I grab my purple satin robe to throw something on to answer the door, just in case it’s the Girl Scouts or someone selling magazine subscriptions. Our “no soliciting” neighborhood policy doesn’t work so well.
I peer out the window. Good, it’s only Violet. “Oh my God, you won’t believe what happened with my boobs at tanning,” I announce as I open the door to a bewildered and amused…Luke? What the hell?
I poke my head out and look side to side. How could Violet have turned into Luke? Did the tanning distort my vision, too? Meanwhile, Luke is standing there with a briefcase in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
I start to speak and abruptly stop, pursing my lips. I wrinkle my brow and say, “Wasn’t Violet just out here? My neighbor?” I pull my robe closed a little tighter. Of course Judgmental Mom picks this moment to saunter back to her house with her little one, complete with swimmies and a pool noodle. I wave too enthusiastically. “Hello, just having a business meeting.” Oh my God, why did I say that? I look like a hooker and Luke looks like an out of town john stopping by for a quickie. I yell, “Wait, I mean…” It’s no use. Maybe she didn’t hear me.
Luke is still standing in the same spot. “Are you going to invite me in or should I wait for you to finish dressing? Undressing?” Now he is openly laughing.
“Shut up and get in here.” I slam the door and turn to stare at his obnoxious, perfectly chiseled face. I didn’t turn my air conditioning back down yet, and it’s getting hot in here. “Where is Violet? I know I saw her.”
“What do you think, I stuffed her in the trunk of my car to be alone with you? She was coming home when I pulled up. We talked for a few minutes and then I rang the bell, and she went into her own house.” He pauses and waits for my reaction. “How is that weird?”
I breathe deeply and exhale slowly, holding onto the hall table with the stupid clock. The last time I was this close to being naked in a room with Luke and this clock… “I guess it’s not. Anyway, what brings you by? I was just changing into a bik…bathing suit…to go to the pool for a while. With Violet. We go after work.” I pick up the mail and fumble with it, clutching it to my stomach.
He puts down the briefcase and offers the wine. “I figured I would see if you had a little time to go over the screenplay with me. Violet mentioned that you’ve been spending a lot of time at your boyfriend’s house, but that you’d probably be home tonight.” Mental note to murder Violet later. “Your hair looks fantastic. It reminds me of how it looked when we were together. You look like my Rebecca again.” He reaches out to touch the ends of my hair falling on my shoulder and I flinch.
“Oh, yes. My…Steve has a meeting tonight. But not a long one, so…okay. Well, I’ll just go get changed then. Do you mind sitting by the pool? They have tables and stuff like that. Umbrellas.”
I apparently forgot my hands were full and drop the mail all over the floor while reaching for the wine. I smile, and bend down to gather it, before realizing that I am now giving Luke a view of my red lace panties. I quickly hop up and tighten my robe’s sash to keep my matching red bra out of sight. “Okay, I’m off to the bedroom now. Why don’t you have a seat in the living room? Over there.” He used to live here and can probably find the living room, which is a few feet away. I take this silent opportunity to run back to my bedroom and slam the door, leaving Luke standing there, doing a poor job of suppressing his laughter.
Fuck! My heart is pounding, my hot ex just saw my underwear, Steve knows nothing about this, AND I have two white orbs where my sagging boobs protected me from the fake sun. Even raising my arms apparently isn’t enough to hoist these bitches up high enough. Well, one thing is for sure—I am not wearing a bathing suit now. I find the longest shorts I own—denim and mid-thigh length, and a polo shirt I wore to a job fair last year. Oww, I poked myself with these damn nails again. Wow, my skin is delicate. I hope I didn’t tan for too long.
There is nothing sexy about this outfit. He will surely know this is all business now. I catch my look in the mirror again and decide to fix my makeup. I have some mascara in this basket. I don’t want to look completely frumpy. As I reach for my lipstick, I throw the mascara back in the makeup basket. What am I doing? Who cares? I am going to tell Steve about Luke the next time I see him and turn this project over to Claire. That’s the sensible…and safe…thing to do.
I fumble with my doorknob and take a deep breath to steady my nerves, as I calmly walk back into the living room. Luke has located the wine glasses and the corkscrew, since they are in the same place they were five years ago. “Ready to head to the pool? I found the plastic wine glasses. Remember when we got these on that trip to—”
“Yep, I do.” I grab the wine glasses and the bottle, so he can carry his briefcase to the pool as quickly as possible. I catch him staring at me in an odd way. “What’s the matter?” I glance down at my body to see if I left something hanging out in my haste. Nope. Everything is safely tucked away.
He looks me up and down, and says, “Nothing…I just don’t remember you dressing that way…so…conservative.” He rubs his beautiful stubbly chin in a puzzled way.
“Well, I am a bit older now. Just a little more serious.” I try to make a serious face that an older person would make. I have lost my last marble.
He continues to fix me with a bewildered gaze as he follows me out the door. “Didn’t you want to see if Violet can join us?”
“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk about the manuscript.”
“I do, but it wouldn’t hurt to have another beautiful woman’s opinion. Kind of like an editing threesome.”
This is why he’s no longer my boyfriend. “I don’t think Violet would be interested in that proposition.”
Luke grabs my waist as I move towards the pool in a huff. “I am teasing you, Querida.”
I wiggle out of his grasp, and at the pool I choose a table in the far corner, as far away as possible from any prying, nosy eyeballs, even though there is no one here but an older man doing laps. Luke uncorks the wine and methodically opens up his briefcase, setting papers and pens on the table. Now I feel silly. Luke is not here to win me over and lure me into bed. He actually wants my help with something that is important to him. Since I dumped him and shunned his attempts at contact for years, it’s the least I can do.
“Now you remember, I just work at a publishing company. I don’t do anything related to editing or the actual books themselves.” I sip my wine and switch gears back to calm, normal Rebecca. I have missed her.
“I know that, minha querida. I need your opinion since you were there for everything I am capturing on the page. You were my witness. My partner in crime.”
Why do his eyes have to smolder like that? They are so dark and deep set, and they send out fiery rays of...oh my God, maybe I am getting pre-menopausal hot flashes. So much for Calm Rebecca. Noodle Knees Rebecca is back every time this man says anything more than hello. He may very well have lost his attraction to me, but I have not lost mine for him, even though he can be such a jerk.
We sit for an hour or so and go through the screenplay. He has only written about a hundred pages, and not all of it is about us. By the time we part and he is gathering up his things, I am even more convinced that he is not here to win me back, and I must get my own reactions in check. Maybe he is trying to get to know Violet and is using these visits as his way in, and who I am to interfere with that? As if he needs help.
However, because I’m so flustered in Luke’s presence, I would prefer he doesn’t meet Steve. That would be a disaster, especially since our relationship is already strained. Finding a way to tell Steve how I feel about the house and Noreen’s memory is the most important thing on my agenda, not convincing him I am not still hot for the hottest man in town. Steve is not a jealous guy, but he would have to be a blind robot from the planet Clueless to miss my discomfort around Luke.
As we walk back to the car, Luke sets down his briefcase, reaches for my hand and kisses it. “Tha
nk you so much, minha querida. Your help is invaluable.”
I pull my hand back and look at my flip flops. “Good...I’m glad I can help. It would be a good idea to turn this over to my friend, Claire, though. When you’re done with the draft. She has a good eye...for talent.” And hot young men, but since Claire and Luke are the same age, I think it’s a wash for both of them. Besides, she truly adores Brandon.
“I will do that.” He bends over to pick up his briefcase and continues. “I forgot to tell you. That salsa bar downtown said they would like me to come in and play some acoustic Fado music and sing. Thursday nights during happy hour. That place is a little cheesy, but it’s just for fun.” He flashes his smile and my knees noodle up again.
“That’s fantastic. I’m sure people will like it. You were always good when you sang to me.” I think I’m blushing, which is utterly ridiculous.
“You and Steve must come see me play some time. I am going to start attending Meetup events soon...to make some new friends. I don’t know many people in this town anymore. Good night, Rebecca.” He disappears into his car and pulls away.
I stand at my front door, with shadows under my boobs, beneath this hideous shirt. Good thing I don’t have to wear a bathing suit anytime. Uh oh, the fucking kayaking trip. That settles it. I’m buying a wetsuit.
I scurry back into my house and lock the door. Fortunately Steve’s summer school classes start soon, and he teaches on Thursday nights. Wait, if I tell Luke he will tell me to come alone to see him play. And I might. Shit.
One thing is for sure, though. Steve and I need to avoid Meetup events. However, the kayaking trip is a Meetup event, and I invited Brandon and Claire. And Violet, because she hardly ever gets out. I look at Blue and Jewel, who are circling me for attention and food. “Mommy is so screwed.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tan fat does look better than white fat. However, a flame broiled ass does not feel better than anything. Apparently Lindsay at Sun n’ Fun neglected to mention that if I took all my clothes off to avoid those ugly tan lines, I would instead suffer third degree burns on sensitive parts of my body that have NEVER SEEN THE SUN!
I am going to kill Gina when I see her tonight. But of course, she probably only assumed I would figure this out or the tanning person would warn me. My boobs are getting red too, but at least I don’t sit on those. They stay in place fairly securely with the help of my industrial strength bras, but my poor butt is fried. First my hair, now my ass. Unfortunately none of the salons can fix my ass. I’d like to fix Lindsay’s little…
Oh well, I have arrived at Pilates class. I wince as I shift in my seat to reach for my bag. I hope Pilates involves a lot of standing or jumping. I should have canceled but I need to get in shape, and this is Gina’s first night teaching at Barbell Babes, the new exclusively women’s fitness center. It’s a woman owned venture and it promises to be a high quality workout experience. Most women’s gyms pale in comparison to their coed counterparts in quality of facilities and equipment. I may join since they have a pool, once my burn mark lines disappear and my boob shadows are properly concealed. I bought some self-tanning stuff and hopefully I can get it to blend.
I don’t know why I agonize over my weight. Steve surprised me with donuts this morning on the way to work. I was in a meeting and he left them with Cecilia, along with a sweet note saying he missed me and couldn’t wait until tomorrow night to see me. He obviously isn’t troubled by my weight, and that only makes me feel guiltier about the things that are distressing me about him.
Speaking of Cecilia, everyone was fairly normal at work today. Harriet even smiled at me on the way out of the ladies’ room. Finally, a truce in our toilet paper showdown. Of course I did wave the white flag. Haha…
“What are you grinning about?” Gina greets me at the front desk to sign me in, since I am her guest and not yet a member. I have to fill out some paperwork, and yet another survey. Luckily there are no questions about recent ass barbecues.
I decide to withhold that update for now and say, “Okay, I’m ready to jump and sweat my way to health.”
Gina leads me back to the locker area, so I can deposit my bag before class starts. “Well, Pilates isn’t about sweating and jumping. You are thinking of aerobics. Or Zumba. Didn’t you look at the link I sent you?” She places one hand on her hip and wags her finger with the other. “Bad girl. What are we going to do with you?”
Hopefully not spank me. “So what is it like? More like yoga? With poses?” Like the stupid tanning stances, I bet. Only with more stretching and contortionist positions.
“We have a few minutes before class starts. Why don’t you watch this video?” She plants me on a leather couch in front of a big, flat screen TV, and clicks the remote to find a Pilates instructional video. Great, another movie about how to look stupid in an effort to look better. If my tanning experience is a teacher, I need to pay attention or this time I may end up in the ER.
I gingerly shift my weight on the slippery, cold couch, trying to find a comfortable spot. It’s useless. Only time will heal this wound. Like Steve’s wounds and his feelings about…oh my God, are all of these freaking exercises on the floor? This is a nightmare. I could just sneak out. I don’t need that gym bag. Oh wait, yes I do. My car keys are in there. I will just try to fake some of these exercises. There will be a ton of people in class and Gina will be preoccupied with teaching the old ladies and the young kids. I will hide in the throngs of the middle-aged and out of shape.
An hour later, I can attest that a lot of women my age, and much older, can kick my ass in Pilates. At least not literally, but even if they took turns with a paddle it wouldn’t hurt more than my tender skin is reeling from this punishing workout.
There is one called the Open Leg Rocker. You sit down, of course, and lean back, with your legs straight up. Then, with the weight of the world bearing down on my charred butt, I am instructed by a perky Gina to pull my legs over my head. This attempt causes extreme pain, even in body parts that are free of chemical damage.
By the time she gets to the The Rollup and Rolling like a Ball, I want to knock her out, if I only had the energy. And all of this breathing crap does not help me at all! And how this causes weight loss, I don’t know. It must be all the calories burned plotting the instructor’s death or trying to stay alive.
The two previously mentioned exercises involve balancing on your “sit bones” while attempting to roll your body into a ball or some weird fetal position resembling a pretzel. I want to scream out that my “sit bones” have turned to dust and are no longer supporting my blubber.
Mercifully, this comes to an end and I lay on the mat, wishing I could wiggle my nose and instantly transport myself to my bed, like the lady in the Bewitched TV show. While I am pondering the benefits of magical powers, Gina stands over me and offers her hand.
“Can you get up? I didn’t intend to kill you.” I reach up and she grunts as she pulls my compromised weight to standing.
“Whew, I know that’s a hard workout, but you looked like you were wincing in pain, as if you were in labor or on fire.”
“Bingo!” I point at Gina and begin to explain my predicament, as I practically crawl behind her on the way to the counter that sells shakes and other healthy, disgusting food.
Gina is laughing so hard she is doubled over and smacking the counter, while the server waits for our order with a look of boredom mixed with a tinge of annoyance. “I can’t believe you did the standup. Didn’t Tess tell you? Oh wait, was the little daughter there?” I nod my head. “She’s a dopey little thing. Cute, but not too much in the penthouse.” Gina taps her skull for emphasis.
We order healthy shakes meant to “repair” our battered bodies, and once again I attempt to sit, this time in a plastic chair at one of the tables in the café area.
“Do you want me to get you a donut?” When I look at her quizzically, knowing they don’t have delicious snack foods here, she explains. “I mean a donut that you si
t on. Like the women recovering from childbirth use? I still have mine at home, I think. I bet your boobs are probably sore, too. Oh, and do you have the problem with the—?”
I nod my head in recognition. “Yes, the boob shadows.” I stir my shake and take a long sip. “I thought the only shadows I have to fear are at Steve’s house.” I sigh and add, “This sort of thing would never have happened to Noreen.”
“So what? That’s only because she was as flat as a surfboard.”
I manage a grin, even though bashing Noreen doesn’t help in the least. My smile quickly fades and I feel like crying again. This is outrageous. I do NOT cry.
“You know,” Gina starts, “This is all very similar to childbirth. Does it hurt when you cough? I guess it wouldn’t since you didn’t have anything coming out of…”
She stops herself when she sees the look in my eyes grow icier. At least that’s what she undoubtedly thinks. Really I’m sleeping with my eyes open.
“I’m sorry.” She lowers her voice. “I was just trying to distract you with my marvelous humor.” She fold her hands on the table and plays with her many silver rings. “Are you going to talk to Steve?”
I widen my eyes and drop my head, breathing in deeply. I go on to tell her what happened with Luke, and Steve’s comments about Noreen. She basically delivers the same scolding as Claire. She laughs at the nail stabbing incidents, shaking her head at my recent complete lack of physical control.
She grabs my hands to inspect my manicure. “Next time we’ll get those taken off, you’re not in the mental state to relearn how to use your hands.” I scowl and grab them back across the table. “What I don’t understand is how have you been dating this man for over a year and you have avoided this topic?” She reaches up to remove her ponytail holder, freeing her long, dark red mane.
Afraid of Her Shadow Page 13
