Chapter 7
SEVEN
Tania Marie
Word of the day: Supercilious: Arrogant, condescending, haughty
“Four frigging headlines for one frigging evening.”
Tania Marie piled the newspapers and their lies in the wrought-iron bistro chair beside her. Jay Rossi had brought the good news with him, driving up that morning in a black pickup she’d die before she set a foot inside. Virginia had to be out of her mind.
In the plus department, Rossi had a nice-enough face, more sneer than grin, and hair a soft brown color that only those who were blond as children possessed. Not that it mattered.
Strike one, he worked for Virginia, which translated flunky.
Strike two, he had short-man attitude to the max.
Strike three, that horrendous truck he called “Blackie” was an accident waiting to happen.
The passenger door wouldn’t even open. If she hadn’t been so upset about what happened at the party, she never would have subjected herself to the short ride down the street.
She’d known better than to have coffee with the supercilious punk, but it beat the hell out of dinner.
Now, after poring over the stories, she never wanted to see another newspaper, or another bodyguard again.
She took a final swallow of her latte—nonfat sugar-free vanilla, thank you very much—then got up and tossed the cup, cardboard collar and all, into the bin.
“Why do you read those stories about you if you hate them so much?”
“Why do you look when you pass an accident?”
He laughed, then cupped his espresso in both hands. Short man; short drink; short date.
“I can walk back to my apartment,” she said. “It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Same here.”
The prick stood up and pulled his windbreaker around him. “Not even Virginia has enough money in her coffers to put me though this crap.”
“I told you I don’t need a fucking bodyguard.”
He flinched. “And I don’t need to take any more lip from you.” And without waiting for an answer, “I’m not here by choice.”
“No?”
“Hell, no. I’m just trying to do a favor for your mother.”
He threw a bill on the table and started for the truck.
“How much did Virginia pay you for this gig?”
“Enough. I’d do it for nothing, just to learn from her.”
“Another ga-ga wannabe chef? I should have known.”
His defiant eyes went cold as limestone.
“So, she’s a lousy mom,” he said. “I grant you that. She shouldn’t have had kids.”
Tania Marie didn’t know how to respond to that. People either adored Virginia or they didn’t. This was the first time anyone had spoken the truth without judgment.
Before she could respond, Rossi said, “She’s a hell of a chef, though, and I intend to learn everything I can from her.”
“Even if you have to baby-sit her errant daughter?”
He moved closer to her, and maybe because she wasn’t used to being this close to anyone but Marshall, she was startled by his lack of scent. No cologne. No hairspray, no mousse, no gel. What man on earth had the guts to wear no cologne, use no hair products? To just smell like himself?
“Get this straight. I’m doing it for Virginia because she’s giving me a chance. If it were up to my dad, I’d get an MBA. I already got the bachelor’s degree for him. But Virginia knows I can be a chef, and whether you know it or not, she’s worried about you.”
“As much as she can be.” Tania Marie met his eyes, wondering if he would opt for the truth or the easy answer.
“As much as that,” he said.
Another point for the short man with the arresting eyes. “What’d she tell you to do?”
“Just be here. Hang out with you.”
“And report to her?”
He gave her a steady gaze and picked up his keys from the green table. The man wasn’t a liar, but he wasn’t coughing up the truth, either.
“She wants you to report to her, doesn’t she? She can’t be bothered to check up on me, so she wants you to.”
“Can you hold it down?” He walked along the sidewalk, his jacket flapping in the breeze. “People are going to think I’m hurting you.”
“You might as well be.” The familiar rage coursed through her again, leveling her senses. “Get out of here, or I’ll scream.”
“No reason for that.” A mirthless smile crossed his face, and he leaned toward her. “I can’t wait to get away from you.”
That parting shot had made her feel stupid, like the foul-mouthed fat girl nobody could stand.
But at least she’d managed to get rid of Jay Rossi and spend the rest of the day in semi-peace.
Now she was safe. No one would recognize her here, the one place she could blend in.
She’d tied back her hair, anyway. These women had seen it all.
They were it all. The arms that dripped fat by the buckets, the thighs puckered with cellulite.
Hell, she was skinny by comparison, especially to the ones in the heated pool, the only place to hide at all.
This was the fourth night she’d come to the gym and the first she’d ventured into the separate room and its large pool of warm water and thrashing mountains of flesh.
At least she’d work off some hunger, and when she finished, she could sweat off her past sins in the sauna.
She’d brought six of the Killer Body bars, lemon meringue flavor, and chewed through a couple in the car.
Nothing at home but Virginia’s care packages, neatly labeled and dated.
And the secret stash of Milanos, of course.
She couldn’t think about them, though, or she would be lost. One night, she’d actually dipped a whole bag, cookie after cookie, in tomato soup because Virginia had made her promise to eat something nutritious for dinner.
“Your name?” The instructor had entered the pool area through the back door and stood with her clipboard, looking at Tania Marie.
“Mary.” Damn, what was the last name she’d made up when she’d registered, paying for a whole year in cash? Oh, that’s right, a private little joke with herself, using the old man’s last name for luck. “Mary Warren.” She felt exposed. The other heads bobbing in the water turned to look at her.
“Is this your first time?” the instructor asked.
She nodded.
“Cool. I’m Betty. If you need anything, just ask, okay?” She smiled at Tania Marie and stepped down into the water. Even she was chunky, not one of those tushless anorexics they had at the clubs in New York.
“Okay,” Betty called out. “Let’s start with an easy little jog”
Water splashed around them as on the CD player, a male voice, the only one in the place, sang “Kansas City.”
Tania Marie sloshed, almost happily, right through the warm-up, nodding to the others, all of them older than she, all but one far larger.
If she weren’t so desperate, they’d be kind of cute.
An extremely overweight woman had tucked her hair into one of those plastic shower caps, the kind some hotels still had in their bathrooms. Another slipped and slid in purple plastic shoes.
And when they looked at her, it wasn’t to gawk but to grin, as if they were all in this together.
All were squeezed into one-piecers, like hers, maillots, as Virginia called them, in a voice that made it clear they ranked right down there with falsies in her estimation.
Tania Marie jogged harder, trying to eliminate that voice and the expression that accompanied it.
For a moment, she was free, flying to the surface of the water with little effort.
“Now, Cross-Country.”
She mimicked the woman next to her—one leg behind one in front, arms cutting through the water like scissors.
“Left arm, right leg,” the instructor called. The other women turned to look, still continuing their routines.
Tania Marie tried. She stopped, put her right arm forward, her left leg back, and started walking to “Kansas City.” Except she couldn’t make it happen.
Betty, the instructor, approached, pushing herself through the water, blond bangs pasted to her forehead.
It was PE class all over again. High school and fat and uncoordinated, to boot.
This time she couldn’t run to the locker room and cry.
Couldn’t screw the football coach to get even.
Whatever made her think she could do this? She should have skipped this bullshit, headed straight to the sauna.
“Here.” Betty took her hand, pulled it through the water. “You’re doing fine,” she whispered, but Tania Marie knew better. Shit, her first day in fat class, and she was going to flunk out.
“Now, Skateboard.” Still standing in front of her, Betty showed her how to lift her knee to her chest, then kick it out in back. Tania Marie tried to get into it, but then, it was time for Cross-Country again.
The class lasted little more than an hour. By the time the other women climbed out of the pool, she felt better. Betty bobbed through the water toward her, and Tania Marie pulled the scarf tighter around her head. Without makeup and hair, she was just another fat girl.
“It’ll get easier with that Cross-Country, Mary. It’s just like skiing.”
Tania Marie didn’t dare mention she’d been lousy at that, too. That was one of the stories about Marshall and her that had become a public joke. The ski weekend when the only skiing that took place was in the bedroom.
“I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Just keep coming back. You can stay as long as you want. This is our last class of the day.”
It always was. And she was always one of the last to leave the gym, when there were few people to recognize her. How long would she have to continue this deception?
“You think I can really lose weight doing this?”
“Sure.” Betty patted her own ample hips. “Of course you can’t lose weight doing any one thing if you eat more than you burn off. You doing anything else, going to Weight Watchers, LA Weight Loss or anything?”
“Killer Body.” She almost whispered it.
Betty shrugged. “The Julie Larimore diet. What do you think happened to her?”
“I don’t know.”