In the mirror, she watched Chupacabra shoulder the bar and drop into a low squat as if the weights were made of tissue paper. “I hope you’re not expecting me to do that,” she said to Nick. “Baby, I don’t think I can do that. And stop stalling. Next set.” “Your mom’s next set,” she puffed. “Nice try. We’ll add trash-talking to the danger boot camp syllabus.” “Can’t. Wait.”
