Page 11 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

Uh…excuse me?

You better believe excuse me when Sinjin got a hearty slap on the back and a “Good job. You’re doing great.” Bump that.

Once this particular day of torture ended, I left without saying anything to Sinjin. I showered and snuck back out to my Jeep so that I didn’t have to face him again. I couldn’t believe the nerve of that guy doing better than me and… and…getting in shapewhen he still ate all the junk I couldn’t eat but wanted to real bad.

I drove slowly to work, hanging on tightly to my snit the entire way. When I opened the front door, the warmth of the heater and the smell of hair products calmed me at least a little. The best part was being greeted by Dion with cheek kisses. “Geet, darling girl. You look positively disgruntled,” he said, pulling back to look me up and down. “What happened? Did they run out of those cracklins again at Hog Heaven?”

“Bite me, Dion,” I said, slightly chuckling. “Not in the mood for it today.”

“Oh, honey, this means it’s worse than no pork cracklins.”

“You have no idea,” I said in a huff. As Dion moved us to the back employees only room so I could clock in, I continued my tale of woe. “I started this stupid bootcamp because of Kami’s stupid wedding and haven’t been able to eat stupid port cracklins in days.” Then I stopped to take a breath before getting to the meat of it. “My accountability partner is a traitor who eats dumplings and noodles and General Tso’s beef, and he got a pat on the back from our instructor, Trevor, and now I just want chocolate,” I finished on a whine.

“Go set up for work,” he replied, trying to look upset for my benefit, but really, he wore a smile on his pretty face. “Henri and I will take you out for drinks after work. How does that sound?”

Drinks was code for alcohol and food.

“Are there any low-carb or low-calorie drinks? I don’t want to cheat.”

“Promise, girl, we’ll find you something. I think you need this.” He couldn’t have been more right about that.

I left Dion in the back room prepping for his day as I made my way to the massage studio. I flipped on the lights, lit my candles, gave everything a good second scrub down—I disinfected everything at night before I left, but I always came in and disinfected one more time before the studio opened, too, and then between each client. Cleanliness was next to godliness, right? I set out the folded, crisp, white, uber high thread-count sheets and the fluffy white towels, prepared avocado and black tar facemasks, and heated my stones. I pretty much got into my zone as the first client strode in. And so began the day of normalcy after a morning of I didn’t-even-know-what-to-call-it.

At the end of the day, after cleaning up my room and clocking out, I gave Dion his cheek kisses goodbye, said goodbye to the other stylists who were still finishing up their evenings, and fought my way to my car against the blustery wind. As I started it and waited for the heat, my phone rang. Sinjin. I rumpled my nose, contemplating letting it go to voicemail, I really did. But I’m just not that person. I hated myself for wanting to hear his voice. He had a nice voice, sue me.

“Hello,” I answered, making him wait two and a half rings before I did.

“You left this morning without sayinggoodbye.”

“Well, you were busy withTrevor. I didn’t want to bother you.” I shifted my Jeep in gear and eased out of the parking lot, making tracks in the deep snow. Thank goodness for four-wheel drive. Winter couldn’t end soon enough.

“Are you upset?” he asked.

“What makes you think that?” I turned out onto the street, heading for home.

“Because you have a tone,” he answered.

“A tone?” I asked sharply.

“An attitude,” he explained. “And I’m not exactly sure why.”

“You… You’re not sure why?” My voice pitched higher at his audacity to tell me such a ridiculous lie.

“Yeah, we were getting along and then you ditched me, and now the attitude. What happened between yesterday and today?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Listen, I have to get going. I meeting Dion and Henri for drinks. I have to get cleaned up.”

“Dion and Henri?” Sinjin asked with a heightened sense of curiosity to his voice.

“Yes, Dion—my boss—and Henri, his wonderful significant other. Henri is a culinary genius. His catering business will be providing all the food for Kami and Len’s reception once they get home from Antarctica.”

“You mean Chile.” The jerkwad corrected me, chuckling.

“Semantics.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me, but I hoped he could feel my eyeroll or hear it through my words. “Anyway, I have to go now.”

“Wait—” He hurried in my ear before I could hang up. “Where are you having drinks?”

“The same place we always go, Gastro. Why?”

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