Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (16 page)

I glance at my watch. I haven’t made much of a dent in the tests I’m scoring but the bell hasn’t rung yet, which means the music teacher’s metronome is still ticking off the minutes in my classroom. Plus there’s no way in hell I am leaving Nick and Amy alone.

I wrap my feet around the legs of my chair and grab another math test.

“Amy, that cheesecake you made was great.” Nick crumples his paper plate and makes a quick shot at the trash basket.

“Silly boy, you think I cook? My husband Hughie picked it up at the bakery.”

Nick grins. “Hughie’s a lucky guy.”

“He is. And good thing for him, he knows it. But I don’t want to talk about him.” She sidles close to Nick and wags her finger at him. “You’re the one I’ve been thinking about.”

Nick blinks. “Me?”

My heart flutters. If she moves any closer, she’ll end up in his lap.

Her blond hair brushes his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

“Is that right?” He laces his fingers together across his stomach and sprawls back in his chair with a lazy grin. “All good, I hope.”

“Could it be anything but? It’s all about you,” she assures him with a pretty pout.

How can she blatantly flirt like that with him? I hate sitting here listening to this. I hate Amy. I’ve always hated Amy. And at the moment, I’m pretty damn close to hating Nick, too. I thought he said he didn’t like her. I thought he said he didn’t trust her. Why do men get so weird when it comes to women? Say things they don’t mean? Make promises they don’t keep?

If this is the way he’s going to be, he can just forget about me showing up at those stupid basketball games.

“Anyway, I came up with the most brilliant idea.” Amy’s eyes gleam. “I’m going to throw a party for you. A cocktail party, just before the holidays. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Sounds great,” he says doubtfully. “But I don’t know many people. Who would come?”

“That’s the reason for the party… so you can get to know people. The right kind of people,” she adds.

“Are teachers invited?” I pipe up, even though I’ve already got a pretty good idea what her answer will be.

“I suppose I’ll ask a few people from school… but certainly not everyone. And especially not her.” Amy wrinkles her nose and nods at the door Ruth just left through. “Bad enough we’re forced to sit here every day listening to her prattle on. It’s my house, my party, and I’m not inviting her.”

I slump further in my chair. If Ruth’s not invited, it’s a virtual guarantee I won’t make the list.

Amy turns back to Nick. “This will be so much fun! All you have to do is pick the date and I’ll plan the party. There’s a new martini recipe I’ve been dying to try. I can’t wait to show it to the bartender.”

“You’re hiring a bartender?” His eyebrows lift. “This sounds like quite the party.”

“What’s the point in doing something if you don’t do it right?” Amy asks as the bell rings. She scoots from the table and heads for the door. Delicate gold bracelets jingle as she throws him a little wave. “Let me know about the date.”

“Looks like I’m in for it now.” Nick shoves his chair under the table. “You’re coming, right?”

“Sure.” It’s only a quick walk down the hall, but I might as well make the most of my opportunities and spend time with him while I still have the chance. Once Nick meets all those prominent people at Amy’s party, he’ll forget about me. I shuffle my tests into a big messy stack and grab my pen.

“No, I mean the party.” He opens the door, holds it for me. “You’re coming, right?”

I halt, blink, frown. “Amy’s party?”

“Bingo.”

“I don’t think so.” Amy was pretty specific about who would and wouldn’t make the cut on her list. Maybe he doesn’t realize how much Amy hates me. And I hate her. Who wants to go to her stupid old party, anyway? Not me. Well, not much. After all, the party
is
in Nick’s honor. “I doubt I’m invited,” I finally admit. Saying the words out loud makes it hurt even worse. I scoot under his arm, head into the hallway.

“Sure you’re invited,” his voice floats behind me. “I just asked you.”

My heart pounds as I whirl around to face him. “You mean… go with you to the party?”

A frown hovers on his forehead. “What’s the problem? You don’t want to go with me?”

Am I messing up here or did Nick just ask me out? I must be crazy thinking like that. Guys like Nick don’t date women like me. And even if he did ask me out, it’s a pity invitation thrown to a fellow teacher. The last thing I want is pity from Nick or to have him feeling sorry for me. What I really want is…

“I don’t think—”

His eyes narrow. “You’re turning me down?”

Noisy kids rush by us as I slump against the door. My knees feel spongy, like rubber bands. “You don’t understand. Amy and I aren’t exactly friends. I doubt she’ll be thrilled if I show up.”

“Who cares what she thinks? You and I are a team, remember? Besides, I’m the guest of honor. That means I get to take who I want. And I’m taking you.”

I want to go. I’m scared to go. I’ve got to be crazy, facing Amy’s wrath for a date with Nick.

A date with Nick… I’d be crazy
not
to go.

“Come on, Patty, quit playing around. We both know you’re going to say
yes
.”

“All right.” I lift my arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl.” He winks, gives me a thumbs-up, and disappears down the hall.

His girl? Nick’s girl? Did he mean it?

Yes!

I lean against the door another minute, trying to find my breath. My very first cocktail party ever, and I’ll be on Nick’s arm. First thing Saturday morning, Priscilla and I need to hit the mall. I’ve got to find a dress.
The Dress
. This calls for drastic measures. No more sneaking food, no more hidden six-packs of chocolate. And that half-eaten bag of coconut macaroons stashed in the bottom of my desk? Headed straight for the trash. Serious dieting is in order, starting right now. Who needs cookies at a time like this?

I’ve got a date with Nick Lamont!

CHAPTER TEN

“Well, look who’s here.” Sam yanks off his goggles. “I thought you gave up on the pool.”

“It was this or liposuction.” I ease into the cool water in the lane next to him. Nothing changes if nothing changes and nothing’s changed since I’ve been here. Same shimmering water, same plastic lane dividers bobbing on the surface, same skinny lifeguard sporting a wispy beard. Same chunky girl I’ve always been.

Fatty Patty
.

Déjà vu. Day One, all over again. I haven’t been at the pool for weeks, well before Halloween. Desperation brought me back. I’ve got exactly one month to trim these ugly inches from my hips and thighs if I want to look smashing and sexy in that new dress I bought for Amy’s party. So far, I’ve lost five pounds through grim determination and a diet of carrot sticks. Fifteen more pounds and Nick will be wowed.

But I want him more than wowed. I want Nick to look at me like… like the way Sam looks at me.

“Got any plans for after your workout?”

“Why?” I tread water, glance at Sam. Thanks to Priscilla, I’ve grown used to having him around. He’s like a big old cuddly teddy bear, the brother I never had. I’m not even embarrassed at having him see me in this bathing suit. Sam knows I have chunky thighs. He doesn’t care.

And I’ve got to give him credit. Sam’s kept his word and kept his distance… though sometimes I still catch him staring when he thinks I’m not looking. But he’s made no romantic overtures, made no further attempts to kiss me. It’s just meatloaf, lasagna, and friendly dinner conversation, much to my relief… plus a little regret, too. The last thing I want is to lead Sam on, but the easy banter between us is gone and I miss it.

Just like I miss the tickle of his soft little moustache.

Kissing him was fun.
More than fun.

Kissing him was exciting.
More than exciting.

Kissing him was…

“I was going to call you later this week,” he says. “I’ve been crunching some numbers on your house. I’ve got the file out in my car. If you’re not busy, we could go over it tonight.”

My gut tightens and I grab the edge of the pool. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Even with Sam propping me up for moral support, the mere thought of confronting Priscilla about selling makes me feel like I could be sucked under at any minute. “Maybe we should wait a few days. Priscilla hasn’t been feeling too great. Her allergies are giving her fits.”

“I was thinking it might be better if we discussed some things without her. We could do it tonight. Maybe over dinner.”

I bob in the water, eye him carefully. Is this some trick to get me alone? Lure me into some dark corner, throw a few financial figures my way and then make his move?

Just when I was starting to trust him…

“Nothing fancy,” he adds. “We can grab some hamburgers, spread out the paperwork, and talk in private.”

Hamburgers? That doesn’t sound like a date, but exactly like what he mentioned—a casual business meeting over dinner. Sam must be serious. His moustache hasn’t even twitched.

“Okay, but can we please forget about the greasy hamburger? I’m on a very strict diet.” I think about the brand new dress hanging in my closet. That cocktail dress simply
has
to fit.

“I promise we’ll go some place where you can get a nice salad.”

“And separate checks,” I warn. He’s been good so far, but I don’t want him getting the wrong idea. “Plus, I need to finish my workout.”

“I’ve still got a few laps left myself.” He snaps his goggles firmly in place and sinks under the water.

I fasten my own goggles, take a deep gulp, and kick off against the wall. Did I make a mistake, agreeing to have dinner with him tonight? I like Sam, but sometimes being around him dredges up feelings inside me I don’t trust. Feelings I don’t dare give into. I don’t need to get tangled up with Sam. He’s big and bold, not afraid to take on the world… or a triple bacon cheeseburger.

Bad enough I look the way I do. The last thing I need is a boyfriend who’s fat.

# # #

Sam eyes me across the table. “You didn’t even look at the menu. How do you know for sure what you want?”

I sip my water with the lemon slice floating amid the ice cubes and ignore the unopened menu in front of me. Why tempt myself by peeking inside? “I’ve been here before. They serve salads.”

“Yes, but they’ve got other things besides—”

“I’m having a chef salad.” Why is he making this so difficult? I’m already regretting my decision to come here. Chuck’s Tavern and Grill is a local place known for its Friday night all-you-can-eat-fish-fries, relaxed homey atmosphere, and big comfortable booths where people spread out and relax. But who can relax with those tantalizing smells drifting from the nearby grill? French fries, onion rings, sizzling steaks.

Why does food that’s supposedly so bad for you have to smell so good?

“They serve great steaks. Have you ever tried their ribs? They make the best barbecued ribs you’ll ever taste.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, try not to think about barbequed ribs slathered in sauce, tender meat falling off the bone. How many calories in barbecued ribs? How many pounds do I need to lose before I look good in that little black dress?

Forget eating ribs. The only ribs I want are my own ribs showing in that dress.

“I’ll have a chef salad, please. No croutons. Vinegar dressing.” The waitress scribbles as I rattle off my order. “And a plain dinner roll. No butter.”

Too bad Priscilla isn’t here. She’d be so proud of me.

“I’ll take the steak.” Sam slaps his menu shut. “And a baked potato, please, with butter and sour cream. I’ll have a salad, too… and throw on some extra croutons, will you? I’ll take the ones she didn’t want.” He leans across the table as the waitress disappears. “I don’t get it, Patty. Why nibble on rabbit food when you could eat steak or ribs?”

I squirm against the cushy vinyl booth. “I’m on a diet, remember?”

“No butter, no croutons?” His eyebrows lift. “Sounds like a pretty drastic diet to me.”

What makes him think he’s got a right to grill me about the food I choose to eat? Next thing, he’ll want to know my dress size, or how much I weigh. Men aren’t supposed to talk about things like that with women. Are they? Then again, how would I know? Until this year, the only men in my life have been ten-year-old boys.

But now I’ve got Sam… and Nick Lamont.

“I still don’t understand why you want to lose weight. You look great just the way you are.”

Never mind telling him about Teacher of the Year. Sam would never understand. There’s a huge voting population out there in the educational community just waiting for the nominations to open up next week so they can cast their ballot for the one teacher best able to represent us all. Am I that person? Sam might think so, but he’s not allowed to vote. Meanwhile, there’s no mistaking the admiration in his eyes. I grab my water glass and force myself to take long slow sips. Coming here tonight was a huge mistake. I should have known better. When am I going to learn to trust my better judgment?

Our food arrives. I drizzle vinegar over the generous platter of assorted greens, fresh vegetables, diced ham, shredded cheese, sliced eggs. Working out at the pool always makes me hungry. I could easily wolf down the whole thing without any trouble. But can I get away with eating all of it? The plate overflows with healthy abundance, but is it too much for one person? A normal person would know—a normal person with a normal appetite.

Sam eyes my plate as I set down the vinegar. “I admire your willpower. I’m supposed to be on a diet, too.”

“What kind of diet?” I spear some lettuce, a sliver of ham, nibble around the edges.

“I’m not sure what you’d call it. It’s some plan my cardiologist suggested I try.”

“Low carbs? No sugar?” I cringe as he plops an entire dish of blue cheese dressing over his mixed greens. Doesn’t he know that blue cheese dressing is loaded with fat? Sam’s doctor must be a quack.