I enter the gym and look around. It’s filled with bulky guys with tattoos and I’m surprised when a pretty, albeit very pregnant, woman walks up to me. She looks out of place dressed in a stylish red suit, her hand mindlessly rubbing the basketball she looks to be carrying around in her stomach.
“You look lost.” She smiles at me warmly. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Ummm…yes, I’m looking for Vinny Stonetti.” Hesitantly I respond.
“You must know Vinny for a long time?” The pretty pregnant woman tilts her head assessing me. Oddly, her inquiry and stance feel motherly, almost protective, although she certainly isn’t old enough to have a child as old as Vinny.
“Actually I do. We went to high school together.” I furrow my brow in confusion. “But how did you know that I’d known him for a while?”
The woman smiles warmly, “Because he made the change from Vinny Stonetti to Vince Stone a few years back. No one calls him Vinny around here anymore. Well, except me and my husband, Nico. I’ve known him since he was a teen, so he’s still Vinny to me. My husband still calls him Vinny too, but that’s to piss him off more than anything.”
I smile at the woman, I can tell in the tone of her voice she has a soft spot for Vinny. It doesn’t surprise me. Most women do. Until he screws them over and leaves them devastated. Like he did me. “Is Vinny…eh…Vince around?”
“He’s not here yet. But he usually comes in about now. He trains with my husband.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll come back later. Or maybe I’ll just call and set up an appointment.”
“You’re welcome to wait. I was just going to have a cup of tea in the back. Why don’t you join me? We can exchange embarrassing stories about Vinny.”
I don’t have to think about it long. I’m already here and maybe I can get some material for my story from her too. “Sure, sounds good. By the way, I’m Olivia.” I extend my hand.
“I’m Elle.” Smiling, she shakes my hand and then it returns to her belly. “And this here is Nicholas Jr. I think he’s already practicing his kicks. He’s just like his daddy, strong and full of energy.”
We walk through the gym and into a small kitchen on the far side of the room. Elle puts on an electric kettle and pulls down two mugs. “I only have decaf. My husband read way too many baby books and threw out anything with caffeine within an hour of us finding out I was pregnant.” She smiles and rubs her belly protectively as she continues. “We waited a long time to have this little guy. My husband finally retired from fighting last year. He’s a little on the protective side when it comes to us.”
Smiling at her frankness, I respond, “Decaf is fine. I’m still wired from the three cups I had at the office.”
Elle and I chat for a while, the conversation comes easily, almost as if she’s an old friend I’m catching up with rather than someone I barely know. Oddly, it feels as though I could sit around for hours in my pajamas watching old movies and eating ice cream straight from the container with her after one of us has had a bad breakup. She just seems like that kind of girlfriend. I don’t know how much time passes but it’s easy to forget I just met this woman. There’s just such an instant friendship that we find ourselves giggling most of the time. As we finish our tea, Elle looks into her now empty cup with remiss. She sighs. “I miss coffee. Tell me what your three cups tasted like today. I’m that desperate. My health nut of a husband doesn’t even drink coffee. Some weeks I go without even the smell of it.”
Smiling, I’m more than happy to play along. Aside from being acutely addicted to coffee, I love to tell a good story. “Well, today I started with straight up Kona coffee. Fresh brewed, with a little bit of Bailey’s flavored Irish Cream in it. It tasted like nutty cream freshly harvested from the mountains of Kuai.”
Elle arches her eyebrows at my description and giggles. “You’re killing me. But go on.” She closes her eyes and smiles and waits.
“Then, in the afternoon, I needed a little pick-me-up, so I went over to Barto’s for an espresso.” I lean in close and lower my voice to a playful whisper. “A double.”
“Mmmmm…Barto’s. What did that one taste like?”
“Dark, thick, confident. Arabica beans.” I pause for effect and Elle licks her lips, a dreamy smile still on her face. “The first sip tempts the tongue and brings the urge to roll the steamy liquid goodness around to make it last. Yet you can’t slow it down, can’t stop yourself…because you know what comes next. The unmistakable taste of dark chocolate. It coats the hint of sour and brings you deep into rich flavor. Flavor that makes you close your eyes and picture the Tuscan hills, grasses off in the distance swaying in the breeze.”