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Chapter Four
Tuesday morning, I arrived at Bainbridge’s display window a few minutes before ten. Since I was early, the curtain had not been pulled back to reveal the scene yet. A few gawkers had gathered and—like me—they were studying the glass, awaiting the unveiling. I hoped that—unlike me—they weren’t all fixated on the man who’d be at the center of the spectacle. I glanced at my fellow audience members. They were mostly women in their twenties and thirties. Yeah, that was the demographic. They were all here for him.
It didn’t matter, I reminded myself.Iwas the one who had a lunch date with him today. I was the one who’d enjoy his sparkling conversation, make plans with him for the future both near and far, and…well, learn his last name.
The curtains parted, and I, along with all the other gathered groupies, gasped.
My model sat astride a high-tech exercise bike system dressed as Santa. Not the jolly, old elf with the jelly gut, but a Santa for right now. Sure, he wore the traditional red hat with a white pompom at a jaunty angle, and he was carrying a giant sack of high-tech gifts that bounced up and down in his wake with every revolution of the bicycle wheels, but his red velvety pants were slung low on his hips and were tailored to a snug fit. And he was completely shirtless. The lines of his sculpted abs were flat, tanned, and perfectly still. How did he do that? Was he even breathing?
I’d read about this exercise system online. It had been released to stores just in time for Christmas. Probably half of the crowd that I’d taken for being in love with my model was actually lined up for the bike system and not him. I blew out a breath of relief.
Fortunately for my soulmate, the window designers had him propping his feet up on the bike and the wheels going without his help. It was a great workaround for the fact that there was no way he’d be able to pedal for two hours and still look like a mannequin.
As the wheels turned and the pedals went up and down, the personal trainer shouted encouragement from the LCD screen between the handlebars while the three-hundred-sixty-degree scenery advanced in pace with the pedaling.
Since the window displayed a flat view, the crowd on the street only got a one-hundred-eighty-degree scene. The images were crisp and sharp against the walls. Santa was pedaling in the Tour de France. Thousands of fans cheered from the sides of the twisting mountain roads. Other cyclists wove in and out, sometimes pulling ahead of Santa, sometimes falling behind. This system was supposed to be the premier, immersive, guided-exercise experience. There were even sensors in the handlebars and seat that vibrated with bumps in the road, providing a tactile virtual reality effect. This thing was living up to the hype. I felt like I was inside the action, completely involved in the race. I could practically feel myself on my model’s bike with one of his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me against his chest as he pedaled us up the incline of the picturesque French countryside road. In my fantasy the bicycle had a large banana seat like my bike when I was seven, so we were very comfortable.
“What are you doing?” a voice barked in my ear.
I jumped. “Argh!”
It was Lindsay. Of course. She spared half a smile for startling me, but then immediately switched to her more bridelike scowl. “You’re supposed to be getting coffee.”
I un-Velcroed my attention from Tanner’s window display to give her a good look. “What’s this about coffee?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head like I was a giant trial in her life. “Because when you went out this morning, you said you were getting coffee, and I asked you to get me some, too, and that was hours ago.”
“Ah!” It was coming back to me. When I’d left this morning, she’d yelled down the hall for me to get her some coffee too. I guess I forgot somewhere among my Tanner preoccupation. “Sorry,” I said absently, then frowned, thinking. “Did you come after me—hours later—just to find out where your coffee is?”
“No. I got some. Thanks for nothing. I’d have gone through caffeine withdrawal if I’d waited for you.” She glanced at the display window. “Oh, hey! That’s the new Trajectory Fit 360. Nice! It does feel like you’re really there.”
I returned to staring at the window. “Yeah. It really does.” It almost felt like I was with him, but knowing that I really would be with him shortly made the experience that much more immersive.
“Troy and I are getting one of those. Not until we get back from our honeymoon, though. No reason for it to be sitting there gathering dust while we’re in Bora Bora.”
Lindsay probably started that sentence just so she could finish it with the words “Bora Bora.” Ever since she and Troy had chosen the honeymoon location six months ago, she’d found every opportunity to work it into the conversation. Apparently even Lindsay’s best friend’s mailman knew she was going to Bora Bora.
“If you didn’t need coffee, then why are you here?” I asked, barely glancing at her before looking back at the window. “How did you even find me?”
Her gaze snapped to mine with a glint of amusement. “I tracked your phone.”
“Lindsay! That app is supposed to be for emergencies.”
She shrugged. “I looked you up to see where my coffee was and then I saw the you-dot standing here for over an hour. I got curious.” She glanced back at the window. “I didn’t know you were such a Trajectory Fit fan.”
It was my turn to shrug. “Um, yeah. I’m a pretty big fan. I’m going to get one as soon as I get home.”
Lindsay snorted. “Like you could get one. They’ll be long sold out by the time you get around to ordering one.”
I bristled. Lindsay wasn’talwaysbetter than me. Or if she was, she wasn’t allowed to come out and make it clear like that. But surely there could be something in life at which we could tie. “You said you and Troy were getting one. I could, too, if I wanted.”
“Wecan get one because we know people. Troy’s good at figuring out how to get me everything I want. And he’s willing to wait in line for things—he’ll even camp out. You’d never camp out in line. And you don’t have a life partner who’d do that for you.”
Her words stabbed a lancet into my heart. I gave her a look. “Lindsay.”
Her bottom lip puffed out. “What? I’m just being honest. You know I’m right.”
“Right.” Shewasright. I was a dateless spinster who had no loyal and true knight who’d camp out in line for my fancy electronic exercise equipment.
