Year of the Chick (6 page)

The Elfin music suddenly came to a halt.

“Okay everybody, thanks for an amazing class! Now before we dismiss, can we turn our attention to Steve for a couple of minutes? He’s got something he’d like to share.”

All the ladies shouted “Woo!” again.

Steve walked up to the front of the class with his bottle of purple beverage. He was also carrying a cardboard box full of grey and purple pouches.

“Now football is a grueling sport, and a lot of people ask me how I make it. The truth is I’ve got a little something to get me through it, for every game and every workout.”

This sounded strangely similar to my one-on-one chat with Steve.

Steve grabbed a pouch from the box and continued. “Inside this pouch is a very special energy mix. We call it Total Thunder, and I developed it with top-notch scientists. With this ONE special drink, you’ll experience more stamina than ever before. And just to prove it, you all get a sample to try for yourselves!”

Another “Woo!” from the sweaty ladies.

“I’m going to pass these out, and when I do I’d love to get your all your e-mail addresses,” he paused for a dazzling smile. “Then I can send you ladies additional info.”

Steve began to pass out the pouches as I stood there in the corner, feeling about as sexy as a speck of someone’s earwax. But what about the flirting? What about his waving nipples? It had all been a ruse, cleverly designed to trick me into buying Total Thunder. My humiliation quickly turned to rage.

Before I could think of an action plan, Steve was back, only now with his pouch of Total Thunder.

“Here you go, Romi. Now how about you give me your e-mail address?” His eyes sparkled once again.

“Sorry asshole, I only drink Gatorade.”

In a perfect world, I would’ve told him that. But of course I lived in a world where you don’t call giant football players assholes, especially not when their eyes sparkle green and their smiles tend to dazzle.

I recited my e-mail address out loud, and ten seconds later we said goodbye.

As I grabbed my coat from the locker room, I looked at my watch to see that it was nearly one p.m.

I’d told my dad that I’d return in an hour and a half, or by noon to be exact. He was probably on his way to the hospital now, clinging to life from complications of being over-protective.

I drove straight home only to discover that he’d taken my mother grocery shopping.

Just like that, huh? I could be dead for all he knows!

Over the next five days, I received one e-mail a day on the benefits of Total Thunder. They weren’t even written by Steve, just a bunch of mass e-mails from “Total Thunder Inc.”

On the sixth day I marked the e-mail as “junk,” which was the perfect assessment for my very first attempt at dating in the year of the chick...

Chapter Five

Will I meet a special guy by Valentine’s Day?

The view outside my window was a haze of white.

Just your typical Canadian blizzard. Maybe my man was somewhere out there, in his car late for work and annoyed by the weather.

With a storm this bad, I sure as hell wouldn’t be meeting him today. Nor would I be headed to the gym.

So what was the back-up plan? Gooey apple pie in my fuzzy pajamas?

As I tried to decide if a quarter of a pie would be enough to fill my needs, an e-mail landed in my inbox.

It was from Jayla, a friend from my previous job.

----------------------------------

Hey Everyone!

Sorry about the mass e-mail, but I wanted to announce it at once:

-ADRIAN AND I GOT ENGAGED!!!

The wedding’s right here in Sydney on November 22nd, but we’re coming back for a visit in September. That’s when we’ll be having our “Toronto Engagement Party” so you better show up!

By the way, thanks for all your love and support throughout the re-location, I miss you guys!

And also: AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ENGAGED!

Love,

Jayla

xx

----------------------------------

Before I had a chance to absorb all the exclamation marks, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the call display and it all made sense.

So Laura’s read the e-mail too.

“Good morning darling,” I said. “Is this an urgent matter? I’m quite busy here.”

“Shut up,” said Laura. “I know you read it too.”

I’d met Laura along with Jayla at my first corporate job. Laura was my “best friend stand-in,” as my childhood one was finishing with med school in Boston. Laura didn’t mind the term, and I played the same role for her, with her own best friend a two-hour drive away.

“I just read it now.” I minimized the e-mail off my screen, not because I was scared to read personal e-mails at work, but because I could feel it mocking me. “Are you happy for her?” I asked. “Or are you ready to puke from all the jealousy?”

“Come on, you know I love Jayla. But also…” She let out a heavy sigh. “I guess I’m twenty-percent jealous. I just can’t believe that she randomly met him on vacation!”

“THAT’S what you can’t believe? I can’t believe she stole my dream of marrying for love without your Indian parents killing you. Like he’s an Aussie white dude! I also can’t believe she scored an office transfer to Sydney. How come one person gets all the luck?”

“Yeah, too bad you work at a Canadian company. There’s no office transfer for you which means NO MORE foreigner boyfriends with expiring visas!” She laughed.

I did not.

“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t quit,” I said. “Maybe they would’ve shipped me off to…Paris. You can’t not fall in love while you’re in Paris.” I sighed and started pulling balls of lint off my brown wool sweater, wondering all the time if decisions had any meaning at all.
Am I really meant to be here? In this job? In this chair?
 
With not even a glimpse of a boyfriend?

“Hey, are you listening?” Laura had apparently been talking all this while.

I stopped with the lint balls and tried to focus in. “Sorry, someone was at my desk,” I lied.

“No worries! I was just saying you should be glad we left that corporate pit. I mean yeah, Jayla stayed and got the chance to move to Sydney, but remember how we had to wear suits every day? Ugh!”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of Laura’s curvy bod. “Oh please, you took painted-on tailored suits to a whole new level. Long blonde curls, petite little frame and your ass bursting out of your office pants? You disgust me.”

She does, she really does.
Had I always felt this way about my best-friend stand-in?
 

“I disgust YOU?” She laughed. “Then why am I the one who’s puking? You’re so much taller than me! You can gain five pounds and no one will even know.”

“Too bad I gained fifteen though. God...what the hell did I eat last year?” I poked my belly with my index finger, sighing at how easily it squished.

“So how’s the gym going?” she asked.
Good ol’ Laura, forcing me not to dwell on last year’s menu.

“The gym’s alright. It’s way too early to hop on the scale, but I worked out twice in the last couple weeks. Tonight I’m gonna chill with some pie.” I smiled.

“Twice in the last couple weeks? Pie? So let me get this straight: your parents are going to saddle you up with a stranger, while my Italian family is predicting that I’ll wind up a spinster. And you’re talking about pie?!”

“But it’s APPLE pie.” I loved apple pie but she had a point. I hadn’t been out on the prowl even once, since Eleanor and I were in hiding from this horrible weather. But this was Canada. If we waited for spring we’d be waiting ‘til April at least.

“Alright that’s it,” stated Laura. “Tomorrow we’re going to a happy hour place. There’s this awesome swanky bar downtown. I haven’t been, but my friend told me Thursdays are crazy.”

“Crazy?” I didn’t like the sound of this.

 
“I mean like crazy-busy. They have a velvet rope with a bouncer, and from what she said the place is just crawling with investment bankers, executives, lawyers...do I have your attention?”

“You have my full attention, but I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Can’t we just wait until I lose five pounds?”
As if I want an investment banker grabbing at my “rolls.”

“Ugh, stop being such a loser! You are lovely. The weight thing is more about being active, so you’ll stop running out of breath when you climb a flight of stairs. And yes, I’ve seen you do that.”

God, who ELSE knows about my terrible stamina?

 
I really couldn’t think of other reasons not to go. “Okay, but just to clarify…I’m looking for somebody to fall in love with, and money doesn’t equal love---”

“And blah, blah, blah, I promise we’ll find you a prince, blah, blah, blah. But seriously, we’re going tomorrow night. We can be each other’s wingmen!”

Man-hunting missions at a hot trendy bar? Maybe I’d find a Valentine after all…

***

I arrived outside the bar at six o’ clock the next night, feeling nervous, cold, and tired from a long day at work. There was indeed a red velvet rope, holding in a long line of people huddled up in coats and scarves. There was also a scary-looking bouncer.
What IS this place?

“Romes! Over here!”

I followed Laura’s voice to the front of the line. Her grey wool coat hugged the curves of her short but well-toned body. I turned to the bar’s long windows to catch my reflection. My wool winter coat was of similar length, but it seemed to give my shoulders a boxy look. And why was it the same boxy shape from top to bottom?

I spun around to face Laura. “How much did it cost you to tailor that coat?”

“It’s not tailored.”

“So your coat fits like that on its own?”

“Fits like what?”

“I hate you.”

Laura simply laughed as she pulled out her phone. Meanwhile my mind raced through scenes of Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts in romantic comedies. Once I was finished I frowned at the disturbing conclusion:

-Leading ladies are always hotter than their sidekicks. So why are all my sidekicks hotter than me?

Maybe I was in the wrong movie.

***

The bouncer let us in and I immediately lost my way. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkened interior, I sensed the beginnings of a lobby, with hundreds of candles further along the way. Those candles were my only guide to the trendy décor, complete with Japanese-inspired sculptures, black leather couches and red-painted walls.

But what was that smell?

Things became fuzzy in a matter of seconds, as my nose fell victim to the toxic levels of cologne. I wondered if the men had conspired to emit this gaseous roofie; was there a pile of passed-out women around the corner? I suddenly noticed that Laura was nowhere in sight. My mind flashed back to being five years old in a department store, and losing my parents in the dishware aisle. I eventually found them, but not before falling down the last two steps of an escalator, with my mouth slamming hard on a bin of men’s underwear. I chipped a tooth that day.

I had no intention of chipping any grown-up teeth, so I stayed where I was like a fearful deer, waiting for my little Laura.

“Romes! Where were you? I thought you were coming to the coat-check.” Laura was suddenly in front of me, minus one tailored coat, but plus one fitted green sweater and some hip-hugging pinstriped pants.

I followed Laura to a corner of the lobby, where a beautiful woman with giant boobs took my coat.

Can everyone please stop being so hot?

“How do I look?” I straightened out my baby-blue blouse that was saved for special occasions. Worn with my black office pants, it was a very professional outfit. Well, almost.
 
The shirt was extremely tight and made of five-percent spandex, which managed to give my boobs some faux abundance. The only downside to a shirt so tight up top was that the bottom hugged my body too. This was less than ideal considering my stomach’s little rolls
. But who will even see them in this darkened bar?

Laura simply smiled at my outfit choice (
was that a patronizing smile?
) before leading the way to the lounge.

We quickly decided that a table was out of the question. The place was packed. I couldn’t even tell where one person ended and another one began.
 

How are we supposed to find the men when we can’t even see?

We delayed the man-search and squeezed towards the bar instead, to order ourselves some pomegranate martinis (classy yet delicious).

From there we moved to an empty space of floor by a wall post. Once we had claimed it as ours, we finally surveyed the scene.

A scene that was entirely shocking.