Hot Stuff

by Virginia Page

  “Did he cry?” she asked.

  “A little,” I replied.

  Sophia raised her fist in the air.

  “It’s about time a woman quit putting up with a man’s shit,” she said, “and put him in his place.”

  Sophia had a knack for making me smile and getting my mind off of things that were bothering me.

  “What did he do to get you riled up enough to punch him?” she asked.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I replied. “Can we please change the subject?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I understand.”

  I was relieved that we weren’t discussing William any further. Just when I’d thought we were going to move on to another topic Sophia changed the subject back to William.

  “William mentioned your divorce,” she said. “We should discuss his assets before you sign the divorce papers.”

  I’d signed the divorce papers fueled by flared emotions. Feeling like an idiot, I was embarrassed to tell Sophia but did anyway.

  “I already signed the divorce papers,” I replied.

  Sophia's jaw dropped, and a look of disappointment washed over her face.

  My eyes fell to the floor as the impact of my flawed judgment haunted me. I may never see a dime from William. I may not have been the bread-winner of the family, but I definitely contributed throughout the years, slaving over a hot stove, doing laundry, cleaning the house, at William’s beck and call. That had to be worth something. Sometimes it seemed like society didn't put any value in the work of a house-wife.

  "Didn't you have a lawyer look the papers over for you before you signed them?" she asked.

  "No," I said, bursting into tears. “I didn't want to complicate everything.”

  I trembled, feeling nervous energy running through my limbs.

  Sophia hugged me, consoling me.

  I couldn't believe how good it felt to have someone hold me. The warmth of Sophia's arms embracing me, making me feel at ease, calming me down, comforting me. I realized not everyone was out to get me. There was still good in humanity.

  “You need to clean up your act, Molly,” she said. “Tomorrow is a new day. We'll start to work on fixing you first thing in the morning.”

  I wanted to feel insulted by her remark, but couldn't. Maybe I was broken and needed fixing. At least I wasn’t alone. Having help gave me hope.

  “I’m not feeling well,” I said. “I want to go lay down.”

  “Sure thing, sweety,” she said. “Go get some rest.”

  Sophia left the room.

  I’d burst into tears soon after, crying myself into an emotional state, feeling helpless. I’d replayed my thoughts of the moment I’d signed the divorce papers in anger, over and over again, working myself up. Soon after, I fell asleep, passing out exhausted.

  The next morning I got up early, moping around my bedroom, eventually reading a romance novel, making an effort to escape from reality. I’d binge-read almost every book Sophia had in the house. The more I read, the more I kept thinking back to Hot Stuff. He was so cocky and gorgeous, two of my favorite things I’d always admired in a man.

  Sophia had checked in on me from time to time.

  “How is your romance story going?” she asked. “Have you gotten any progress?”

  “I haven’t finished it,” I replied.

  I needed to circle back and continue working on it. The more I thought about it, the more inspired I’d become, deciding I’d finish my story.

  “Start small,” she said. “Write some short stories until you get the hang of it.”

  I’d become even more motivated.

  “If you publish your romance story,” she said, “I’ll buy it for sure.”

  “Really?” I said.

  The idea of Sophia waiting for my story to be published had inspired me to focus more time on my writing.

  I’d taken her advice and had written a short story. She’d helped me self-publish the first story online, setting me up with email and accounts at all the major self-publishing companies.

  My first short romance story didn't sell at all. I was devastated. When I looked at my sales report, I’d seen that I didn’t have any sales. I’d mentioned several times to Sophia that I was eager to hear what she’d thought of my story, but she didn't buy my story as she’d promised. She’d been avoiding me more than usual since the story was released. I was really bummed out. In that moment, I learned who my real friends were. Nobody.

  After I’d written several stories, then a small trickle of money started coming in, but still not considerable enough to scratch out a living. I was definitely on my way to making a career out of my newfound passion for writing, but it was slow going.

  I looked every day, hoping to get a review. After a week, I finally got a couple. A three star review read, “Too short.” Another three star review read, “Not bad for a short story.” A day later there was a one star review that read, “Not good.”

  I’d put my passion and emotion on the page to share with the world, only to be insulted. What type of person would do something like that?

  Feeling so vulnerable for putting myself out there, I couldn’t deal with the reactions I’d gotten, causing me disappointment. It wouldn’t have been so bad had I received some constructive criticism, but to hear that my first story was “Not good,” was a little tough to take. I needed some time to lick my wounds and get back to writing. I really didn’t know if I’d ever try again.

  From that day on, it had been tough for me to write. When I tried to type in words, I kept second-guessing myself wondering how I might be criticized. I’d become paralyzed.

  I discussed my reviews with Sophia.

  “I can’t believe they didn’t like my story,” I said.

  “Haters are going to hate,” she said. “You just need to ignore the naysayers.”

  That was not exactly what I’d wanted to hear, but probably what I should have been told.

  “You should read every review,” she said, “and take away the shred of truth from each.”

  Sophia pointed at the first review.

  “This one is valuable,” she said. “The reader mentioning the story being too short. You should be thankful that you got a three star review.”

  I’d given it some thought. It was a hard pill to swallow, but maybe Sophia was right. I went back and read my first story and couldn’t believe how bad it was. Then I realized I wasn’t meant to be a writer.

  Chapter 25

  Waking up the next morning, I was disappointed. Where was the smell of coffee and bacon? Had Sophia gone out for the day?

  I thought about what Sophia had said regarding fixing me. Her words inspired me to take a shower and get dressed. The hot water on my skin soothed my body. Cleaning myself regularly had been long overdue. I went downstairs and didn’t expect to see Sophia, but when I got to the dining room there she was. Food had been prepared, but to my surprise, not the type of food I was used to eating. Instead of the usual smorgasbord of comfort food, there was a bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal. Next to it was a white grapefruit, which wasn’t smothered in sugar.

  I’d hoped Sophia was joking around. Was the healthy breakfast really intended for me? Becoming selfish and ungrateful regarding Sophia’s generosity, I looked down trying my best not to respond. Shame washed over me. She had gone out of her way to help me, and I found myself feeling entitled to what she’d been feeding me every morning. She didn’t have to feed me at all. Besides, I really shouldn’t have been eating bacon, eggs, and toast every morning anyway.

  At least she had coffee. Although, I noticed there was no cream and sugar at the table. I checked the kitchen and everything that had contained high calories was missing. I opened the refrigerator to see if there was milk, and found that there was, but it wasn’t whole milk. It had been replaced with reduced-fat milk. I guessed beggars can’t be choosers, so I used it anyway, even though it wasn’t my first choice. The rug had been pulled from under me lik
e a fresh band-aid, me suffering immediately from the inconvenience.

  I checked the kitchen cupboards, and found that all of the goodies that once existed were missing. It appeared as though while I was sleeping, Sophia had been busy removing all the temptations from the house. Even though I was disappointed, I realized she’d gone through a lot of trouble to help me. She had better things to do, but she took the time to start on the road to fixing me.

  “I’d like you to go to the gym at the country club I belong to,” she said. “You’ll definitely get in shape there. You’ve really let yourself go.”

  Sophia was right. I needed to get it together, so I could take pride in myself and feel better.

  “There are a lot of wealthy gentlemen at my gym,” she said. “I’m going to get you in front of some hot men, so you can jump back into the dating scene.”

  I smiled for a moment, but then looked down at my swollen thighs in disappointment. I figured it would probably be a waste of time, because hot men wouldn’t want to be with a frumpy woman like me.

  "Are you okay?" she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  "No," I replied. “It wasn’t anything you said, I’m just not feeling my best.”

  Sophia had a knowing look on her face.

  "I’m getting you another makeover,” she said, “but this one is a premium makeover at the most prestigious salon in the city. Money is no object. You’re going to be transformed. The men won’t be able to resist you.”

  My eyes lit up, and then I replied, “So you’re getting me a body transplant?”

  Sophia rolled her eyes at me.

  I couldn’t stop smiling.

  After our meager breakfast, she took me to the mega-salon. At the salon, everyone treated me with care, complimenting me, pampering me, impressing me.

  When they were finished transforming me, it was the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe it was me. I looked so beautiful. Even better than the first makeover. I looked like a fashion model or a movie star. I hadn't looked that good in a long time. I’d been transformed into a beautiful, voluptuous woman of style.

  Sophia took me out shopping for dresses all afternoon. She bought me a full wardrobe. Everything was elegant. I looked like a beauty queen.

  Sophia took me to dinner at an expensive restaurant, and allowed me to order anything I wanted. I ordered fillet mignon and lobster tail.

  I realized I could be my personal best, brimming with confidence, looking forward to the future.

  Of course the following morning, we were still eating bird food for breakfast, as in for the birds. Don’t get me wrong. I realized it was healthy food, but a girl’s got to eat.

  The following days had become more difficult for me to stick around Sophia’s house because I’d found myself obsessing over the lack of snacks. I started going outside more often due to my extra energy. I could also breathe better. The gorgeous outfits she’d gotten for me had inspired me to want to be seen. Maybe that’s why Sophia did it in the first place, so she could get me motivated to get outside with the living.

  My self-esteem had improved due to my new look. Although, I was still self-conscious due to my weight gain. I’d almost believed I was sexy but not quite. Years of self-loathing had taken a toll on my self-esteem. You could change the look, but that wouldn’t guarantee changing the mind. I realized my mindset was incongruent with my new look. I didn't feel right, not like myself, seeming as if I was dressed up like somebody else, living in a world of make-believe.

  Regardless, I decided to try out my new look, eager to see how things would work out for me. I was almost afraid to go out in public where men would be, because I didn't know how they might react to me. Would they make fun of me?

  Due to the healthy meals Sophia had been feeding me, I’d soon go down several sizes before too long. I started thinking about how if I were to lose weight, then the new outfits she’d purchased for me wouldn’t fit any longer. Was I trying to justify why I shouldn’t lose weight? I had a serious inner struggle going on. Growing up, I had pressures regarding cleaning my plate, always worrying if I couldn’t. We were not to waste any food, under any circumstances. When I was younger, my father had always pressured me to eat everything on my plate, and mother had always pressured me not to eat. Talk about the perfect storm. It was quite a lot of pressure for a little girl.

  I knew I had to get to the country club because I promised Sophia I’d go, so I wanted to be a woman of my word.

  Chapter 26

  Sophia had dropped me off at the country club by myself, because she had a lot of business to take care of. I didn’t like the idea of going in alone, but what choice did I have. More men for me, I smiled, imagining what they might be like. After stalling for a few moments, I reluctantly went inside. Looking around, not believing my eyes, the place was dripping money just like the mansions of the rich and famous, me feeling like I was in a movie, a girl going from rags to riches. Yet another way to piss away William’s money, I’d thought, as if Sophia’s voice had whispered in my mind.

  I walked into the main hall, me working my elegant gown. I realized I was way overdressed, seeing my reflection in a mirror. I looked ridiculous holding a gym bag, because it didn’t make a good cohesive accessory to my outfit.

  I presented the girl at the front desk with the guest pass Sophia had given me. I’d expected her to give me trouble, and she did.

  "Excuse me," she said. "You can't just walk in without my approval."

  "I'm sorry," I replied. "I gave you the guest pass."

  "Oh really," the girl said, "and who might I ask had given you a guest pass?"

  Apparently, she didn’t know who she was fuckin’ with. If it wasn’t for Sophia, I’d have punched her in the throat and dragged her around by her golden locks like a rag doll.

  "I'm a friend of Sophia."

  It had just occurred to me that I didn’t know Sophia’s last name, but it didn’t matter because the girl's expression completely changed, and her demeanor became softer and friendlier.

  "Why didn't you just say so?" the girl replied. "Go right through."

  "Thanks," I replied.

  “Tell Sophia I said hi,” she said. "If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

  Wow, Sophia had some clout it seemed. I’d barely gotten her first name out of my mouth, and the girl rolled out the red carpet for me, changing her tune, kissing my ass. Apparently, Sophia was a woman of influence. She was so inspiring to me.

  When I went into the women's locker room, half naked model-like women were getting dressed, walking around in towels, talking with one another about different shallow topics like their nails and hair. I couldn’t help but notice the ladies nubile bodies were firm and their skin looked so soft and young. I was so jealous.

  I didn't feel comfortable changing into my workout outfit in front of everyone, so I went into one of the private shower stalls and pulled the curtain closed. While I was changing, I heard some women giggling. I’d just assumed they must have been giggling about me. Of course, it wasn't clear whether they were or not, but I was the only one in the locker room they could have been giggling about.

  After I got my yoga pants and t-shirt on, I locked my bag in a locker. I couldn’t help but think that all of the ladies were staring at me. What were they smiling at? I needed to calm down. I didn’t want to get upset, possibly doing something I might regret.

  The idea of working out by myself didn’t appeal to me. At first, I was hesitant to go out into the workout room, but mustered up the courage to go through the door. When I looked out, I saw men, half naked men, wearing only gym shorts. I giggled inside like a schoolgirl. It surprised me because I thought there would have been separate sides for the men to workout. I didn't think we would be working out together. I almost turned around to go back into the locker room, but I didn't. I had to take a chance. I couldn't help but watch the men workout because they were all so extremely hot. Their bare, mus
cular chests and six-pack abs were calling for me. I could barely resist the temptation. All I needed was a lawn chair and an ice-cold drink, and I could sit and gawk all day long.

  I tried to use the machines, but couldn't figure them out, due to my lack of experience. I got on one of the machines and didn't know what to do. I'd never seen such sophisticated workout machines before. I decided to watch the men again to see how they were doing it. Yeah, that was the reason. Ha!

  The men had tan, chiseled bodies and bright white smiles. Their tight shorts prominently displaying the bulge of their packages. When guys smiled at me, I immediately thought they were patronizing me. They couldn't have possibly found me attractive because I wasn't in shape like the other women who were working out next to me.

  The other women were cookie-cutter model types with heart-shaped asses, the type the media had always been portraying how women should look. I stood beside one of the models feeling like I was in a before and after photo.

  I hadn’t been in the dating scene for quite a while, so I’d become a little rusty. In the past, I didn’t have to do much because my looks always attracted men, but since my body had changed so much after giving birth to Chloe. Feeling insecure about myself, I noticed a man staring at me. Wow! He was gorgeous. My hands trembled, butterflies stirring, my heart racing.

  His dark hair was short, but he still looked rugged, him displaying just enough ink on his muscular arms for my taste. I loved men covered in tattoos. He looked like he was up to something, a wise-ass grin painted on his face, that grin all bad boys seemed to have. I couldn't understand why he kept staring at me. Part of me was concerned, yet another part of me was intrigued because he was so damn good looking. The most disturbing part was that I could tell he knew how damn good looking he was by the way he carried himself. He must have thought he was hot stuff, moving with that swagger, his confidence strong. If only I could have been that confident. Then again, I didn't look as fine as him.

  Before I could delve any further into self-loathing, he winked at me and smiled. Winking seemed a little old-fashion, but he was able to pull it off, and I loved it. I blushed and swooned like I had a schoolgirl crush. Feeling more alive in that moment than I had in a long time, I had it bad for him, chills tingling across my skin, me crushing hard.