Page 48 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
“There are little things, and there’s why I was going to the gym in the first place,” she says. A petty part of me wonders how much of her reasoning aligned with the motives of that initial flock of single ladies at Firehouse.
“If we could circle back to our wish list, I’m supposed to put in for more childcare times,” submits Helen. “More hours during the week, and weekend coverage.”
“That’s on the list,” Babs assures her, and returns to me. “Thereisa list. I’ll share the Google Doc with you.”
“It’s color-coded,” Helen adds. “You’re going to love it.”
“And yet, you still had this gathering?” I ask, exasperated, but unsurprised. And more than a little intrigued at word of this meticulously organized document.
“We felt it would be more impactful to propose this in person.”
“Then why me and not Ian? It’s my understanding thatinterventions are more effective when the intended recipient is present. And if it’s so many of you coming together—”
Several guests shift to look at Babs, who avoids my eyes.
Heat rises to my cheeks, a thread of panic lacing through my sternum. What does she know?“Barbara.”
“We just thought—”
“Youjust thought.”
“Itwas thought that if you came to him with the backing of the gym members as a whole, he’d listen.” Her lips quirk, threatening a smile. “And if he’s more receptive because it’s being delivered by someone in line with his sexual preferences—”
I glare at her, ignoring the weight of the stares of the rest of the room. “I’m notseducingIan into letting Tom handle his finances.”
Tom’s shoulders sag in disappointment, and I don’t know what it says about me that I’m charmed that the man is so committed to number crunching that he’s open to pimping out a relative stranger to keep doing it.
Babs remains undeterred. “The way you’ve taken on housebreaking the boys—”
Alistair lets out an affronted grunt. “It’s not like we piss outside…”
“Well—” Diego cocks his head thoughtfully, but he elects not to finish his statement.
She continues over them. “It stands to reason that you might be able to extend your influence to one moreovergrownboy.”
“In a purely professional capacity,” Helen hastens to add.
“He doesn’t want to be my project the way the guys are. His words,” I add quickly, wondering if they might take offense tobeing labeled a project. God, from Ian, the man they practically worship, it would probably be worse…
But all three shrug and nod. “I feel like we’ve been a pretty successful project so far!” Diego cheers.
I smile back, but it slips just as quickly. Sexual implications aside, Babs’s reasoning is deeply presumptuous and leaning harder into the tradition of emotional labor of women than I’m comfortable with. Though she did get ahead of that a little by noting my undeniable air of competence; if I were a complete bonehead in addition to being female, I doubt that efforts would have been made to recruit me.
I look at Grant, wedged in his tiny chair. He meets my gaze, his eyes going wide enough that I elect not to interrogate him. But I cut a glare to let him know that I will be pursuing this later. Ian’s hangups do seem to stem from something. And if that something can actually be addressed, then maybe there’s hope to straighten this dusty picture frame after all.
Still, I’m not totally optimistic when I say, “I will bring all this up gently. It’s possible that a consensus might be enough to motivate him to listen.” As the room perks up again, I hasten to add, “But like I said, I’ve tried.”
“So we can send you that list? We’ll give you editing rights,” Babs adds, as though that would seal the deal. “No one had even thought about the lost and found box before now. It was anexcellentcall.”
I wave her off, silently registering the praise.
Somewhere in the room, a phone goes off, chiming an alarm. “Perfect timing!” says Diego, popping out of his seat. “Who wants a sweetie?”
18
I REST A HIP AGAINSTthe counter in the break room later that morning, watching the steady trickle of the coffee into the carafe. I close my left eye, focusing with my right: The vision’s hazy, courtesy of my standard workout fog, but there’s no question that my sight is otherwise back to normal.
Smiling, I turn to face the room.
