He Loves Lucy

Chapter 3

February

Journal Entry Feb 6

Breakfast: 1/2 whole wheat bagel; 1 tbsp natural peanut butter; 1/2 grapefruit; decaf with splash of skim milk

Lunch: 2 cups romaine and raw vegetables; 4 oz turkey breast; 1 oz light cheddar; 1 tbsp olive oil; red wine vinegar; 1/2 c brown rice

Dinner: 1 small baked sweet potato; 3 oz broiled chicken breast; 1 c steamed pea pods and mushrooms

Snack: 1 c plain yogurt; one apple; cinnamon

Affirmation for Today:

I’m sure that somewhere in the world there is a boss

more psycho than mine. I just haven’t met him yet.

Stephan Sherrod burst into the conference room without warning. “Greetings, employees!” He settled into an armchair, his long legs stretched in front of him. “I take it we’re flexing our creative pecs and abs in here this morning?”

Stephan chortled at his own pun and waited for someone-anyone on his staff-to join in appreciation of his wit. Lucy didn’t volunteer, but her assistant, Veronica King, managed a vague giggle. “We’re reviewing the Palm Club account,” Lucy said, handing Stephan the month’s media summary,

“Marvelous. Don’t let me stop you.”

Now that was truly funny. Everyone in this conference room knew that Stephan Sherrod could single-handedly suck the lifeblood out of anything-and did so as a matter of course. Meetings. Client outings. Parties. And, since his partner, Sarah Thorns, died eight months ago, Stephan had been doing it to his own company. Sherrod amp; Thorns had been steadily losing loyal clients, and it was a battle to find new ones. The company lost its heart and soul when it lost Sarah.

Lucy looked around the conference room and noted that Stephan had managed to ruin her team meeting as well. Moments ago, they’d been reviewing everything from graphic design to Web site development for the Palm Club account and the room had been filled with creative energy, good humor, friendly competition, and teasing. Now, there was nothing but discomfort.

Barry Neikirk stared at the ceiling. Maria Banderas clicked away at her laptop in silence. Veronica nervously snapped her gum and doodled on her agenda.

Lucy had taken the position with Sherrod amp; Thorns last year because of Sarah Thorns. Sarah had been in her midfifties, outgoing and witty, devoted to her clients, and full of life. Her creativity and drive had made this little company a big presence in the Miami-Dade market. It didn’t take Lucy long to figure out that Sarah was the heart and soul of the operation and Stephan was the face man, the schmoozer. It had worked.

But Sarah died during elective surgery about eight months after Lucy moved to Miami. She looked around the conference table now and knew that everyone there-herself included-had stayed with Stephan because the job market was tight, not because they enjoyed working for him.

And in ten months, if she met her weight loss goal, she’d be walking out of this place with a hundred thousand in her pocket and a business plan for her own agency. The thought put a smile on her face.

“So Barry,” Lucy decided to salvage the meeting. “What do you think about capitalizing on the idea that the gym can work around anyone’s schedule?”

“It’s the only way to go, frankly,” he said. “The fact that the Palm Club has personal trainers available from five a.m. to ten p.m. seven days a week really sets them apart. They’re leaving their competition in the dust.” Barry referred to his laptop screen. “Goldstein’s Gym only offers personal training from six to six, five days a week.”

Maria agreed. “The Palm Club’s ability to work around a client’s schedule is really the only way to justify a price point much higher than anywhere else in town, including Goldstein’s.”

“Exactly,” Barry said. “You can’t exactly put a price tag on the South Beach celebrity mojo thing they’ve got going.”

As everyone nodded their agreement, Lucy glanced Stephan’s way. At some point in the last few moments, his expression had shifted from affable vacancy to pasty fear.

“Are you all right, Stephan?”

“Fine. Fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened in the leather chair.

“Well, I loved the slogan ‘Fitness at the Speed of Life,’” Veronica chimed in.

Maria pointed across the table. “That was your idea, wasn’t it, Lucy?”

Lucy still had one eye on her boss. “Yes, it was.”

“I think you hit a bull’s-eye with that,” Barry said.

Stephan stood up.

“Thanks.” She watched her boss shuffle toward the conference room door, his shoulders slumped. “I fiddled around with a few other things, including something a bit more blunt, but that’s the one I like, too.”

Maria smiled. “I’m all for blunt. What was it?”

Lucy studied Stephan’s back. “Oh, just something like, ‘Wanna bet the fat chick can do it?’”

Suddenly Stephan spun around, a glint in his eye. “My God, Lucy! You look like someone stuck a pin in you and you’ve begun to deflate!”

Veronica snapped her gum a little too loudly.

“I’d heard you’d lost a few pounds, but I hadn’t really noticed until now.”

If it weren’t for past experience, Lucy would have assumed she’d misheard Stephan. But as she was now well aware, her boss had no manners.

“Uh. That’s the whole point,” she replied.

Stephan laughed. “Well, we need to take you out to celebrate. Whad’ya say? Lunch for everyone tomorrow at Bugatti? My treat. Anything you want. They have the best pesto ravioli in town.”

And with that pronouncement, he was gone.

Lola DiPaolo looked like she was hitting the tanning bed a bit too hard these days. At this rate she’d have skin like a wrinkled paper bag in another few years, Theo decided. But then, Lola wasn’t known for her long-term approach to anything.

‘Theodore.“ She looked up from her bodybuilding magazine and smiled.

“Lola. How’s life?”

“Fun as always. How’s yours?”

“Busy.” Theo walked over to the wall of mailboxes in the staff lounge, where each trainer had a cubbyhole for mail and phone messages.

He sorted through a stack of messages and found the usual-clients who needed to reschedule, clients who wanted information on the military basic training course, clients who said they needed to stop their workouts because they were going to be out of the country or were moving.

He hated that. More than anything in the world, Theo hated seeing months of hard work fizzle away as people returned to bad habits, just because they felt familiar and took less effort. He hated it when people gave up on themselves.

He felt Lola behind him. This was bad news.

“Hey, Theo.” Her breath came hot down on his neck. He felt the front of her thighs nearly touch the back of his. “You know, I was wondering-”

“The answer will always be no. Back off, Lola.” He continued to sort through messages and ignored her, then noted that the hours in the tanning bed must have damaged Lola’s hearing, because her hands went to his hips and the rest of her pressed nice and snug against the back of his body, from calf to shoulder. He felt the outline of all her parts-the parts molded by endless hours of hard work as well as those that were God-given.

“I said no.” Theo grabbed her roaming hands and extricated himself from his coworker and near… What word could he use to describe what had almost happened with Lola? She hadn’t been a date. She hadn’t even been a friend. She’d been a perfect body, at a time when he hurt so much that he thought a few hours with a perfect body would dull the pain.,

Thank God he’d recovered his senses in time to zip up and go home. Unfortunately, Lola didn’t feel the same sense of relief-she’d taken his rebuff as a challenge.

“Well, Theo. As usual, it’s your loss.” A nasty hiss hung off the end of the last word as Lola returned to the recliner and her magazine.

Theo headed for the door.

“So how’s it going with the hopeless heifer?”

He stopped. His ears burned. His stomach twisted with anger. He turned to her. “What are you talking about, Lola?”

She shook out her straight blond hair. “You know. The fat marketing chick. Lucy Cunningham. You two seem to be getting very cozy.” She shot him a snide smile.

“She’s a terrific woman and she’s working hard.” Theo had every intention of leaving the room, but he couldn’t believe what Lola said next.

“If you’re sleeping with her, that’s against policy. Not to mention disgusting.”

Theo whipped around and stared at her. He was so livid, his mind went blank. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” She thumbed through the ads for protein bars and starch blockers.

It took a moment, but Theo’s head cleared. “You’re a real class act, Lola.”

She giggled and kept her attention on the magazine.

“Listen up. From now on, keep your nasty, comments-and your hands-to yourself. Not interested and never will be.”

Lola looked up at him, her eyes narrow and mean. “You sure were once.”

And it was the lowest fifteen minutes of his life.

“We’d look great together, Theo.”

“No, we would not. Let it go, Lola.” He slammed the door on his way out, only to run right into Tyson.

“What’s up, Theo? You look mad as a rattlesnake.”

Theo pushed past, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Tyson caught up with him. “Hey! Whoa, Redmond. Is this about the Lucy Cunningham woman? I thought she was doing great.”

Theo stopped and looked at his friend. “She is.”

“And you?” Tyson yawned, rubbing his eyes. “How’re you doin‘?”

Theo grinned, amused by Tyson’s efforts to stay awake. “I’m keepin‘ it together.”

“Just remember, man, you’re a personal trainer, not a miracle worker.”

Theo laughed. “No, I’m a trainer and miracle worker. Don’t have any choice at this point. And you need to get more sleep.” He continued walking, spotting his nine o’clock appointment waiting for him on the leather couch, the cute, trim, red-headed Cecile.

“How’s the little bro?”

Theo smiled at Tyson. He was always so cool about Buddy and had been a great help with coaching these last few years. “He’s good. He wants you to come over Sunday to watch the game. We’re having some of the athletes over. You up for it?”

“Always.” A big grin burst across Tyson’s face. “Those boys know how to party.”

Coming from Tyson, that was a real compliment.

When Gia Altamonte called Lucy at work an hour before and invited her to lunch, Lucy had been shocked. She was way beyond shock now, staring at the supermodel sitting across the VIP table from her at Larios on the Beach, snarfing down a plate of rice and beans and roasted Cuban pork.

“I think I forgot to eat yesterday,” Gia said, her mouth so full it temporarily muted her unmistakable speech.

“Yeah. Happens to me all the time,” Lucy said.

Gia laughed. “I’ve been meaning to check on you, you know, after the life squad, but I’ve been in Belize for the swimsuit shoot and then I had to go to Los Angeles and then frickin‘ Greenland. You ever been to

Greenland? It’s nice. So you doing better now, or what?“

Lucy loved Gia’s voice. It made her smile. It was high enough to be painful to the ear, grating yet endearing, especially in person, when it could be seen emerging from those sultry, heavily insured lips.

Perhaps it was cruel that God gave Gia Altamonte that voice to go with that mouth, because an acting career would forever be out of her reach. Then again, maybe that voice was proof that God did have a sense of humor, or that he wanted to give the rest of the normal schlubs on earth some shred of superiority.

“I’m doing great. Haven’t choked since.”

“You like Cuban food, Lucy?”

“Love it.” Lucy had ordered a side salad with oil and vinegar, a side order of black beans, and a grilled mahimahi fillet-not bad for an impromptu lunch out and nothing she’d have to be ashamed to write down in her journal.

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna have my mama make you something. She’s a big fan of yours.”

Lucy started. “I have a fan?”

“Of course you do!” Gia said, laughing. “My mama and me make two!”

Lucy couldn’t help but be amused at the otherworldly nature of this situation. She had been invited to “do” lunch with a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model in the VIP room of a chic restaurant on Miami Beach. Lucy didn’t even know models ate lunch. And she’d certainly never been inside a VIP room of anything before, except maybe for the back office at the Order of the Eagles Aerie 982 in Pittsburgh, when her dad once brought her along when he had to pick up a roll of raffle tickets.

“How’s Theo treating you?” Gia asked after she’d ordered coffee for both of them.

“He’s busting my hump, but it’s going well.”

“Mmmm. He’s a cutie, no?”

Lucy shrugged, hoping she hadn’t started sweating at just the mention of his name. “How long have you two been dating?”

Gia tilted back her exquisite chin and howled. “Oh no! No, no, no! He’s just my trainer, chica! Besides, I don’t think the man dates much. He used to have a steady, but they broke it off a while back.”

Lucy was stunned. “Theo doesn’t date?”

“Not that I know of.”

“That can’t be right. Everywhere he goes, women remind him what day they’re supposed to go out with him.”

Gia giggled. “Those are his clients, Lucy. He’s bee-yoo-tiful, isn’t he? But he’s a very serious and private kind of guy, and he’s got all these big plans for himself. He’s always saying he doesn’t have time for women in his life right now.”

Lucy sat perfectly still. She didn’t know how many shocks her system could take in one day.

“You wanna do a little shopping, girlie?”

Lucy looked at her watch, intrigued at the idea of shopping with Gia but aware that she had a two o’clock with a potential client she’d been chasing for months.

She asked for a rain check.

Stephan was almost relieved to finally get the call from Murray Goldstein, because the waiting had been making him a crazy man.

Stephan held the phone away from his ear as the old gangster ranted about how the Palm Club was going to ruin him and how Stephan had betrayed a sacred trust when he accepted their business. It was all insane shit from a nutso (but rich and powerful) geezer, and all Stephan could do was mutter “yes” and “I realize that” and let him rage.

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?”

Doris blinked.

“You know, it doesn’t even have to be Lorna Doones. It can be Oreos or Malomars for all I care, and they aren’t even my favorites. The important part is he’s naked and some type of cookie is involved.”

Doris blinked again.

“I’m just pulling your leg, Dr. Lehman.” Lucy gave her an exaggerated grin. “I sometimes worry that my issues aren’t fancy enough for you, you know? I come in here week after week, just a Pittsburgh girl who took off her clothes in front of the wrong man ten years ago,

56 Susan Donovan wiped out a college football dynasty, and enticed a 60 Minutes camera crew to camp out on her parents’ lawn. I worry that I bore you.“

Doris smiled politely. “What I wouldn’t give for all my patients to be so boring.”