He Loves Lucy (3 page)

Doris began to scribble on her clipboard.

“Am I having a breakthrough?”

Doris grinned. “I’m not sure yet. Please go on.”

“Theo seems pretty shallow, but God is he
hot
, Doris. I’m talking perfect. Theo Redmond is perfect. He’s so perfect that it doesn’t even matter that he’s shallow. Did you know that most of his clients are models?”

“Shallow.”

“Yes.”

“And you know this how?”

Doris’s tone of voice surprised Lucy. “Look, he’s very nice. All I’m saying is based on all that perfection, I’m thinking he must focus more on his appearance than his character. It must take all his time to have that perfect body. The perfect hair. That perfect smile.”

“I see,” Doris said. She put down her pen. “Just as one might assume that an overweight person is a lazy slob?”

“
Doris
!” Lucy sat back in the love seat and blinked a few times.

“Just a little food for thought, Lucy.”

January

Journal Entry Jan 1

Breakfast:
3A c oatmeal; 1
c
skim milk; ` c strawberries; half decaf/half regular coffee

Lunch: 3
oz chicken breast; 1 slice whole wheat bread; 1 tbsp light mayo; celery; lettuce; tomato; 1 med apple

Dinner: 3
oz corned beef; 1
c
cooked cabbage; large salad w/orange and red peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and 2 tbsp light ranch dressing

Snack:
1
c
plain yogurt; 1/4
c
light granola; 1 orange

Affirmation for Today:

“Lucinda, honey, would you pass the soda bread?”

Lucy handed the still-warm Irish bread to her mother and tried not to let the heavenly scent enter her nostrils and pierce her primordial brain, which would force her to stick her face directly into the basket and growl like a starving alley dog as she ripped off giant hunks with her incisors.

“You’re eating like a bird.” It was the fifth time her father had made that observation since they sat down to dinner. “No potatoes. No bread. Are you sick?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Bill. Leave her alone. You know she’s on that diet.” Lucy watched with envy as her mother slathered butter all over a thick chunk of soda bread and savored a healthy bite.

Lucy reached for her glass of ice water and sipped demurely, looking around the New Year’s Day table, wondering why she’d thought she could survive another visit to the Land o‘ Food when Christmas had been such an unmitigated disaster. She still hadn’t come clean to Theo about the pecan pie from December 26 and the deception was gnawing a hole in her soul. She’d promised that everything that went into her mouth would go into her food journal, and she’d already blown it, not even a month into her new life. And tomorrow was her first weigh-in! On live television!

She had no choice but to come clean. It’s not like she could say she
forgot
she ate half a pie.

“What kind of diet is it again, honey?”

“It’s not a diet, Mother. Lucy calls it a fitness and nutrition plan.” This clarification came from Lucy’s older sister, Mary Fran, who was shoveling some kind of green bean paste from a jar into the open maw of her youngest.

Lucy watched her nephew spew most of it out and bang his fists on the high chair tray. She could relate. If she didn’t get a piece of that soda bread in the next five seconds, she’d be banging her fists on the table as well. Somehow, she’d survived an entire month eating nothing but whole grains, fresh produce, and lean cuts of meat. What the hell kind of torture was
that
! Nothing fried. Nothing gooey. Nothing with icing on it. Nothing even vaguely cupcake-shaped. Lucy didn’t think she’d make it through this dinner without shaming herself.

“She doesn’t need to diet. She’s beautiful.” Her father patted Lucy’s hand. “Have some potatoes, sweetheart. You won’t have good luck this year unless you do.”

“Where do you get this stuff, Daddy? I swear!” Mary Fran wiped a green smear off little Holden’s face while attempting to feed herself. Lucy decided it was no wonder Frannie was thin. She never had a second to eat. Maybe having three babies in five years was the secret to staying thin.

Lucy’s eyes strayed to her mother.
Cancel that
.

“So how much poundage you dropped so far, Luce?” Dan could always be counted on to cut to the chase. That’s what brothers were for, she supposed.

Her mother gasped. “Danny! What a rude thing to ask! I hope to God that’s not the way you speak to your patients!” Then, from across the table, she produced a sympathetic smile for Lucy. “So how much
have
you lost, honey?”

Lucy was in the throes of a bad case of deja vu and looked at her watch. It wasn’t like she could feign a work emergency today and get in the car and drive the forty-five minutes to Miami. Even Stephan Sherrod, the world’s worst boss, managed to avoid marketing and advertising emergencies on New Year’s Day.

“I don’t know how much weight I’ve lost, Dan, Mother, Daddy, Frannie. As I think I may have mentioned at Christmas, my trainer will weigh me just once a month, and tomorrow marks the end of my first full month. Right now, the numbers aren’t as important as improving my fitness level.”

“So you haven’t lost anything yet?”

Lucy gave Dan the look of disgust she reserved only for her baby brother. “You’ll be the first to know. The minute I’m weighed, I’ll have them put out an all-points bulletin. It’s unfortunate you’re still in Pittsburgh, or you could just watch the
WakeUp Miami
show like everyone else.”

“I think you look great,” Mary Fran said, hauling Holden’s wiggling body from the high chair. Lucy watched her hustle into the kitchen, where she held the baby over the kitchen sink and used a damp paper towel to scrape bean paste from his hair and clothing. Then she called out, “Just don’t try to lose too much too fast, Lucy! That’s dangerous!”

“I’m doing my best to avoid that.”

Dan laughed.

“Well, I saw the ad in the
Herald
the other day,” her mother said. “You should’ve worn your hair down, sweetheart. You look much better with it down. But your trainer looked like a movie star. Here. Have some more brisket.”

Lucy decided maybe she could lie about the work emergency. “Thanks, Mom. I think. I’ll pass on the beef.”

“So let me see if I understand this, pumpkin.” Lucy’s father offered her a slice of bread, which she managed to turn down. “You and Jack La Lanne get to split a hundred grand if you pull this off?”

Lucy sighed, positive that she’d gone over the details with her father at least once. “No. We each get a thousand dollars for each pound I lose, up to one hundred.”

“And that crazy boss of yours is paying for this? Was this his idea?”

“It was my idea to capitalize on the reality-show makeover craze and build a campaign around one person’s success story. I just didn’t know it would be me. That
was
my crazy boss’s idea, and our client-the Palm Club-agreed to put up the cash.”

Dan cleared his throat. “Uh, Luce? Aren’t you afraid somebody will figure out that you’re… well, you know… the girl who brought down the Pitt State football program? The famous slump buster?”

“
Daniel Murphy Cunningham
!” Her mother’s fork crashed to her plate. “How
could
you? You know we’ve agreed never to speak of the Taco Bowl incident in front of Lucy!”

“What in God’s name did he just say?” Mary Fran yelled over the running faucet.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, really.” Lucy had worried the same thing, so she couldn’t blame Dan for asking. “I’d never do this kind of thing back home, but it happened ten years ago in Pittsburgh. It probably didn’t even make the news down here.”

Dan shot her a grateful look. “I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this through.”

“I told Stephan I wouldn’t do it at first, but then he dangled the money in front of me, and I saw it as my way to escape Sherrod amp; Thorns and start my own company. It was just too good to pass up.”

Her brother frowned. “But what happens if you blow it?”

“
Dan
!” Mary Fran hustled back to the table and shoved Holden into her brother’s lap. “She’s not going to blow it! Lucy can do anything she sets her mind to.”

Holden chose that moment to rake his little raggedy baby fingernails across Dan’s cheek. “Ow!”

“I think what we’re asking is, are you sure you want to put yourself out there like this?” Lucy’s mother reached across the table to stroke her fingers. “It’s a huge challenge, Lucy. I just don’t want to see my sweet girl hurt or humiliated-not ever again.”

“Thanks, Mom. I think. But it’s too late now. The Palm Club is paying our agency a lot of money to run this campaign, and
I’m
the campaign-monthly appearances on
Wake Up Miami
, a weekly column in
Miami Woman
, the biggest advertising blitz I’ve ever put together. I have no choice but to be successful.”

“That’s an awful lot of pressure to put on yourself, Luce.” Mary Fran looked worried.

“By God, those reality TV shows are something, aren’t they?” Her father served himself more potatoes. “They make over your car, your house, your marriage, your filing cabinet, your face.” He went for the cabbage next. “I think the only frontier left for TV is ritual human sacrifice and live copulation.”

Lucy’s mother rolled her eyes. Mary Fran pursed her mouth in disgust. Then Dan said, “You must not have direct satellite yet.”

The men took a cleaned-up Holden into the family room to watch football while the women cleared the table. Since her sister had traveled from Atlanta with just one kid, Lucy hoped they might have time to chat. But Frannie looked like she needed a nap more than a heart-to-heart.

“How’s Keith doing?”

Mary Fran sighed at Lucy’s question. “The usual. He claimed the promotion would mean less time on the road, but I don’t see it.”

Lucy put a stack of leftovers in the refrigerator, concerned by the fatigue in her sister’s voice.

“He said that’s just temporary, right?”

Mary Fran looked up from the sink. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“If you ask me, you look like you’re just plain ready to fall over.” Lucy’s mother hugged Mary Fran and suggested Lucy take her to the guest room for a rest.

“We’ll have dessert a little later.” Her mother gave Lucy a wink. “Pecan pie. Your favorite.”

Lucy sat on the edge of the guest bed and watched Mary Fran peel off her size 4 jeans and crawl under the handmade quilt. She tried to remember what it felt like to be a size 4 and take up this little space on a double bed, but her memory of second grade was fuzzy.

“So tell me about this trainer, Luce.” Mary Fran took a deep breath and pulled the quilt up under her chin. She looked pale. “Is she a weight-lifter chick? Or one of those aerobics instructor-cheerleader types?”

Lucy smiled a little, realizing that Fran hadn’t been inundated by the image of Lucy and Theo at metro stops. She also realized she’d never been asked to describe Theo to anyone.

Four weeks had now passed, which meant she’d made it through twenty one-hour training sessions. He met her at the door every weekday before dawn, wearing his trainer getup, never a minute late, always in good spirits. He was accredited out the yin-yang in everything from sports nutrition to exercise physiology. He was patient but pushed her to go a little higher, do a little more, every day. As a bonus, he remained the most searingly hot man-babe she’d ever laid eyes on.

“My trainer is a he, and he’s quite good at his job,” Lucy said.

Frannie looked at her suspiciously. “That cute, huh?” “Lord help me-I think I’m gonna die if I don’t get me some of that.”

Frannie laughed. “This sounds promising.” It was Lucy’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, well, a girl can dream, but he’s way out of my league, and besides, it seems he already dates half the premenopausal female population of South Beach.”

“Hmm. When was
your
last date, Luce?” Lucy sighed, hating to admit the truth. “Remember the Oktoberfest two years ago? Very good schnitzel, very bad date?”

“You mean that programmer dweeb Keith set you up with?”. “Yep.” “The one who said you had childbearing hips?”

“That would be him.”

“My God, Lucy. You haven’t gone out since?”

“I think that night cured me of my urge to date.”

Mary Fran patted Lucy’s arm and laughed. “We’ll go out on the town together. Meet some people. I’ll be running away from Atlanta soon anyway, so how about I move in with you? We can party every weekend. Won’t that be fun?”

Lucy reared back and stared. “What
are
you talking about?”

“Oh hell, Lucy.” Her sister’s words came out soft and sad. “He’s never home-and I mean
never
. We’re lucky to have two family dinners together a month.”

“Jeesh!”

“I think I’ve had it. I’m so tired some days I can’t stay awake.”

“Oh, Frannie. Does Keith know how much you need him at home?”

Mary Fran laughed. “The man knows. Trust me.” She got quiet. “I think he’s having an affair.”

“What?” Lucy sat up straight. “I’m going to
kill
him!”

Fran yawned. “Maybe I’m just imagining it, but when he’s not on the road he can’t wait to get out of the house, and it’s such chaos all the time that I can’t blame him. I just wonder if he’s running to someone else- someone who doesn’t have kid snot on the front of her blouse.”

“Oh, Fran.” Lucy stroked her sister’s sassy little haircut. “Talk to Keith. Confront him.”