Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) Page 4

  “Sooo…do you want to watch a DVD?”

  A snort of laughter escapes me. “You idiot. Why did you hide them in there?”

  “Just to dick with him,” Will grins. I grin back, then place my good hand carefully on my sore cheek. “Ouch.”

  “C’mon, Lucy-Bear,” Will leads me slowly back to the living room and settles me on the couch, where I take my pills like a six year old and collapse back on my pillow.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me back there. I swear, if you hadn’t come in when you did…I mean, I’ve always wondered about those stories where the woman kills her ex-boyfriend in a fit of rage, but today I totally understand the sentiment.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “What, to kill my ex-boyfriend?” I say hopefully.

  “No, to stick up for you.”

  “Aww, thanks, Peanut Butt.”

  “Go back to sleep.” He sits at the end of the couch, and starts eating all the Red Hots out of my bag of sweeties. But I don’t mind.

  ***

  It takes me a week to recover from my fall, but we are back on the trail as soon as I’m ready. Jen and Will hover on either side of me, like bodyguards, and it’s starting to get a bit annoying.

  “I’m not going to trip again, Jesus,” I grumble, in the middle of our run.

  “Whatever you say, Grace.” Jen slaps my butt with her towel.

  “Whoa, Luce, look out for that leaf!” Will cries melodramatically. I shove him with my shoulder, and he runs ahead for a bit. I wonder if it bugs him that he has to run so slowly for me and Jen.

  We finally finish three miles, and I’m completely beat. I collapse on a bench and lean back to pour cool water from my bottle onto my still-bruised face.

  “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Will’s leaning against a nearby tree. Even he looks a little worn out.

  “So that Lucy can get Paul back.” Jen says in a smarmy voice.

  “What? I told you, I don’t want him back!” Not after last week. No, siree.

  “Okay, then we’re doing this so Paul will want you back, and you can take your perfectly toned ass and tell him to go screw himself.” I pour a bit more water over my face and keep my mouth shut. Because at this point, that is kind of why we’re doing it.

  “Well, as long as it’s for a good reason,” Will says dryly. Suddenly I feel like changing the subject.

  “Ooh, guess what! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you guys this. I got an email from the department chair at LSU. They’re looking for a political economist. He read my article in the Journal of Politics and wanted to know where I was in my degree. I told him I just defended, and they want to fly me out for an interview!”

  “Bullshit!” Jenny jumps up excitedly. “LSU! Omigod, that’s fantastic!” She comes and gives me a big hug, and I think she might be more excited than I am. “Can I come live with you on the weekends?”

  “Sure. You can come too, Wilbur!” But when I turn to Will, he looks like someone’s just socked him in the gut. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” He shakes his head a bit, as if to clear it. “I just…I thought you weren’t going on the job market until next year.”

  “I know, I had no idea anyone would come looking for me so soon,” I say excitedly, but Will’s still got a strange look on his face. Isn’t he happy for me?

  “That’s just…wow.” He takes a deep breath and pushes himself away from the tree he’s leaning on. “That’s fantastic, Luce. I’m so proud of you.” And now his smile is wide, and he gives me a huge hug, and I feel good again.

  “Well, I haven’t got the job yet. But I was thinking, this was actually the perfect time for Paul to start screwing around on me.”

  “Come again, Crazy?” Jen sounds doubtful.

  “I mean, there would have been all this drama if I got a job offer out of state, but now I’m unencumbered, so I can go anywhere I want.”

  “You’re a single woman of the world, bay-bee!” Jen gives me a ‘solidarity’-style high five.

  “Alright, you girls go burn your bras or something, I’m heading back. I’ll see you tonight at Uncle Charlie’s, okay?”

  “Wait, let me give you a ride—“ I begin to yell.

  “Nope, I’m hoofin’ it—see ya.” And then he’s running down the path towards campus.

  “What’s his problem?” I can’t help feeling a little let down.

  “Really?” Jen gives me a quizzical look. “Luce, sometimes you are as thick as a brick.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” she mutters, grabbing her towel and heading towards her car. I follow her, feeling oddly pissed that she seems to know something about Will that I don’t.

  “No, really—what are you talking about?”

  “Forget it, Lucy. He’s just really stressed about his tenure review.”

  “Seriously?” Oh my God, seriously? Will’s going to get tenure. Of course he’s going to get tenure. Everyone loves him, and he’s brilliant. He’s had three articles out in the last two years, in damn good journals! And now I’m starting to panic. “He’s just being ridiculous, right? I mean, have you heard anything? Anything bad, I mean?”

  “No, no, of course not. Phyllis would have told us if there was trouble.” Phyllis is the department secretary, and she knows everything about everybody’s business. She’s also a horrible gossip, so if something was up, she would have told us. I force myself to take deep breaths, and by the time we get to Jen’s car, I’ve calmed myself down.

  “So, what time will you be in the office?” Jen asks.

  “Not until later this afternoon. I’ve got to meet Paul and sign the papers with the realtor over lunch. God, I’d rather eat dirt.”

  “Chin up, girl. If I miss you on campus, I’ll be over at your place about seven, okay? We need to make it an early night if we’re going to take a crack at kayaking tomorrow morning.”

  “We are so kayaking tomorrow,” I say emphatically, my arms raised in what I hope is a convincing display of enthusiasm.

  “Uh huh.” Jenny’s face is deadpan as she gets in her car and drives away. I know I can get her pumped up once we’re actually on the lake. It’s going to be a blast.

  Chapter Six

  By the time we get to Uncle Charlie’s, it’s after eight o’clock, and the Golden Tee tournament is well underway. A sociologist would have a field day studying our group, which is ironic, since about half of the people sharing the table with us are, in fact, sociologists.

  The guys are huddled around the Golden Tee, a huge, old-fashioned arcade game with a roller ball that allows the user to pick clubs, aim shots, measure wind speed, and basically be a gigantic goober. The women are sitting around a nearby table, sipping margaritas and gossiping. Everyone is very concerned about my bruised and battered face, and I’m kind of the star of the table for a while, until the guys take a break between games and come to retrieve their beers. Will and Dax already look pretty baked as they stumble to the table, and Jen is pissed. This is a typical Friday night for Jen and Dax—Dax parties a bit too hard, Jen gets irritated, someone picks a fight, and drama ensues. Sometimes Jen comes home with me, and sometimes they go home together, yelling and cursing the whole time. Jen says it’s her Latin blood and Dax’s anger management issues that keep their relationship interesting.

  “Hey guys, how’s the Tee treating you tonight?” I’m feeling jovial, and it’s good to see that Will’s in a much better mood than he was this morning. Maybe he got some good news about his tenure review.

  “That machine is a total whore!” Dax grouses.

  “Niiice,” says Jen. Gosh, they’re getting started early tonight. “Dax, may I speak to you for a minute? In private?” Jen’s voice is about as soft as a razor blade.

  “Babe, I’m in the middle of a game…”

  “Now!”

  I have to grin as they leave the table, because for all his bravado, Dax is scared shitless of
Jen.

  “Hey there, Sugar Britches,” Will says, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards. I pretend to gag into the bucket of beer on the table. “You look especially ravishing this evening.” Ha-ha. I’m in my jeans and a black tank, with my long, straight brown hair in a ponytail, high on the top of my head. I look like an overgrown member of the Babysitter’s Club.

  “Not as ravishing as you, smexy boy.” Will looks like…well, he looks like Will. Tall, on the skinny side. Curly hair that he keeps cut short. Wide green eyes that are really his best feature—they are deep and almost jewel-like, and they are always smiling. It’s like they capture you, and you can’t help smiling back. So I do.

  “Your think tank over there is beckoning,” I nod behind his shoulder, and he twists around to see our group of guys waving him over. Break time is up—it’s Tee time again. He turns back to me quickly.

  “Hey, Dax is incapacitated at the moment…”

  “Soon to be incapacitated permanently, if Jenny has anything to say about it,” I interrupt.

  “So come be my partner.”

  “Me? Play Tee?” This is unheard of. No one with a vagina has touched that machine in years.

  “Yes, you. I really think this is a sport you can master without the necessity of stitches.”

  “Forget it, I’m bush league. Go ask Curtis, he’s over there crunching numbers on his laptop. At a bar. He’s in serious need of some Will Fisher mojo.”

  “I don’t want Curtis, I want you.” He grabs my arm, and before I can even reach for my margarita, we’re at the machine.

  “Lucy’s filling in for Dax,” Will announces, and there’s a stunned, and not particularly pleasant, silence.

  “Does she know how to play?” That’s Jeff. He takes his Tee pretty seriously, and his hard stare is making me a bit nervous.

  “Of course she does—she was the Junior Golden Tee champion of the tri-state area when she was in high school,” Will says in a boastful voice. I just close my eyes.

  “What ‘tri-state’ area?”

  “Three…umm, really big states,” Will assures him, then quickly pushes me to the side. “Okay, you guys are up.”

  Will sidles over to me as Brian moves in and begins lining up his shot. “Just watch what they’re doing,” he whispers out of the side of his mouth. “All you have to do is aim at the hole, and push that roller ball to take your swing.” He’s very close, but I can barely hear him. His body smells like soap and his breath smells like beer, and it’s an oddly pleasant combination. Like a very clean brewery.

  Soon it’s my turn, and Will walks me to the machine, looking a bit worried. I grab his beer and take a long swallow, then plant myself in front of the tee area. I’ve never really looked at the controls on this thing before, and they are more complicated than I imagined. There are buttons for adjusting your stance, and you have to toggle the controls in order to choose your club. I give Will a helpless stare and mouth what the hell?

  Will grins and comes to stand behind me. “She’s been in retirement for a few years, guys. I’m just going to refresh her memory.” He stands closely behind my back, whispering tips and strategies in my ear as if they are nuclear secrets. His breath his hot against my neck, and when I lean back to take my first swing, I’m surprised by the wall of muscle I feel against my shoulders.

  “Holy shit, she’s in the trees!” Jeff is laughing at me, and I wipe my sweaty palm on my jeans. I’ve sliced the ball so hard it’s probably bleeding. I give Will an apologetic look. “I’m sorry—let’s just wait for Dax. I can go get him, I’m sure he and Jen are fighting in the car.”

  “No, Luce, you’re doing great.” Will holds onto my hand to keep me from leaving, and takes his shot with his free arm. It’s is a thing of beauty--he’s already on the green.

  “God, how did you do that?” He makes it look so easy. “You’re on the green, and I’m so deep in the woods I’m in danger of getting Lyme disease.” Will face is a mask of male ego.

  “It takes a skilled touch.”

  “I’m sure it does.” I say sarcastically. “Could you let me go so I can get my margarita?” We both look down at our joined hands.

  “Oh…yeah. Sorry. Here, I’ll get it for you.” He heads over to the table to grab my drink, and I notice Jeff and Brian giving him an odd look.

  “What?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Nothin’,” Brian mutters.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Luce. It’s just weird seeing Fisher so…whipped.”

  “Oh, so he goes to get my drink for me, and now he’s whipped? How old are you two again?”

  Brian takes a few steps towards me. “C’mon, I’ll give you some real pointers. Loverboy over there didn’t even show you how to pull your backswing. That’s why you ended up in the woods.” He reaches for my hand, but before I can tell him to stop, he’s grabbed the wrong one, the one with stitches still in it. As he pulls me towards him, I feel a sharp, stinging sensation as my skin is stretched painfully apart.

  “Ouch!” I yell. But he thinks I’m joking, and pulls again, a little harder this time.

  “Ouch!” I scream, and I’m serious now, because it feels like he’s going to pop the stitches right out. Tears of pain sprout in the corner of my eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Will slams my drink down, and before I know it, he grabs Brian by the front of his shirt and shoves him painfully against the wall. Brian’s totally confused, his eyes wide with shock.

  “Will, stop. Stop!” I yell, grabbing at his shoulder with my good hand. He really looks like he’s going to hit Brian. Jesus Christ. “Will, he accidentally grabbed my bad hand. It just pulled on my stitches, that’s all. It was an accident. It was an accident.” He’s still breathing hard, but I can tell he’s finally listening to me, because he loosens his grip on Brian chest.

  “It was an accident, man,” Brian echoes, then looks at me. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t know you hurt your hand, I swear.”

  “It’s okay. No harm done, see?” Truthfully, it still hurts like a bitch, but I hold up my palm for them both to inspect. The stitches are a little smushed, but they seem to still be in place.

  “Sorry…I’m sorry,” Will mutters, backing away from Brian. “Just…one too many beers or something.” But his eyes are still wild, and I figure it’s time for us to leave.

  “C’mon, you can walk me home. Jen and Dax are either in a hell of a fight or a hell of a make-up session. Either way I’m stuck without a ride.” Will drops a couple of twenties on the table for the waitress while I wait for him at the door. He catches me touching my palm gingerly with my fingertips, and I quickly drop both hands behind my back.

  “Let me see,” he demands once we’re out the door. We stand under the overhead light outside while he inspects my stitches carefully.

  “Will, it’s fine,” I say, and to my horror, my voice is all wobbly. The adrenaline rush from the bar (and let’s face it, the three and a half margaritas flowing through me) has me close to tears. God, it’s so embarrassing.

  “Lucy…what wrong?” His eyes are wide and green, but they’re not smiling. They are full of worry, and tenderness, and…oh, no. No, no, no. Just worry. And maybe a few too many beers.

  “Nothing, really.” But my throat feels thick, and I’m breathing all funny, and…well, shit.

  “Hey, hey...” He cups my face in his hands, catching tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Tell me what’s the matter,” he says softly.

  “It’s nothing.” He gives me a fake-stern look, and I release a shuddering sigh. “I guess…when you went all Chuck Norris in there, it just scared me for a second, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry, it’s just…he was hurting you. I mean…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, just wraps me in his arms and hugs me. And he’s all warm and male and Will-like, and his arms cradle me gently against his chest, and seriously, it’s been way too long since anyone has held me because I’m practically melting into
him, and this is Will we’re talking about.

  “Hey!” We break apart, almost guiltily, as Jen and Dax come out the front door of the bar and spot us. “Did you really take a swing at Brian?” Jen is staring at Will as if he’s sprouted a second head.

  “No, no,” I jump in quickly. “Big misunderstanding, is all.” I give a nervous laugh and decide to change the subject. “I thought you guys had flaked. Have you been drinking?” I’m talking to Jen. Of course Dax has had a few.

  “No, I’ve been too busy yelling at him for drinking.” She jerks a thumb at Dax, and he gives me a little wave.

  “Good, then poor Will doesn’t have to walk my sorry ass home.” I dig my elbow into Will’s side companionably. “We’re kayaking tomorrow, right, boy?” He nods quickly, and stuffs his hands deep in his pockets. He can’t seem to look at me. I’m sure I’ve embarrassed him, with my tears and my tipsy, clingy girl antics, so I give Jen the “let’s get out of here” look, and we say our goodbyes. Once we’re in the car, Jen buckles up, turns to face me, and says “What the hell, Wagner?”

  “I don’t know!” I wail miserably. “I swear, one minute we’re playing Tee, and the next minute Brian accidentally grabs my bad hand, and I’m screaming ‘ouch!’, and then Will’s all over him. Like, total he-man. I thought at first he was joking, but if you could have seen his face, oh my God…”

  “Well, it’s over now. Nobody got hurt. Like my mom always says, it’s a good night if you make it home before there’s any blood shed.”

  “You’re mother never said that.”

  “Yes, she did. It’s the litmus test at all family gatherings. My aunts always say things like ‘It was such a lovely wedding…there were no cuttings and no shootings.’” Jenny grew up in suburban Dallas, but she loves to tell stories that make it sound like she was raised in the barrio.