Getting into a new kind of Bind by donalee Moulton

We’re leaving winter behind and welcoming spring. This spring is particularly celebratory. I’m welcoming a new book. Bind is the first in my series, the Lotus Detective Agency.  I thought this month I’d share an excerpt with you – and would love your feedback.

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Here’s a little background:

 

Everything that happens in a yoga studio is not Zen. Sometimes it’s grand larceny. Three yogis, two cops, and one damn cute dog join forces to discover who’s stolen a Patek Philippe watch from what was supposed to be a secure locker.  Time is ticking.

 

And here’s the excerpt.

From Bind

Ten yogis are in various stretches, twists, meditations, and yawns when Kristi walks back into the studio. She forces a smile, and the smile spreads of its own accord into her muscles, her bones, her heart. This is her sanctuary. She is at home here. The rawness she feels is still there, but it has moved to the edges now.

Today’s bind is a yogi squat. One leg is extended; the other is bent. One arm goes under the bent leg; the other goes around the back until they meet. In theory. Lexie can’t wait until this month is over, and it’s only day three. Bhodi looks around the room to see if anyone else has completed the bind. Surprisingly, Honey seems to have easily maintained the squat and the bind. Bonnie begins the countdown until she can come out of the contortion, which for her is a little squat and a hint of a bind.

Kristi takes this opportunity to explain the benefits of binds. “These poses allow muscles to release, relax, and open. You can go deeper. You can also focus on alignment and flexibility while building strength.” She breathes in.

“Dear God,” thinks Lexie, “there’s more.”

“If you make her stop,” Bonnie says to her higher spirit, “I will give you my first born.”

Kristi continues to talk, and smile. “Remember to breathe when you’re in the bind. Don’t tighten. And come out of the bind if you feel any pain. Go to your edge, but no further.”

Archina isn’t sure where her edge is, but she fears she left it behind several minutes ago. Woo Woo unbinds. She believes in the mind, body, spirit philosophy of yoga, but enough of this shit.

If it’s one thing Kristi knows, it’s how to read a room full of yogis. The edge has been reached. She tells everyone to stand up, give themselves a hug, and as a special treat, this morning there will be an extended savasana that includes a meditation. (Kristi always has a guided meditation on her phone.) The room smiles, even Bhodi. Eleven bodies move from the vertical to the horizontal. Archina grabs a blanket; Lexie puts a bolster under her knees; Kevin, the newest member of the group, reaches for his socks.

The Dalai Lama is midway through his 13-minute meditation on the disturbed mind when the studio door opens. Twelve faces turn to look at the human who belongs to the shoes that just clomped into their zen-like state. All twelve agree, zen is overrated. Standing at the entranceway to the studio is a 6’2” man with ripped muscles, ebony skin, and a three-day stubble. “He can bind with me any time he wants,” Kevin thinks.

It takes the intruder less than a second to realize he has interrupted the class at an inopportune time. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought class was over.”

“We’re running a little late,” says Kristi in a voice the class has not heard before.

“Please continue,” says Ripped. “I will come back.”

“Too late now,” says Bhodi. He gets the evil eye from most of the class.

“How can we help?” says Kristi introducing herself.

Ripped steps forward, hand extended. “My name is Michael …”

Before he can continue, Woo Woo interjects. “No, it isn’t. Your name is Lewis.”

The demi-god looks at her in surprise. He’s not alone. The whole class stares at Woo Woo.

“I’m so sorry,” Woo Woo says turning a deep magenta. “I don’t know why I said that.” But she does. Sometimes a thought, an image, a tickertape runs through Woo Woo’s mind. She knows it’s a message, and she usually tries to convey it. On this occasion, she wishes she hadn’t.

Michael turns back to Kristi, leader of the pack. “Terrell. Michael Terrell.”

“Did you want to join the class?” Bhodi asks. The snark is obvious.

“Please,” thinks Kevin. “Please join.”

Terrell smiles. “It’s on my bucket list, but today I’m here for a less pleasant reason. I’m a detective with the Halifax Police Department. I’m looking into a watch that seems to have gone missing from the gym.”

Kristi tries to control her breathing. No one else tries to control anything. Lexie’s eyes fly wide open. Charlene gasps. Bonnie recoils.

Honey farts.