The Corner Table at Mickey's Pt. 04

"Ten pounds! That's great, Jim," Mallory crowed.

He flushed. It was clear that Mallory's obvious delight pleased him.

"Keep this up and just think of where you'll be in a few months."

The lips still smiled, but she saw some of it drain from his eyes. "Yeah," he agreed and moved to the pad for the stretches that started leg days.

What happened there? I would think he'd be happy that he's made progress. And that I recognized it.

She joined him, mirroring his moves. "Something wrong?"

"Nope." She continued her stretches but kept her eyes on his in a silent prompt for more. "Just, well, 'tired' is my new normal, and I'm only halfway to my goal, so ... months." He switched to working the flexors in his other hip, breaking eye contact.

Halfway to your goal? I don't think so. That testy thought had been a reflex. She admonished herself. Give him a little space. I'm pushing and he's not used to it. "It'll get better. I promise. Just think back to how sore you were after a workout a month ago. That's changed, right?"

He glanced at her, gave a nod. She smiled in encouragement.

"What's your goal?" she asked.

"Another ten pounds."

"I don't mean your weight target. What's your life goal in this?"

His answer was immediate. "Have my suits fit more ... well, fit at all in the case of most of them. And not get winded walking."

This time she was prepared and able to watch her reaction without getting sucked into it. She could be sourly amused at her dissatisfaction at not hearing, "Look good."

I bet he'd have added "look good" right after Lori came to the bar and hurt his feelings about how he looked. As she motioned him over to the straps for some reverse lunges, her mind drifted to a different evening, one more recent.

But Addison's obvious plans for after dinner probably put a band-aid on those booboos Lori inflicted. She ignored the little spike that came with that memory. One woman pushed him one direction; the other pushed him the other. The sour feeling grew. Why aren't I the tiebreaker?

Why would you be?

She remembered Robin's words: "Do you think he has any idea that he could catch your eye?"

She grabbed the pair of handles next to his. "Ready? One," she said. "Two." She spent the rest of their workout pretending to watch his form but, in reality, eyeing him, evaluating. You can already see a difference. He just needs to keep going beyond his current suits fitting.

Tom's words floated up: "You can't play with only one foot on the field." Damn! Is everything people say to me in some kind of time-release capsule?

She could tell Jim was surprised to find her waiting for him when he came out. Usually, she was off for her run while he showered.

"I wanted to warn you not to let up. Keep it going."

He nodded.

She stepped closer. "One other thing. I didn't congratulate you on your milestone." She caught him by surprise. She laid one hand on his shoulder, rose on her toes, and kissed him softly on the mouth. "The no-touch policy is stupid if neither of us want it."

She backed away, smiling inside at his shocked look. "I'd prefer if you feel motivated for another of those. Of course, I don't want to have to wait too long to give you one, so I figure I'll have to drive you harder."

She started backward, turning to begin her run. She tossed over her shoulder, "I'll text you later today with something new."

An hour later she sent him notice of his future-according-to-Mallory:

≫ I want to reinstate Tuesday lunches. We'll talk about other days. Not Mickey's. Conti's is 1.5 from your office. NO DRIVING. Buy umbrella if you have to. Just the two of us.

She gave him a moment to absorb that, then:

≫ Don't get excited for pizza. I'll be "helping" you choose.

She debated tacking on every salad emoji she could find. Nah, why scare him?

To say Jim's day was a blur would be an understatement. He'd stood there in shock as the pink-and-black form had moved away. His mind absently noted, as it always did lately, that he liked the view, but his brain was trying to make sense of what had just happened.

But ...

But you can't even call me a "dad bod" and she goes for ...

And so it went for an hour or so before work demanded his concentration.

He debated talking to Tom. There's no privacy behind the bar. And if I go hang out with Shannon, she'll just call me a mog or a gombeen. That woman has more words for idiot than anyone on the planet.

He debated calling Robin. She'll know. Wait ... then it'll get back to Mallory I was asking. But Robin wouldn't blab if I ask her not to. Wait ... she's made it clear she's not monkey in the middle. Fuck.

With no one else to talk to, he talked to himself and made a few decisions.

Mallory grimaced in frustration at the text.

≪ Can't make gym this morning and still make lunch. See you then.

As she parked at lunchtime, she was pleased to see Jim coming up the path and that he didn't seem to be sweating as profusely as he had the last time he'd made the walk. However, pleased wasn't enough to change what she had to say as she joined him at an outside table. "No skipping workouts. You've used your one free pass. You weren't supposed to have any."

"No." The answer wasn't angry or even irritated, but it was firm. "It's over half an hour each way for me to walk here; your 'mile and half' is a little underestimated. I'm not willing to bolt my food, so eating is at least a half an hour, more like forty-five. That makes this a two-hour lunch. I have a business to run. I can't put a hard limit on my start time with a morning workout plus take an extra-long lunch. And before you say it's only one day, you said that you wanted to talk about other days."

He paused when the waitress walked up. At her expectant look, he waved toward Mallory. "She's ordering for both of us." Only an acute ear would have heard the slight edge in that.

"Harissa chicken breast, broccoli instead of fries, house salad with dressing on the side, unsweetened iced tea for us both."

"So, here's the deal," he continued. "If you want to supervise what I eat for lunch, then I'll meet you here, but not for morning workout. If you want to meet for morning workout, then I'll do what I've been doing: walk about a mile and then snatch a bite for lunch at the office while working. I looked it up on the interwebs, and two to three gym workouts a week is perfectly normal."

She could see the faint note of triumph in his expression at having finessed her first argument. She fought down the little spike of resentment. "Are you open to compromise?"

"What the split is, not beyond that."

"Are weekends a possibility?"

"Maybe someday, depending, but not now."

"Depending ...?"

He waved it away as a topic for another time.

She looked for an opening. "How 'bout you do the Friday workout that you're doing now and come to spin class after work? We can go to Mickey's after."

"I'll come to spin class or do the workout, not both."

It was with a great deal of irony that Mallory remembered liking his decisiveness. I guess I already got his best price, she thought, remembering a novice VP who had tried to strongarm Jim about a bid. Jim had smiled affably and said, "You asked for my best price. You got it. Since you need something better, I'll bow out now and not waste everyone's time." He'd walked out. A day later, his contract had been approved, and Mallory handled meetings with Jim after that.

She went back to considering. I only go three times a week if you don't count spin. He's not being unreasonable, and I guess I have asked for a lot of his week. "Monday and Wednesday at the gym in the morning, Tuesday and Thursday here for lunch; Friday you come to spin class, but you still have to walk at lunch."

"Wednesday is your rest day from going to the gym."

"It's now Thursday. See, I can compromise. You're a pain in my ass."

The smirk said, I can live with that.

Of course you can. You haven't agreed to anything other than a couple more miles of walking a week. And you're going to bail on a workout to do that. She couldn't keep the sourness at not gaining more entirely off of her face, and she felt a whiff of satisfaction at the matching expression on his as their plates were set down. Though ... you haven't bitched at all about me changing your diet, have you? She felt better.

"Friday dinner no longer includes baked potato with a ton of butter and sour cream and bacon bits."

"Okay."

Hmm.

After they were finished and had moved out of earshot of nearby tables, Jim paused. "There's one other thing."

She waited, keys in hand.

"I'd like to take you out on Saturday. Dinner somewhere, or go listen to music, or whatever interests you."

Despite what he had confessed a few weeks back, and despite her actions of the day before, she was still caught by surprise. She said nothing. She saw a slight tightening in his face, but his voice was still level and friendly as he pressed on.

"You slapped me down once before even though I wasn't serious then, and"--it took her a second to remember that conversation way back and her barking-up-the-wrong-tree response--"if you say no, then I won't mention it again. But in that case, the no-touch rule goes back into effect. That is non-negotiable."

Mallory had heard Jim being firm before. Hell, I heard it thirty minutes ago. But this tone is a whole 'nother level of steel. "Jim, I can't." She saw the tightness grow and rushed on. "I already have plans for Saturday. Is there another day that would work for you? Maybe Sunday or one day next week?"

His face eased. He considered. "There's a park out past Sutersville with a nice path along the river. The field there hosts a farmer's market on the weekend. We could visit that after a walk, and you could help me pick out what I need ... you know ... for all the advice you're going to shove down my throat regarding meals."

The humor in his voice erased any lingering frustration the day had brought her.

"They also have a stand that sells stuff from the cider mill, including"--she saw the twinkle--"cider doughnuts. One of those would ease my pain at all the rabbit food I'll be carrying."

She burst out laughing.

Her date Saturday night seemed nice enough. He managed to carry a conversation through a drink and dinner. He later took "no" for an answer graciously. He bored her silly. Enough with the fixups and the eye-candy chat-ups at the juice bar.

Sunday went exactly as advertised. A walk. A few bags of produce. A cider doughnut--she had one too.

The main thing she remembered afterward was that she didn't remember much about the day. The excruciating when-will-this-end? of her Saturday date was crystalline. But Sunday was a blur of laughing at a couple of canoers already frying red from sunburn and poking through stalls to try pickles with jalapeños and venison jerky. There was a flash of something about the amount of powdered sugar that was acceptable on a doughnut, and another about whether Mapplethorpe's photographs were interesting--she "yes"; he a grimacing "I guess some." How the hell did we get on that subject? She couldn't remember.

Their mutual interest in Fallingwater, a place neither had visited in the same manner as she'd never visited the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building when living in New York. Did we agree to go? She wasn't sure. Let's just assume we did.

The other memory was the end of the date. The carefully calibrated kiss: on the cheek but lingering the extra fraction that would be noticed. She had known what he expected when she rose on her toes, but she'd smoothly leaned to the side. As she stepped back, she'd given him an imp's grin. "I don't kiss on the first date." At his surprise, "No, that time was a reward for achieving a milestone. This was a date."

He'd accepted it with good humor ... exactly as she'd expected. "Do I get a second date?"

The temptation to play coy was there, of course. But his direct gaze didn't invite it. "You do."

Robin noticed the change in atmosphere the next Friday. Of course, she'd been filled in on the weekend's events Sunday evening with a little recap on Wednesday over lunch, but spin class let her see firsthand. They had Jim between them protectively, an unspoken decision when they'd seen his shy glance upon entering a room that was ninety percent female and ninety-nine percent long-time spin veterans.

She'd watched Mallory out of the corner of her eye, easy to do since Jim kept hunching over in classic beginner fashion, doggedly gasping for breath.

"Straighten, don't hunch," Mallory said. "Take a deep breath and relax the death grip on the handles." There was none of the exasperation in either her tone or her expression that had colored so many of her reports of Jim's efforts. Even when his pace slacked off or he reached down and spun the resistance lower, she was relaxed and encouraging. And it wasn't an act; Robin knew her friend well enough to be able to see beneath the surface.

For Jim's part, he kept going despite literally sucking wind.

Which is the chicken and which the egg? Dunno. But she's got her head at least partway out of her ass.

The two women had to wait outside longer than they expected. As Jim slowly came out the door, Robin took one look. "I suggest compression shorts, Body Glide, going commando." His grimace told her she'd guessed right about the John Wayne walk. "And, if the nips are sore, Body Glide them as well and polypropylene shirts instead of cotton." She saw his reflexive eye movement and shook her head with a laugh. "Nope, sports bras save us." She glanced across the street. "There's DH's car. Let's go."

At the end of the evening, she didn't feel the slightest guilt at watching two parking slots over. BFF privilege. Besides, she'd totally do the same. Through her open car windows, she heard the soft, "Night," and saw Mallory kiss Jim's cheek.

"Umm. This was a milestone. My first spin class."

Robin heard the throaty chuckle. "Okay, but we only commemorate firsts, not seconds and thirds." She watched Mallory rise up on her toes again, this time not on the cheek.

As Jim turned toward his car door, Robin heard the droll, "That's okay. By then we're beyond first dates."

Another chuckle. "Jerk."

As much as Jim would have liked to ask Mallory out for Saturday, he already had a commitment with his friends the Hutchesons, who were having a barbecue. And because Ed had called him and said, "You know Kim and Lori are good friends. She wants to invite her," he didn't ask if he could bring Mallory. He wanted to enjoy seeing his friends without pegging the stress meter into the red.

It hadn't been an easy choice. A day with Mallory or one with Lori?--the simplicity of that decision was so far beyond a no-brainer that you couldn't even use the term "decision." No, the choice was difficult for other reasons.

He knew a sorting was coming. His friends, her friends--those would go where their nature dictated; it was inevitable. Their friends--there was the rub. And Jim was clear in his mind where he stood. He'd accept the decisions of those who chose Lori over him with regret, but those separations wouldn't be made because he chose that path. The Hutchesons were friends; Ed particularly was his close friend. A guy accepted when a buddy threw a shindig.

But Lori's going to be awkward. It's a small town and you gotta deal with her sometime, but ... Vague notions of Lori's reaction to Addison, despite the subsequent apology, and belated realization of the undercurrents of Mallory's reaction to Addison made it an easy decision in his mind. Mallory can meet them some other time.

But he didn't want to seem like he was blowing cold on her. "Saturday I've got a thing and it's not a plus-one type of situation. Would you like to do something on Sunday again?"

"Okay. You pick and surprise me. And, if you're free the Saturday after that, I want to surprise you."

He sweated and groaned his way through the rest of the week. Spin class about killed him again, especially when the instructor came over and demonstrated tap backs to him.

"Jesus, you take as long as a woman in the shower," Robin said as he emerged for dinner.

He glared at her. "It's not the shower. It's trying to bend enough to put on my pants."

Her silvery laugh made him feel better, as did Mallory putting her arm through his. The exercise gear bound everything up tightly, but he was still conscious of the soft feel of woman against his triceps.

Saturday, he handed Ed his contribution to the barbecue and accepted a beer and a quiet, "She's not here yet," in return.

"You look like you've lost a few. It looks good," Kim said. Jim had always thought Ed's wife was about the most beautiful woman in town. He knew he wasn't alone in that regard, though his appreciation stopped there. He'd felt a little un-warmness from her that he couldn't put his finger on, but it was enough to keep his admiration to a little harmless ogling, just like every guy who knew her did. Nevertheless, hearing a compliment from a beauty pleased him.

"Thanks. About fifteen so far."

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. He suspected what that meant. Sure enough, about ten minutes later a diffident voice said, "Hello, Jim."

He turned to Lori. Kim may have been the most beautiful woman in town with her cool, classic beauty, but Jim's taste also ran to cute girl next door, and Lori had that in spades. Despite a year of getting over her, he still felt himself responding to the big green eyes, the ponytail, the short sundress with ... he was pretty sure of it ... no bra underneath. That was a look that had always turned him on.

"Hello, Lori."

She joined the conversation group for a few minutes before moving off in search of a bite to eat. Several times during the evening she'd float into his vicinity, chat for a minute or two and then circulate. At least she's behaving.

He'd tensed when she'd said, "If you're getting one for yourself, will you bring me a Rolling Rock?" But she'd accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks and continued her conversation with another woman.

Later that evening, having said goodbye to everyone including Jim, she headed down the driveway.

"She dressed that way for you, you know." The woman's voice came from behind him. He turned to find Kim and Ed watching him. "She knows you like it," Kim said.

Jim shook his head in denial.

"She did. She knows she's back at square one." The implications didn't sit well with him and it showed. "Jim! You two were good together until she blew everything up. That doesn't mean there can't be a restart once you've had some time. She learned a lesson the hard way." She smiled as if telling him a secret. "You still find her attractive. Obviously."

The two men's eyes met for a scant second, all that was necessary for one friend to recognize the quick throttling of anger in the other.

"There's no restarting." Jim's voice was controlled and level. And implacable. He saw the faint twitch on Kim's face, quickly smoothed away. She gave a little nod of acquiescence and moved off to talk to other guests who were departing, but Jim felt there was a hint of "we'll see" in her expression.

He looked at Ed, allowing his emotions to surface now that they were alone. His tone was fierce. "I saw her in the front seat of a car with a guy's dick in her mouth. I don't care how nicely those tits bounce under that dress ... not a fucking chance in hell."