Diary of a Dieter Page 8

  She groaned. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

  Hanging up, I hugged myself. I truly had the best friends in the world. Who needed Brad when I had people like Dana in my life, and a perfectly good … cringing, I made a mental note … buy new vibrator.

  Chapter 7

  Hauling my gym bag beside me, I pushed my way into the gym. The smell of sweat immediately wafted up my nostrils, and I gagged loudly. Dana cringed beside me.

  “Oh my God. Charlene, it smells like crotch in here!”

  Snorting a laugh, I held my hand over my mouth and nose. She wasn’t wrong. It wreaked, but the need to lose weight was overruling my need for fresh—or at least less clammy—air. Holding our breath, we made our way through the reception to the large aerobics hall at the far end. If there was ever a fear of us being blinded by old women and their cellulite … we were wrong. A sea of slim, fit, toned, and tall beauties turned and began scanning us up and down.

  “I feel naked. Let’s go. We clearly don’t belong here.”

  Spinning around, I moved toward the exit, but Dana blocked my path.

  “Nope. You wanted to do this, and I bet they didn’t always look like that. Maybe this class really works!”

  I furrowed my brow at her “Do you ever drop that optimistic glass you carry around?”

  Dumping her bag on a bench, which was pushed against the white-washed wall, she smiled brightly. “Nope.”

  Well, of course she was feeling good! As she slipped off her coat, I stared at her wide-eyed. Wearing a pair of tight leggings, a sports top that showed off far too much of her toned midriff, Dana was right at home amongst these women. I groaned in displeasure.

  “Are you kidding me? Where did you get that body, and how much did you pay for it?”

  She tilted her head to the side and tutted. “You had one, too, ‘til Brad started steamrolling your fitness regime. Remember?”

  Did she always have to be right?

  A loud clapping pulled me from my jealous glare at Dana and my attention was now focused on the petite, short blonde-haired, and clearly never-ate-a-cake in her life, fitness instructor at the front of the room.

  “Hello everyone! It’s nice to see so many familiar faces, and I notice some new ones. Come up!”

  I gawped at Dana who shrugged, grabbed my hand, and began dragging me to the front of the class.

  “Hi, hello! It’s always nice to have new blood in our class. I’m the instructor, Francesca. Is this your first time at Zumba?”

  I stood awkwardly as dozens of eyes stared at me. That’s right, ladies, I’m the fat girl. Every fitness class has one. And you all suddenly feel so much better about yourselves. That carrot you scoffed for breakfast doesn’t look so bad now. Does it?

  “No, it’s our first class,” Dana answered.

  Oh no. Didn’t she know she had just committed the cardinal sin of fitness class?

  “Well, you ladies stay right here up front and follow the routine, you’ll be just fine.”

  I was in hell. Not only was I the only chubby girl in the room, I was now the entertainment at the front of the class! Clapping her perfectly manicured hands again, Francesca encouraged people to move into a space as she hit the play button on the CD player. The Brazilian sounds of the lambada filled the room, and I felt sick.

  Swaying her disgustingly tiny hips back and forth, Francesca began a routine that looked like it belonged on the stage; not a hall in one of the smelliest gyms in London. Dana, of course, was a natural. Swaying, bouncing, and shaking her pert little arse around the room like a pro, she put the rest of us to shame. Well, I say the rest of us, but I mean me.

  I bounced, jiggled, and wobbled myself around that mat as though I had a feather tickler shoved up my arse. I wasn’t sure how this would help me lose a few pounds, but with the flailing of my limbs and sporadic movements of my hips, there was a good chance we’d have rain.

  By the time we were done, I felt as flat as a pancake and as wobbly as jelly. My legs ached, and my whole body was screaming for a long soak in the bath. A year ought to do it. Draping my broken body onto the bench, I guzzled the bottle of water I had brought with me, as Dana sipped hers lightly and beamed at me.

  “That was fun! It wasn’t nearly as intense as I thought it would be.”

  Panting, I raised an eyebrow at her and squirted the remains of my drink in her perky little face.

  “Hey! What was that for?”

  Wiping herself off with her towel, she scowled at me.

  “You.” Pant. “Suck.” Pant. “I’m dying, and my heart is about to explode.” Pant.

  Rolling her eyes, she gathered our things and held out her hand for me. Taking it, she pulled me up and flung my arm around her shoulder as I limped, lifelessly, beside her to the exit.

  “I’m never coming back here again. The smell, the women, Francesca … makes me sick.”

  And as we pushed through the doors and the cold wind hit me, that’s exactly what happened. I hurled. Bent over like a porn star, I threw my guts up. Grabbing the potted plant beside the door, I heaved loudly and emptied my breakfast into it. Scrambled egg wasn’t so nice when tasting it a second time. Pulling my hair from my face, Dana gagged.

  “That’s disgusting, Charlene. Maybe you overdid it today. You should probably find something with a slightly slower pace to start with.”

  Lifting my head, I wiped my mouth and glared at her.

  “Really? You think?”

  When I finally got back to my apartment, I was exhausted. Lying on the sofa, I drifted in and out of sleep. I would have been more committed to a nap, but I was worried they’d be crashing down my door in fear that the smell seeping from every pore of my body was in fact my rotting corpse. Though, to be honest, I really don’t think my neighbour cared enough to notice. No, I would be found half eaten by my cat and dressed in sweat pants. A truly dignified way to go. Death by Zumba.

  Pouring us cups of coffee, Dana sat on the floor in front of me.

  “So, how was work?”

  Damn it. Wincing, I tried to turn my head and look away. I’d had every intention of going back on Monday, truly I had, but as I’d pulled the door open onto the busy street, I just couldn’t face it. The looks, the whispers, and the sympathy was too much. I needed more time. I would be stronger in a week, and maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much.

  “Charlene, don’t tell me you postponed it.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “Charlene! What happened to getting back to normal?”

  I laughed at myself mockingly. “Dana, look at me. There is nothing normal about my life right now. I think I deserve a little credit for even being able to drag my arse out of bed every morning. Saturday should have been my wedding day and instead, I spent it in a nylon dress sipping cocktails and almost getting banned from Magic Kingdom! Define normal.”

  Pressing her lips together, she gave me a disapproving look.

  “Fine, but you have to go back next week. Promise me.”

  Feeling as though my mother was lecturing me, I nodded. After an hour of being scolded on the need for me to take better care of myself and the state of my fiery locks, my friend and hairdresser decided to give me the peace I’d been craving since I’d vomited my Zumba routine into a fern.

  Just as I began to relax and forget the awful hour I had spent dancing my weight away, the phone beside me rang loudly, and I almost cried as I lifted my limp arm and reached for the receiver.

  “Go away.”

  “Well, I like that. I called to say I heard about the Zumba thing. I told you that stuff was ridiculous. You need something fun, sexy, and private. Not a room full of shaking, wobbling, and sweating bodies.”

  Attempting to raise my head from the cushion, I groaned.

  “You don’t say. And I suppose you have the answer, Ness.”

  I could almost hear her smug and satisfied smile through the line.

  “Abso-freaking-lutely, I do! Be ready on Tuesday at five. Wear shorts
.”

  Fearing what she had in store for me, but deciding it was best not to argue, I agreed. After all, I’d lived through Zumba, so what could she possibly throw at me that was any worse than this? I may live to regret that question. Well, provided I make it through the next twenty-four hours without needing resuscitation.

  Rolling over, I pulled the throw that was strewn across the back of the couch, over me and wrapped myself tightly in it before falling asleep. Maybe I’d be an inch smaller when I woke. Now I really was dreaming!

  Chapter 8

  Walking from the train station to the office on Monday, I groaned. I hadn’t even reached the main door yet, and my stomach was in knots. My brow was damp with sweat and my hands were clammy. I was going to have to face everyone some time, but the endless questions and glances over the shoulder were going to be torture. When getting dressed that morning, I’d been tempted to wear my running shoes just in case I needed to make a dash for freedom. It would be the most activity they had seen in a long time. Sitting in the back of my wardrobe, they were practically new.

  As I approached the large double glass doors of R.J. Littman’s Record Company, I could feel my breakfast trying desperately to remain in my stomach. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, I pushed my way inside and prepared myself for the day. The main reception area was clean, quiet and painted a crisp white. A black and chrome desk was situated in the middle and sitting behind it was Jenny. Jenny had been the receptionist there for almost a year and was the epitome of cute. Her long, dark hair, brown eyes and perfect tan, made her the most attractive part of the team. No wonder she had been put in place as the welcome committee. She was only twenty-one, but Jenny had met and dazzled many of our biggest clients. Her perky personality and equally perky breasts were vital assets to the company.

  Whipping off her headset and hurrying around from behind the desk, she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly.

  “Oh, Charlene,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. My heart broke for you. I couldn’t sleep or eat knowing how awful you must have been feeling! You poor thing.”

  Rolling my eyes, I mentally shook my head at her. I was the girl who’d been jilted by a cheating arsehole, and here she was, blubbering all over my neck!

  “I’m fine. Honest,” I reassured her.

  Her grip tightened. “What a jerk. I cannot believe he did that to you. You deserve so much better. Honestly, I don’t know anyone who deserves to be happy more than you do.”

  Finally releasing me, she gave me a sympathetic look. There it was—that, ‘you poor, broken, and shelved old maid’ look. I should probably become accustomed to it, considering I would be seeing it a lot today.

  “Thanks, Jenny. His loss right? Better I know about it all now, rather than once we were married.”

  She nodded and offered me a small smile. I needed to get away from this. As tears began welling in her eyes, I looked around for an escape. Glancing at the clock, I gasped in feigned horror.

  “Gosh! Is that the time? I better get upstairs. I’ve probably got a mountain of paperwork to sort through, and I’m sure Regina will want to get me up to speed on everything I’ve missed.”

  Nodding, Jenny wiped at her heavily mascaraed eyes.

  “Sure. We’ll do lunch? My treat?” Charity. Great. Well, if I was going to be the office gossip, maybe a little TLC wasn’t the worst idea. Nodding back at her enthusiastically, I totted across the room and swiped my ID card through the security check by the door.

  “Absolutely, I’ll meet you here at one.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply. Hurrying through the doors, I breathed a sigh of relief to find the hallway completely empty. Taking my chances, I walked briskly toward my office at the end of the narrow and usually cluttered hallway. The various cubicles that surrounded my door were bustling with people and as I rounded the corner, every pair of eyes turned to me. Silence fell on the entire room. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Closing my eyes, I reached for the handle and rushed through the door to my secluded little room, closing the blinds as soon as I entered.

  With my back to the door, I sank to the floor in a heap. This was hell. I looked around my office, and as my eyes fell on the pile of paperwork, envelopes of unopened mail and stacks of CDs, I felt an enormous sense of relief. At least I had an excuse to hole myself up in there all day. I was just thinking about how to possibly get out of lunch with Jenny when the door to the left of my office swung open. Regina’s own space was adjacent to mine, and the connecting door had come in handy. We usually left it open and discussed clients, office gossip, and threw random snacks at one another via the damn thing. Today, I wished it were bolted.

  Dropping yet more work on my desk, the tall and mostly plastic woman, spun around.

  “Oh, Charlene, good; you’re here. I have a tonne of work waiting for you to sift through. Six bands have their demos on your desk, and I have a large coffee waiting for you in my office. Come on, quick, quick. We don’t have all day for you to finally pull yourself together and out of that heap on the carpet. I just had it cleaned after all.”

  Smiling, I lifted myself up, dumped my bag beside my desk and headed into Regina’s office. The pink and dazzling silver furniture was a reflection of her eccentric taste and also of her third husband’s excessive bank account. My own office was simplistic with three magnolia walls and the back wall papered in a bright purple floral design. The sofa was black leather and a coffee table separated the conversational area from the work area around my desk. Regina’s office was essentially for celebration. I would sign the acts and then send them through to her office for the fun stuff.

  Handing me a large cup of coffee, she perched on the edge of her desk and gestured for me to sit on her plush white sofa.

  “I’ll spare you the sympathetic crap. You don’t need it, and you don’t need that arsehole either. Look at me. I’m fifty-three, have been married three times, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m independent, run my own company, and still have an arse you could bounce pennies off of. My countless boy-toys can vouch for that. So, why did it take you so bloody long to get back here?”

  Placing my cup on the glass table in front of me, I held my head in my hands, and heaved a sigh, exasperatedly.

  “I couldn’t face all the looks of concern, gossip, whispering, and damn eyes staring at me. It was bad enough just walking through to the office today.”

  Raising an eyebrow, she nodded at the door. “Out there? That’s what’s bothering you? And I suppose you’ll be hiding in your office for the remainder of the day?”

  Blushing, I nodded.

  “And tomorrow? Next week? The week after?”

  I groaned. “I don’t know. I just hate it.”

  “Well, you have to face it some time. But, until you’re ready, I have a project for you.”

  Skirting around her desk, she sat at her computer and gestured for me to join her.

  “Look at this.”

  Pulling up a picture of three men, she swooned at the screen.

  “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

  I studied the image. They all seemed to be fairly young. Maybe twenty at best. A tall, dark haired, and cocky looking guy holding drumsticks was on the far left. On the right, a blonde, spikey-haired, baby-faced bass player, and in the center, was a stunning, pierced, gorgeous, rock god. Grasping a guitar, his lip ring had clearly caught the light from the flash of the camera as he smiled. He was certainly a heartbreaker.

  “I saw them while I was in L.A. last week. They were playing at some bar. My friend had dragged me there to celebrate another contract signed at our California office, and there they were. I can’t for the life of me remember their names, but I do have their details. I also managed to record some of their material on my phone. I’ve mailed everything to your inbox, and I need you to track down as much information on them as possible. Not only are they stunning and knickers-droppingly hot, they’re amazing musicians. I want them signed with our L
.A team immediately!”

  I gave her a surprised look. “Me? You want me to head this up?”

  She seemed confused at my question. “Of course. No one knows this business better than you. You’re my protégé, and I need you on this.”

  I bit my lip and grinned. “I’ll start working on it today!”

  “There’s the girl I hired! You’re fine. And as for the lemmings and sheep out there, if you don’t want to be the office discussion topic, remind them they’re here to do a job and who the boss is.”

  Giving me a wink, she gave a wave of her hand and ushered me out of the room. “Now, go get me those hotties!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her. My very own project! This band wasn’t just being signed by me, oh no. I was scouting, hunting, and would make it my mission to make them a part of the R.J. Littman family. Settling behind my desk, I switched on my laptop and began my search.

  * * * *

  I’d been scouring the internet for hours, and so far, I could find nothing about this band. It were as if they were fictional or a figment of the imagination. There were musings, Twitter mentioned them frequently, and endless reams of women claimed to have bedded them, but their names, contact details, and private lives were a total mystery. Groaning, I folded my arms on the desk and banged my head heavily onto them in frustration.

  “Ahem, Charlie?”

  Lifting my head, I tried to see who had spoken, but unfortunately, my sticky forehead had glued a piece of paper to it and was now blocking my line of sight. Pulling it away, I smiled as Adam’s large frame stood in my doorway. Holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, he tilted his head to the side and beamed at me. I’d never noticed before, but his eyes seemed to sparkle and soften when he smiled.

  “I thought these might cheer you up. Dana told me you were heading back in today and I figured, I was in the area so …”

  Pushing away from my desk, I hurried over and wrapped my arms around him. Pecking him on the cheek, I took the flowers in one hand and inhaled the sweet aromas. The stunning spray of lilies, roses, and daisies were breathtaking.