Savanah's Swan Song (Part 11)

After squeezing into a stretchy sweater dress that was far too warm for the weather, Savanah emerged from the bedroom and tip-toed into the kitchen--

Chad had set the dining table with fine silver, cloth napkins, and Cabernet-filled crystal that starkly contrasted the buffet of brown BBQ bags surrounding them.  He’d even lit candles, but considering the early hour, 4:30 PM, and their proximity to the paper bags, were less romantic than they were a fire hazard.    

Her boyfriend sat slumped on the sofa watching Sportscenter.  Taking advantage of the distraction, Savanah hurried to the table and sat down, only announcing her presence after dishes and takeout containers obscured her inflated figure.   

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey!  Welcome home!”  Chad rose from the sofa and walked to the table.  “Good to see you,” he said, adjusting his glasses.  Savanah had hoped he wouldn’t be wearing them.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Savanah said, scooching her chair closer to the table.  She allowed her bespectacled beau a perfunctory peck, then quickly dismissed him.  “Let’s eat.  I’m starved.”

Chad dutifully took his place at the opposite end, though he was clearly disappointed by the less-than-warm reception.  Savanah felt bad.  She was glad to see her longtime boyfriend; she just wished it was through a two-way mirror. 

With food as a distraction, however, it wasn’t long before the conversation flowed as fast as the wine.  Chad briefed Savanah on her European tour, while Savanah told Chad about her stay with Momma.  As the couple joked about which was “buggier,” Savanah’s robot or the muggy country nights, the pop star had pretty much forgotten about her weight.  Until…

“It looks like Dr. Wagner may need to make a few alterations to your humanoid,” Chad said, studying Savanah from across the table.

Panic flashed across Savanah’s BBQ-stained face.  “What do you mean?”

“That accent’s getting pretty thick.”

“Oh,” Savanah said, wiping her mouth.  “That’s what I get for spending a month with my bumpkin relatives.” 

“It’s cute.”  Chad gazed at her with eyes that were hungry for more than barbecue.  “And so are you.”

Savanah set down her fork.  There was no way she could hide her gain from Chad.  Might as well get it over with.  ‘Rip it off like a Band-Aid,’ as Momma used to say.  If only that were possible with her excess pounds.

“It’s not the only thing that got thicker,” Savanah said, leaning back in her chair to give her boyfriend a full view.

“Mmmmm,” Chad uttered in response to the fresh meat on his girlfriend rather than the bite of beef in his mouth.  “Came home with some curves I see.”

Savanah pulled the hem of her argyle sweater dress, releasing the fabric pinched between her belly and boobs.  “More than a country road.”

“Hmmm, I suddenly feel like taking a drive.”

Savanah rolled her eyes.  “Chad, this is serious.”

“Why serious?”

“I’m getting fat.”

“Jesus, Savanah.  You’re not fat.”

“You haven’t seen me naked yet.”

Chad wiped his mouth, then threw his napkin on the table.  “That’s it—we’re skipping straight to dessert.” 

The lustful look in her boyfriend’s eyes restored Savanah’s confidence.  Of course, after a month of celibacy, he was probably willing to hump a dump truck.  “You’re not concerned?”

“Why should I be?  This is why I did what I did.  To help you loosen up.  Enjoy life.  Spend more time with family.  Eat something besides kale salads!”

Chad reached into his breast pocket and removed a folded slip of paper.  He unfolded it and slid it across the table to Savanah--

“You want to talk about big figures?  THIS is a big figure.”

It was a check made out to SG, LLC, Savanah’s corporation, for ten million dollars.  

“Jesus.  This is all from the tour?”

Chad nodded.  “I was going to deposit it, but I wanted you to see it first.” 

Savanah couldn’t take her eyes off the gargantuan number typed in the box.  “All I did was sit on my fat ass.”

“You’re welcome,” Chad said, extending his arms.

“But my movie starts shooting soon.  I can’t show up looking like this.”

“That’s not until next month.  What did you gain?  10-15 pounds?”

“Thirty!” 

A stunned look flashed across Chad’s face.  And she’d even rounded down.

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“So do some crunches and switch back to kale salads.  Tell them you need extra time to recover from your tour.”

“I can’t do that.  They’ve already pushed things back.” 

“Well, there is another option.”

“What’s that?”

Chad took a long sip of wine, anticipating the reaction his statement would garner.  “Send your ‘bot.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not having a robot take my place in MY movie.”

“Not take your place.  Buy you time.  The first couple weeks are what?  Shop talk and table readings?  You don’t need to be there for that.”

Savanah considered it for a second.  A little extra time would certainly be useful as she worked her way back into shape.  Plus, she could avoid all the shmoozy glad-handing she hated. 

But no.  Like her belly in the shower, it was a slippery slope.  She didn’t want to rely on that German-engineered bucket of bolts for anything more than spare parts.

“No.  Keep that thing in Germany,” Savanah said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  Then, as it came to rest atop her belly, “I can handle this myself.”

Chad arched his eyebrows like Groucho Marx.  “Would you mind if I handled it first?”

Savanah’s head flopped back, and she stared at the ceiling.  Then, with a dramatic sigh, she rose from the table, took a few steps toward the bedroom, and coyly looked back over her shoulder--

“Fine.”