DOWNTOWN BLITZ

It's around 9 AM when I step out of the shower. Had a double feature this morning with an early run and work-out sesh. Last night's dream called for it.

My mind races as I sit at the breakfast counter and wait for my nitro cold brew to be ready. Cece insisted on getting our own machine. She was thrilled when her agent gifted us one for Christmas.

I think of her now. It was the last day of her big ad shoot for the upcoming fashion campaign. By now, she's probably already leaving the photography studio and headed for the market, two wheatgrass smoothies calling her name.

A smile creeps across my lips thinking about that little corner stand. It's where I first met Cece. It is not however the first time I saw her. I'd spent months seeing her face plastered all over social media pages, magazine covers, and even on some commercials.

She was the new it girl of last summer. Guys drooled over her, girls too. Girls wanted to be her, some guys too. Everyone was talking about her. Cece Majors.

I like to think of myself as more of the drooler type mentioned above. And a light drool at that. Sure, she had the face of a goddess and body of mythical proportions, but Aphrodite she was not.

Or so I thought.

Around last August, when I was 100% not in the mood for anything or anyone, Miles convinced me to go on an early morning run (thus the birth of my newest hobby). We stopped at this outdoor market near Echo Park and the only place open so early was the corner stand that sold freshly squeezed juices and smoothies. Miles went to take a leak and I went to throw out my cup. That's when I ran into the other only person out at 5:30 AM.

My first impression of Cece was an attractive girl wearing a baggy Queen of Hearts T-shirt and black biker shorts and wearing incredibly oversized sunnies. I was told way later that it was her incognito uniform.

"Hi," I said. Yes, that was my opening line. Classic, I know.

"Hey," she said back.

"What are you doing out so early?" I asked her. Keeping it very light.

"Just burying a body," she said, shrugging. She then turned to face me and lifted her shades. Her full face came into view and it took me all of 3 seconds to recognize her.

"Ah, shit. Sorry that was bad. I realize without knowing me at all, that sounds sort of much."

"Would it sound any better if I did know you?" I raised my eyebrow at her.

"Maybe. Or at least then you'd be able to detect the sarcasm." Cece pointed out.

"Detected." I nodded.

And that was that. An origin story in the making.

She was pleasantly down-to-earth and didn't even mind that I was just some sweaty nobody hitting on her before the sun was fully up.

It was hard at first –dating a semi-famous model who also happened to dabble in music and released two hit singles back-to-back. For the most part, we keep our relationship private and low key, or least as private and low key as we can. People still photograph us getting groceries and stalk us walking Santa Monica Pier.

I'm just used to it all now. I'm used to Cece Majors now.

It helped when I got quasi-famous myself, at least in the fitness world. Edge partnered with ex-athletes for a new line of training gear. That's actually how I met Miles. He's about three years younger than me, maybe 27. He used to play for USC and then went pro for three years before his girlfriend had a kid and he decided he wanted a more permanent location kinda job. My gain.

Miles talked me into opening a brick-and-mortar location for Edge, right in downtown LA too. Skid row, baby. He's going to be the manager when it finally opens.

You on your way? Roof leaking again.

Don't forget to use the side-door. Jimmy setting up the front.

I read Mile's texts and hammer out an answer.

Yes, coming.

Side door, got it.

I glance at the clock. 9:30 AM. Damn. I gulp the rest of my coffee and drop the glass in the sink. I pull on my Edge hoodie and grab my keys from the counter on my way out the door.

It's about 5 miles from my spacy apartment in Echo Park to downtown LA. Edge's flagship store is opening right in Fashion District. I can usually run it just under 30 minutes. I call it my downtown blitz.

I throw in my wireless headphones and start on my usual route. I pass by the familiar rainbow mural on the building across from mine and turn at the first corner.

I get to Edge in near-record time. It's still a construction zone, with plastic tarps falling across the front and a small tower of scaffolding out front where we're hanging the sign.

I duck under the swaying sheets of plastic hanging along the side of the building, side-stepping a bucket of fresh cement and some loose pieces of stone. I follow the front of the building and turn when I reach the narrow alley on the side. Miles has been reminding me to use the side door for the last month. He keeps thinking I'll forget. Sometimes I do.

I pull the heavy glass door open and step inside the cool air-conditioned building. The side door dumps you in the small storage room right behind the wide check-out counter. I drop my keys next to the monitor and walk onto the main floor.

Edge's flagship store is more of like a flagship city. It's three stories high, with a small gym on the second floor for ambassadors and breaks trainers and a juice bar lounge on the top floor. From my spot in the very center, I can tilt my head back and see all the way through the skylights and onto the roof.

The roof is my favorite part of Edge, and quickly becoming one of my favorite spots in all of LA.

It's 2,000 square feet of wide-open living. The floor is faux driftwood that actually reminds me of back home. The entire perimeter is lined with leafy palms and an all-glass railing. There's a flower-covered pergola over the lounge area and some boujee outdoor fire pits. All fake-flamed of course. Right smack in the center is the crescent bar. Yup. A rooftop bar on top of a fitness clothing store. Makes total sense. We made a (definitely not shady and totally legal) deal to secure a liquor license in record time. All thanks to someone who owed Miles a favor.

Clothing. Gym. Juice bar café. Rooftop bar. Like I said. Flagship city.

The nearest display table has bright electric blue and charcoal hoodies. The newest colors in the collection. Half-opened boxes on the floor overflow with more goodies, telling me Miles must be around here somewhere. I follow the sound of rap music emitting from an undisclosed source. Right when I'm about to climb the stairs, Cece emerges from the side door a la the storage room, lime green to-go cup in hand and a bright smile on her face.