Fit to Die

by J. B. Stanley

  “It’s hard to be a newcomer in this town,” Murphy said, surprising James with what sounded like heartfelt sympathy. “A lot of folks here aren’t comfortable with change.”

  “Can’t say I blame them,” James answered, thinking back to how he hadn’t wanted to move back home. “Unless it’s the kind of change that brings people like Willy to our town. We could all use more of his kind of jauntiness and optimism.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? You’re all right, James Henry.” Murphy suddenly stood on her tiptoes and kissed James on the cheek. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to see how Witness to Fitness went.”

  As a stunned James pivoted to watch the reporter walk away, his hand touching the spot on his cheek where Murphy had brushed his skin with her sticky, custard-covered lips, he found himself facing an angry glare from Lucy Hanover. He offered a feeble wave, but she pretended not to have seen him and disappeared inside the Polar Pagoda.

  James finished his dessert while debating whether or not to explain to Lucy that he and Murphy weren’t an item, but he didn’t see much point in doing so. On the other hand, the anger and hurt in Lucy’s eyes made it clear to James that she still had feelings for him. Warmed by this thought and the giant bowl of custard filling his stomach, James was just about to pursue Lucy inside. He would ask her out for coffee and finally come clean as to why he had succumbed to his fears and insecurities and pray that he still had a chance to become more than her friend.

  Before he could take a step forward, however, Veronica Levitt appeared on the sidewalk and began turning a series of cartwheels to the amusement of the waiting crowd.

  “Hey everyone!” she shouted brightly. “I’m Veronica Levitt, the owner and manager of the brand-new Witness to Fitness. We’re just a few stores down. Now, I know that you all are here tonight to enjoy a delicious dessert, but by the morning, you’re going to be sorry. That fat is going to stick on your thighs,” she pointed to a woman in tight jeans, “your waistline,” she pointed to a man with an impressive spare tire, “and your rear,” she pointed at a woman who had bent over to retrieve a set of dropped keys. All three of the crowd members unsuccessfully tried to fade into the background. “But you are all too, too beautiful to do this to yourselves!”

  Veronica put her hands out as if embracing the crowd and continued her sales pitch. “Wouldn’t you rather have the energy to do a cartwheel, or dance with your husband or wife, or live ten years longer than spend any more time in this line?” She brandished some pink brochures in her hands. “Come to my Grand Opening tomorrow and I’ll give you a whole new life—one that will be so sweet that you won’t even need desserts anymore.”

  “Ha! That can’t be possible,” someone mumbled and several people snickered.

  “Yes it can!” Veronica seized the opportunity the dissenter had provided her. “You can be slimmer, stronger, younger looking, more energetic. No surgery, no pain. Just a different way of eating and some easy exercise and you can have a whole new body and a whole new outlook by beach season!”

  Several people murmured and nodded their heads. Hands reached out to take brochures from Veronica.

  “This looks expensive.” A man pointed out sourly.

  Veronica glided like a cat on ice to the man’s side. She offered him a dazzling smile, grasped his shoulder, and whispered intimately, “Darlin’, I think your life is worth the expense, don’t you?”

  The man said nothing. He blinked a few times as she moved away and then began seriously studying the pink brochure. By the time Veronica had reached the front of the line, Willy must have heard about the sideshow being produced for the benefit of his first customers. He propped open one of the front doors and spoke loudly, but politely.

  “Do you mind letting my customers be my customers tonight? You’ve got your day comin’ up tomorrow.”

  Veronica thrust her angular chin in the air and swept her arms around in order to indicate her rapt audience. “I’m trying to save the bodies of these lovely people while you’re trying to send them to an early grave. Look at all of this potential standing right here in front of me! I won’t lose a single opportunity to help someone live a longer, healthier life.”

  “Sometimes, folks have gotta have something that’s just plain fun, too. Now scoot and do your business in your own time, at your own place.”

  “I’ll just finish handing out these brochures.” Veronica turned her back on Willy and bounced farther up the line, her ponytail bobbing along enthusiastically.

  In a flash, Willy ran up and jerked the brochures from Veronica’s hand and stuffed them in the nearest trash can, which was predominately filled with sticky ice cream containers and dripping soda cups.

  Veronica’s fists clenched with anger. She took a step toward Willy and James scuttled sideways in order to get out of her way, but not far enough to avoid hearing her whisper, “That was not very nice, ice cream man. You’ll learn to be nicer to me in the future.”

  On Saturday, as James stood outside the Witness to Fitness storefront gathering the courage needed to face a new diet and a disgruntled Lucy, Bennett appeared and hastened him inside.

  “Man, let’s just get this over with,” his friend muttered.

  Inside, the space was divided into the office section in the front, where four cubicles had been constructed out of sleek gray materials, and the exercise room in the back. Here Veronica had arranged a group of folding chairs in the middle of the floor with an aisle going up the center. Gillian waved James and Bennett over to the two seats she had saved for them. Lucy and Lindy also smiled and greeted their friends, and although James could sense no animosity coming from Lucy, he felt agitated all the same. In addition to the members of the Flab Five, at least twenty other people with an evident love of food had gathered in the room. Avoiding their own reflections in the wall-length mirror opposite them, the men and women fidgeted nervously or attempted to strike up conversations with those seated next to them.

  Abruptly, the lights in the room were dimmed and then turned back to their full brightness. Upbeat dance music began to play from a boom box set up in one of the rear corners of the exercise room. The crowd immediately fell silent.

  Once again, Veronica displayed her gymnastic talents by doing two cartwheels and a roundhouse on the empty space of hardwood floor in front of her future clients. Several of these people clapped hesitatingly as she completed her routine and gave a short, stiff bow.

  “Welcome to Witness to Fitness!” she beamed. “I’m Veronica Levitt, but since you and I”—she pointed at people randomly as she spoke—“are going to be very close in the next few months, you should call me what my friends do, and that’s Ronnie.”

  “I wonder how many friends she’s got. I mean, who could tolerate all of that perkiness?” James muttered under his breath and Gillian shot him an admonishing look.

  Ronnie ran a hand over her hair, which was pulled back so tightly into a high, bouncing ponytail that it seemed like the woman had just had a brow lift. “All of you sitting before me are brave and intelligent people. You have made the choice to live a better, healthier life and I plan to reward you for the decision. You see, right now you are all like a bunch of caterpillars. You are overweight and you spend too much of your time eating. But inside!” She reached out to an overweight teenage girl in the front row. “Inside of each and every one of you is a butterfly. Something beautiful and new and filled with energy is just dying to be let loose from its shell. You are holding yourself back!” Ronnie pointed to Lindy next.

  James turned and was surprised to see Lindy nod in silent agreement. Gillian was dabbing tears from her eyes with a pink and purple tie-dyed scarf. Lucy’s face was blank and Bennett simply appeared amused.

  “Quite a show,” he whispered to James as Ronnie skipped around the room.

  “Quite,” James agreed.

  “Now, in the next six weeks, I am going to get a little bit tough with you, because that’s the kind of help you need.” Ronnie grabbed the
shoulder of a fleshy man sitting near the aisle. “But you’ll have lots of loving support, too. How many of you out there have tried other diet plans?”

  A dozen hands rose into the air. Ronnie stared down at the man whose shoulder she had clamped onto until he raised a trembling hand.

  “And here you are, back in bad shape. After six weeks on my plan, I will have taught you how to eat and exercise so that you can continue changing your life on your own. I will help you break out of your shell!” she exclaimed gaily. “My friends, you will fly like a butterfly and begin living the life that has always been confined to your dreams!”

  Several women to the right of James broke out in sporadic clapping. One of them was Twix Lady from the discount warehouse. She sat with a look of rapt fascination as she watched Ronnie’s every movement. Her hands were clutched together as if in prayer.

  “That’s the spirit, ladies. Now, you can’t do Witness to Fitness as a piecemeal plan. You must eat my food, keep a food journal, come in every week for counseling and weigh-in sessions, and attend at least three exercise classes a week.” Ronnie paused and clasped her hands over her flat breasts. In a dramatic stage whisper, she pronounced, “If you cheat on any of these items you will be removed from the program with NO MONEY RETURNED!” Several people began twittering amongst themselves.

  “Oh dear, no refunds?” someone behind James whimpered.

  “This is for your own good, my friends. You must place your complete trust in us. Paying us up front will motivate you to return for your required sessions.” Ronnie ran her hands over her gaunt cheeks as she surveyed her future clients. “I have two assistants I would like to introduce to you. First is Phoebe Liu. Phoebe is in charge of counseling and finances.”

  Phoebe stood up from where she sat in the front row. She was a petite Asian American with attractive, exotic looks and a demure smile. She raised a small hand and waved shyly at the crowd saying softly, “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need any extra support during your time with Witness to Fitness. I am here to help you.”

  The sincerity of her simple statement made more of an impact on James than any of Ronnie’s cartwheels or butterfly analogies.

  “Next,” Ronnie called out, “we have Dylan Shane. Dylan is our primary fitness instructor.”

  A door in the rear of the exercise room opened and the women in the room issued a collective gasp. A man of average height with white-blonde hair, sparkling brown eyes, and limbs that looked like they were sculpted from tree trunks, offered the crowd a dazzling smile. His aquamarine workout shirt strained against his chiseled pectoral muscles and a whiff of his musky cologne drifted out into the first two rows of seats. “Hello y’all. I’m Dylan,” he boomed in a deep, manly voice. “I live over in Harrisonburg but will be commuting here every day except on Saturdays. Today is an exception, as I usually volunteer for the elderly on Saturdays.” The women turned to one another and prattled in approval.

  “How many twenty-something hunks would do that with their free time?” A woman behind James asked the man seated next to her.

  “Honey,” the man stated matter-of-factly, “I’m sure he’s gay. No one who looks that good is straight.”

  “Dylan has made you all a special snack to celebrate your decision to join our team.” Ronnie issued a wink of flirtatious collusion at her co-worker. “Dylan?”

  Dylan bounded back into the room from whence he made his original entrance bearing a tray laden with paper bowls. James smelled popcorn and immediately perked up.

  “Here’s a sample of the kind of snack you’ll be enjoying as a Witness to Fitness member,” Ronnie said as she and Phoebe helped Dylan distribute the popcorn. “It’s 98% fat free and has a butter substitute spray to give you that movie theater taste.”

  James grabbed his bowl and hurriedly stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. His taste buds were disappointed by the cardboard nature of the popcorn and even though he could smell the butter-flavored spray, he couldn’t taste it at all.

  “Movie theater popcorn?” Bennett scoffed beside him. “The only way this stuff tastes like that is if she’s been eating the paper tub instead of the popcorn.”

  James laughed as Lucy chimed in defensively. “I think it’s just fine. Though it could use a bit more butter,” she added wistfully.

  “I don’t care what we have to eat as long as I get to come in here and feast my Brazilian eyes on Dylan three times a week!” Lindy announced cheerfully.

  “Amen to that, sister,” breathed Gillian who was eyeing the male fitness instructor appreciatively.

  “Now we’re going to divide up into three groups in order to discuss how many food points you’ll each be allowed.” Ronnie pointed at Phoebe. “Phoebe will take all the lovely ladies weighing between 150 and 185 pounds in this corner. Dylan will take all of the ladies who weigh above 185 in this corner. I will meet with all of our fine gentlemen in the front of the store.”

  As James stood up to join the other men, he noticed that several of the heavier women seemed torn between pretending they weighed less than 185 pounds and the chance to bask in the glow of Dylan’s beauty. As if reading their minds, Ronnie added, “And don’t worry if you’re unsure of your weight, we’ve got very accurate scales that can tell us an exact number.”

  As the men huddled around Ronnie’s spartan cubicle, James detected a pungent and rather sour odor coming from one of the men to his right. Unable to focus on Ronnie’s lecture about choosing the next week’s meals and snacks based on their current weight, James sniffed and grimaced as Bennett began to do the same.

  “Some of you might be feeling a bit depressed over your current weight, but on my program, those of you weighing over 200 pounds get more food points. More food points means more food. Now, let’s share what the scale said about your weight. That will bring you closer together as a group.” Ronnie looked each of them hard in the eye, a patient smile fixed upon her face.

  One by one, the six men began to quietly and humbly admit how much they weighed. The only person who refused to answer turned out to be the source of the ripe smell filling the cubicle area. James was pretty certain that it was a mixture of whiskey and the fetid sort of body odor a person carries when they haven’t visited a shower in several days.

  “Come now, Mr. … ?” Ronnie prodded. “We’re all friends here.”

  “Name’s Vandercamp, Pete Vandercamp.” The man coughed repeatedly and then spit something solid into a foul-looking handkerchief. James suddenly recognized him. Pete was the former night janitor from Blue Ridge High. He had been a young man when James was in high school and all the students had dubbed him Mr. Vandercough due to the constant wet hacking noises he made as he cleaned the floors at the end of the school day.

  “Why don’t we get to know each other a bit?” Ronnie suggested, deciding to ignore Pete. “Tell us what you do for a living, for example.”

  James and Bennett already knew that one of the men named Leo worked for Shenandoah Savings & Loan. Another man, named Dane, was a plumber, and Pete Vandercamp triumphantly announced that he had come out of an early retirement in order to work nights at the Polar Pagoda.

  “That’s sure some good ice cream,” he rasped as Ronnie clucked her tongue in disapproval.

  “Did Willy send you here to spy on me?” she teased, but James thought he detected an undercurrent of tension in her voice.

  Pete cleared his throat nonchalantly. “Hey. It’s a free country, lady. Folks can eat ice cream if they wanna.”

  Ronnie took Pete by the arm and pulled him toward the front door. “Honey, if you’re not here to join Witness to Fitness then let’s not waste the time of those who have come to change their lives.” Under her breath, James thought he heard her mutter nastily. “And you might want to take a bath before your shift starts tonight.”

  Pete, who seemed to be in no hurry to exit, stared at her. “I know you from somewhere, lady. Weren’t you on TV a few years ago?”

  Trying to mask her impa
tience, Ronnie turned to see the group of men watching her exchange with Pete. It was evident that her clients were enjoying themselves, so she quickly tried to guide Pete to the door but he refused to budge.

  “Well,” Ronnie quickly uttered a high-pitched squeal. “I have been told I look a little like Hilary Swank, the actress.”

  Pete’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to remember. “Nah. It wasn’t like that.”

  Ronnie opened the front door and practically shoved Pete outside with an exaggerated giggle and a powerful bump of the hip. She then followed him out and said something else that no one could hear as the door had shut after her. The rest of the men began to talk among themselves about their concerns about joining a diet group, but James kept his eyes riveted on Pete Vandercamp, who reached into his pocket, removed a tin of Skoal chewing tobacco, and put a wad inside his left cheek.

  Staring at Pete, it was obvious that the older man had suddenly remembered something, because he pointed accusingly at Ronnie and then began to laugh. His whole body seemed to shake as he mocked the fitness instructor. James could see from Ronnie’s profile that the color had drained from her flushed face, but she seemed to recover quickly. She raised her fist and took a step toward Pete in what was unmistakably a threatening manner. Guffawing, Pete spit a thin stream of brown tobacco juice on the ground, turned his back, and then casually strode away as Ronnie stood motionless, calling angrily after him. James watched as Ronnie took several deep breaths in order to compose herself before she reentered the store.

  When she returned, a wide smile was once again plastered on her face, but James noticed that both of her hands were still clenched into tight fists, as if the rest of her body hadn’t received the message that rage must be completely controlled in front of the customers.