Happy New You

by St John Brown, Brenda

  “I’m being sarcastic, or is that not allowed? Are workhorses incapable of humor?”

  “Allison, let’s go to the bathroom.” Dani continues to pull me away, but I am not having it. I want to stay and enjoy the party and drink an entire bottle of champagne. I’ve already made a fool of myself, so who cares what I do now?

  “Why do you need me to go with you to the bathroom?”

  “We women must travel in packs.” She lowers her voice and speaks in my ear. “And if you don’t get out of this room quickly, people are going to start whipping out their phones and recording the progression of your breakdown.”

  Something about that should concern me. But I need “personality,” right?

  “Who wants a picture?” I yell at the crowd. A couple hands go up but before I can fulfill their requests, Dani clamps my wrist and drags me out of the overcrowded room. I let her take me, but not before nabbing a massive bottle of champagne and tucking it under my arm.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere quiet so you can get your freakin’ head on straight. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lovin’ this brash and outspoken version of Allison. But I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by allowing you to continue on. You’d hate me, and yourself, in the morning.”

  “My head has never been straighter.”

  She takes me to a dark room with shelves upon shelves lined with old books. It’s quiet and comfortable and the perfect place for me to drink my bottle of champagne.

  “Give me that.” Dani holds her hand out expectantly.

  I clutch my treasure close. “Hey, that’s mine.”

  “Technically it’s mine, since this is my house and my party.”

  “It’s swanky.”

  “Thank you, my wife and I put a lot of work into it.”

  “Right. Right. What’s her name again?”

  “Dakota. Now give me the champagne—” She finally tugs it away with a grunt. “And tell your pal, Dani, what’s going on.”

  “We’re not pals. We’re frenemies at best.”

  She sighs, running her hand through her dark, untamed curls. “That kind of makes me sad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re an amazing woman, Allison, and if we teamed up, we could rule that firm. But until you’re ready for that, I guess we’ll have to settle on frenemies.”

  Dani starts to leave, but I can’t let her go without asking, “What do you mean ‘ready’?”

  “Until you realize the full potential of who you are and let people see your true self, you’ll be nothing more than what Benson called you: a workhorse.”

  And before I can object, she’s gone, leaving me in the comfy room.

  “Realize my full potential…oh, it has been realized,” I mutter sarcastically.

  I lift my hand to take a drink from the stolen bottle before realizing my hand is empty.

  “Okay, maybe not fully realized.”

  I flop back onto a comfy chair and close my eyes. A few minutes of quiet and it will all be okay. In a few minutes, the past month will be just another year gone by and I can forget and move on. I won’t be the disappointing child or the soon-to-be thirty-year-old with no social life who didn’t get the promotion.

  It will be a chance at a new start.

  Sounds perfect.

  Sounds exactly like what I need. Time to celebrate.

  Time to get that champagne bottle back.

  2

  Mateo

  New Year’s Eve

  “And then, he did fifty push-ups in a row. Isn’t that, like, ah-mazing?”

  What’s ah-mazing is I haven’t drunk myself into a stupor yet with this scintillating conversation. Which definitely says something about my frame of mind, as the conversation is about me.

  The men and women in our semicircle gaze down at my date’s phone, marveling at the Instagram page she pulled up not five minutes after arriving at this party. My Instagram page. A video plays, one I posted demonstrating the proper way to do a push-up. Normally I’d be stoked for an organic word-of-mouth reach for my profile, especially at a party where the phones are out and pictures are snapping. That Instagram page, along with all my other social media accounts, is part of the fitness business I’m building. I curate that content carefully to suit my brand, then share it amongst my followers, which helps promote my work.

  I’m proud of the content I’ve created. I’ve worked hard to craft that image and focus on positive, non-body-shaming messaging. Health and happiness mean different things to different people.

  Do I take advantage of my physique and post the occasional shirtless video or photo? Sure. Do I enjoy standing by as men and women ogle my videos without actually saying a word to me?

  Fuck no. It’s uncomfortable as shit.

  But I can withstand a little awkwardness, especially if it gets me a few minutes with a potential investor.

  “Mateo, can I show them the one with you in your underwear mixing a smoothie?” Nina asks, then presses play before I say yes.

  “That was for charity,” I call out over the giggles and raunchy winks as everyone peers at the video. “I partnered with a bunch of male celebrities and fitness gurus to raise money for the victims of Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. It was really awesome, we raised—”

  “Oh my God, look at those tight, white boxer briefs.”

  “Is that a back dimple? It totally is. He has a back dimple. Somebody fan me!”

  “Forget the dimple, look at that bubble butt. It’s too pure for those undies. I request naked videos for the sequels.”

  Deep breaths. I’m here for a reason and I can deal.

  I lean down to whisper in my date’s ear, “When are we meeting your cousin? You said he was gonna be here.”

  Nina waves me off, too distracted by my shirtless smoothie-making video to actually speak to me in person.

  “I’m going to get a drink.”

  “Oh, wait!” She stops me with a hand on my arm, smiling coyly up at me. She’s beautiful and she knows it. Long, wavy blond hair, a body made for skintight dresses like the short gold thing she’s wearing tonight. She’s been my client for a while now and has made great strides in her physical fitness regimen. I’ve taught her self-defense and I’m proud to say she could now put a man larger than her on his ass.

  But that doesn’t make her less… No, I will not speak ill of someone doing me a favor. My mamá taught me better than that, no matter how annoyed I am.

  “I want to introduce you to my friend Daniella. This is her apartment.”

  “Is Daniella looking to invest in an up-and-coming fitness company or dispense business advice?”

  Nina thinks for a moment. “She could give you legal advice…but I think her wife is the one who does the investing, and she’s real picky about who she chooses.”

  “Then I’m getting a drink. Do you want any—”

  “Oh, here she is now. Dani, over here! Let me introduce you to Mateo Ramirez.”

  A woman with glossy curls and mahogany skin struts over, her smile sharp as a shark’s bite.

  But we need no introduction.

  “Oh, I know Mateo. We went to law school together, at least before he decided to seek fairer pastures. What’s up, man? Long time no see.”

  We hug briefly but genuinely.

  “Hey, Dani. How have the years been treating you? I saw on Facebook that you got married. Congrats.”

  “Thanks, I think I’m doing pretty well.” She gestures to the room in general, smug in her happiness.

  I never had an issue with Dani. She was funny and knew how to party, and when I dropped out of law school, she wasn’t one of the tools calling me a loser and claiming I couldn’t hack it. She saw that the lawyer life wasn’t meant for me and didn’t judge, though she teased me about it back when I first dropped out. We lost touch after a while, and our communication is pretty much limited to Facebook likes now.

  “This is a swanky party.” I skim the crowded room and elab
orate decorations.

  She shrugs innocently. “Can’t I just want to throw a party?”

  “Sure, but I also recall you had a knack for multitasking.”

  “Aw, you remember my conniving ways. How sweet. And yes, a few of the other associates at the firm and I are up for a promotion, so I thought I’d sweeten the pot with a little alcohol-induced socializing.”

  My stomach jumps a bit, and my throat goes dry.

  “You’ve got coworkers here?”

  I look around; I can’t help it. If there’s even a chance she’s here, I’ve gotta look for her. She draws me, unlike any woman I’ve ever known.

  Not that she’s ever noticed.

  “Is—”

  “Allison is here,” Dani says with a smirk, playfully shaking her head. “You still hang with her?”

  “Who’s Allison?” Nina asks, inserting herself into the conversation.

  “A woman we went to college with,” Dani says. “She’s a coworker of mine now. She and Mateo were very, very close friends.”

  “That’s nice.” Nina’s voice is flat as day-old champagne. “Babe, I see my cousin. Do you want to talk to him now?”

  Now she wants to track him down?

  I nod but quickly turn back to Dani. “Hey, do you know where Allison is? I’d love to catch up. We keep trying to make plans, but it never works out. She’s always at the office.”

  “That’s a shocker. The girl needs a life.”

  “Hey,” I warn, always a little protective of my old friend.

  “I say that with the best of intentions. All she does is work, sleep, and maybe fit in a meal every now and then. There’s nothing happening in her life and she’s gonna waste away if someone doesn’t kick her in the ass and show her there’s a whole world out there to experience. I honestly don’t even think she’s watched Game of Thrones. I mean, that’s not living.”

  “Mateo,” Nina says impatiently. “He’s waiting.”

  “Right. Nice seeing you, Dani.”

  We hug, and Dani holds on for a second longer than necessary, whispering in my ear. “She’s in the small library down the hall, taking a few minutes to herself. Go talk to her; she needs a friend right now.”

  Before I can ask Dani to clarify, Nina’s got me trailing after her like a dog on a leash, leading me toward her cousin.

  “I’m so glad you two are finally going to connect. Oleg has been looking for a new project for a long time.”

  Attempting to put the exciting news that Allison Gottlieb is at this party toward the back of my mind, I straighten my tie and smooth my hair back.

  Gotta get my head in the game.

  If Oleg likes my proposal, this could be a game changer for me. I could finally begin taking steps toward renting space for a gym of my own. And with New York City real estate prices, that’s no small feat.

  “Oleg, cuz.” Nina flings her arm around a tall man with dark blond hair. He hugs her back, lifting her briefly off her feet before setting her down. “This is Mateo, the man I wanted you to meet.”

  I stretch out my hand, and Oleg takes it, his friendly demeanor turning assessing.

  This isn’t going to be easy.

  “Nice to meet you,” Oleg says, his voice gruff.

  “You too.”

  “I’ll leave you both to it for a moment. You know how work talk bores me at parties.” She gives me a surreptitious thumbs up and then shimmies away in time to a new Taylor Swift song, leaving me to the wolf.

  I square my shoulders and look him straight on.

  “So, my little cousin thinks you have a venture I’d be interested in?”

  “I know you’ll be interested.”

  He nods toward a quieter side of the large room and says, “Let’s hear it.”

  Once there, I give him my pitch. I show him my social media following and use my phone to display images of projected sales and gym memberships, alongside personal trainer fees and specialty classes I’d offer.

  Oleg nods along to my speech, chiming in with an occasional hum and sipping his drink as he glances over the information. His expression doesn’t change—he’s a damn sphynx— but I continue on as I would for any other potential investor. He’s got a good poker face, but I’ve got a great product.

  “So,” Oleg starts when I’ve come to a stopping point, “with this type of brand, you’d be focusing on upscale markets? Uptown day-drinking type people?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’d like to make it accessible for anyone looking to live a happier, healthier life.”

  “So...fatties?” Oleg grins as if he’s told the best joke in the world.

  I take back what I thought before. He doesn’t have a good poker face, he’s just a dick.

  Maybe I shouldn’t lead with that. If I can change his mindset, I’ll call it a success.

  “No, man, that term is derogatory and shaming. No one body type is the perfect model of a human specimen. There are so many reasons why we’re shaped the way we are, genetics being a big factor. Health. Even socioeconomic status factors into it.”

  “So, you want to market to poor, obese people?”

  I open my mouth to rail at his backward caveman thinking, then pull myself back. I’m at an upscale party on New Year’s Eve and all these rich people aren’t going to side with the Puerto Rican hombre yelling at the wealthy white guy if things start heating up.

  “You know what, Oleg?” I say calmly, putting my phone away, along with any hope of finding an investor tonight. “I don’t think this will work.”

  He shrugs. “Agreed, and to be honest, no matter what you’d shown me I wouldn’t have said yes.”

  The blasé pronouncement makes me tense. “Excuse me?”

  “I owed Nina a favor; she said it was the only way to get her hot trainer to go on a date with her.” Oleg leans close. “How does it feel to be arm candy?”

  I shake my head, pitying the idiot while simultaneously trying to keep calm. “Your small-minded thinking is going to get you in hot water one day. Your people’s time is over.”

  His eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “My people?”

  “Assholes.”

  I walk away, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray. My eye catches the big countdown projected on the wall. One hour till midnight, and there’s only one person I want to be with when the clock strikes twelve.

  I start my search for Allison Gottlieb.

  Though it wouldn’t be a true quest without obstacles.

  “How’d it go?” Nina asks as she steps in front of me, resting her hands on my chest.

  “Your cousin is a bigot.”

  “He’s not that bad. He has particular tastes.”

  “I have to go.”

  “What?” Her voice turns shrill. “But it’s not even midnight.”

  “Nina, thank you for the opportunity, but you knew from the beginning that man would never consider investing in me. You knew.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crosses her arms defiantly. “Have you ever considered your pitch just isn’t that good?”

  “Goodbye, Nina. Happy New Year.”

  I walk away to the sound of her annoyed huff, and a sense of purpose settles over me. The investor idea may have been a fail, but something far more important and lingering presents itself.

  I turn a corner, and to my delight, my search abruptly ends.

  A woman quietly slips out of a door at the end of the hall. She has long, golden brown hair pinned back in an intricate braid. She’s tall and slender, her skin glows in the dim sconce lighting of the hallway, and the red color on her full lips matches the red of her long, silky dress. It slides over her skin as she moves, the back draped low, revealing the soft lines and muscles along her back.

  Christ, she’s beautiful. But an expensive dress and fancy hairstyle isn’t what makes her gorgeous. It’s that inner fire, that determination that always floored me, ever since we were kids. She always had her eye on the prize and never lost sight.
Not once.

  Allison Gottlieb. Al. Hardworking, resolute, and unflinching Al.

  My Al.

  My Al, who is currently sneaking around Dani’s house like a thief in the night. I don’t care if it makes me seem like a creeper, I have to follow her. I’m too intrigued not to. It’s like watching someone miming what a cartoon burglar might act like.

  I remain at a distance and watch as she begins to open the coat closet, glancing around for anyone watching her, as if she’s about to make a big score. When a couple passes by, arm in arm, she rests nonchalantly against the wood-paneled wall and nods at them. Nothing to see here, move along.

  It takes all my strength to not burst out laughing.

  As the oblivious couple walks on, she dips into the closet and removes a long, black wool coat. It’s thick and practical for the single-digit temperatures of a New York City winter. And though I regret watching her cover up, never having seen her dressed so extravagantly, I’m glad she’s got something practical to put on over the thin dress to keep warm.

  Then she slips off her delicate heels and pulls out a pair of thick winter boots, a wool hat, and leather gloves with those bright silver fingertips made for use on a smartphone screen. She grunts inelegantly as she tugs them on.

  Holy hell, seeing her in that practical and sturdy winter gear while wearing a gorgeous dress might be a fantasy of mine come to life.

  Winter boots and fancy dresses. Who knew that would be my thing?

  After preparing herself for the biting cold, discarded heels dangling from her fingers, she takes one more supposedly stealthy glance around and creeps toward the door.

  I follow, intending to call her name, but she stops short, turning about. I lean back into a recessed alcove, where she can’t see me right away.

  Honestly, I’ve got no clue why I’m hiding from her, except getting a chance to watch her after years of trying to claim even a moment of her time, I feel like a starving man taking a sip of broth or a bite of bread after days of only air for sustenance.

  Al and I go way back, but after getting the associate attorney job, work is all she spends her time on. I miss her steady and reassuring smile.