She swung her short, muscular legs out of bed and stumbled into the master bathroom of her two-bedroom condo. “Those rude bastards,” she grumbled as she sat down on the padded toilet seat. “It’s not even 7 o’clock and already they’re at it.” Madison sat for a few minutes moodily contemplating the day ahead of her. She was a fitness trainer at a prestigious private club in Green Valley, a burgeoning upscale suburb of Las Vegas. She had a small but steady clientele. Madison was disciplined and very knowledgeable about nutrition and physical therapy. “It’s the social shit I can’t get a handle on,” she muttered. She sighed as she stood up, then went to the sink to wash her hands. The face reflecting back at her from the mirror, the only mirror in the condo, wasn’t necessarily attractive even on a good day, much less after a night of restless tossing and turning. Madison’s brown eyes had puffy bags beneath them and were slightly bloodshot. At twenty-nine years of age, her skin had a mottled look from too many summers in the dry, windy desert.
