Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) (6 page)

“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.

“Whatever, Jenny-from-the-block.”

We get back to my place and Jenny decides to drop me off and go find Dax. Probably so they can have make-up sex. I try my best not to look jealous. When I’m finally in the apartment, a wave of loneliness washes over me. It occurs to me that I’ve never really lived alone before, and the thought depresses me. I pick up my phone.

“Hello, Lucy!”

“Hi Dad.” As soon as I hear his voice, I realize that it’s been a million years since I’ve talked to him. We used to talk every day. God, I am a horrible daughter.

“How are you, darling? I’ve missed you, you haven’t been round in bloody ages!” My Dad worked for British Gas for forty years, before retiring last spring. He was transferred to Houston in the early 1980s, and that’s where he met and married my mom. And even though my mom died when I was twenty, from ovarian cancer, Dad never moved back to Reading. I’m sure he stayed in the States because of me and my brother Evan, although he says it’s because he can’t stand the weather in Britain.

“I’m hanging in there, Dad.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so good. I know you’re still smarting over Paul, sweetheart, but you’re well rid of him if he’s a cheater.” I can hear the distaste in his voice—he’s furious with Paul.

“Nope, I can visit all the time.” I really need to visit him more. I know he’s lonely since my mom died, and I wish he would go join Match.com or something, but he insists that mom was enough for him, and he’s happy to be alone. I don’t buy it, though.

We chat for a while longer, and he makes me promise to come by and see him over the weekend. I’m about to hang up when he stop me.

“Listen here, are you going to tell me about your injuries from last week, or are they some kind of secret?”

“What?” How in the world did he find out about that?

“I ran into Will yesterday at the farmer’s market,” he offers quickly, as if he’s read my mind. It figures. Will and my Dad are the only two people I know who are patient enough to wander the aisles at the farmer’s market, searching for the perfect organic bell pepper. I take my veggies covered in pesticides, thankyouverymuch.

“Well, don’t listen to Will. He’s a blabbermouth and a worrywart.” I’m sorry, but I’m annoyed. What does he think he’s doing, getting my dad all worked up over nothing? “I can’t believe he even told you.”

“Honey, don’t you think I want to know if you’re hurt? How are you feeling, is your hand okay?” Jeez, they must have had quite a little conversation.

“I promise, Dad, I’m one-hundred percent. We’re even going kayaking tomorrow!” I’m throwing as much enthusiasm as I can muster in my voice, hoping to get him focused on another topic.

“Do you think that’s such a good idea, if you’re hurt?”

Arrgh!

“Really, Daddy, I’m
fine!
” And I don’t mean to sound irritated, but I am, so I do.

“Well, just take care of yourself. I worry about you now that you’re living on your own.” His voice sounds wistful, and now I feel like total crap.

“I’m sorry Dad, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know you didn’t, love. Now get on to bed.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I realize that I’m still annoyed at Will. Who the hell does he think he is, my babysitter? I don’t need a bodyguard at my own local bar, and I don’t need a keeper who runs to my Dad every time I fall and scrape my knee. And maybe I am being a bit unfair, but I’m tired, and confused, and…oh
screw it
, I need my Starbursts.

Chapter Seven

I’m late getting to the lake for our first kayaking session, and Jenny is giving me her pissed-off look. Will is messing with the paddles for the kayaks, and doesn’t look at me at all, even when I say hello. Well, fine, I’m still pissed off at him, anyway.

I’m all decked out in my kayaking gear, and I’ve got special gloves on to protect the stitches on my hand. I’m feeling edgy, and I’m ready to get on the water. When Will finally looks up and gives me a little smile, I look away quickly.

“Lucy? C’mon, I’ve got your lifejacket and helmet—let’s see if they fit.” I notice he doesn’t call me “Cee-Cee” or “Wagon Wheel” or any other of the thousands of variations of my name he typically uses. He seems as edgy as me, and I’m perversely glad. I walk to him casually, and take the helmet he offers. When I put it on he laughs, because it’s hovering below my eyebrows.

“Okay, I’d say that needs some tightening.” He reaches for the helmet but I pull back.

“I can do it.” My voice is tight and cold, and for an instant he looks nonplussed.

“Okay,” he says slowly, and moves on to the lifejacket. “This will probably be too big as well, but we can double up the straps for you.”

I consider taking the lifejacket away from him, but when I see the maze of belts and clips he’s adjusting, I decide to let him fix it after all. I fiddle with my helmet for a minute or two, then put it on and snap the strap under my chin.

“That’s still too loose,” Will says quickly. “If it’s not tight, it’ll pop off pretty easily.” He flicks his finger at me, motioning for me to hand it over to him.

“Well, then, by all means, tighten it up,” I say sharply, unbuckling the clip and shoving the helmet into his chest. “I don’t want you tattling to my dad that I went kayaking without a proper helmet.” Will stops and gapes at me, and I notice out of the corner of my eye that Jenny has quit applying her sunscreen to stare at us.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t believe you told my dad about my accident! For Christ’s sake, Will, he’s already got enough on his plate without having to worry about me.” Will knows that my dad is swamped with real-life problems--his wife is dead, he’s got high blood pressure, and my brother, Evan, is unemployed and stoned more often than not. I’m supposed to be the one he
doesn’t
worry about.

“I’m sorry,” Will says quickly. “I assumed he knew. He asked how you were doing, and I told him you seemed much better. How was I supposed to know it was a secret?”

“Well, of course it’s not a
secret
, but…” But what? Why am I so angry about this?

“Lucy, I’m sorry, okay?” Now he sounds exasperated, and we face off with hostile gazes. I notice that I’m breathing heavily…too heavily. Calm down, Lucy. Get a grip.

“Whatever. Let’s get going.”

We stuff ourselves into our kayaks, and after a wobbly start, we are all paddling smoothly across the lake. There’s no breeze, and the water is glassy-smooth as we slice through it with our oars. When my arms get tired, I just float for a while, until Jen and Will are so far ahead of me that I can barely see them. The sun is beating cruelly on my face, and I reach in the lake and splash some water over my cheeks to cool off.

“Lucy, come on!” Jenny is screaming back at me, but I can barely hear her. I pick up my paddle and begin moving again, but just as I get going, I hear something moving in the brush from the shore to my right. Wait, is it something, or someone? That’s definitely a man. Who is it? Why is he slithering through the woods? I stop and squint into the trees, but all is quiet now, so I just shrug my shoulders and begin paddling again.

“Hey, little lady!”

Whoa. Someone is calling to me. I stop again, and lean forward, careful not to tip myself over in the kayak. Now I see him—he’s tall, and dark-haired, and looks to be in his fifties. Is he homeless? Lost?

“May I help you?” I call out politely. Don’t piss off strange men in the woods.

“I need your help. I’m out of money, and I need some gas for my car.”

“What?” I’m stalling for time. I can’t exactly give this guy gas money, can I? I’m in the middle of the lake on a flippin’ kayak. The man leans in closer. He must think I’m hard of hearing. “I said, I need some help.” He’s moving towards me now, pushing away the branches that are hiding his torso from view. “I’m out of money--“

“
Oh my God!”
I scream so loud, a random redbird flitters out of a tree and flaps crazily away. “Oh. My.
God!”
I scream again. The man covers his ears with his hands and runs back into the woods.

The guy has no pants. Like, seriously, he’s wearing a perfectly respectable, middle-aged guy golf shirt, and no pants whatsoever. I turn quickly and begin to paddle as fast as I can. I’m not getting very far, because the curved oars of my paddle are facing the wrong way, but I’m pumping away to beat the band.

“Lucy, what is it?” Jen screams.

“What’s going on?” That’s Will.

“Omigod, omigod.” It’s all I can say. I stop long enough to get my paddle situated, then start again with my furious strokes, splashing and sputtering like an idiot. When I finally look up, I see that I’ve made considerable progress, and that Will and Jen have reversed course, and are headed back my way. We meet somewhere in the middle and I’m still chanting “omigod, ohmigod,” but quieter now.

“
What?”
They ask in unison.

“He had no pants on. Like, nothing. Shirt on top, nothing on bottom.” And now a gurgle of laughter breaks past the lump in my throat.

“Bullshit!” Jen shrieks. Will’s just staring at me, dumbfounded.

“I don’t know why he needs gas money if he has no pants. I mean, wouldn’t he need pants money first?” My shrill babbling carries easily over the calm water of the lake.

“Nooo!” Jen screams, and then she’s laughing so hard I’m worried she’s going to fall into the lake. I strikes me that maybe I should take this a bit more seriously—I mean, I’ve been
flashed
, I’ve probably been traumatized or something--but instead I’m laughing too, and then Will’s shaking his head at us like we’re both completely insane. But he’s trying really hard not to laugh, I can tell.

“Should we call the police?” I gasp, when I can finally talk.

“And tell them what? A pants-less woodland creature tried to grift you?” Jenny doesn’t have a whole lot of use for the police. She says it’s because her people are so often racially profiled.