He Loves Lucy Read online

  “And you’ll follow Plan B until you can’t imagine life without it. Until you feel balanced and healthy, look fabulous, and have more energy than you ever thought possible. How does that sound?”

  Lucy scrunched up her nose. “I still want the magic chamber.”

  Just then, a pretty blonde sat down a few tables away, chatting on her cell phone while she smiled at Theo. Hey, you, she mouthed silently. Theo nodded his head in the woman’s direction and Lucy began to wonder if he was a trainer and a gigolo.

  Theo described how he wanted her to keep a daily journal of her food, her feelings, and her goals. “We’ll tackle all the hard stuff tomorrow, after the TV studio, OK?”

  “Yep.” Lucy eyed the blonde who eyed Theo.

  “I’ll have a detailed questionnaire for you about your fitness and health history, your current food choices and lifestyle. The more thorough your answers, the faster we can hit on exactly what will work. Sound good?”

  Lucy froze, slowly understanding the implications of his last comment. She had to put in writing what she’d been eating lately? Was nothing sacred? “Make sure to have extra sheets of paper handy,” Lucy said.

  Theo lowered his voice. “You’ll need to bring your swimsuit tomorrow, too, OK?”

  No, that wasn’t OK! She’d rather die than let him see her in a bathing suit. “Are we going snorkeling?”

  Theo shook his head gently, knowing this part was going to be rough on Lucy. “It’s for the hydrostatic tank-”

  “The whaaa-?”

  “We’ll immerse you in water and get an accurate measure of your percentage of body fat.”

  Lucy’s eyes went huge.

  “We have to know where we’re starting. That’s all it is-a place to start.”

  “But do we have to start there?”

  “I thought you agreed to a fitness evaluation.”

  Lucy gulped. She blinked. She looked away for something to focus on while she got hold of herself. Her eyes landed on the blonde again, now crossing her zero-body-fat legs and batting her eyelashes at Theo.

  “Couldn’t we just make a guesstimate on my body fat? Like, say, ninety-eight percent, and go from there?”

  Theo tried not to laugh. He watched Lucy Cunningham swallow hard and keep her eyes on anything but him. The embarrassment pulsed off her body in waves. He felt for her, he really did, but they couldn’t start until he was sure she was a willing participant.

  “Did you agree to this, Lucy? Are you aware that what we find out tomorrow and everything else we glean from lab tests, strength and cardiovascular evaluations-everything-is going to be made public?”

  “I’m doing this for the cash; let’s get that straight right from the start.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I know I could stand to lose weight, but I plan to use the money to start my own company. And I do not plan to fail. It’s just that getting started sounds so…” Lucy looked down at her hands. “Hard.”

  Theo pondered the slope of her neck and shoulders, how she overfilled the small cafe chair. Clearly, they’d be doing lots of cardio, adding machine and freestyle exercises over time. He was thinking Pilates for core strength. Yoga for flexibility.

  He watched Lucy’s jaw clench with frustration and figured she’d benefit from a few sessions where she could beat the living shit out of a kickboxing dummy. He made a mental note of it.

  But as he continued to watch her, Theo was struck with the urge to hug this woman, tell her everything would be all right. That had never happened with a client before. Yes, it was about money for him, too, but he liked Lucy Cunningham. He wanted her to be happy. And there was something about her-maybe the mix of brave girl and smart-assed woman-that tugged at him.

  “I know it takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing.” She didn’t respond, and he watched as she hid her face in her hands. Theo worried she’d choked again. “Lucy?”

  “I need a minute, please.” She jumped from the chair, laced her way through the tables, and ran out onto the sidewalk. Theo watched her go-she had decent running form and seemed pretty agile-then he saw that she was crying.

  He sighed, threw a ten down on the table, and went after her. Lucy had stopped at the corner. She was red-faced and out of breath as she waited for a chance to cross at the curb.

  “How long’s it been since you took a nice run?” Theo stood at her side, following Lucy’s blank stare toward the entrance to Eighth Street Beach and the rising sun beyond.

  “What year is this again?” The light turned and Lucy walked across Ocean Boulevard, still breathing hard.

  “That long, huh?”

  “I used to run. I gained fifty pounds during college, but before then I used to play softball and racquetball. I rode horses, skied, and hiked, too.” She turned to him in direct challenge.

  Theo couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on his face. He was sorry Lucy saw it, because she looked away, embarrassed. “So why did you stop?”

  Lucy whipped her head around so fast her ponytail brushed his shoulder. She looked up at him with what he could only describe as dread. “No reason.”

  Theo didn’t push it. He knew that tomorrow she’d cover all the details in her client questionnaire. Today was for getting her to relax. Getting her psyched up for the long haul ahead. And so far, he’d failed miserably.

  The timing couldn’t be worse, but Theo saw a curvy little woman heading toward them who had once dated his best friend, Tyson. Theo couldn’t remember the woman’s name and was relieved when she strolled by with only a smile. Then he saw Lucy’s openmouthed stare.

  “Do you run an escort service on the side, Theo?”

  He laughed. “Naw. I just know a lot of people on South Beach.”

  “A lot of female people.”

  “And now I know you.” He smiled at her.

  Lucy was not often tongue-tied, but she was a little rusty at engaging in small talk with gorgeous hunks. The truth was, she felt just plain defenseless against Theo Redmond and his enchanting smile.

  “Where are we going, Lucy?”

  She’d apparently been staring at him in a trance, walking aimlessly. It was a wonder she hadn’t flattened a few pedestrians.

  “Wherever you take me,” she said, flinching at the lovesick eighth grader she’d become, worrying she’d just officially blown her second chance at a first impression.

  But Theo only laughed. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You’re in good hands, Lucy Cunningham.”

  Office of Doris Lehman, MSW, PhD “Help. I have the hots for my trainer.”

  Lucy had barely flopped down into the familiar peach damask love seat when she made that pronouncement. She let her eyes settle on the peaceful Japanese paper folding screen in front of the window, the focal point for her meditative stares the whole year she’d been in Miami. Her eyes scanned the familiar graceful sweep of bamboo leaves and transparent cherry blossoms, the little tiny female mouths of the little tiny women in tiny kimonos and tiny wooden platform sandals.

  Tiny, tiny, tiny.

  Lucy’s therapist sat as she usually did, serene, neat, notebook perched on a crossed thigh, eyeglasses tucked on top of her heavily sprayed salt-and-pepper pageboy like a headband.

  “Have you told him you find him attractive?”

  “I can’t stop drooling long enough to form the words.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, it’s the Brad Zirkle thing all over again, you know?” Lucy leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. “Why do I always go for the ones who are out of my reach? Why do I set myself up like that?”

  Doris smiled politely. “From how you’ve described him, it would seem Theo is much nicer than Brad Zirkle.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Wonderful is still wonderful.” Lucy sighed, then snarled at the geisha girls, trying to picture how her size 22 hips would look in a kimono pulled that tight at the waist. If she had a waist. She used to have one, if she recalled correctly, but she couldn’t remember how it
felt to walk around with an indentation somewhere near the center of her body.

  “I sense some anger in how you describe him.”

  Lucy had to laugh. “Not anger. I’m just kind of ashamed of myself for fantasizing about him the way I do-you know, him naked, feeding me Lorna Doone cookies while I watch Andy Griffith reruns.”

  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.”

  Chapter 2

  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:

  I am strong enough to refrain from killing any or all

  members of my family.

  “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?”

  The kind where you sneak a half a pecan pie.

  “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 blam
e 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.”