Page 1 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

The Shock

One:

“Geet!” My boss and admittedly one of my best friends, Dion, called out to me, not in greeting, but waving a flat card in his overly zealous hand. His narrow hips wiggled in an excited dance and I was almost sure that if he kept it up, his blue-black hair styled with wings like the lead singer from that old eighties band Flock of Seagulls, would lift him off the ground. “Did you get yours yet?”

Get mineyet? I’d just gotten back from lunch but hadn’t been home yet to check my mail. Was I supposed to be ‘getting one,’ whatever it was he waved around like a lunatic? The women in the salon who sought out Dion to give them perfect locks celebrated along with him, sipping complimentary Dom Perignon and dancing in their seats along with him.

Instead of moving to my room in the back I stopped at his station and waited, suspicious of what was going to come out of his mouth. “That depends… what am I supposed to be on the lookout for?”

“Girl, you really haven’t seen? Henri and I are already making plans… I just got off the phone with him after I got off the phone with her and she told me to expect it. And there it was. She sent it to the salon to make sure I opened it as soon as it arrived. I’m so freakingover the moon—ten percent off styling products for the rest of the day!”

Her? Who’s her? And ten percent? Wow. He must really be ‘over the moon.’

“That’s great, butwhatisit?”

“Our Kami is getting married!” He shouted and danced around the salon. “Married… Married…” He continued to singsong as he handed me his invitation.

“It’s an invitation to a reception, not a wedding,” I said, looking over the front and back to see if I’d missed any pertinent information. Nope. What it said on the front of the card was all that was there.

“I know!” Dion shouted. But right as I was about to attempt to calm him down a bit in order to find out what exactly got him this excited, the front bell chimed and we both turned to see two of our regular clients walk in.

Handing the invitation back to Dion, I led my first client into the back room. The soon-to-be divorcee was having another rough day. As a full-service spa, Dion did hair, the best hair in the state of Michigan since Kami was off galivanting all over the world with her now-fiancé. It had taken us a while to fill her shoes, but after a month of nonstop interviews, we’d hired on two new stylists. Once word spread thattheMeredith Lowenstein snatched up our girl, every woman of means or with a high spending limit credit card sought us out. We could’ve done with four new stylists, but Dion wanted to keep the waiting list long because in the rich set, a waiting list obviously meant the best.

I, however, held the privilege of being Affinity’s only in-house masseuse. Mrs. Danvers needed my ‘magic hands’ today because her divorce was turning nasty now that Mr. Danvers found out about her game of ‘hide the salami’ with the pool boy, and on the same day as Mrs. Danvers found out about Mr. Danvers’s game of ‘hide the salami’ with the pool boy, too.

Next there was Ms. Jacqueline, whoseBooboo Pookiewas sick at the vet and after her came the Bellamy twins, who made their money off of nudie pics on the internet, in calendars and even a coffee table book. Their muscles got tense from holding those poses all day. I said, good for them. If I looked like them, I’d show it off, too. As it were, the only things I had going for me were my pretty face and great hair thanks to Dion. People always commented on my honey brown eyes and my deep chocolate tresses. People also commented on my squishy midsection. The first I liked, the second, not so much.

Unfortunately, the never-ending parade of clients coming through the door kept me from getting to the bottom of why Dion had gotten so overly excited about an invitation to a reception. And when I finally handed off my last client of the day, Dion was arm-deep in product to put the finishing touches on a woman’s glamorous hairstyle.

After clocking out, I bundled up in my Sherpa gear to face another freezing night of polar vortex insanity complete with snowdrifts taller than my Jeep and potholes deep enough to be mistaken for sinkholes—perfect for ruining the alignment on a car. I just needed to run some errands and grab dinner. I’d been out of work for maybe fifteen minutes when my phone rang while I was waiting in the drive-thru of Happy Burger. Kami’s name lit up the screen. Now Kam, with her light blonde hair and athletically toned body, had men literally fighting over her. Sweet and gorgeous to boot—it was no wonder Len wanted her so badly. That man was her equal in every way. He played every extreme sport known to man and looked like his father sat on Mt. Olympus.

“Kams.” I answered.

“Geet. I’m so glad I got you. How’ve you been?” she asked, and I’d swear she was bouncing on the other end of the phone, waiting to tell me her news.

“Fine. Clearly not as fine as you. Dion got his invite today.”

“Yeah—you have one, too. But I needed to talk to you. I got Dion this morning before he left for work,” she said.

“What’s up?”

“Len and I decided we want to get married at Albatross Monument on Cape Horn Island, Chile. We’re having a reception closer to home for people who can’t make it, but Geet… I’m really hoping that you aren’t one of those. We want you there with us. Dion, Henri, you. The Lowensteins and a couple of Len’s friends. Please, I can’t get married without you there.”

“I—Cape Horn?” I kind of, okay, I totally screeched.

“Please,” she begged again. “If it’s the cost—”

“That’s not it.” And it wasn’t. I could afford the trip. I’d been saving for a major trip for the past couple of years. But a major trip required a travel buddy because who wanted to globe trek alone? It’d been a couple of years since I’d even gone out on a date and Kami, until she’d met Len, wouldn’t leave the city unless she headed home to see her parents.

“Then what is it?”

I decided to be honest because if you couldn’t be honest with your best friend… “Do you realize how many steps there are to get to Albatross Monument?” I’d heard of that; it was located on the southernmost scrape of land before you reached Antarctica.Antarctica.

“Geet, it’s not that many steps.”

“Says the beauty queen with the body of a fitness model who climbed to the summit of Mt. Everest. You do remember what I told you my nickname in school was?Doughy. They called me ‘Doughy’ and they called it for a reason.”

She giggled but ignored that. “Got engaged on the summit of Mt. Everest,” she corrected me and I couldn’t help it, my mouth dropped open.

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