Page 57 of Muscle Cub

Mom looked to Honey for a cue as to how she should react. Honey cackled. “Sugar, you’re not the first to think that, and you won’t be the last. I take it as a compliment. I’m built like a linebacker. You shoulda seen me in the shoulder pad era.” Honey was a tall woman. She looked like a cross between Jean Smart from Designing Women and Dolly Parton.

Mom gave Kelly Bishop from Gilmore Girls vibes. If Emily Gilmore had been a Southern blonde. She tittered now, noticeably uncomfortable. I’d often wondered how open-minded my mother would be if it hadn’t been for Honey’s influence. Honey’s son was gay, and she was rich as God. Even though this was a small college town in a conservative part of the state, Honey made being a queer ally a requirement for all the women who hoped to participate in local “society.” The country-club set loved to gossip about Honey’s having married for money—and she let them; it was part of her larger-than-life persona—but with charisma and charm that would’ve terrified them in a politician, she bent them to her progressive will.

Mom asked Austin, “Are you one of Paul’s students or…” She glanced at me. I saw her gears turning, worried what the answer might be.

Not wanting her to misconstrue, I jumped in. “I’m actually one of his. Austin’s a fitness instructor. We came to grab a bite after his class next door.”

“Philip’s a member there.” Honey always brought up her son in conversation and assumed everyone knew who he was. Philip was an influencer and the original poster child for her organization. For years, I’d thought she was trying to fix me up with him until I’d realized she was only constantly promoting him.

The food runner showed up with their dinner. Mom and Honey apologized for standing in the middle of the busy restaurant and dutifully moved to sit in the nearest free booth.

I took it as an opportunity to say our goodbyes, hoping Austin would follow my lead.

“Will we see you at Sadie’s birthday party?” Honey asked.

“Yeah… Of course I’ll be there.” I looked at Mom, but she didn’t meet my eyes. To Austin, I explained, “My sister, Veronica, is having a cookout for my niece. It’s Sadie’s eighteenth birthday, and she also just graduated from high school.”

Austin smiled. “Sweet.”

Mom glanced at me and said to Austin, “You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

She’d only asked him because it would’ve been rude to talk about it in front of him and not extend an invitation. Like bless your heart, you should come was a Southernism with multiple meanings.

“Thanks. I’ll see if I can get off work.” It sounded like one of Austin’s noncommittal yeses. He wasn’t likely to show, and my mother wouldn’t miss him.

On our walk to the parking lot behind the gym, Austin gushed about meeting Honey.

I took his hand. “I can’t believe you told Honey Dean you thought she was a drag queen to her face. I’m probably going to get a call from Mom about that tomorrow.”

Austin chuckled. “Straight talk is how I keep it one hundred. Besides, Honey liked it. She’s a glam girl. Your mama’s pretty too. Very classy. She’s a little reserved, though, huh?”

“You need to approach her less directly. Let her come to you.”

“It was a bit like hugging a cat.”

“She’s definitely not a hugger.”

“So that’s what’s wrong with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said in mock outrage.

“Just psychoanalyzing you.” His expression was pure mischief.

“I’ll have you know, my dad’s a hugger.”

“Hmm. That might be more fun to unpack.”

I wasn’t surprised to discover Austin drove a yellow Jeep. It was exactly the type of vehicle I would’ve chosen for him if I were writing him as a character. People who drove yellow cars were said to be joyful, sunny, and young at heart. Not afraid to be noticed.

I was always researching that kind of psychological trivia.

Once I’d climbed in and buckled my seatbelt, Austin pointed to my red sneakers on the floor behind the driver’s seat.

“Dorothy and Glinda, I presume?”

“Aren’t those names perfect?” He was way too pleased with himself.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a grin.