Chapter 16
Matt
“I am a fucking idiot!” I groan as I walk into Bossfit later that same afternoon.
Eugene is sitting at the front desk, working on his laptop. “I don’t disagree,” he says. “But why? Details, please.”
“I put myself in the friend zone! For a minute there, I was deep in the ‘she’s hot for me too’ zone, but then, like the asshole I am, I put myself directly—and perhaps permanently—in the friend zone.”
“With whom?” Eugene asks.
I give him a sideways look. “You know it sounds ridiculous when you use whom properly in casual settings, right?”
“Whatever. I’m not about to lessen my grammatical prowess so you feel more comfortable in my presence. That’s a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”
“How many people are going to say that to me today?” I complain. “Actually, no. She said it was a she problem, not a me problem. Wait. A her problem?”
“I’m lost. Who is the ‘she’ we’re talking about?”
“Penny!” I say, like it should be obvious.
“Penny,” Eugene repeats. “The woman who is ‘not your type.’”
“I never said that.” I scoff.
“Oh, you said it, alright. In this very gym. Approximately ten days ago. I asked you if Penny was single. Your exact response was, ‘No idea. Not interested either way. Totally not my type.’”
“Don’t do impressions of me.” I cringe. “Also, your memory for details is extremely irritating.”
“Except for when it’s extremely helpful. Remember that time we were applying for a business loan, and you forgot your own social security number?”
I grab a protein bar from our mini fridge and take a bite. “I still find it very creepy that you had mine memorized.”
“He’s memorized mine too.” Elinor’s voice rings out from the staircase to our loft space. She proceeds to clomp down each stair like an elephant. She’s a tiny woman, but you’d never know it with all the noise she makes.
I turn my back to Eugene’s fiancée and speak out of the corner of my mouth. “I thought we agreed that you would give me a heads-up when she’s here.”
“I was going to, but you busted in here moaning about being friend zoned,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”
Elinor reaches us at the front desk and drapes herself over my best friend.
“My man can’t help it that he’s brilliant with numbers, can you, baby?
” She gives him one of those super puckery kisses where their lips barely touch, like she doesn’t want to disturb her red lipstick, then turns her gaze on me.
“You could learn a thing or two from him, Matt.”
“I sure could, Elinor.” I give her a saccharine smile.
There’s no denying that Elinor is a beautiful woman.
On the outside, that is. The inside? That’s a whole different story.
When she and Gene first got together, I was perhaps a little too vocal about my dislike of her, and it caused all sorts of tension between my buddy and me.
Now, I just grit my teeth whenever she’s around and hope that he sees her true colors before it’s too late.
Preferably before New Year's Eve, when they’re set to get married.
“I was just up in the loft,” Elinor says as she perches herself on Eugene’s lap like a condescending cat. “And I really do think you guys should consider my idea.”
“With all due respect, Elinor, fuck no,” I say.
“Come on, man,” Eugene says half-heartedly, his nose in her hair.
“You don’t have to be rude, Matt,” Elinor half whines, half giggles as Eugene continues to nuzzle her neck.
“Apparently, I do, Elinor. Because every time you visit the gym, you ‘suggest’ we rent out the loft to one of your business friends—who, by the way, I don’t trust as far as I can throw them—”
“You’re twisting up that idiom, bud,” Gene says.
“Not the time, man,” I growl, then continue, “and every time I tell you nicely, ‘no.’ That approach clearly isn’t working, so maybe this time my emphatic ‘fuck no’ will do the trick.”
“You’re wasting quality real estate space on a bunch of fucking pillows.” She huffs.
“We sure are,” I say. “What’s it to you?”
Before we started Bossfit, a mattress warehouse occupied this building. They cleared out quickly when they went out of business and left a ton of brand-new pillows in the loft above our main workout area. We called and asked them to come pick them up, but they never did.
Over time, I came to enjoy the cozy vibe up there, so we left it as is.
Our members all call it “heaven” due to the puffy cloud-like pillows.
And yes, “Stairway to Heaven” jokes abound.
Eugene also likes to poke fun at me for getting my daily “Seven Minutes in Heaven,” where I lie among all the pillows and ponder life.
I seriously get my best thinking done up there.
Eugene gets it.
Elinor doesn’t.
And I don’t care.
“You’re exhausting.” Elinor sighs.
“Back atcha, girlfriend,” I say sarcastically.
“Whatever.” Elinor turns her full attention to her fiancé. “Romantic dinner for two tonight? Down by the water?” She does this weird nibbly thing to Gene’s earlobe, and I look away so I don’t involuntarily gag.
“Sounds great, baby.” He sounds surprised. “I’ll, uh, I’ll make us a reservation.”
“That’s my man,” she coos. “Love you, mah-boo-boo.”
“I love you too-too-too,” Eugene says in a goofy voice I don’t even recognize.
Forget gagging, I’m about to barf.
One more air-kiss and she’s off his lap and sauntering toward the exit, bringing an end to my torture.
“Have the day you deserve, Matt!” Elinor says over her shoulder.
There’s a moment of silence after she’s gone. This isn’t unusual. It’s that recurring moment when I want to scream, “Wake up, man! What the hell are you doing with this woman?”
But I’ve learned my lesson and opted for a more acceptable, “Well. You two seem to be getting along better these days.”
“Yeah…” Gene purses his lips. “I’m not exactly sure why she’s being so chill this week, but what the hell, I’ll take it!” He laughs, though I can’t help but notice he doesn’t sound all that happy.
I also don’t agree that she’s being all that chill. She’s being shmoopy. From what I’ve observed, she’s almost never shmoopy.
“How’s the wedding planning coming?” I ask.
Gene’s eyes widen. “You’re asking me about my wedding?”
“I’m attempting to be a good friend.” I sigh. “I mean, I am still your Best Man, right? Much to Elinor’s displeasure?”
“Of course you are.”
“Then I should keep myself abreast of the situation, shouldn’t I?”
“You incorporate the word ‘abreast’ into way too many of your sentences, you know.”
“I do know that, yes. Stop micromanaging my grammar.” I nudge him with my foot. “Come on. Gimme the scoop!”
Up until now, I’ve avoided the subject of Eugene getting married. Mostly because I had very little faith that he’d actually go through with it. But here we are, less than a month away from the big day, and it looks like I was wrong. For better or worse, he’s really going to marry this woman.
“Not much to tell,” Eugene says. “Everything’s pretty much done at this point. We’re keeping it small for this first one.”
“First one? You already planning a divorce?” I ask hopefully.
“No, you schmuck. My dad’s friend owns this amazing bar lounge overlooking Times Square.” His voice gets genuinely excited now. “It’s small, but he offered it to us for free, and we thought saying ‘I do’ up there would be a really special way to ring in the new year.”
“This dude is offering you a Times Square-facing venue on New Year's Eve for free?” I marvel.
“I know, right? He’s my dad’s war buddy. I guess if you save someone’s life, they’re pretty generous with you moving forward.”
Gene smiles. He always does when he talks about his father. He’s so proud of the man his dad is. I push away the ache in my chest when I think of my own dad. It doesn’t happen as often these days, but this time of year has a way of bringing back all the old feelings.
“Anyway,” he continues. “Plan is to have a bigger, more traditional church wedding and reception in the spring.”
“Two weddings.” I whistle. “Better you than me, buddy.”
“You really don’t ever want to get married?”
“Nope. The only solid marriage I’ve ever seen is your parents’, and I’m convinced they’re actual saints and could make any situation work, so they don’t count.”
“Got it.” Eugene laughs.
The main door opens, and three of our members enter for the four o’clock class. “Hey, guys!” I shout. “Good to see you! You ready for Freida?”
They groan, but it’s all in good fun. We Bossfitters love to hate the Freida workout.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I’ll do it with you guys today. How’s that sound? Everybody get yourselves warmed up with PVC pipes, and I’ll meet you on the floor in just a few,” I say.
They disperse, and I turn back to Eugene. “Guess I’ll go gear up for Freida.” I head to prep the equipment.
“That’s it?” Gene calls after me. “You’re just gonna leave me hanging like that?”
“Hanging how?” I ask.
“The Penny story!” He laughs. “You can’t just open that discussion, then completely drop it. What’s happening there?”
“You know me, I don’t kiss and tell.”
He snorts. “Since when?”
Since I met Penny Whitaker.
I respond with a shrug.
“But there is a kiss to tell about?” he presses.
“Oh, there was more than a kiss,” I start to brag, then think better of it and pull myself back. “You know what, man? I’m going to keep those details private if it’s okay with you.”
Gene cocks his head to the side. “You’re being weird. You okay?”
“I think so?” I say, not even sure myself.
I feel like I should give the guy something, though, being that I burst through the door like a bat out of hell, wanting to talk to him. I approach him at the desk and lower my voice to a near whisper.
“Have you ever met someone and immediately felt like they were special? Like, there were layers inside of them you were desperate to uncover? And you have this feeling deep in your soul that on some cosmic level you were meant to know everything about them?”
Gene’s eyes soften and look sad for a moment. Finally, he says, “Uh, no, man. I can’t say I have.”
Then maybe you shouldn’t be getting married next month.
I think it, but I don’t say it. It seems like he might already be thinking the same thing.
“Anyway.” I slap a hand on his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “Thanks for listening. She told me loud and clear it’s not gonna happen, so I need to be a big boy, accept it, and move on.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Why are we moving on?” Eugene asks.
“Because she’s not interested, dude. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Maybe not romantically. But tell me this: how do you go from—how did you say it—having ‘a feeling deep in your soul that you were meant to know everything about her’ to ‘moving on?’ Do you like this woman? Or do you just want to sleep with her?”
If I were only interested in sleeping with her, I could have done that easily at Herald’s the other day.
But that’s not it.
I just plain want her in my life.
When I don’t answer, he says, “Penny said she wanted to be friends, right?”
I sigh. “Yeah?”
“So here’s a wild idea.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Why don’t you actually try being her friend?”
I scrub my hands over my face and stare up at the ceiling.
“For what it’s worth,” Gene continues. “I have personal experience being Matt Barbera’s friend. He’s pretty good at it.”
I smile. “Thanks, man.”
Damnit, he’s right.
I hate it when Eugene’s right.
Get ready, Penny Whitaker. Matt Barbera is about to become your new BFF.