“Actually I’m not here to tell anyone they should look like a movie star,” Quen said, which made me want to kiss him. “People who want to lose weight need to do so for themselves. They need to set goals and have reasonable expectations. Everyone’s body type is different. Some of us carry extra pounds better than others. Instead of trying to look like something you’re not, work with what you have.”
“Okay, so pretend I’m a thirtysomething woman and I’m lugging around a couple of extra pounds. What would you tell me?”
“I’d tell you that you should be working out with a personal trainer. If you can’t afford it then walk every chance you get. And make sure your diet is balanced.”
“And is this what you’re doing with Chere, supervising her calories?” Tre asked. Boy was he good at shooting questions at us.
“Yes, he does,” I said quickly. “I’ve already lost a total of twenty-six pounds. I’ve surpassed a personal goal. The man’s a genius.” I was gushing.
“Well, you go girl!” Tre said focusing his attention on me. “What made you go to Quen for help?”
“Any man who looks this good had to be doing something right.”
Quen cleared his throat. “You’re making me blush, sugar.”
He’d said sugar loud and clear on the air for anyone to hear. I thought I might faint.
“Did I hear something about him cooking you meals?” Tre asked.
“Yes, Quen has these recipes and he cooks me meals that are healthy.”
We hadn’t quite started cooking yet, but the only way Tre would have known about the meals was if Quen had told him, so I felt safe telling a little white lie.
“Sounds cozy to me,” Tre said to Quen, giving a raspy chuckle. “And you’re telling me that anyone who wants to lose weight can sign on with Quen and he’ll be their personal chef.”
“I’ll happily work up a menu,” Quen said amiably. “I do offer options. The client can either purchase foods already prepared or they can get recipes. If they want both I will be glad to comply.”
“I am guessing none of this comes cheap. So how does someone find out about pricing?”
“I have a Web site,” Quen said and quickly gave the URL.
“And I’m proof that his weight loss program works, and I have the before and after pictures to prove it.”
“You are looking mighty fine to me. So fine that if I didn’t have a fiancée you’d be in trouble. Line’s open y’all,” Tre said.
I managed a giggle, and yes I was flirting right back with Tre. So far not one call. We broke for commercial and then Tre put on a tune. Slowly one by one those lines lit up. We were in business.
“Tell the truth, girl,” one listener said. “You ain’t hungry all the time?”
“I used to be,” I answered honestly. “But that’s because I didn’t want to snack on rice cakes or those little baby carrots. Before I started this diet my idea of a snack was McDonald’s.”
“And what you goin’ do with all those clothes you can’t fit into?” another asked. “Clothes are expensive.”
“I’ll donate them to charity unless you want me to give you some?” I swear it just slipped out.
“Shh!” Quen nudged my ankle with the tip of his leather sneakers. Tre was having a hard time trying not to crack up. But damn, what kind of stupid question was that?
“You said you started off wearing a size twenty-two. What size are you wearing now?” another caller asked.
“I’m a size eighteen,” I said, “just like my age.”
This time Tre burst out laughing.
The next caller was a man and he directed his question to Quen. It went on like this for the next fifteen minutes.
Almost at the end of the session, a classy female voice I swore I recognized, but maybe I was paranoid, asked, “Earlier you mentioned you’d always been heavy and your weight was something that made you feel safe. Why after all these years do you want to lose your safety net?”
Quen’s jaw muscle worked so I knew he and I were on the same wavelength. Joya!
“Safe isn’t always good. Sometimes you need to be challenged to realize your full potential,” I said to the caller, although she hadn’t identified herself. “At some point we all have to venture out of our comfort zone. You want to feel good about yourself.”
“I couldn’t have said that better,” Quen said breaking in because he probably didn’t trust me to stay calm. “What’s that expression? If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting. When you shed a few pounds it’s amazing how much more energy you have and how much better you feel.”
“Amen,” Tre added. “Well thank you Quen Abrahams, owner of the nutrition company, Eat for Life. Thank you Chere Adams for being such a wonderful guest. In a few weeks WARP will check in on Chere’s progress and hear what dress size she’s wearing then. We need to pay our bills y’all. Hang with me while we go to commercial.”
We were done. Quen stood up and I joined him.
“How did we do?” I asked Tre.
“You guys were off the chain.”
We thanked him for having us on. Quen took my hand and together we left the studio.
“You rocked, sugar,” he said when we were out in the parking lot. He held his hand out, palm up waiting for my keys.
I actually felt shy. Imagine that? And I damn near died when Quen folded me into his arms and gave me a great big hug.
“That’s for handling yourself well when Joya called in,” he said.
I’d been right on the money. It had been Joya who’d asked the question about why I’d decided to lose weight after all of this time.
I doubted that the question had been prompted by any real interest in me. The good thing was I was onto her now. And if Joya Hamill knew what was good for her she would not mess with Chere Adams.
I still had street in me and I would take her down if I had to.
Chapter 14
I had been voted valedictorian. Can you believe that? Me. And I’d worked on my speech like crazy with a little help from Jen. I needed it. So there I was on the podium in front of what was left of my class with water in my eyes and a frog in my throat.
“I stand before you to tell you that all things are possible,” I said. “I signed up for this class because I wanted to improve myself and there were a couple of things holding me back.” I held up a hand, ticking off on my fingers. “Number one, I had a weight problem so I decided to work on that. Number two, I needed to get a better job and I needed to learn to communicate. Most people who are somebody don’t speak Ebonics.”
That got a laugh. Encouraged, I continued, sounding more confident.
“This has been one bumpy journey. What I have learned is that people judge you on appearance and the way you speak. It may not happen overnight but there are benefits to investing in you. In only the short space of a few weeks I have become more confident as a person and more determined than ever to get ahead. I am not going to let anything hold me back. I want to thank Mr. Cummings for bringing us along. Let’s put our hands together and give it up for our teacher, Mr. Cummings.”
There was a huge applause and a few whoops and hollers from the homies who’d made it. I stepped from behind the raised platform, and the small graduating class; there were only twelve of us left cheered.
“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Everyone chanted as a red-faced Mr. Cummings made his way to the front.
He used some words I’d have to look up later while his students toasted him with cider. I stuck to diet coke. I was now on a serious diet.
At the end of the celebration, everyone promised to stay in touch. I knew no one would. After giving everyone one of my cards, I left.
I was climbing into my minivan when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello, this is Chere.”
“Hi, Chere. I’m calling because we’d said we’d have a drink sometime.”
Joya! I already knew what was up with th
at. This wasn’t just some friendly invitation or an effort to be nice.
“When did you have in mind?” I asked, curiosity taking over.
“How about right now? Are you available?”
Now was as good a time as any while I was in a relatively positive frame of mind. Might as well know what I was up against. I suggested we meet at the Haul Out.
“I’d prefer someplace less loud where we can actually sit and talk? I’d say the Pink Flamingo except there’s bound to be interruptions.”
I suggested another place on the boardwalk. That wasn’t good enough.
“No, I’ve always hated that hole in the wall,” Joya said, making it sound like the bar was well beneath her.
So I gave up and let her choose. She must have some place in mind.
“What about the bar at the Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa?” she came back with.
Expensive. From what I heard a drink cost ten dollars and you weren’t talking about premium liquor, either. If I stuck to diet coke or water with lemon it might not be so bad.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few,” I said and hung up.
I’d never set foot inside the hotel before and the lobby intimidated me. It had coral marble floors and fake palm trees that almost touched the domed glass ceilings. There were huge porch swings that had coral-and-blue striped cushions that served as seats. Colorful umbrellas were positioned over hammocks. I expected a cabana boy to pop out of someplace any minute with drinks in his hand.
There were people everywhere, some dressed like they were heading for dinner. Must be a convention from out of town because none I recognized. A bar off to the side held businessmen who craned their necks when some hot babe went by. On the opposite side, was an upscale coffee shop with Internet access. And straight ahead of me was another bar, even fancier than the first and decorated like a huge sailboat.
I headed for that bar, guessing that would be where Joya waited. A man who must be the host blocked me from entering. He was wearing navy long pants and a white shirt with those things on the shoulders. And he wore a cap like a captain wore.
“Madam, are you a guest?” he asked.
Madam? Another first for me. I didn’t notice him stopping anyone else asking that question.
“I’m here to meet someone,” I answered
“This is a closed party,” he sniffed. “For the medical sales convention. This bar is reserved for the convention’s cocktail party.”
“I see.”
I moved off.
“There’s a bar in the spa and two outdoor ones looking over the ocean,” he called after me.
I left the area and hurried outdoors. The sun had gone down and the area was artificially lit. Thin women in skimpy clothes sauntered by. I saw lots of strapless dresses and swirling skirts, hip hugging capris and really short shorts. Everywhere there were plenty of bare midriffs. Men were chatting up women and everyone seemed to be having a good time.
And here I was down to a size eighteen dress, wearing this shapeless black muumuu that I’d graduated in. I’d cheated and jazzed it up with orange mules and a necklace bearing flowers but I still didn’t feel very pulled together.
I entered the first bar which had an open view of the water. There were more bright colored umbrellas with people sitting under them.
“Over here, Chere!” Joya called from a table with high stools you would have to heave yourself up onto. A man was chatting her up who must be one of the conventioneer’s because I sure as heck hadn’t seen him before.
When I approached they made room for me. The man wasn’t exactly tall but he was in good shape and broad-shouldered.
“Is this the friend you’re waiting for?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Yes, this is Chere Adams.”
“Matthew Wilson.” He bobbed his head and then gazed adoringly at Joya, who was sipping a green drink.
With some effort I managed to climb onto one of those high stools. I sat for at least five minutes while they continued to chat. Joya, give her her due, did try to include me in the conversation. Matthew, on his way to the cocktail party, handed Joya his business card and took off.
“You need an appletini,” Joya said waving to the waitress. “Unless there’s something else you prefer.”
Boy was I tempted. In a fancy place like this there had to be a piña colada with my name written on it. No, no, I had to check myself. If I wanted to look like the woman across from me in the cropped white linen pants that skimmed her ankles and the aqua halter top fitting smoothly across her stomach, I needed self-control.
“I’ll have a spritzer,” I said.
“Boring. She’ll have an appletini,” Joya said to the waitress who’d just approached.
“A spritzer, please.”
“No, an appletini for the lady.”
The waitresses head ping-ponged back and forth. “Which will it be?
“Spritzer.”
“Appletini.”
“Okay, appletini,” I agreed because she’d worn me down. An appletini would be my dessert. I’d never had a fancy drink like that one and it might be nice to try something new.
I could get use to this life; a life that didn’t have Colt in it. Joya was busy checking out people at the bar.
“It’s just tourists,” she said. “The snowbirds are still down. Why is it when people vacation in Florida it becomes an excuse to break out their wild and wacky clothes?”
I liked her sense of humor. I guess my clothing could have been considered wacky before Jen took me in hand and convinced me to ditch the zebra stripes and leopard’s skin. And yes, they might be in style, but on a thick person they looked like bedding.
My appletini arrived. I sucked down half of the concoction refusing to think of the calories. Gawd did that drink taste good.
“Want another?” Joya asked, egging me on.
“Sure.” In less than half an hour my diet was already shot. She signaled for the waiter and told him to bring us another. I was already wondering who would drive us home.
We talked about a bunch of stuff, though to tell you the truth we had little in common.
I was on my fourth appletini, at least I think it was four, I’d lost count.
“So what’s up with you and Quen?” Joya asked
I’d been expecting something like this, and even prepared my own little speech. I’d convinced myself that if she had to ask about us, that meant she was nervous. Still…
Anyway, I kept my face serious and pretended that I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Me and Quen? He’s my personal trainer,” I answered, making my eyes round.
“You’ve been out a couple of times and you work out together. And you did that interview on WARP. Quen was very open about you being his poster child.”
“Quen’s good people,” I said and watched her expression.
Joya looked all mooney-eyed.
“Yes he is.”
“Then why did you divorce him?” I was sick to death of dancing around the issue and figured might as well just put it right out there.
“We were young and inexperienced. I wanted things my way. He wanted them his. Then there was the matter of the baby we lost.” She grew all serious and seemed to drift off.
“Couldn’t you compromise?” I asked.
“Like I said before, we were both stubborn and very young. Compromise wasn’t something in my vocabulary. I wanted it all.”
A huge admission. She was willing to shoulder fifty percent of the blame for a marriage that had fallen apart. I just had to ask and needed to know.
“Do you regret leaving Quen?”
“Regret might not be the right word. Neither of us liked the idea of throwing the towel in.”
“You think it’s too late to salvage the relationship?” I asked, my stomach fluttering. Damn those appletinis. I watched to see her reaction.
Joya screwed up her face thinking about it for a moment. “We’ll see what happens. The rest is up to Quen.
”
I didn’t like her answer one bit.
“Maybe you should be straight up with Quen and just tell him how you feel,” I said. And if she did I’d scratch her eyes out.
She sipped on her appletini gazing into the green liquid as if it were crystal ball. “I will when the time is right.”
I didn’t like the fact that Joya might have designs on my man. Given they’d once been married that gave her a jump-start. No way was I backing off and leaving Quen to her.
I didn’t say anything for a long time.
Out of the blue, Joya asked, “Do you have feelings for Quen?”
I choked on what was left of my drink and ended up having a coughing fit. She patted me on the back.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, thanks. Feelings? What kind of feelings? We’re friends.”
“Romantic feelings. He’s taken you out a couple of times.”
This was getting way too personal. Joya was fishing and I didn’t like the idea of being grilled.
A woman cleared her throat behind me.
“Chere?” Jen eyed my glass, frowning. “Just how many drinks have you had?”
I stared at her glassy-eyed. “What are you doing here?” My tongue felt heavy.
“I’m waiting for Tre. He’s taping. Who’s this?”
I introduced Jen to Joya.
The two women sized each other up.
“You’re the woman engaged to D’Dawg,” Joya said, shaking Jen’s hand. Considering she’d been out of town for a while she was very well informed. How much did she really know about my friendship with Quen?
Jen flashed her diamond with the princess setting at her. It made me envious.
“That’s quite the rock,” Joya said, examining Jen’s hand and carefully admiring the stone.
Jen took her hand back. Her attention fixed on me again. “Trust me, I earned every carat. Young lady is this official fall off the wagon night?” She eyed my drink again.
“Oh, give her a break. It’s only one night,” Joya added.
I sensed the wheels turning in Jen’s head. She was trying to assess the situation.
All About Me Page 13