Body on the Stage (3 page)

As she passed him a business
card he felt the warmth from her fingers. “The gym’s called
Intensity. That’s the address, just a few streets away. Could you
possibly come round today, if you’re not too busy?”

He looked at his watch. “Are you
finished here? I think I am, so we can go now if you like.” Might
as well get it over and done with, while she still had the actors
on her mind and wouldn’t be so likely to think about trying to
convert a pasty white fat guy to her religion of fitness and food
fanaticism.

“Brilliant!” she said, beaming.
“You’re a life-saver! How can I ever repay you?”

He couldn’t help smiling at her
delighted expression.

“Let’s see if I can fix the
problem first.” And please, please don’t try to repay me.

Outside the theatre she unlocked
a shiny blue mountain bike leaning against the side wall. She waved
as Dennis walked past towards his car.

“See you at Intensity in a few
minutes,” she said.

He watched until her shapely
rounded backside disappeared as she propelled the bike at
increasing speed down the street.

By the time he pulled up outside
Intensity, she was waving at him from an upstairs window. He
climbed the narrow metal-edged stairs slowly, not wanting to be
puffing when he reached the top, but he still had to pause to let
his breathing catch up before advancing towards the reception desk.
Cathy came out of a room nearby and put a friendly hand on his
arm.

“This is so nice of you, I
really appreciate it. The main computer’s through here, in my
office. Please give it a stern talking to, because it’s ignoring me
completely.”

He followed her and gave her
set-up a quick look, assessing the technology he’d be working
with.

“OK, describe the problem to me.
What isn’t it doing that you want it to do?”

“You mean apart from making my
life easier in every way like computers are supposed to?” She
pulled a face at the desktop box. “It won’t let me print to the
printer at the reception desk. I think it’s just paying me back
because I haven’t put its RAM out to stud or something stupid like
that.”

“Is this networked to the other
PC at reception?” He was engrossed now, checking leads and wires
under the desk, intent on finding the solution.

“Yes, I can save the document to
that computer and then print it from there, but I’d much rather
print straight from here the way I used to – if that’s possible.
Can you make it cooperate?”

He popped his head out from
under the desk and smiled up at her.

“I can make a computer do
anything you want. This one probably just needs the printer driver
reinstalled. Have you got the disk that came with the printer?” Her
doubtful expression told him it was unlikely. “Don’t worry, I’ll
download the latest one online.”

Her office chair creaked as he
lowered himself onto it. After a quick-fire rattle of keystrokes he
looked up with a smile. “OK, Cathy, that should have sorted out the
problem. Is there something you need to print so we can test it?”
He levered himself up from her desk and got out of the way. Cathy
opened a document, sent it to the printer, and they went out to
reception in time to hear it emerging from the printer under the
counter. She picked up the page and glanced at it.

“Perfect, that’s wonderful,
thank you so much.” She looked him in the eye. “I know you don’t
want me to pay you back, but I do appreciate your help. Would you
like a quick tour while you’re here? No obligation of course, just
to show you what we do.”

Dennis, feeling it would be rude
to decline her offer, cautiously followed her into a large
brightly-lit room full of what appeared to be modernised medieval
torture instruments. Off to one side a lean, tanned man in a
fluoro-yellow singlet helped to set the controls for a pretty young
woman on a treadmill. Benches with heavy weights at the end would
have been called ‘the rack’ in previous centuries. Various upright
frames with cables and weights appeared to be designed to rip arms
from their sockets, and what Cathy pointed out as a leg press would
have folded a man double and crushed his legs into his ribcage if
he’d displeased the Spanish Inquisition.

He tried to rearrange his
features to display interest and enthusiasm when she turned to face
him, but realised from her burst of laughter that he’d failed.

“Oh Dennis, have I frightened
you, showing off all my high-tech machines? Look, they’re not
really scary. See, that’s Vincenzo, one of my trainers, showing a
new girl how to operate them. It’s not too daunting!” Her smile
faded a little as she watched Vincenzo lean even closer to the
client. She turned back to Dennis but his expression must still
have been dubious. “I’m sorry, I forget not everyone is as keen on
health and fitness as I am. Don’t worry, I’ll let you escape
now.”

She held out the folded page
from the printer. “Just take this with you. It’s an eating guide
that gives you an idea of healthy foods and portion sizes. I think
you might find it helpful.”

He took the sheet and smiled
politely. “Thanks, Cathy. Obviously I do need a little help in that
department. I’ve got a bit lazy about food, living on my own these
days. This might be just what I need.” But if it says no beer and
no chips, you can forget it, he thought as he tucked it into his
pocket. “I expect I’ll see you around the theatre sometime. You’re
training the guys for their stage performances, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we’re getting them fit
first, then we’ll build muscle, and work on choreographing their
routines once we see what shape they’re in. I’m really looking
forward to it, and it’ll be great publicity for the gym.” She
looked at him for a moment then appeared to dismiss whatever
thought she’d had. “Thanks so much for your help today. Let me know
if I can return the favour, any time.” To his surprise she gave him
a quick kiss on the cheek as he left.

Later that day he pulled out the
healthy eating guide and studied it. It didn’t actually look too
bad, if you were allowed to add in ice-cream and chips now and
again. He liked chicken breast, and lean steak was a favourite too.
A baked potato would be OK instead of chips, as long as he could
have plenty of butter on it. Let’s see… butter…oh, he was only
allowed a teaspoon of spread a DAY? But that had to cover 4 slices
of toast at breakfast and two muffins at morning tea time! That
would never do. He crumpled up the sheet and threw it in the
rubbish bin.

When Janice called in the
evening he sat through several minutes of her regular lecturing
about what he should be eating. “You should reduce your carbs bro,
and cut out as much sugar as possible. Honestly, you’ll feel so
much better for it.”

That was when he remembered the
guide. He retrieved it, smoothed it out, and described to her in
great detail what new dietary regimen had been recommended to him.
Janice sounded so delighted that he promised himself he’d give it a
try. Perhaps for a week or so, just to see how it felt. If it made
Janice happy, it was worth a go.

He took the list with him on his
next trip to the supermarket. It showed him areas like the fruit
and veg department that he’d barely ventured into before, but kept
him away from several favourite places that he’d practically worn
tracks to, like the ice-cream freezers. It was like visiting a
whole new store. He dutifully loaded up his trolley with skinless
chicken breasts and cans of tuna, chunky rice wafers and various
salad ingredients. The list even specified which salad dressings he
was allowed so he stocked up on 97% fat-free mayo and ‘lite’ French
dressing. His hand reached out automatically towards the biscuit
shelf as he went past but he pulled it back, feeling very virtuous
as he headed for the checkout.

Ha, this ‘get a new life’
business was a snap. He’d met some friends, started a regular
social life at the theatre, and now he was all set up to change his
eating habits and get back the lean teen body he hadn’t seen for
the last fifteen years.

His new-found enthusiasm lasted
as long as the first head of lettuce. After five days of skim milk
coffees and potatoes without butter he was ready to crack. When
he’d thrown the slimy remains of the lettuce leaves onto the grass
clippings composting in the backyard, he went inside and grabbed
the Timtams from the top shelf, dunking each sweet
chocolate-covered wafer into a cup of hot coffee and groaning with
pleasure as the delicious crumbs dissolved on his tongue. Why
should he deny himself such treats? Life was short – it was
important to make the most of it. He finished the pack and sat back
contentedly, ignoring the small voice of conscience nagging at him
in his sister’s tones. Who cared whether he was fat or thin? So his
colleagues might call him Dumpster Dempster – so what? He could
still be a worthwhile person no matter what size he was.

Cathy’s list was filed away in
the bottom drawer in the kitchen to hide under the barbecue
skewers, supermarket bags and the instruction manual for the
blender.

“Hey, big guy – glad you could
make it!” Tony’s friendly greeting rang out from the kitchen as
Dennis entered the Green Room. “We’ll be needing your expert
catering services in here later on, but for now we’re going to get
some flats out from under the stage. Can you give us a hand?” He
came out of the kitchen and gave Dennis a quick look over. “It’s a
bit cramped down there but nobody’s got stuck yet so you should be
OK.”

Dennis took Tony’s laugh and
wink with a smile, hoping he was joking. Perhaps he should have
stuck to that diet sheet after all.

Fenton and Gazza came in then,
along with a tall, muscular guy Dennis thought he recognised from
the auditions.

“Hi Tony, Dennis,” said Fenton.
“This is Mark. He’s scored a role in the show but is keen to help
with construction until rehearsals really kick in.”

“So you’re going to be one of
the strippers that all the women salivate over, are you?” said
Tony. “Good to know you’re not just a pretty face.”

Mark smiled. “I’ve worked hard
building these muscles so I might as well put them to good use. Got
any heavy lifting to do?”

“Mate!” said Tony, “you’re the
answer to a maiden’s prayer! Come with me.”

They all trooped down to the
confined and awkward storage bay beneath the floor of the stage,
where they had to walk partly bent-over to avoid banging their
heads on the timber joists. Mark made himself useful by heaving out
a selection of wall panels which the others carried up onto the
stage. Sweating and uncomfortable, Dennis envied Mark’s easy grace
and strength.

“How often do you work out to
get into that kind of shape?” he asked him when they stopped for a
coffee break.

“Oh, I do weights and some
cardio for at least an hour every morning at the gym, plus I go for
a run or swim laps at the pool every evening.”

Dennis wiped sweat from his face
and sighed. “It’s quite a commitment then. How are you going to fit
in rehearsals among all that – and presumably you work during the
day as well?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit worried about
that, but I figured the training I get from Cathy will take the
place of my regular workouts. I’ve heard that her gym often gets
really good results at the national body-building champs. I’m
looking forward to finding out their secret!”

“If the secret involves that
much hard work, you can count me out,” said Tony. “Besides, I’d
hate to part with all this flab that’s bought and paid for.” He
slapped his stomach. “There’s a good number of six-packs in this
here keg, I can tell you.”

Mark grinned. “That’s not a
six-pack. THIS is a six-pack!” He pulled up his shirt to show off a
set of chiselled abs that left the others speechless.

“Ooh, I like this show already!”
said Jessica happily as she came into the Green Room and caught
their little tableau. “Are you doing a ‘before and after’
demonstration?”

“Yeah, right,” said Tony. “He’s
the before and we’re what happens after. Nobody can keep a body
like that for very long, it’s far too high maintenance.” He turned
to Mark. “You’ll soon be as soft and flabby as the rest of us, mate
– just give it a couple of years.”

“Not this fella. I’ve got my
heart set on competing in the bodybuilding nationals next year and
Mr Universe the year after. I’ll do whatever it takes, and no
amount of beer is going to distract me.”

“That’s very sad, Mark, I’m
sorry to hear that. All right, let’s help you on your way – get
back downstairs and lift out some of those drops for us, will you?
Those rolls of canvas weigh a ton!”

When the session ended Dennis
caught up with Mark as he left, hoping to have a quiet word with
him.

“Mark, you seem to know your way
around all this fitness and exercise stuff – can you give me a few
clues about how to lose a bit of weight? I know it’s something I
need to do, but I just want to get started on my own with nobody
watching, if you know what I mean. Is there anything I can do
outside a gym that would be effective?”

Mark looked at him in surprise.
“Are you serious? Oh, sorry, that didn’t come out right. I mean yes
of course, I’d be happy to – you just didn’t strike me as somebody
who’d be interested in exercise. Hm, that didn’t come out right
either.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s see, you could start out
by walking for half an hour a day – that’ll build up your stamina
and reduce the load on your joints. Once you’ve lost a bit of
weight you can deal to the rest with a good eating plan and some
serious strength training. But the gym’s really the best place for
making genuine progress.”

Dennis sighed. “I was afraid you
were going to say that.”

“Why don’t you come to Intensity
with the rest of the guys and join in when we do our training? I’m
sure Cathy wouldn’t mind one more tagging along.” His smile was so
genuine and his enthusiasm so infectious that Dennis actually
started to give the idea serious thought. “It’s far easier to train
when you’re with a buddy or two,” said Mark, “someone who’ll spot
for you on the weights and cheer you along. Even more importantly
they’ll notice if you’re not there and chase you up for it! It’s
much easier than trying to go it alone.”