Stephan supposed he was responsible for this mess. If old Murray Goldstein decided to tie a cinder block around his neck and throw him in the causeway tomorrow, he had no one to blame but himself.
It started that day a few months back when Lucy Cunningham went out and snagged the Palm Club account on her own. Since he hadn’t been very hands-on around the office, it was a total shocker when she showed up with a deal so full of zeros his head spun. He wanted the money. So shoot him. But he had to find a way to get it without pissing off old Murray, who happened to own a dozen Florida fitness centers in direct competition with the Palm Club.
He owed Murray Goldstein. Five years ago, the old guy put few thousand in small bills in an envelope, and put the envelope into the hands of the district court judge presiding over Stephan’s divorce case. In Murray Goldstein’s world, that meant he owned Stephan. Always would.
“That girl’s got to stay fat!” Murray yelled into the phone.
Stephan winced, trying to remain in control of the situation. “That’s been my plan all along.”
“Your plan? What plan? You couldn’t plan your way out of a toilet stall!”
Stephan didn’t appreciate that comment. It was a good plan, one that could work if Lucy failed to lose the weight.
“She’s never going to do it, Murray. Get real-how many people do you know who actually lose a hundred pounds?”
The earpiece remained blissfully silent.
“I’m setting her up; don’t you get it? I’ve wanted to fire her for months. She’s another Sarah-a woman too aggressive for her own good.” That part was true. Lately Lucy was prancing around the halls of Sherrod amp; Thorns like her name was engraved on the stationery.
“In fact,” he continued. “I’ve been trying to get rid of her lard ass since Sarah died, but she threatened to sue me for discrimination against fatties!” That part was a lie, but it sounded good.
“No shit?”
Stephan smiled, admiring the ease with which he could think on his feet. No wonder all of Miami respected him for his creative genius.
“Absolutely, Murray. I can accomplish two things at once-get a bad hire out of my hair and pay you back for your magnanimous generosity during my time of trial. No pun intended.” Stephan laughed at his little joke.
“But if she stays a blimp, won’t that make you look bad?”
“It’ll make Lucy look bad. Then I’ll fire her. And it’ll make Goldstein’s look good because the Palm Club couldn’t follow through on its claim.”
“That’s it? That’s your whole plan?”
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Stephan crossed his fingers, hoping to God this would keep the old crook off his back.
After a moment of quiet, Murray said, “That plan is so fucking stupid it just might work. But Lucy Cunningham has got to stay fat.”
“Blimp City all the way,” Stephan replied.
It was only five thirty in the evening, but Theo had been going nonstop since 4:00 a.m., and it felt like he was right back in the middle of his general surgery rotation in med school-headache, muscle fatigue, overwhelmed brain, and heavy eyelids. He took another swig of coffee and propped his feet up on his back porch railing, checking his watch. Buddy would be home from track practice in a half hour, leaving him just enough time to finish one last question on the histology practice exam.
But his vision started to dull and his shoulders cramped and he couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy.
She was doing great; that wasn’t the problem. They’d had another weigh-in that morning on WakeUp Miami and she’d lost six pounds and a few more inches. It was her smiling that bothered him. Her big, gray, sweet doe eyes. He wondered if Ramona had been wise to warn him that Lucy would make too much of the trainer-client intimacy. The truth was, he didn’t want to worry about Lucy’s heart except in the context of her cardiovascular well-being.
Theo stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, glad for the feel of late-afternoon winter sun on his face. With a deep breath he returned his focus to the practice question, pondering the cartilage matrix found in the cells of connective tissue.
That’s what it was about-connection. He really liked Lucy Cunningham, and he wanted to enjoy this year without worrying she’d get too connected to him. All he wanted was to help her, get his money, and get on with his life. Was there anything wrong with that?
Theo tossed the practice test to the outdoor table and wandered into the yard. The grass felt crisp and cool between his bare toes. There was something else about Lucy that bothered him lately-something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. And it was driving him crazy.
He stopped, staring down at his mother’s prized rhododendrons. They needed some serious attention. Theo raised his gaze and looked around him. He blinked. It seemed everything here needed attention-the grass, the fence, the exterior stucco of the house his parents had left him three years ago.
Theo rubbed his chin with his hand, then raked his fingers through his hair. He began to pace the yard, realizing that the grass, the fence, and the house were the least of his worries.
His first priority was and would always be his little brother, who needed a hell of a lot more than just attention. He needed love and guidance and reassurance and security. Then there were Theo’s jobs-the full-time one, the part-time one at the nightclub, and the coaching one. And his aunt and uncle. And somewhere in there were his dreams. His dreams deserved his attention, too.
He thought about Lucy Cunningham’s painfully cute smile, the little frown of concentration she got when he introduced something new to her workout, and suddenly wished he could just get in his car and drive away. He collapsed in the grass instead, laughing, then stretched out on his back and stared at the clouds. He liked Lucy Cunningham. He wanted her to be happy. So that’s what it was!
Theo laughed some more, seeing with clarity that he’d put Lucy on that long list of things he couldn’t afford to screw up!
Theo heard the gate latch click and looked up to see Buddy standing over him, peering down through his thick glasses. “Chinese again tonight?”
Theo found enough energy to nod.
Buddy offered his hand and helped pull Theo to his feet. They walked together toward the house. “Is the pretty fat girl from TV wearing you out already?”
Theo threw an arm over Buddy’s shoulder and laughed. The tests might show his sixteen-year-old brother had the mental acuity of a third grader, but he sure didn’t miss much.
Office of Doris Lehman, MSW, PhD “I must tell you, the change in you is already quite apparent. How does it feel?”
Lucy stroked her upper arms and ran her hands down the tops of her thighs. “Bizarre. For a long time I felt like a head walking around in the world, numb from the jaw down, not exactly sure how I moved from point A to point B. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Well, I feel my legs now. Sometimes I look down at myself on the elliptical trainer and I go, Check it out! Those are my legs! Same with my arms and my back and shoulders-it’s like I’m waking up from a long sleep.”
Doris jotted that down. “And how does that feel emotionally?”
“I alternate between euphoria and panic.”
“I see.”
“Panic when people talk about my body like I’m deaf. Euphoria when I see that my clothes hang on me, even after I had them taken in twice.”
“And how are things with Theo?”
Lucy scrunched up her mouth and looked over at the kimono-clad nymphs for courage.
“Fine. Good. Excellent.”
“Have you…?”
“No, I haven’t told him I have a crush on him. It’s too embarrassing. What if I accidentally blurt out the Lorna Doone fantasy? How could I ever rebound from that?”