Getting Skinny

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Getting Skinny Page 22

by Monique Domovitch


  I glanced at my watch. “I didn’t say you were early. It’s two-thirty and you’re supposed to be here at two.”

  Toni made a grab for the envelope. “If you’re not going to—”

  Before she could get any further, I tore it open and pulled out a glossy photo of myself. Not one photo. Two, printed side by side—a before and an after. The before was of me smiling at the camera, in my cilantro dress the night of Rob’s party. My mouth dried. The after was me in a pair of tight jeans where, admittedly, I looked pretty good. “So this is what you and Jake were up to.”

  Toni grinned. “Guilty as charged. I hope you’re impressed. Come on, you look great, admit it.” She came around and peered over my shoulder. “Look at you in those jeans. You look fantastic.”

  “It’s a really great shot of me. But I hardly think I look skinny.” I couldn’t peel my eyes off the before picture.

  “You know, we should use your pictures in our advertising. We could print our Skinny Menu with your before-and-after pictures on the back, and then use them as flyers. Think about it. If I was on a diet and saw this, I wouldn’t want to eat at any other restaurant for as long as I lived.”

  “You want to make me a cover girl?” I laughed. “It’s a fun idea, but I don’t know that I want the whole city to see my before picture. Also, I’ve only been eating skinny meals for a few weeks. It might be false advertising to credit all of my weight loss to the Skinny Menu.” I paused for a second, studying my pictures. “It’d be so humiliating if I gained it all back.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. As long as you keep doing what you’re doing, you won’t gain it back. Besides, half of this country is overweight.”

  That hardly made me feel better. “Maybe I should think about this overnight.”

  “Good idea. By tomorrow morning I’ll have you seeing things the right way.”

  I groaned. “You won’t let me get out of this, will you?”

  Toni gave me a lopsided grin. It said it all.

  “Okay, fine!” I muttered. “This is so embarrassing. I’ll agree under one condition. I want to see all the pictures Jake took, and I’ll pick the one I like best,” I said, but Toni was already doing her victory dance.

  But for all my embarrassment, when I left that night, it was with a renewed sense of confidence. I had no doubt that Skinny’s on Queen would not only succeed, but soar. Marketing the Skinny Menu to diet groups was sure to create exactly the kind of buzz we needed to turn our business around.

  A few minutes later, I let myself in and Jackie leaped into my arms. As I hugged her, I noticed she seemed heavier than usual. I patted her thighs and belly. Yep, my munchkin was definitely gaining weight.

  “Hey you little fatso,” I told her in between kisses. “What’s going on here? I’m losing weight and you’re getting fat? I’ll have to put you on a diet. If you keep gaining weight this way, you won’t fit through your doggie door anymore.” I was on my way upstairs when I noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I picked it up and punched in my code.

  My heart dropped when I heard the voice. “Hello, Nicky. This is Harry. I made reservations for seven o’clock at Bacci Bacci. I hope you bring your appetite. If you want me to pick you up, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

  Why hadn’t I called Harry to cancel our date? Now that it loomed so near, I regretted my decision to go through with it. And now it was too late to squirm my way out of it. Shit.

  * * *

  At seven o’clock sharp, I walked into Bacci Bacci wearing my pistachio linen outfit, which, thrill of thrills, was now loose on me. For the first time in my life, I’d had to use pins to make the waist smaller. It almost made this evening worthwhile.

  At the reservation desk, I gave Harry’s name. “Dr. Johnson is not here yet, but his table is ready. Will you follow me?” The maître d’ guided me to a table in a discreet corner, pulled out the chair and handed me the menu. He left, and I looked around.

  Nice. The tables were small and set closely together, a good way to seat as many patrons as possible in a small space. The atmosphere was pleasant. The decor—warm golden walls with framed paintings, high ceilings, and formal table settings on white tablecloths—reminded me of pictures I’d seen of old Italy. Very, very nice.

  No wonder this place was known as one of the best in the city. When the big stars came to town, they all came here. I’d read somewhere that Oprah herself had been here last year.

  “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  I was so concentrated on studying the restaurant, that the question startled me. “Pellegrino, please.”

  The waiter walked away and I glanced at my watch. To my surprise, it was already seven-thirty. What the heck? Was I being stood up? Here I’d been berating myself all day for not canceling, and he was canceling me. The waiter reappeared with my glass of sparkling water. He moved aside and I saw Harry approaching the table, smiling sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Nicky.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Ugh. “I had an emergency at the hospital.”

  “Well, you’re here now.”

  He ordered a bottle of pinot blanc and two glasses. The waiter left and Harry leaned forward. “This place serves the best spaghetti alla carbonara in the world.”

  “Sounds delicious.” I put down my menu.

  The waiter reappeared with the wine. He opened the bottle and Harry made a whole production out of swirling, examining, sniffing and tasting. “Good,” he declared at last, setting down his glass to be filled.

  To his credit, Harry had been right. When I tasted the pasta, it was indeed sinfully delicious. “I told you you’d like it.” Then without missing a beat, he continued, “How have you been doing since Rob’s death?”

  Coming from him the question felt invasive. I was almost speechless. “I, er, as well as can be expected, I suppose.” Then I realized he had given me the perfect opening. “There were so many things I didn’t know about Rob.”

  Harry’s eyes bore through me. “What sort of things?”

  I cleared my throat and proceeded cautiously. “It seems that he might have been involved with drugs.”

  He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “What makes you say that?”

  I gave him the safest explanation I could think of. “His mother admitted that he’d had an addiction to painkillers some years ago.”

  Harry seemed surprised. “Did she say anything else?”

  This was not going the way I’d planned. Harry was asking all the questions, and I was doing all the divulging. “She said you were the one who got him out of it.” I broke off a piece of bread and took a bite. Under my lashes, I watched his reaction. His shoulders relaxed. His gaze softened, and I realized that he’d been nervous.

  “Oh, that. It was nothing. Anybody would have done the same thing.”

  “Well, it wasn’t anybody. It was you.” I leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. “Harry, you probably knew Rob better than most. Do you think he might have gotten involved with drugs again?”

  Harry shook his head. “No way,” he said, vehemently. “At least, not as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

  “It was something the police said. They’ve been looking at all possible scenarios, even drugs,” I lied. “After what Mrs. Grant had told me, I just thought—”

  “That’s not what the cops told me,” he cut in. “They’re still convinced you’re guilty. They came back and asked me if there was any way you could have known about Rob’s affair before the night of the party. From what I heard, they interviewed everyone again, asking them all the same thing.”

  My mouth grew dry. This was so not what I wanted to hear. Somehow I’d convinced myself that the police were losing interest in me as a suspect.

  “When was that?”


  “Sorry, Nicky,” he interrupted, “my phone is ringing.” He got up and stepped away, clutching his phone. Moments later he reappeared. “I have a patient who’s not doing too well. I have to go.” He signaled for the bill. “You stay and enjoy your dinner. We’ll have to do this again.” He kissed me on the cheek and left.

  The waiter was hovering over me. “Would you like to take this home?”

  I shook my head and pushed away my barely touched meal. “No, thank you. I’ll be leaving, too.” I folded my napkin on the table, and the waiter pulled out my chair.

  Had Harry’s phone even rung? I certainly hadn’t heard it. On the other hand, it could have been set to vibrate, but his quick exit felt contrived.

  I was more convinced than ever of Harry’s guilt.

  * * *

  When I walked into my house, it was to a scene straight out of hell. I stood paralyzed in the entranceway. The living room lamps were on the floor, books were ripped apart, sofa cushions slashed. My home was destroyed. The spaghetti alla carbonara churned dangerously in my stomach. Someone had broken into my house. Again!

  Then it hit me. “Jackie!” I screamed. I ran through the house in a panic. Every room was worse than the last. In the kitchen, cabinet doors had been torn off their hinges. In the bathroom, everything from the medicine cabinet was in the sink and on the floor. A bottle of cough syrup had been shattered in a million sticky pieces, now strewn all over the cream porcelain tile. The office was a complete disaster—printing paper all over, my computer on the floor, the screen smashed. I reached my bedroom. Drawers had been pulled out of the bureau, and clothes were littered everywhere, but of Jackie, not a sign.

  I called her name again, running back down the hall. Suddenly, I heard a small yelp. I rushed back to the bedroom, and there she was, huddled and trembling under the bed.

  “Come little girl.” She scooted over. I picked her up and hugged her close, shaking with relief. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  It was only hours later—after I’d notified the police, after they’d come and taken my deposition while making it clear they thought I’d staged the whole thing, after Mitchell had helped me board up the back door where the thief had broken in, after Toni had come running and helped me clean up, after I’d showered and climbed into bed—it was only after all that, that it dawned on me. Harry Johnson had arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes late. Ample time to trash my place.

  But why? If he’d already broken in once, what was the point of doing it again? Or had this been a warning? The bastard! How dare he try to scare me! If that was his intention, he had gravely miscalculated. I was mad as hell.

  keeping the universe balanced

  First things first. The next day, I called a security company. I’d already sprung for the cost of all new locks, but if I had to put in a security system to feel safe, so be it. I refused to let the creep chase me out of my own home. This, however, would cost money. Money I didn’t have. Thank goodness for credit cards. I pushed my financial worries out of my mind, concentrating on my to-do list.

  By ten o’clock, I had a security expert booked. In the meantime I cleaned. I filled a bucket with hot water. The scrubbing would exorcise all creepiness that bastard had imbued into my home. It could only be Harry Johnson, right? I’d already eliminated Charles as a suspect. But, an intrusive thought insisted, you never took a good look at Toni.

  I dropped the brush for a moment and examined the possibility that my best friend could have killed my boyfriend, and a memory popped into my mind. The night of the murder, when Toni had returned to the restaurant, I’d been surprised to see her wearing a baseball cap. Jake had described the person walking with Rob that night as thin and wearing baseball cap. A wave of dizziness hit me and I sat on my haunches. Other memories came racing back—the leather jacket in Toni’s closet, the way she’d cleaned out my fridge after my allergic reaction. I shook my head, trying to rid it of those crazy thoughts. Toni was my friend. Why would she have killed Rob? Why would she have tried to kill me?

  Having concluded that I was definitely becoming paranoid, I resumed my cleaning. I was ninety-percent sure the intruder was Harry Johnson, but, just in case, from now on I would keep a watchful eye on my best friend.

  The next day, I was raring to return to work. I’d hardly slept the past two nights, every creak in the house nearly sending me into hysterics. But as of yesterday, I owned a security system complete with a panic button and a siren powerful enough to wake the entire city. If the creep decided to drop by for a surprise visit, one little press of the panic button would startle the man out of his skin. Six days, that was how long I had to wait. Six short days until my dinner party, and then I would bring him down. In the meantime, I would busy myself at the restaurant.

  As I stepped into Skinny’s kitchen, I heard Jake scream, “Get that lobster away from that counter. What are you trying to do? Kill Nicky?”

  Thank goodness somebody here had my back. The last thing I needed now was another episode of anaphylactic shock. I picked up the reservation book and checked the evening’s bookings. Damn. Another blank page. Two in a row, the worst run we’d ever had. I closed the book. Oh well, a quiet night meant we could work on perfecting our skinny recipes. A few minutes later, Toni walked in wearing a red jersey dress, which clung to her curves in a most revealing way.

  “Wow, you look great,” I said, forcing myself to behave normally around her. “Do I take it you have a date tonight?”

  She gave a little shoulder wiggle. “Yes. And he is hot.” She came over and rubbed my arms. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” I answered breezily. “Do me a favor. Let’s stop talking about this. All it does is bring it back.”

  She ignored my request. “Any news from the police?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Why would they look into a break-in when they’re busy building a case against me?”

  “Did they question Harry Johnson?”

  I shrugged. “You know what? I don’t care anymore.” I stopped. “Actually, I take that back. I’d rather they did nothing. I’ll get him myself.” I headed for the kitchen.

  “I don’t think I like the sound of this,” Toni called after me.

  I turned swiftly. “You don’t like the sound of this? That’s laughable. Every time I tell you not to get involved, you ignore my warnings and jump right in, and then you blame me for getting you into trouble.”

  She looked taken aback. “Maybe you’re right. Best if we don’t talk about it.”

  After a few deep breaths, I calmed myself. Toni’s iPhone rang and she fished through her purse to retrieve it. “Eight o’clock?” she asked whoever was on the line. It was a male voice, and it sounded like… She glanced at me, turned away and whispered, “Great. See you then.” She dropped it in her bag.

  “That sounded an awful lot like your ex.”

  She hesitated, then casually said, “He wants us to have dinner.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “We need to go over some financial stuff—about the divorce settlement.”

  “You’ve been divorced three years, and now he wants to talk alimony? Who do you think you’re fooling?” For once, I had the satisfaction of seeing Toni blush. “You don’t owe me any explanation, Toni. Just promise you’ll invite me to the wedding.”

  “Wedding! Are you crazy?” she shrieked. “As far as I’m concerned, bigamy and marriage are the same thing. In both cases, there’s one husband too many.”

  She stomped off to the kitchen, leaving me giggling. That was Toni. Even when I felt like shit, I could always trust her to make me laugh.

  * * *

  Later, I let myself into the house and punched in my new security code as Jackie came galloping over. I felt better having the alarm system, despite the six-thousand-dollar credit-card charge. It had be
en worth it. I almost felt safe again. I picked up Jackie and smothered her with kisses.

  “Do you know that you still smell of skunk, Jackie Chan?” After every bath I gave her, the smell had gradually come back, increasing in intensity until six or seven days later she reeked again.

  I walked to the mudroom. “I know it’s not your fault. But if you hadn’t gone running around, you’d still smell like your sweet little self.” I put her down, turned on the outside light and opened the door. She ran out, and seconds later was back. “Okay, it’s bath time for you.”

  I took out the doggie shampoo and Jackie began to whimper and struggle. I sighed. “Oh, all right. But we’ve got to do something. You can’t go around stinking forever.” As soon as her paws hit the ground, she scampered off in a panic. I was putting on my pajamas with Jackie watching nervously from under the bed when the obvious solution occurred to me. Jackie needed her hair clipped. She might not look very pretty for a while, but she’d be rid of the smell.

  The next morning, however, when I called the groomers, the earliest appointment she could get was a week away.

  I noted the date and time and hung up. “Well, Jackie. You’ll just have to keep on stinking for a little while longer.” When I picked her up for a quick cuddle, I noticed again that she felt heavier. “You are fat, you little monkey.” She looked at me, insulted, as I patted her little body. “I guess you and I are keeping the universe balanced.”

  * * *

  Jake and I were in the dining room, discussing the restaurant’s lack of customers, when a UPS van stopped at the door.

  The driver came staggering in under the weight of a large cardboard box. When he let it drop, the floor shook from the impact. “Delivery from Effect Advertising.”

  Jake jumped up and down, whooping. “It’s got to be our new menus and the flyers. I can’t believe how fast you got them printed.” He called out to the others in the back. “Hey guys, come and see.” Marley came rushing out of the kitchen, followed by Scott and Charles.

 

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