AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes. I’ve seen a few shows. Very well done. You touch on important issues.”
“Thank you. We try to make it relevant and meaningful. Which brings me to one of the reasons for my call.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I’d like to invite you to speak at our Women’s Symposium in June. We usually have a couple hundred attendees and broadcast it live.”
I’m rendered speechless, which is pretty ironic. “You want me to give a speech?”
“Yes. You present well…you’re relatable. Your message about body positivity and self-love really struck a chord. You’re trending online. Women are responding.”
“I’m flattered. Thank you. Really. I’m glad the things I said resonated, but I’m not looking for a platform or to do anything so public again.”
“I hear that. But the platform may have found you. Just think about it. No pressure. Let’s meet for lunch. We can either explore it further or just catch up.”
“Catching up sounds good.”
We set a date for a few weeks out.
“What’s the J stand for?”Jordyn sits between Lexie and me in the back of the SUV, leaning forward through the space separating the front seats. Stiles had picked my friends up on the way to the Brockville Women’s Fitness Center. Jordyn’s been poking at him since.
“John? No, it’s a solid name but not unique enough.”
Lexie and I exchange eye rolls.
When Stiles doesn’t respond, she continues. “Joshua? Definitely not. I once dated a Josh and he was a complete dweeb. Jerimiah?” She puts her hand beside his head rest, pulling herself even closer. “Nah, too biblical for a man that looks like he’s made for sin.”
“Ms. Sinclair.” His voice is level, unaffected. “For your safety, you are required to sit back and put on your seat belt.”
“So, no hints, huh?”
“Jordyn,” Lexie hisses under her breath and pulls our outrageous friend back by the shoulder. “Have you no shame whatsoever?”
“Nope.” She laughs and settles between us. “He likes me,” she says loud enough for Stiles to hear. “You’re just playing hard to get, aren’t you, J.D.? That’s okay. I like a challenge.”
Poor Stiles, though he seems more than capable of handling himself.
When we arrive at the gym a short time later, it’s paparazzi-free. Thank God. I just want to have a good workout with my friends. Only once inside the fitness center, I’m reminded of what Mick had warned about my anonymity being gone and my life not being the same.
Women gawk and whisper. Heads turn in my direction. Some of the regulars come up to me with congratulations and ask to take selfies. It’s awkward and weird. But I politely pose and try to make it seem natural. My friends are no help. They think the positive attention is great, which is why I should not have told them about the Women’s Symposium.
“You should absolutely do it,” Jordyn says, setting down her water bottle at the back of the studio next to mine.
“I agree,” Lexie puts in. “Body positivity is such a hot topic and affects so many women.”
“I know that but I don’t have the time or experience.”
“Bull,” Jordyn scoffs. She’s wearing black bootie shorts with a neon lime sports bra, the color as bold as her personality. “You can find the time and your life is your experience.”
“Let’s be real, Jord.” I shrug out of my yoga jacket. “Molly only asked me in the hope that I’ll draw a large audience as the wife of Micah Peters.” When they both frown at my assumption, I add: “That’s not a put-down of my worth. It’s true.”
Lexie shakes her head. “I think Molly recognizes, like we do, that women will be drawn toyou. You’re engaging and so is your journey. You’re right that being Mick’s wife gives you a bigger spotlight, but what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except Mick and I don’t want the spotlight. We just want to get past all this post interview hoopla and lead a normal life.”
The eighty-minute class leavesme jonesing for a hot soak. I take a long swig from my water bottle and dab a towel over my face as we exit the room into the common area. I can only hope no one wants to take a selfie with me looking a sweaty mess.
I sense it immediately. The atmosphere is different. The way the women are looking at me isn’t the same as when I arrived. Their expressions are of pity…embarrassment. My friends notice it too.
