Lyons den, p.2
Lyon's Den, page 2
“I just haven’t met the right one,” she said in a clipped tone. She turned her attention back to the screen. “And yes, she’s cute. But her kind—no. Way too woodsy for me.” She clicked out of that and went back to the main page. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. Look at this! They’re climbing fucking trees!”
“There’s an obstacle course too. Looks like Ninja Warrior stuff. How fun!”
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Fun? Can you see me out there?”
Kimberly laughed. “No.” She pointed to the top. “Click on the rules.”
She did. Her eyes widened as she read. “Oh, hell no. No fucking way.”
Kimberly nearly laughed hysterically as she read out loud. “No cell phone usage except during quiet time in your own room. No alcohol permitted on the premises.” She laughed again. “If they had a rule for no cursing, then they’d hit all your vices,” she teased.
Joni slammed the laptop closed. “That’s fucking crazy. What’s the purpose of these stupid rules?” She grabbed her phone and held it lovingly to her chest, then looked at the glass of wine sitting on the coffee table.
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, obviously there’s only one thing I can do.” She picked up the wine. “I’m going to have to quit my job.”
Chapter Three
Joni stopped her rental car at the entrance, a large metal gate standing open invitingly. Above the entrance was a large wooden beam, its ominous sign seeming to mock her.
LYON’S DEN RETREAT
“I must be insane.”
Obviously, no, she had not quit her job at Mountain Life Magazine. And no amount of pleading—begging—had changed Turnbull’s mind. She’d even written a quick article based on a perusal of the Lyon’s Den website. She’d absolutely trashed the place; no one in their right mind would pay money to go there after she’d ripped them so thoroughly. He loved it. In fact, he said it was exactly what he wanted. However, to avoid any potential legal issues, he thought she needed to actually go to the place before trashing it. It was a minor detail, in her opinion, but he didn’t agree. He wanted her “in the trenches” as he’d put it. He’d even ponied up the money to rent a Jeep Wrangler for the trip as the instructions said a “high clearance vehicle recommended.”
So here she was, in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, already feeling claustrophobic from the forest surrounding her. Yeah, yeah, the views had been pretty, but she was not used to mountain driving and the trek across Cottonwood Pass had nearly done her in.
By the grace of god, the Jeep’s navigation had gotten her to the tiny so-called town of Tin Cup over a boulder-laden road that had her bouncing around like a pinball. The directions that she’d printed out—as instructed—to navigate from there had left her clueless. After driving around in circles for nearly an hour, she’d ventured into the general store, seemingly the only business in town.
“I keep telling Kenni her directions are all wrong. Can’t imagine anyone could find her place without my help.” The very friendly man had shuffled out to the porch with her. “Go on up yonder there past the old church. Don’t take that first left. That’s not really a road, but that’s where most go wrong and they end up at the old Stanford Mine. Most get lost on their way back down. No, you take that second road there. It’s bumpy as hell, but you’ll make it in that Jeep. Then you’re going to take a right where the road forks. Stay on that for a good mile or two. You’ll come to her place soon enough.”
And here she was. About to enter the Lyon’s Den. She glanced at the clock on the console. She had eleven minutes to spare. According to the very nice woman named Sky that she’d spoken with two days ago, unofficial check-in was any time after one o’clock but before four o’clock. At four was the official welcome and the meet and greet with the other participants. Then they would have their individual check-in and be assigned rooms. Dinner was at six sharp.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her eyes still glued to the sign. Then, with great effort, she made herself drive through the gates of hell. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. She had at least gotten a new wardrobe out of the deal. Not that she would ever wear any of these clothes again. Turnbull had handed over his personal credit card and had sent Dana—an avid hiker—out shopping with her. She’d been horrified at the clothes that Dana had picked out, but they were going by the list that was on the website—jeans, hiking shorts, T-shirts, sweats, hiking boots, and the like. The only thing of hers that she packed were the silk pajamas she slept in.
The road spilled into a clearing and a huge lodge came into view. The parking area was on the left and it was nearly full. She didn’t know if she was more surprised by the number of vehicles or the type of vehicles. There were the giant SUVs—Yukon, Expedition, Wagoneer, and Suburban. Smaller SUVs—Lexus and BMW. Then she spotted a Mercedes. What the hell kind of clients did this place cater to anyway?
She found a spot on the end and parked. Before she turned the engine off, she had a notion to pull away and leave. But no. How bad could it be? She killed the engine and, with a heavy sigh, opened the door.
She got out, her new boots crunching on the rocks. She ignored the fact that her feet hurt. The first thing that struck her was the smell. She breathed deeply. Vanilla? Butterscotch? The second thing she noticed was the quiet. She looked around, seeing no one and hearing nothing. She tilted her head. It was eerily quiet. Where was the traffic noise? Where was the familiar hum of the city? The breeze was blowing through the tree that she had parked under. There were birds—tiny little gray things—flitting about and tweeting at her. She looked up, watching them for a moment.
“Can I help you with your luggage?”
She jumped and nearly tripped in her haste to turn around. It was her. The Lyon woman. Her hair was as windblown as in the picture on her website, just begging to be tamed. Her eyes were dark and alert. There was a hint of a smile on her face, and Joni thought she was much more attractive in person.
“I…”
“You’re the last one. I’m assuming you’re Joni James. The reporter?” The woman flicked her wrist up, glancing at the big sports watch on her wrist. “Running late, I guess. You only have a few minutes to spare.”
“Journalist,” she corrected. “And yes, I’m late. Sorry. I got lost. The very nice gentleman at the general store got me back on track.”
The woman nodded. “Jimmy. He says my directions suck.”
She was about to agree when the woman pointed to the back of the Jeep she’d rented. While it wasn’t the only Jeep there, she was parked next to a huge-ass Expedition that dwarfed it. Perhaps she should have asked Turnbull for something a little more luxurious to rent. Maybe then she wouldn’t have felt like she was on a trampoline while driving.
“Luggage? I’ll help. I don’t want to get behind schedule. Everyone is already waiting.”
“Yes. Okay. Thank you.” Damn, but the woman was all business, wasn’t she? She went back inside the vehicle and unlocked the back door.
“Three bags, huh? Missed that section where you’ll have access to a washer and dryer?”
She gave a humorless smile. “I’m a heavy packer. Sorry.” She hurried around the back, taking one of the bags. “I can get this one.”
“Sure. Well, come on. We’re running late.”
The woman strode off, leaving her standing there holding her most precious bag. She went back to the front seat and grabbed the backpack that Dana had bought for her. It held her laptop and some other things that she would normally keep in her purse—a purse she’d left behind. She slung it over her shoulder, feeling completely out of place.
“What the hell am I doing here?” she murmured as she hurried to catch up with the Lyon woman.
Chapter Four
Kenni smiled broadly at the twenty women who were gathered in the dining room, which also served as the lecture hall—five round tables with four women sitting at each. She glanced over their faces, most showing excitement. She looked at the latecomer, Joni James. The journalist. She appeared to be more nervous than excited. Cute, though. Hazel eyes with a hint of green in them. Light-brown hair that barely brushed her shoulders. Parted on the side and swept across her forehead—she didn’t seem like their normal clients. She was a bit too young, for one. Of course, she wasn’t a real client. She was here to do a piece for some magazine. Well, it wasn’t the first one, and she doubted it would be the last.
Sky cleared her throat beside her, and Kenni drew her gaze away from the lovely Joni James. She addressed the group.
“Welcome, everyone. I’m Kendall Lyon, your host for the next month. Most everyone calls me Kenni. You’re going to love it here.” She motioned to the women standing behind her. “Let me introduce you to the staff.
“My right hand, Sky Reynolds. She does a little of everything around here. I’d be lost without her.”
Sky stepped forward, her blond hair cut stylishly for summer. She smiled broadly and gave a wave. “I’ve spoken with most of you on the phone. Welcome.” She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“And this is Mindy Furbaugh,” Kenni said, moving down the line. “She will lead our meditation classes and is also our expert yoga instructor.”
“Hello, everyone.”
“Next is Wanda. She plans our menus and supervises the kitchen staff.” She paused. “She’s everyone’s honorary mother and tries to keep us all in line. Tough job.”
“I try, honey.”
Kenni turned to her right. “This is Karla Timpson. If you can’t tell by looking at her, she’ll be your trainer in the gym.”
On cue, Karla flexed her biceps, getting applause in the process, as usual. “Can’t wait to get started, ladies.”
“And this is Jenn Klein. She is our outdoor enthusiast, and she has designed all of the obstacle courses and will lead our daily hikes.”
“Hello, ladies,” Jenn greeted with a wave. Her dark hair was pulled into its familiar ponytail, and she looked eager to get started.
Kenni walked closer to the group, going to stand between two tables. “If you’ve read through all the information that Sky has sent you, then you already have an idea of what your days will be like. Those of you who got here early have already had a chance to look around the grounds.” She looked pointedly at Joni James, who had a rather bored expression on her face.
“Let’s go over some of our rules and the reasons for them. First off, there are no TVs on the property. And cell phone usage is restricted to your room during your evening hours. I urge you to limit phone use. Stay off social media. Disconnect from the world while you’re here. Get rid of the electronics in your life. Get away from all that noise. Free your mind,” she said, repeating the same spiel she used with every new group. “You’ll be surprised at how much clearer your brain will be. How focused you’ll be on the world around you instead of what’s on your screen. You’ll spend most of your time in nature, out in the sunshine. By the end of your stay, I hope that you’ll be much more interested in what is going on outside,” she said, pointing to the windows, “rather than what is happening on your phone. Or what’s in the news. Or what’s happening on the other side of the world. All stressors. I want to teach you how to live a more quiet, slower life without all the unnecessary noise.”
Someone raised a hand, and she moved closer, reading the name tag. Sharon.
“What if there’s an emergency?”
“Such as?” Kenni asked.
“I mean, what if one of our family members needs to get in touch with us but we don’t have our phones?”
“They can call our main line here. It’s never been a problem, Sharon.” She moved into the center of the tables. “Also, no alcohol is allowed here. Whether you’re an occasional drinker, a weekend drinker, or a daily drinker, you will be amazed at how wonderful you’ll feel after a month of abstaining. I hope you’ll continue to abstain when you leave here. Alcohol is a toxin—a poison—and does nothing good for your body.”
That was met with groans, as it usually was.
“Breakfast is at six each morning,” she continued. “Lunch times are varied, depending on the plans for the day. And dinner is at six p.m. After dinner, you may want to go outside again and wander the grounds. Or you may want to take advantage of our game room. Cards, board games, and the like. Sounds boring to you now, I’m sure,” she said, getting a few laughs from the ladies. “With all of the electronics in our lives…when’s the last time you’ve played an old-fashioned board game?”
“Years,” someone answered, and others agreed.
“Well, now’s your chance,” she said with a grin. “Each morning at breakfast, we’ll go over the day’s planned activities. We usually start the day with yoga. Nothing too intense. Very beginner. Something to loosen us up and get us prepared for the day. I’m a firm believer in circadian rhythms. Early morning sunshine sets your internal clock. I recommend that before breakfast you step outside and let the sun hit your face. You may also want to practice grounding—or earthing as some call it. Let your bare feet touch the ground. Hug a tree,” she said with a smile. “Embrace nature.”
She glanced at the women, seeing mostly blank stares. Joni James was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. She was fairly certain not a one of these women had ever heard of grounding.
“Grounding normalizes your cortisol levels and reduces stress,” she explained. “It has been proven to improve sleep, too. Take ten minutes and try it. I think you’ll be surprised by the sense of calmness and serenity you feel.” Again, more blank stares. She smiled at them. “I know it sounds a little crazy, but trust me, it works. But, if it’s not your thing…” She shrugged. “After morning yoga,” she continued, “Jenn will take us on a group hike. Not long. Usually about an hour to start.”
That was met with more groans, and Jenn laughed. “After two weeks, you’ll think that’s only a warmup.” She paused. “And it will be!”
“You will be broken up into five teams,” Kenni continued. “We will have different competitions. Most will be on the obstacle course. There will be a daily scavenger hunt with clues to follow. Those are fun too. And we’ll do a harder one each week. The winning team gets treated with a full-body massage the next day in place of the morning hike.”
“Speaking of massages,” Sky said on cue, “we have a mini spa area out behind the gym that has a sauna and a jacuzzi tub. You’ll be able to do red-light therapy if that’s your jam. Even the ice baths that I know some people enjoy.” She laughed. “I’m not one of them!”
The group of ladies laughed as they usually did. Kenni wondered if they needed to update their routine. Was it getting stale? She waited, knowing that Karla would speak up next.
“After your gym workout and lifting sessions, you’ll want to take advantage of the sauna and tub. But I do recommend the ice bath. It’s great for you. Only thirty seconds to one minute will do wonders.”
Kenni moved back to the front of the tables, smiling at the women. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with all the details right now, so we’ll wrap this up. Sky will pass along her famous wooden bowl. Grab a number out. We’ll have five teams, like I said. Four members to a team. Then we will do your check-in and show you to your rooms. You’ll have a little time to relax before dinner.”
She turned to her staff, who were already going out into the lobby where everyone had stashed their luggage. They each took a team under their wings, except for Wanda, who solely managed the kitchen. Kenni always took Team Five. She turned her gaze back to Sky, who was moving among the women, holding the bowl out to each. The journalist, Joni James, reached into the bowl without much enthusiasm. She wondered why she was here. If she planned to write an article about them, Kenni hoped she didn’t think she could skip out on all the activities.
Judging by her demeanor, though, that was exactly what the journalist had in mind. She smiled to herself. This could be fun. Or it could be a pain in the ass.
Chapter Five
Joni looked at the number she’d drawn—5. She crumpled it up, not really caring. This whole thing was so not her. She hated these team-building exercises. She’d interview some of the women who’d signed up for this torture session. Then she’d interview some of the staff, if she could. She’d take a few photos of the place. She’d hang out in her room. And if she was lucky, she’d write the damn article in less than a week and get the hell out of there and back down to civilization.
“Okay, grab your luggage and find your team leader,” Kendall Lyon said. “She’ll get you checked in and direct you to your rooms. After you get settled, come back out and enjoy a little time to introduce yourself to each other and get to know names. Then we’ll have dinner and let you have some free time the rest of the evening. You can stay and chat more or go to the game room. Or go to your room and get to bed early. It’ll be a full day tomorrow, so get your rest.”
Joni rolled her eyes. God, the woman was like a drill sergeant. She shuffled out behind the others, wishing she were anywhere but here.
“What’s your number?” Sky asked her as she went out into the lobby.
“Five.”
“Oh, lucky you. Kenni is your leader.” Sky pointed to the last table where three other women were already waiting. “There’s your team! Go meet them!”
Joni managed to crack her face into a fake smile. “Great!” The smile disappeared as quickly as she’d forced it. Yeah, how lucky for her. The Lyon woman was her team leader. She sighed as she dragged her bags over with her. That might be good, though. Maybe she could interview her without her knowing that she was interviewing her. She might be able to glean some insight into the operation. So far, however, she thought Turnbull was off base. She didn’t get the impression that it was a man-bashing group. Most, if not all the women appeared to be very upper-middle class or even more uppity than that. Like Charlotte Turnbull, they appeared to be wealthy women who apparently had too much time on their hands. She’d spotted gold and diamond watches, diamond earrings, huge obnoxious diamond rings. Most everyone was dressed in expensive clothes and had their hair professionally done and makeup applied to perfection. She had a hard time envisioning these women out there climbing fucking trees!
