Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Tania Marie
Word of the day: Formidable: Alarming, frightening, fearsome
If she hadn’t gone to the Weight Watchers meeting, she would have eaten every chocolate chip in Santa Barbara that Friday night.
She didn’t want to go, either, first, because she knew she’d taken another trip up old Pork Chop Hill.
Second, because someone might recognize her, might take her photograph, might make her feel even fatter than she already was.
One thing she loved about this place was its lack of music. At Killer Body right now, “Personality” would have played countless times. Right about now, Faith Hill was probably belting out some sexy, lick-your-body song, and if she looked like Faith, she would, too.
As she waited in line to step onto the formidable scale, Tania Marie considered removing her straw hat; even straw, probably even her damned tattoo, weighed something.
Everything weighed something. Besides, this was a support group.
They shouldn’t give a rat’s ass who she was, and Mr. Warren shouldn’t give a flip, either.
Who the hell cared how she lost weight? At least this program had worked better than the others, Killer Body included.
Finally she reached the scale. No pride here; kick off the shoes, take off the gold watch from Virginia. Dump it on the fake wood-grain table and smile at this slender woman before her.
“Hi, hon. How’d you do this week?”
Annie, her absolutely favorite group leader, a petite brunette, spoke in an exaggerated Brooklyn accent that made Tania Marie miss her dad.
Annie was deceptively disarming, with her short, springy curls and a trim little form that no one could miss in her fitted, ankle-length dress about the same color as her indigo eyes.
“I didn’t do shit.” No need to worry about the kind of lecture she got from Princess Gabby. Annie understood.
“That’s okay, hon. I bet it’s not as bad as you think.”
Tania Marie stepped up onto the black step of judgment, then squeezed her eyes shut so that she wouldn’t see what Annie’s table monitor registered in its damning digits.
“You’re only up point-nine,” Annie whispered.
“Holy shit, a whole pound.”
“Not quite, hon. Don’t give the power to the pound you gained. Give the power to the twelve you lost.”
Twelve. Had she really lost twelve pounds, just by subjecting herself to these awful weigh-ins and trying to lay off the Milanos and the snacks Virginia sent? She wanted to grasp Annie by both hands, thank her repeatedly, but instead, she stepped down, into her shoes.
“Thanks,” she said. “I have to go.”
“You sure?” The friendly smile took on another dimension.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s crazy, hon, but the people who stay for the meetings tend to lose more. We’ve done studies nationwide. It’s not just the plan, but the reinforcement.”
Tania Marie decided to stay for the meeting. “By the way,” she asked, once she had crammed the straw hat back on her head and was ready to leave. “What do you think of Killer Body?”
Annie scrunched up her face—thinking, judging, judging, thinking. “Guess you could call it the perfect program,” she said with exaggerated sarcasm. “With Killer Body, you can buy a life membership. With us, you have to earn one.”
And now she was home, in the sprawling Santa Barbara apartment that seemed to lose rather than contain her, that seemed too bright in the morning and too dark at night. Like now. This kitchen, specifically.
She had to do something in this monochromatic mess, had to look into the fridge and at Virginia’s labeled packages, for something, anything good. Just not that damned gorgonzola and raspberry salad dressing, though.
Tania Marie pulled open the stainless-steel door, trying to ignore the fridge and its labeled contents. Noisettes of lamb, whatever the hell that was, with mashed Yukon golds and roasted garlic. Vegetable strudel. Salmon in beurre blanc. No.
She slammed the door shut, forced herself to think about what Annie had said at the meeting. “Sometimes in our lives, treading water is really doing well. Just hanging in there can be awesome.”
She had to hang in there, for herself and no one else. This wasn’t hunger, she knew, not food hunger. It was a gnawing of a different type, one she might not ever understand or overcome. But she was learning the tools to keep it from overcoming her.
She stepped into the pantry, located just off the kitchen, a dark little walk-in with shelves on each side.
Maybe she could just nibble some dry fruit.
The angel food cake mix beckoned. Angel food.
No fat. Perfect. In fact, Annie had handed out cake recipes today—chocolate with diet cola, angel food with fruit.
Didn’t she have any fruit in this frigging place?
Crushed pineapple. Hell, that was fruit.
Just stir it into the cake mix and shovel it in a couple of loaf pans.
Tania Marie prepared the cake batter, then dumped the pineapple in and began to stir the mixture with a wooden spoon.
Wouldn’t Virginia be horrified to see her actually trying to cook something?
Tania Marie scraped the effervescent mixture into the shiny cake pans.
Then she allowed herself a tiny lick of the spoon.
The sweet fizz, like champagne and cookie dough, sent her spinning as surely as if it had been a straight shot of booze.
If Ben the hand pressed harder.
“Don’t.” His voice was firm, calm. He pushed her toward the kitchen door leading to the garage. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m not leaving without you. Think about that, and let’s move out here and get in the truck.”
Tania Marie thrashed as best she could, but he was stronger than she. Her face shoved against him, she felt her feet being dragged along the floor. She began to cry, unable to breathe, afraid she might suffocate against his shoulder.
His grip on her eased just slightly. She sobbed again, gulping air.
“Now,” he said. “Are you ready to listen to reason?”
Tania Marie nodded slowly.