Dead Weight by Lori Avocato Page A

Suga.”
    That hurt. Goldie was saying he didn’t think I could handle this case on my own. Damn. And here I thought my best friend and roomy—along with his lover, Miles, my other best friend and roomy—had more confidence in me. Actually, Miles and Goldie recently celebrated a civil ceremony of marriage and he’d recently returned from their honeymoon. Maybe that’s why he was acting this way. Hopefully.
    At the end of the hallway Goldie stopped, took me by the shoulders and said, “I’m surprised at you, Suga. You know me better than to doubt my suggestions.”
    â€œHm?”
    â€œOr to doubt your abilities. I know you can do a bang-up job. I’m not Jagger going there to make sure your ass doesn’t get busted … er … or worse, I’m going there to help you stay in character.”
    â€œI think I’m going to topple over, Gold,” I shouted as he zipped the back of my “outfit” up and I hit the sidewall of the dressing room. “Ouch!”
    â€œSorry, Suga. We’re going to have to give you some lessons on walking and wearing that thing. Must have something to do with physics or gravity or poise. Maybe all three.” He stood back after propping me up and said, “That’s why you need me.”
    â€œThank God for you, Gold.” I held onto his arm and looked in the mirror. “Oh … my.”
    The full-body padded suit, including chubby arms and legs, transformed me into someone even I didn’t recognize. The beige color was just light enough to blend with my Slavic completion. The damn thing even had darker areas on the breasts that I assumed the designer thought looked like nipples. Chestnuts came to mind.
    â€œI can’t wear this. It’s insulting to people with real weight issues, Gold. I can’t.”
    He gave me a motherly-Goldie look. Only my real mother, Stella Sokol, who would be horrified at the comparison although she loved Goldie and Miles as evidenced by giving them condoms as stocking stuffers each Christmas, ever accomplished a more intense, yes-you’ll-do-anything-I-say-cause-I’m-your-mother look.
    â€œSuga.” Goldie tried to hug me but even being his svelte six feet only managed to get halfway around. “I know you have that nurturing nurse’s nature and would never intentionally hurt or insult anyone, but I also know that if you don’t get into that clinic and find out who is committing fraud and how, lots of folks are going to be affected.”
    â€œInsurance premiums will skyrocket,” I mumbled. “And there are so many who really need the weight loss help.”
    â€œTrue, Suga.” Goldie held me at arm’s length. “We need to work on your face. Way too thin.” He waved his hands in the air. “No problem. I have connections.”
    Suddenly I pictured myself as Robin Williams doing Mrs. Doubtfire, somehow including latex and fake teeth. “How will I be able to work with all this costume stuff on?”
    â€œLike the pro you are, Suga. Like the pro you are.”
    I nodded, very weakly, and then a thought hit me that nearly made me topple over again.
    What if Jagger sees me in this?
    Jagger leaned forward, just enough so that his beige chambray shirt didn’t get dunked in my mother’s gravy (since she had the gang over for my bon-voyage night) and said, “You gain some weight?”
    I tried to look horrified since I didn’t even have the body suit on. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not polite to ask a lady that question?”
    My mother shoved the dish of roast pork (today was Thursday which meant pork since my mother cooked the same meal on the same day of the week, forever) toward my father and said, “He’s right, Pauline. No harm in pointing out the truth.”
    Why doesn’t she just stab me with the cutlery ? I thought. Then again, mother was never violent. With her