“Oh, my God!” she says chuckling, staring at Will’s sculpted abdomen and chest. Personally, I find the fake tan, and greased up waxed chest too cheesy to admire. “Is that real? How much time do you spend at the gym?”
Will raises a brow at her as if unused to her frank line of questioning.
“I’m actually a personal trainer, too,” he admits. “Shall we get started? Who wants a massage first?”
“I’m not nearly drunk enough to get naked yet,” Isabella declares, tucking a leg beneath herself on the sofa.
“I’ll go!” Penny volunteers, raising her hand like she’s still in class at school.
Will passes her a pink cotton robe and instructs her to come back in just her knickers.
“You guys are crazy!” Penny says excitedly as she disappears into Isabella’s bathroom.
“This works better after a few drinks,” Will tells us. “You ladies want a glass of something?”
He looks at me, probably because I was the one who opened the door. It reminds me that I haven’t offered anyone anything to drink—that whole growing up in a barn thing again.
“Um, yes. Right. We have champagne, real champagne,” I specify, sick of Isabella saying, “It’s not champagne unless it comes from a certain region in France.”
“We also have red wine, white wine, vodka, rum, and juice. What do you guys want?”
“I’ll help you,” Isabella offers, starting to stand up.
“No, sit,” Mia insists. “You’re queen for a day today. And on your wedding day, of course. Might as well enjoy it.”
“Okay. In that case, I’ll have champagne. Will, you want anything?”
“I don’t drink on the job. Water would be great though.”
By the time Mia and I get back from the kitchen, Penny has just lain face-down on the massage table. It took us a while to figure out how to take the cork off the champagne bottle without breaking a window or other glass in the kitchen. I was more of an alco-pop kind of drinker when I used to drink. Wine had seemed too grown up and reminded me of my father who tried to kill himself with the cheapest, strongest grog he could afford—usually out of a wine box.
Mia carries back her drink and Isabella’s. I have two champagne flutes in one of my giant hands (one with champagne for Penny and the other with orange juice for me), and Will’s big glass of water in the other.
“Mimosa?” Penny asks, lifting her head slightly to look at me while I place a drink in one of her dangling hands. Mia was thoughtful enough to put a straw in it so that Penny can get massaged and sloshed at the same time.
“No. Let’s make a toast,” I say. Again, Mia’s idea.
They all look at me. Crap. I thought all I had to do was bring up the suggestion.
“May Isabella and Byron stay happy together, forever,” I say, meaning it. I don’t know when it happened but I’ve realised that Isabella’s happiness doesn’t have to take away from my own. Especially if she finds that happiness with Byron instead of his brother.
The others all raise their glasses and cheer.
“All right, let’s get started,” Will says. He puts his hands on his pant legs and pulls. With a quick ripping sound, the Velcro separates on the sides and he’s left in just tight black boxer briefs with what could only be a large avocado and a hefty salami stuffed inside them.
“Sorry. I forgot to wear my cup,” he says to Mia and me when he catches us ogling his package. He squirts massage oil onto his palm, then rubs his hands together vigorously to warm it, before touching Penny’s back.
“You guys are crazy,” Penny says again, her voice distorted by her squished cheeks. “Your girlfriend is so lucky, Will.”
“She didn’t think so when she dumped me.”
“You’re single?” Penny lets out an orgasmic-sounding groan that makes me uncomfortable. “I have been so stressed. This is so good.”
“You need to be alone there, Penny?” Isabella cracks, voicing what I was thinking.
Of course, I also want to ask what exactly Princess Penny is stressed about. As far as I can tell, she just flits from job to job with her rich parents always there as her safety net.
“You guys just chat and ignore me,” Penny says, muffling a groan mid-sentence by biting down on her lower lip.
Either Will has magic fingers or poor Penny has not been getting enough since breaking up with her long-term boyfriend. That reminds me of a possible Miz Peggy blog about vibrators. It’s really about time I updated my comments on that topic.
“So, we have a naked masseuse, champagne, what else do you have in store for me?” Isabella glances at each of us expectantly.
“We’re going out later,” I provide.
“Where are we going?”
Penny chuckles. “You’ll just have to wait, Bels!”
“Making me wait is no way to treat a control freak ‘queen’. We are not amused,” Isabella declares with feigned displeasure.
“Okay. Next,” Will announces a few minutes later when it becomes obvious Penny would not get off the massage table without a little push.
None of us budge. A massage means stripping down and spending several minutes kneaded by a handsome, buff stranger while sprawled on a slab like a chunk of meat. There’s no way I’m going to let Will see my problem areas under florescent lighting, much less actually touch me.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” Isabella volunteers.
“I’m staying here till Bels gets back in the robe,” Penny announces. “Will?” she asks sweetly.
He smiles and resumes kneading her back fat.
***
It’s almost eight by the time Will drives off, after leaving each of us a copy of his personal training business card. I try not to take this too personally as some kind of comment on our weights. I’m sure he peddles his business to young and old, skinny and fat. Isabella’s turn at getting a massage was whiled away chatting with Will about her travels. Mia agreed to
