Chapter 76
The FitFams offices’ eerie quiet was abruptly interrupted by the squeaking of Shelly’s Golden Goose Hi Star Bicolor Platform Script Sneakers on the shiny floor of the reception area as she tried to brace herself and stop Coral’s forward momentum.
“The fuck, Coral?! Let go of me,” Shelly said, wresting her arm free.
Coral stopped in front of the elevators, dumbfounded.
“You’re going to stay? With her? After everything?” Coral said, then punched the down button approximately 15 times in quick succession.
“You’re going to leave? Without her? After everything?” Shelly mimicked.
Coral shook her head. “She treated you like shit, and you let her. It’s like you wanted to be her,” she said, then looked down. “I mean, you’re even wearing her shoes. And I know they’re too big for you.”
Shelly kicked one foot behind her, as if preparing to curtsy, and hoped Coral wouldn’t do that thing parents do, where they poke the toe of your shoe to make sure there isn’t too little or too much room.
“They’re not too big,” Shelly mumbled.
Coral put a hand on Shelly’s shoulder. “Listen. I know you two have been BFFs for, like, ever. That’s great. And you’ve been incredibly loyal. Which is also great. But maybe it’s time to start thinking of yourself? Maybe engage in a little self-preservation?”
The elevator arrived with an echoing ding.
Shelly shrugged Coral’s hand off. “Dee has given us jobs, careers, swag, money, purpose. All she asks for in return is unfailing loyalty. And you can’t give her that now, when she needs it most?”
Coral stepped into the elevator and sighed. “You’re in so deep, you don’t even know up from down anymore.”
Then she was gone too. And Shelly was alone in the reception area.
Shelly was not good at being alone. Even as a kid she’d latch on to someone and let go only when forced to. In junior high they started calling her Chester the Terrier, after the “Looney Tunes” character who bounces frenetically around Spike the Bulldog — “You want me to pick up some bones, Spike? Huh? Huh? Huh? Anything you want, Spike, cuz you and me is pals!” — until the big canine in the porkpie hat and sweater backhands the little guy. After unsuccessful attempts to affix herself to a Cool Kid, a Drama Geek, and a Band Nerd (even the tuba player got tired of her), Shelly found herself lonely enough to accept the PE teacher’s advances, which earned the two the nickname “Chester and the Molester.”
When she met Dee on the junior-high Model UN trip, Shelly felt like she’d found the Kick-Ass to her Hit Girl, the Brain to her Pinky, the Captain America to her Bucky Barnes.
Did Coral really think Shelly would suddenly turn on Dee, like Bucky when he got amnesia and became an agent for HYDRA?
It’s true that Dee wasn’t always nice. She forgot Shelly’s birthday three years in a row, joked that Shelly was the dumb one on “Golden Girls,” and frequently second-guessed her almost-“Rain Man”-like ability with numbers. But Dee never turned her away — not when she was a teenager and took the 108.5-mile bus trip from Dellwood to show up at Dee’s door in Little Falls, and not when Shelly was 20-something and suicidal after losing all of her money to the protein powder Ponzi scheme.
Typically, Dee told Shelly what to do: wear pink leggings and never red; do not accept the PE coach’s marriage proposal; teach the anniversary class in Atlanta and remind Willa of her place in the pecking order; create fake Instagram accounts and troll the bitches behind FitFamsFraud. Now, standing in the silence of the reception area, Shelly was by herself and at a loss.
She walked back into the bullpen of HQ, and it looked like it was in a state of suspended animation. Computers were on but no one was standing at them. No hum of conversation or collaboration. The neat piles of magazines on a side table were purposefully akimbo. One of Dee’s wall portraits was askew.
Someone had unlocked and ransacked the swag closet. Huh. She hadn’t noticed her co-workers high-tailing it out of there with gym bags full of Glossier Milky Jelly Cleanser, last season’s Air Jordans (who cares what size), and tubs of Moon Juice SuperHair vitamins. The Bala Bands bracelet weights were gone too. She pictured Jimmy wearing them all the way up each arm and dragging his knuckles on the ground as he attempted to flee.
Tara’s defection had been the most surprising and traitorous. To side with the enemy after flanking Dee for so long? What an ungrateful asshole. Dee was special. Deviation was heresy.
I mean, it’s not like she killed that girl. Jamie had a heart attack after taking black-market diet pills full of poison. Really, it was her own fault. If she couldn’t take the pressure of FitFams she should’ve left; no one was holding her hostage. It’s not like Dee branded her followers. The “FF4Life” wrist and ribcage tattoos were optional.
She looked over at Dee’s office and saw she had switched the glass walls to dark. Does she see me standing here, waiting for her to tell me what to do next?
Shelly slowly approached and then knocked softly on the glass door.
“Dee?” she squeaked. “Dee, I’m still here.”
Nothing.
“Are you OK? Tell me you’re OK.”
Nothing.
“I don’t know what to do now. Tell me what to do.”
Nothing.
Then, something — Shelly could hear some movement inside.
“Dee?” she asked again.
“Go,” Dee said, her voice tight.
“Wait, what?”
“I said, go,” Dee said.
“Go? Go where? Go get you a smoothie? I can do that. I can get you a —”
“No!” Dee shouted through the door. “Go! As in, go, get out, leave! I don’t want you here.”
Shelly reared back as though she’d been slapped. “You can’t mean that.”
Dee, still behind the door, yelled: “I’m tired of you, always biting at my ankles, riding my success. I’ve carried you for the last few years and now I’m over it.”
“I … I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Shelly whimpered.
“Believe it,” Dee said, sniffling. “Now get the fuck out.”
So Shelly did what she was told.