Riley showed the girl at the desk her membership card, then hurried down the stairs. Spinning class had started five minutes ago, and she hated to be late, but the Miami traffic had been particularly bad for a Friday night. Besides, she'd make up for it by pushing extra hard tonight. She hustled into the almost full Spinning room, about forty fit young people already pedaling away on a fifty-percent-resistance climb, the music blasting. Riley searched for an open bike, and finally spotted one.