Body on the Stage (5 page)

“Oh you big girl’s blouse! Never
mind – here’s my suggestion. Have something to eat beforehand so
you’re not wilting from hunger with only a salad to look forward
to, and try to be prepared for whoever turns up. If it’s a happy
couple, at least you’re making new friends. If it’s just – what’s
her name?”

“Cathy. That’s all I know, and
the gym is called Intensity.”

“OK, if it’s just Cathy that
turns up, you’ll have a date for the evening, plus the added bonus
that she’ll think you’re a good healthy eater because you won’t be
pigging out in front of her. It’s a win/win, bro.”

He brightened. “Thanks, sis,
that makes me feel a lot better. “ He shifted position and squawked
in pain. “Ow! Now I just have to worry about whether I’ll be able
to walk to the table without crying like a girl.”

“Duh! Take some painkillers, you
doofus!”

The next night he was happy to
recall Janice’s parting advice as she’d ended her call. He dosed
himself up with his strongest pain medication and dressed for the
occasion as smartly as he could in a designer polo shirt and beige
pants, hoping it was formal enough for the venue. None of his
tailored shirts or jackets fitted him any more, although they were
still hanging in his wardrobe in silent reproach. Getting rid of
them would mean admitting he was never going to get thin again and
he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Before leaving for the
restaurant he mixed up a packet of macaroni cheese and ate it
carefully, spooning in every creamy delicious mouthful while
standing over the sink so that he didn’t spill any on his best
shirt. It helped to calm the nerves that were twanging quite
strongly at the prospect of spending an evening with a woman. It
had been well over a year since Louise had left, and they’d been
together for twelve and a half years, so his dating skills were
seriously rusty. He’d been young, slim and confident back then too.
He rinsed out the bowl and set it to drain, dried his hands on the
tea-towel, and summoned his resolve. He could do this.
Probably.

He set the TV recorder to catch
his favourite shows while he was out and headed for the restaurant
in good time, conscious that he wanted to be in place before Cathy
arrived – with or without an escort. It might win him a few seconds
to make the right response and avoid looking like a total
idiot.

He parked on the tree-lined
street and walked through the Botanic Gardens to the restaurant,
only wincing slightly as he climbed three steps up to the entrance.
He took a seat at the bar and ordered a light beer to give him
something to do with his hands. Moments later Cathy came bounding
up the steps carrying a large bag. She was dressed in skin-tight
cycling gear and made a surprised face when she saw Dennis.

“Oh, hello – you’re here early!
I was hoping to make my magical change into a fairy princess and be
all pretty and demure when you arrived! Never mind.” She leaned in
to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished into the ladies’
washroom. When she emerged five minutes later he was astonished to
see that she was impeccably made-up and wearing a very feminine
floaty blue dress. Her hair was loose instead of tied back, framing
her impossibly blue eyes in delicate tawny waves.

He put his beer on the bar and
stood to greet her, hardly able to believe such a captivating
creature had actually asked him to join her for dinner. “You look
wonderful,” he said. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same woman
who put me through all that pain and anguish yesterday.”

“Oh dear, was it so bad? I
wasn’t trying to be mean, I promise.” She looked so concerned he
hastened to reassure her.

“Oh no, it wasn’t your fault – I
went harder than I probably should have on my first day, that’s
all.” He blushed. “I didn’t want you to see how useless I really
was. It’s a guy thing. We can’t face appearing weak in front of a
woman we’d like to impress.”

Now it was her turn to blush.
“You wanted to impress me? Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“Just what a man fears most,” he
sighed. “We spend all our adult lives trying to be strong,
powerful, impressive – even a little dangerous, and it’s all undone
when you call us sweet.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why we
bother.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dent
your male ego. I assure you, sweet is a good thing in my book.
There are far too many men out there who haven’t a sweet thought in
their heads. I’ve had quite enough of them.” The twist to her mouth
told him the bad experience still rankled.

“I guess we could all do with
more sweetness from other people, couldn’t we?” he said. “It hurts
when those closest to us fail to provide it.”

Their eyes met with an
understanding look.

Over dinner they exchanged
horror stories about their previous partners, finding more in
common than Dennis had expected. One thing still puzzled him
though.

“I have to ask – why did you
invite me out to dinner tonight? I mean, I know we’re getting on
well and I’m having a great time, but you can’t have known that
would happen. What made you take a chance on spending time with a
shy fat guy when there must be far more appealing men in your life?
What about Vincenzo, for instance – he’s impossibly handsome and
looks like every woman’s dream. Isn’t he a more likely prospect for
you?”

“I wouldn’t mix business and
pleasure by dating an employee. Besides,” she paused, searching for
the right words. “I’m not quite sure about him.” She shot him a
searching look. “Can I trust you to be discreet about this?”

“Of course.” He mimed zipping
across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

“I wondered, since you’re new to
the gym, if I could get you to help me out by keeping an eye on him
while you and the guys are training. You’ll have an unbiased view
and you haven’t got a history with anyone else here. He seems
perfectly nice, and he has great references from other gyms, but
there’s just something about him that doesn’t sit right. I thought
if you were there with the other guys from the theatre, you might
be able to pick up on what’s going on. If there really is anything
going on.” She blew out a sigh that sent the candle on the table
guttering. “I may be imagining the whole thing, but I get the
impression he’s keeping a few secrets. I see him having quiet
conversations with guys he’s training, but everything stops if I go
near them – it’s the kind of thing that rings alarm bells.”

“Sure, I’ll be happy to keep my
nose to the ground while you’re busy keeping it to the grindstone.”
He grinned as a thought occurred to him. “So I can be your
undercover agent? That sounds dashing and just a little dangerous,
doesn’t it? Perhaps I can shake off that ‘sweet’ label with a bit
of cloak and dagger skulduggery.”

“You can write me secret reports
in invisible ink,” she giggled, “and I’ll have to eat them
afterwards.”

“Why yesh, Moneypenny – and I’ll
have ‘Q’ rig up shome clever lishtening devices in my iPod,” said
Dennis in his best Sean Connery accent.

“Oh James, you are wonderful!”
she gushed back in mock breathless admiration. “I’ll ask ‘M’ to put
you up for a knighthood!”

“There’s just one thing,” he
said, pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “I’m currently
in deep cover with this amazing disguise of blubber. Don’t you
think it would arouse suspicion if I lose it too quickly? Perhaps I
shouldn’t rush into the full exercise routine just yet. I’m a far
less likely spy when I’m the size of a house.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not
trying to weasel out of your fitness programme are you? I’m not
going to take it easy on you just because you’re helping me out –
that wouldn’t be fair to either of us in the long run.”

He held his hands up in
submission. “Goodness me no. The thought never crossed my mind. You
have my entire cooperation and I’ll do whatever you say.”

The next time he went to the gym
he found he was paired off with Mark and Vincenzo had been put in
charge of their training. He listened carefully and with growing
dismay as Vincenzo listed the procedures they were to follow for
each session.

“OK guys, here’s what you gonna
do. You get in here nice and early, get on the treadmills, go for a
nice long run to warm up.” He looked dubiously at Dennis. “OK,
maybe we start you off on a rowing machine first, so you can sit
down and save your knees. Then we gonna lift some weights. One day
we do upper body, the next day lower body. I’ll tell you how to do
it, set the weight you’ll be lifting, and you tick it off in your
training book when you’ve done it.” He smiled at Mark. “I think we
can make you into a real hunk those ladies at the theatre will want
so bad.” He turned to Dennis. “You, my friend, you are a whole
different thing. You’ll be my pet project. I’m gonna make you into
a lean, mean sexy machine – oh yeah. Those other guys, we pump them
up, make them big – but you I shall make slim and strong like a
sculpture.” He pointed dramatically. “Inside that big mass is the
body of a Greek god and I’m gonna help you bring him out,
si
?”

“OK,” said Dennis weakly,
helpless in the face of such determination. “Whatever you say,
Vincenzo.”

“Good! Good! Now come sit on the
rowing machine. We set it for full resistance, and you row for ten
minutes. Write down the distance you travel in your training book
then come find me, yes?”

After helping Dennis to get his
feet into position on the rower, Vincenzo set Mark going on the
treadmill and disappeared from view.

Dennis pulled back on the
rubber-coated handle and felt the seat slide easily beneath him.
The resistance wheel started to turn and a pleasant breeze fanned
his face. This didn’t seem too hard. As he gathered pace the
movement got even easier and he was able to build up quite a speed
on the digital readout in front of him. But within half a minute he
started to sweat. The exertion spread though his entire body,
sucking up oxygen that his lungs were unaccustomed to providing in
such quantity. As his face reddened and he started to gasp, he
decided to slow down to a more sensible speed and go for the long
haul. If he had to keep this up for ten minutes, he’d better pace
himself more carefully. His breathing settled down to deep full
breaths, but the sweat continued to pour off him, visibly soaking
his grey T-shirt in great wet panels down his back and under his
arms. He grabbed his hand towel and mopped his face and arms then
quickly pulled back on the handle again before his speed dropped
too much. He shot a look behind him to where Mark pounded away on
the treadmill, looking every inch the athlete. Mark waved and gave
him an encouraging thumbs up. Dennis tried to smile and bent his
efforts back to the task at hand, pulling manfully on the handle,
feeling the strain in his arms, legs and back. He glanced at the
readout to see if his time was almost up. Three minutes had gone
by.

At the end of ten minutes Dennis
was ready to fall off the seat, lie in a pool of sweat on the floor
and whimper like a baby. As he mopped his face yet again and lifted
his soaking wet shirt away from his body, Cathy walked past.

“Hi Dennis, you look as though
you went hard out on the rowing – well done you!”

He gasped a reply, noticing as
she walked away that her turquoise sports top showed damp signs of
her exertion in the shape of a butterfly. So unfair. She could even
sweat prettily.

He staggered over to the
drinking fountain and drank as much water as he could to replace
his lost fluids.

“OK, Dennis!” Vincenzo
reappeared. “Now you are warmed up we do the upper body workout.
Come, my friend, come!”

He led Dennis over to a chest
press machine, a looming turret of a beast in sombre grey, and
lowered the seat for him. “Here, I set just a little weight for so
you get your form correct. Sit, grasp the handles, and push
forward.”

Dennis sat, grasped the handles,
and tried to push forward.

“Shouldn’t these be moving?” he
asked.

“
Si, si
, of course! Push,
Dennis!”

He pushed harder, feeling a
slight stir as the weights beside him lifted very slightly from
their resting place. “Take a big breath and push as you breathe
out,” counselled Vincenzo. Dennis obeyed, managing to lift the
weights a little higher as the handles edged forward. “OK, stop, I
lower the weight,” sighed Vincenzo. “We don’ wanna to break you the
first day.” He pulled the peg out of the weight stack and pushed it
back in several plates higher up. “You try this now, Dennis. Keep
your arms horizontal, hands level with your chest. Go!”

Dennis took in a breath, pushed,
and let the air stream from his lungs. With a big effort, he thrust
the handles forward in a smooth action until his arms were
stretched straight out in front of him.

“Hey! Excellent work, man! Now
you let those weights down real easy, very slow, down, down, down –
that’s it.”

Dennis beamed at completing the
action. He made to get up, but Vincenzo was already telling him
what to do next. “OK, you do three sets of those, then we’ll do
some free weights.”

Dennis blinked sweat from his
eyes. “Er, what’s a set, exactly? I’m a bit new to this.”

“Ah,
scusi
! A set is
twelve repetitions. So you push the handles like so, forward and
back, for twelve times, then you take a short break, then another
twelve, a break, and another twelve. OK? Is good?”

‘I wouldn’t go that far,”
muttered Dennis. “But I understand, thank you.”

Across the room he could see
Mark lying on his back on a bench lifting weights, the muscles
bulging in his arms. He could tell by the veins on Mark’s neck he
was putting in a mighty effort with every push. Yet again, Dennis
wondered what on earth he was doing trying to work out with the big
boys. These guys had obviously been training for months, perhaps
years. They were in such a different league from Dennis they might
as well have been a different species.