Oh, gross.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then he asked if I wanted to get lunch with him, alone, after the meeting.”

Her eyes widened. “What?!”

“I know.”

“What’d you say?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Dean called him back into the office before I could respond.”

The customers in front of us finished ordering and we moved up to the front of the line.

“Hi, is this your first time to Uptown Crêperie?” asked the chipper cashier behind the cash register.

“Yes, but I’m not new to crêpes. I’d like a smores crêpe, a truffled caprese crêpe, and one of the apple cinnamon crème brûlée crêpes.”

“Lily!” Josephine laughed. “That’s enough food for an army.”

“What? I’m going to review it all for my blog. I swear!”

“Uh huh. I use that same logic when I want to splurge on a Rebecca Minkoff purse.”

I swiped my card and signed the receipt, already excited to take photos of the crêpes for my next blog post. I hadn’t done a review of a crêperie in New York yet.

“Are we at least going to share those?” Josephine asked.

I glanced over at her with narrowed eyes. “Jo, I love you. I really do, but if you touch my crêpes, I’m gonna have to stab you with my fork.”

Chapter Seventeen

Lily

I consider myself a decent person. I never steal candy from the bulk bins at the grocery store, I always bus my table at restaurants where it’s clear that you’re meant to, and I always let old people have my seat on the subway when it’s full. (Okay maybe I just got elbowed out of my seat by a gruff grandma in the Bronx, but I’m counting it.) All of those good deeds didn’t help the fact that I was about to become a murderer.

It was inevitable.

“You’re not listening to me!” I said. “Here are all the reasons that the restaurant should have a Spanish name.”