Between Boyfriends (Book 1 in the Between Boyfriends Series)

Chapter 9

Jan finished a phone call, put down her cellphone, and unconsciously began to nibble on her nails. I'd better get back to the gym, she thought.

She had been talking to her mother's assistant, Joshua, about her dress for the dinner party. Joshua — a flamingly gay man who idealized not Barbara Streisand but Betty Crocker — had phoned her to double-check that she was still a size eight before arranging a time to drop off her gown later in the week. Jan panicked and assured him that she was still an eight because she didn't want him to think she had gotten fat.

The last time Jan had been invited to one of her mother's formal events was in high school, before she had discovered beer. Jan had been an eight then. She now considered herself to be a size 9½, protesting vehemently that a size ten practically fell off her, yet a size nine just didn't feel right. Deep down, Jan knew she was a size ten (and that she wasn't fat), but couldn't face being double digits when Nichole boasted she was a size six and even Lisa, who wore a size eight, could easily fit into a six if she weren't so athletic.

So there Jan was, back at the country club and walking on a five percent incline at 3.4 miles per hour on a treadmill from hell. She was sweating profusely and hating every second of it —

all 316 of them so far. She looked down at her screen and considered raising the speed to increase her calories-burned-per-hour ratio, thereby getting her out of there faster. She then considered lowering her speed to increase her comfort level. She glanced up and to her right to find Bob, the same fitness center attendant from her première visit two weeks ago, watching her intently. She decided to raise the incline instead as that seemed a more dramatic move.

Bob smiled approvingly as the front of the treadmill lifted up like a draw bridge, then got up from his desk and walked toward her. Jan's reciprocal smile changed to a scowl. She wished suddenly that she'd brought a magazine to cover up the display so he couldn't see how slow she was walking, or even her iPod to discourage him from coming over to speak to her. As usual, Jan hadn't thought ahead.

"Hey," Bob said leaning onto the side of her treadmill and peering up into Jan's bright red face. "Anything I can help you with today? Would you like some water perhaps?" he asked with just the right mix of friendliness and helpfulness that Jan hated because it sounded so insincere in its perfection.

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied dismissively, hoping he would assume from her tone that she wanted to concentrate on her workout and not that she was too out of breath to say anything more.

"Great, it's so nice to see you here again. I was concerned when you didn't come in for your fitness assessment that you might not come back, but here you are."

Jan nodded absentmindedly. She tuned Bob out almost the moment he had started talking again. She didn't hear anything until, "Mike will be here any minute. I hope you two have fun." Bob finished and turned to walk back to his desk.

Jan froze, the name of her ex-boyfriend, and the word "here" momentarily causing her heart to stop along with the rest of her body. The treadmill kept going and Jan's feet were swept out from under her mid-step. She stumbled clumsily and clutched at the handles to regain her balance.

"Wait a second," she cried after Bob and leaped from the machine, darting glances left and right, expecting to see her ex-boyfriend lurking behind a weight machine.

"What do you mean?" she asked frantically, visions of her ex-boyfriend, post-steroids, coming to evaluate her.

"Mike, our head personal trainer, said he'd be back from lunch at two for a fitness assessment. When you showed up, I just assumed you were who he was meeting."