by Zart, Lindy
Voices and music flooded his eardrums, but he tuned it all out, focusing on the water. It was the color of blue and green with white tips. The crashing waves soothed him, and without consciously being aware of it, his shoulders loosened. Lance stopped on the wet sand, his toes sinking into the smooth grit, the ocean water gently lapping over his bare feet where he stood. The sun burned his skin, heating him to the point that he felt chilled. He lowered his head and clasped the back of his neck with threaded fingers, closed his eyes, and breathed in the salty air.
Never close with his father and used to being on his own more times than not, Lance wasn’t one to miss people or feel lonely, but since he’d met Maggie, he’d felt both.
“Lance.” The voice was soft, hesitant.
He swung around, surprised to find Maggie behind him. He frowned, wondering what she was going to say, and also sure it would be warranted, whatever it was.
The wind picked up, lifting her hair and tossing it to the side. Her eyes shone like fire under the sunlight. There was no judgement on her face, none of the recrimination he’d expected to find.
She motioned to his face. “I’m sorry about biting you. That was childish.”
“I’m sorry about saying you had onion and garlic breath. You don’t,” he added when her face turned red.
Maggie nodded, turning her face toward the sun.
She smiled, but it quickly faded as she focused on him. “You’re dating someone now, right? I heard that you were. A model? She must be really pretty to be a model.”
Lance squinted at the blue sky, uncomfortable with her questioning. It seemed wrong to talk about his girlfriend with the girl he really wanted.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Jeff asked me out this weekend. He wants to go out for supper Saturday night, and maybe bowling.”
His head shot up and anger scorched his retinas. He was surprised Maggie didn’t burn up from the heat of his gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Maybe you could ask your girlfriend if she wanted to double date with us. If you want to, I mean. I don’t know Jeff that well, and . . .” Maggie focused on the sand beneath their feet. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were there too, even though I’m not sure why,” she said wryly.
“I’ll be there,” he said in a rough voice.
Maggie met his eyes, frowning. “And your girlfriend. What’s her name?”
Lance stared at her, his mind blank.
“Lance? What’s your girlfriend’s name? You have to bring your girlfriend for it to be a double date,” she teased.
“Uh . . . Anne.” He actually forgot her name. They’d been dating for close to a month and he’d forgotten her name. He shook his head and focused on Maggie. “Jeff’s too old for you.”
“He’s nineteen. He’s not too old for me,” she countered.
“He drives a Cavalier.”
Maggie looked at his serious expression and laughed. “I’ll see you later. I have schoolwork to do.”
She waved and walked to the apartments. Lance watched her go, feeling the lonely clench of solitude on his being once more.
MAGGIE—2010
WHEN SHE ENTERED the workout area, Lance held up a finger. “Go back out, count to ten, and then walk in again.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Just do it.”
“You’re crazy.”
He straightened from where he was fiddling with the stereo system. “You’re right, I am. Now do it.”
Grumbling about fanatical personal trainers, Maggie left the room, counted to seven, and came back in the room to the song ‘Eye of the Tiger’ playing.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, fighting not to laugh as Lance went into a Rocky impersonation of air punches.
“You didn’t count to ten,” he yelled over the music.
She shrugged.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asked, turning down the volume.
“Yes.” No. Lance wanted her to try lifting heavier free weights.
They were on their second week of working together, and she could already notice a change. She’d lost pounds and inches and that was enough to motivate her to keep going. Maggie had more drive, and just the fact that she was making an effort to improve herself had risen her self-confidence. It was her fault she was overweight when she didn’t exercise and ate junk—it wasn’t if she was eating healthy and exercising. That outlook was the difference between self-respect and self-loathing.
“Take the ten-pound ones,” he directed, nodding at the pink weights.
Maggie took the weights, eyeing Lance with apprehension.
“You got this,” he told her convincingly.
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I got this.”
“Bend your knees slightly. Good. Just like that.” Lance walked around her, briefly pressing a hand to her hip. “Tuck in your butt.”
“I can’t. It’s too big.”
“Tuck in your butt,” he commanded, eyebrows raised.
Maggie tucked in her butt.
“Stomach in, back straight. Beautiful. Let’s work the triceps. Lift both hands above your head, but don’t completely straighten your arms. Leave them a little loose. Excellent. Put the weights together. Now lower them behind your neck. Great. Lift them back up. Steady and slow. You’re doing great.” Lance’s voice was authoritative, but soothing, and Maggie found herself enjoying his encouragement.
Her sister was right. If anyone could get Maggie to listen, it was Lance.
Maggie did various lift positions, three reps of ten each time, before Lance told her to move on.
“What . . . made you . . . decide to . . . do this?” she gasped, her leg and arm muscles burning from the elliptical machine. Maggie had only been on it for a total of ten minutes, but it felt like a hundred. She wanted to stop, but she’d tried that last week, and Lance had made the resistance harder on the machine.
“You don’t give up. You don’t stop. Ever. Not until it’s time,” was what he’d told her, his face a grim thunderstorm of relentlessness.
Maggie wouldn’t stop. Even if her legs and arms became noodles, she wouldn’t stop.
“I enjoy watching you work out. I find your gasping breaths a mega turn on and the sweat that drips from your body enough to make me cross-eyed with desire. Smelly, perspiring Maggie is hot.”
She shot him an annoyed look and he laughed, landing a round of uppercuts to the punching bag. Her pace picked up as she watched him—not because she enjoyed the sweat that clung to his dark locks, or the way his muscles bunched and pulled as he moved, or the confident power he showed.
“I didn’t mean making me . . . do . . . the elliptical machine. I meant . . . you . . . becoming a personal trainer.” Water. She needed water. And a brownie. Maybe some pizza. Maggie would take a plain piece of bread at that point.
Lance grinned at her through the reflection in the mirror. “I know.”
In two days, it was officially the fourteenth day of their current association, and out of the three bedrooms available, minus hers, of course, Lance got to choose which one he’d like for the rest of his stay.
He grabbed a set of free weights and did bicep curls. “I modeled a lot after ‘Easier Said’, which was fine, for a while. I made decent enough money, but I felt cheapened by it. Being known for your looks is all right, I guess, but it wasn’t enough for me, especially after the success of ‘Easier Said’. I was drinking a lot, eating junk, and I was making money off my image. I felt like a fraud.”
Lance paused and said, “I decided to use my handsomeness for good instead of evil.”
Maggie blew out a loud breath and rolled her eyes, checking the time on the elliptical. Fifteen minutes to go.
“I got into healthy eating and fitness, joined the gym, and took classes. I won’t lie, my previous celebrity status helped make my name as a professional fitness expert and personal trainer. I’ve done a lot of shows, ads, infomercials, talk shows. I have a couple
videos out. You name it, I’ve done it. I know you’ve seen me on television.”
“Yes,” she admitted. She’d seen a lot of Lance on television over the years—a lot of it bad, some of it good. Each time his image appeared, it was a stab to her heart. Thoughts plagued her of what was, what wasn’t, and could never be.
“Is that what you want to do for the rest of your life?” she asked, curious. What dreams did Lance have?
He eyed her, not answering. Then he asked, “What about you? What do you want to do? I don’t imagine hanging out at your house for the rest of your life is at the top of your list.”
She shook her head, damp hair sticking to her cheeks. “I asked first.”
“I know. But I want you to answer first.”
Maggie focused on the floor. “I want to show the world, one last time, that I’m not a washed up actress, that I still have it in me to do something spectacular. And then I’ll go back to hanging out in my house for the rest of my life.” She smiled faintly, catching his eyes on her as she looked up.
She was lucky enough that she could remain unemployed and live comfortably. Frugal with her money and never one to get too excited over expensive items, Maggie was careful and smart with her income from ‘Easier Said’. She knew Lance was not. He’d lived in the moment and she’d lived in the future. That was the way it had always been with them.
“I have an idea for a show,” he said casually, avoiding her eyes. “Donovan Randolph—remember him? He’s my agent. Anyway, he thinks it could be good with the right people.”
“Oh?” Maggie tried to look uninterested, but the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze had paranoia clutching her insides with dread. “What is it?”
He dropped the weights and rotated his shoulders. “A celebrity fitness show.”
She went still, the machine slowly following.
“Keep moving,” he commanded.
“Who do you have in mind to be on this celebrity fitness show?” Her voice was cold, like Lance’s heart.
“Me, obviously. I’d be the host-ess with the most-ess.” He smiled widely.
“Mmm-hmm.” Eyes narrowed on his cheekily grinning face, Maggie stood on the elliptical machine and waited for the rest of his wounding words to bomb her. Regrettably, she knew where the conversation was going.
“Stephie Watson came to mind. Dean Silvers. Henry Baxton. Have you seen him? He’s about one hundred pounds heavier than he was five years ago. Some others . . . there are a lot of notable people out of shape. I mean, a little extra weight isn’t a bad thing, but obesity is a major problem, and not enough people are doing something about it. That’s when someone needs help, because it’s gotten to the point where they can’t control their eating habits on their own.
“Blame is put on people for gaining weight, like it’s their fault. Some of it is, of course, but there are times when they can’t control it. I think if everyone could, no one would choose to be heavy. People with eating disorders are not only those that starve themselves or make themselves vomit after eating. People who overeat, or are emotional eaters, or eat out of boredom, also have an eating disorder. That tends to get overlooked by society.”
Lance didn’t look at her as he said the words, but they were directed at her, regardless.
“What if you just like to eat because things taste good?” she joked.
He squinted his eyes and continued. “I am aware that the premise is unoriginal, but with me, it’ll be better than all the other shows out there like it. I want it heartfelt, motivating, but also funny. I want the people on the show to inspire others, and to be inspired by others. And . . . maybe you would want to be on it. That would make it appeal to a lot of people it might not otherwise.” Lance glanced at her, gauging her reaction.
“No,” she bit out. He said exactly what she hoped he wouldn’t.
“Hear me out before you say no.”
“No.”
“I’ll give you time to think about it.”
“No.”
“Maggie,” he said with a sigh.
“No.”
They stared at one another, her with potent distaste in her gaze and Lance with disappointed wariness.
“Okay,” he finally said, severing eye contact. “Fine. But if you decide you want to know what the show is about, let me know. You’re not done yet,” he said, pushing her arm to get the machine started again.
Lance left, and once he was gone, Maggie dropped her head forward. She finished the last of the designated thirty minutes, her skin clammy from emotions, but sweaty and hot from physical exertion. She should have known his reasons for showing up would be more about him and less about her. He was a selfish man, thinking of himself above all others. He probably thought coming to help her under the guise of his profession was the perfect setup to get her to agree to be on his possible show. He probably laughed as soon as he ended the phone call with her sister, and the whole flight there.
Scowling, she jumped down and moved to the mat to stretch. Maggie was no longer a silly, lovesick girl who chose to see the small glimpses of good in a boy who had more bad.
***
“What’s new?” Her father asked it too nonchalantly, letting Maggie know he knew what was new.
Maggie and her dad met up for coffee once a week, and sometimes her mom joined them, but generally, she invited Maggie over for meals to play catch up. Maggie hadn’t mentioned Lance yet. It was a good assumption her sister had since she’d last seen her dad.
She took a sip of her black coffee, the Styrofoam cup doing little to save her fingers from the hotness of the liquid inside, and directed her gaze to the choppy brown waters of the Mississippi. It was so different from the ocean—dirtier, smaller. The smell of fish and watery plants wafted up to them. She missed the ocean. The spicy tang in the air, the sound of crashing waves, the merging and fading colors, the way she’d felt while near it.
“Lance Denton is staying with me.” Saying the words made her pulse pick up. They were impossible to believe, and they were true.
They walked along the Mississippi, periodic bursts of wind pushing against them like they were inconsequential. Maggie shivered in her lightweight jacket, wishing she’d worn something thicker. Birds sang as they flew around them. The walkway was miles long and designed with multi-colored cement. The path was set up hundreds of feet higher than the river, with grass and rocks between it and the water below.
Dubuque, Iowa was one of the few larger cities in Iowa to have hills. The river and architecture around and in it brought tourists to the city. The downtown part housed many historical buildings, adding to its appeal. As far as cities went, it was a decent one—large enough to have any store needed but small enough to be able to maneuver through.
Leon pushed his glasses up his short nose and nodded. “Nora was only too thrilled to tell your mom, especially when she realized you hadn’t mentioned it yet. She never learned tact. I’m not sure if the blame falls on your mom or me for that one.”
Maggie smiled slightly. “I think Nora has her own ideas about things, Dad. She always has.”
“Hmm. Yes. He’s the one helping you?” He motioned to her frame.
“Yes. He’s actually really good at what he does,” she said carefully, glancing at her father and away.
It was early yet, just past eight, and overcast. Maggie loved the sunshine days, but there was something about the dreary ones that made her content as well. They were days for baking, and watching television, and snuggling under covers, without feeling as guilty as on nice days—they were acceptable lazy days.
“I see that. You look great.” He paused, taking her hand and squeezing it before letting it go. “I hope you know, Maggie, that no matter what size you are, you’re good enough exactly as you are.”
She brushed hair from her eyes and smiled at her dad. “That’s a nice thought. I wish I believed it. But . . . I haven’t been happy for a long time. I haven’t exactly been miserable, but I wasn’t waking up excited to st
art a new day. Since I’ve been working with Lance, I already feel better.”
“Don’t you think part of that might have been because of your insistence to avoid the past, and not necessarily how you looked?”
Maggie came to a stop, facing the water. On the other side of the river was a world of sand, grass, trees, and hills. “Well, even if it was, that’s not possible anymore, is it? The past knocked on my door two weeks ago and wouldn’t go away, even when I told it to.”
“Lance always was a determined one.”
“Yes. He was,” she said softly. “Pushy too.”
“I never told you this, but your first Christmas together, when the two of you spent a few days with us?”
She nodded that she remembered.
Leon hesitated, rubbing a hand over his thick gray hair. “I told him if he hurt you, I’d hunt him down and shoot him.”
“Dad!”
He shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “You know I wouldn’t have—I don’t even own a gun. But I was looking out for my daughter. There was this perfect-looking kid offering her the world and it worried me. Want to know what he said back?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “He said that if he did hurt you, he hoped I would. What guy says that to the father of the girl he’s dating?”
Maggie’s throat closed and she took a shaky breath.
“One that cares a great deal,” he finished quietly.
“You obviously didn’t hunt him down and shoot him.” Drollness dripped from her words.
“No.” Leon sat down on a bench and Maggie did the same. “I visited him a few weeks after you were out of the hospital. He hurt you, there is no doubt of that. But you hurt him just as much.”
A needle jabbed her conscience, told her brain what her heart already knew. In their quest to love, they’d broken one another. She liked to blame Lance, because it was easy. It was also wrong. He hadn’t understood love, hadn’t known how to properly love someone. And she’d pushed him to show something he didn’t know how. She was as much at fault as him.
