in wallpaper matching workout togs sat around the counter. Not a smoker among them. They sat by themselves or in quiet pairs.
I had the strange feeling I was in a church. Hanging from the ceiling, plants grew with long arms.
“Feel that oxygen,” Ameleth said, taking a deep breath. We walked past a massive philodendron, and she kissed one of the leaves. “With Barney dead and the club in near ruin, these plants are all I’ve got.”
I studied this tightly sinewed creature. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, she was richer than I’ll ever be. But she had bigger problems than I’d ever want. And I could carry her home in my overnight bag if I tried. We took a seat at the counter. The stools were just like the ones in her suite, except these had cushions. The counterman—another well-oiled example of pumped human flesh—doted over Ameleth like a man due for a raise. She said, “Two sundaes, Larry, and a carrot juice garlic Power Drink for me.”
Larry turned to me. I said, “Diet Coke. Extra diet.” He walked off to prepare our gruel. I stared at the beet juice churning machine for a few seconds. Then I leaned over to Ameleth and whispered in her ear, “What did you mean before when you said ‘stuff’?”
“He is attractive.” She nodded. “I hire only the firmest and fittest for my club.”
A mental image of Freddie Smith flashed before my eyes. “Look, Ameleth. It’s going to be near impossible to find the stuff if you don’t tell me what it is. Perhaps you have a photograph of It to show me?”
She shook her head to herself, deciding. Finally, she said, “I’m stuck.” She turned toward me. Her flinty gray eyes carving holes into my green ones. “If I tell you the truth, then you’ll want in.”
“I hate being in,” I said. “I’d never want in. I always want out. Even as a child. The farther out the better. And I don’t mean belly buttons.”
She glanced at my gut. “You have to swear. If you go back on your word, I’ll send someone to your apartment.”
“Will he do windows?” I laughed. She didn’t. I put on my serious mask. “But seriously, folks. I’m on the payroll.”
Our food arrived. The sundae couldn’t have looked more real. I tasted. The carob sauce and wet nuts (my favorite) were lip-smacking. Just like the goo back home. Not a fan of frozen yogurt, I was surprised by how full of fat it tasted. It even chilled my brain slightly. Ameleth wasn’t having the same revelatory experience. She wasn’t a virgin. After removing a clean-licked spoon from her mouth, she said, “Tastes pretty good. Like the real thing.” I nodded. “That’s because it is the real thing. There are about fifty million calories in that spoonful, and about ten million grams of saturated-as-hell fat.”
I think she expected me to drop my spoon in horror. I didn’t. “Let me guess,” I guessed. “You dish out real ice cream so these poor suckers have to work out twice as hard to lose weight. More business for you.”
Ameleth ate in silence for a minute. Finally, she § said, “Look around, Wanda.”
I did. “I’m really a blues and reds kind of decorator.”
“The women, Wanda.”
We were surrounded by them, some thin, scarfing down these sundaes like life’s blood. “Their goal is to deny themselves every pleasure in life,” Ameleth said quietly. “Can’t eat if it’s fattening. Can’t exercise if it’s not cardiovascular. But not one of these women will ever be satisfied with how she looks. She’ll always be five pounds heavy and five hundred crunches flabby. By serving them real ice cream and calling it low-fat, I’m giving them a taste of sin, without the guilt. And they need some fat in their diets to lube everything up anyway.”
“Good thing they have someone like you to decide what’s best,” I said. She nodded as if I meant it. “And what about the stuff in the safe?”
“It wasn’t really in the safe. It was in the bar refrigerator in my suite. Two
I had the strange feeling I was in a church. Hanging from the ceiling, plants grew with long arms.
“Feel that oxygen,” Ameleth said, taking a deep breath. We walked past a massive philodendron, and she kissed one of the leaves. “With Barney dead and the club in near ruin, these plants are all I’ve got.”
I studied this tightly sinewed creature. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, she was richer than I’ll ever be. But she had bigger problems than I’d ever want. And I could carry her home in my overnight bag if I tried. We took a seat at the counter. The stools were just like the ones in her suite, except these had cushions. The counterman—another well-oiled example of pumped human flesh—doted over Ameleth like a man due for a raise. She said, “Two sundaes, Larry, and a carrot juice garlic Power Drink for me.”
Larry turned to me. I said, “Diet Coke. Extra diet.” He walked off to prepare our gruel. I stared at the beet juice churning machine for a few seconds. Then I leaned over to Ameleth and whispered in her ear, “What did you mean before when you said ‘stuff’?”
“He is attractive.” She nodded. “I hire only the firmest and fittest for my club.”
A mental image of Freddie Smith flashed before my eyes. “Look, Ameleth. It’s going to be near impossible to find the stuff if you don’t tell me what it is. Perhaps you have a photograph of It to show me?”
She shook her head to herself, deciding. Finally, she said, “I’m stuck.” She turned toward me. Her flinty gray eyes carving holes into my green ones. “If I tell you the truth, then you’ll want in.”
“I hate being in,” I said. “I’d never want in. I always want out. Even as a child. The farther out the better. And I don’t mean belly buttons.”
She glanced at my gut. “You have to swear. If you go back on your word, I’ll send someone to your apartment.”
“Will he do windows?” I laughed. She didn’t. I put on my serious mask. “But seriously, folks. I’m on the payroll.”
Our food arrived. The sundae couldn’t have looked more real. I tasted. The carob sauce and wet nuts (my favorite) were lip-smacking. Just like the goo back home. Not a fan of frozen yogurt, I was surprised by how full of fat it tasted. It even chilled my brain slightly. Ameleth wasn’t having the same revelatory experience. She wasn’t a virgin. After removing a clean-licked spoon from her mouth, she said, “Tastes pretty good. Like the real thing.” I nodded. “That’s because it is the real thing. There are about fifty million calories in that spoonful, and about ten million grams of saturated-as-hell fat.”
I think she expected me to drop my spoon in horror. I didn’t. “Let me guess,” I guessed. “You dish out real ice cream so these poor suckers have to work out twice as hard to lose weight. More business for you.”
Ameleth ate in silence for a minute. Finally, she § said, “Look around, Wanda.”
I did. “I’m really a blues and reds kind of decorator.”
“The women, Wanda.”
We were surrounded by them, some thin, scarfing down these sundaes like life’s blood. “Their goal is to deny themselves every pleasure in life,” Ameleth said quietly. “Can’t eat if it’s fattening. Can’t exercise if it’s not cardiovascular. But not one of these women will ever be satisfied with how she looks. She’ll always be five pounds heavy and five hundred crunches flabby. By serving them real ice cream and calling it low-fat, I’m giving them a taste of sin, without the guilt. And they need some fat in their diets to lube everything up anyway.”
“Good thing they have someone like you to decide what’s best,” I said. She nodded as if I meant it. “And what about the stuff in the safe?”
“It wasn’t really in the safe. It was in the bar refrigerator in my suite. Two
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