Page 86 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“Don’t tell me we’re having a 90s jams dance party,” I joke.
“We are indeed,” Matt says proudly. “Let’s review!” He recaps his marker and uses it as a pointer on the board. “Part One: a five-minute row. Part Two: a two-block jog to Mother of Junk, where we will buy the first two items in the dollar bin that catch our eye, followed by a jog back to Bossfit for… Part Three: a 90s music dance party for ninety glorious seconds.”
“This sounds delightful.” I beam at him.
“Glad you think so, because we’re doing three rounds of that for time.”
“Three rounds?!” I squeak.
“Three rounds, Pennywise. You got this. Why don’t you take a few sips of water while I get the rowers set up, then we’ll be good to go.”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, and I have the cash money ready.” He holds up some dollar bills before stuffing them back in his pocket. “Today your junk’s on me, lady.”
I stifle a laugh.
“That came out weird, didn’t it?” he asks.
“Sure did.”
God, he makes me laugh.
Matt pulls down the first rower just as my phone rings.
Surprise, surprise, it’s my mother. I’ve ignored her past few calls, so I might as well nip it in the bud and get this over with.
I answer the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Mom,” she mimics me. “That’s all you have to say after ignoring my calls all week?”
“I haven’t been ignoring you, Mom.”
“Well, you certainly haven’t been calling me back.” She scoffs.
“It’s the busy season at work, Mom. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. And you know how much the Whitaker Wonderland party means to me. It’s important to us that you be there.”
Matt pulls down the second rower, then gets close to me. He whispers, “Everything okay?”
I cover the mouthpiece and lower the phone. “She’s still harping on this party.”
“It’s on Sunday?”
I nod.
“You said last night you want to see your sister and her kids, right?” he keeps whispering.
“Right…”
“So maybe this is a good chance to do that?”
“Yeah, maybe, but my mom is just so…”
My mom exemplifies my point by shouting into the phone, currently dangling by my side, no doubt pissed that I’m not responding to her right away.
Matt takes another step closer and cups my cheek. “If your mom wasn’t a factor, would you want to go?”
