Killer Calories

car when he opened the back door for her and graciously ushered her inside.
    “Good evening, mademoiselle ,“ he said, flashing her a debonair smile.
    “And good evening to you, too, Gibson,” she replied in her best aristocratic voice—which sounded a bit like Julie Andrews, south of the Mason-Dixon line.
    Once inside, she found herself seated on sumptuous leather next to Ryan Stone. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and was holding a flute of champagne and a lavender rose, both of which he gave to her, along with a kiss on her cheek.
    “Bless you,” she said, breathing in the rose’s delicate fragrance. John Gibson got into the driver’s seat and the Bentley glided down the dark road like a silver cloud. “Bless you both. How ever did you know that I needed to get away from this place for a few hours? How did you know I had reached the point of desperation?”
    Ryan chuckled, reached for her hand and folded it between his. “Maybe it was the message on our answering service... the one you left this evening.”
    Savannah nodded thoughtfully. “You mean the one saying, ‘Come and break me out of this place, before I cut my strings and go straight up’?”
    “That is precisely the one that got our attention,” John said from the front seat. “Since we aren’t intimately familiar with your Georgian vernacular, we weren’t sure what ‘cutting one’s strings’ entailed. But it did sound a bit desperate.”
    “Or maybe it was all the crying,” Ryan said. “The sniffling, the hysterical wailing there at the end. That was when we knew you were in a bad way.”
    She took a sip of her champagne, sighed, and laid her head on his broad shoulder. “That’s what I love about you gay guys... you’re so sensitive.”
    Ryan laughed. “That’s just a silly stereotype, Savannah . I’m surprised at you. The next thing you’ll be accusing us of is dressing snazzy and being good decorators.”
    “Have I ever told you how good you look in a tux and how much I love what you did with your apartment? I mean, the mahogany wainscoting, the dark green leather sofa, the diamond-tucked winged-back chair... that whole Tudor look is just so—”
    Ryan placed two fingers on her lips. “Savannah...“
    ”Uh-huh?”
    “Be quiet, enjoy your freedom, and drink your champagne so that I can refill your glass.”
    “Okay.”

    Savannah couldn’t believe her good fortune. John and Ryan had actually convinced Antoine to reopen the restaurant and cook dinner for them at eleven o’clock at night. The twosome had an uncanny knack for talking anyone into anything. And Savannah had been the happy recipient of their talent on many occasions.
    “For you, mademoiselle, I would never sleep again,” Antoine gushed as he placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. “It is a pleasure, as always, to serve you and your friends.”
    Moments later, the dishes began to arrive, and Savannah was sure she had died and gone to a culinary paradise.
    “So, tell me, Savannah , have you been having a wonderful time at your spa?” John Gibson asked, toasting her with a glass of Chardonnay. “Have they been properly pampering you, as you deserve?”
    “Pampered? Not that I’ve noticed,” she said. “Mostly they feed us this green gruel and make us jump up and down and run through the hills like wild rabbits. I’ve been there nearly a week and I’ve only received one massage.”
    “Green gruel, how revo -o- olting !” John shook his head. “And only one massage. What kind of spa is this?”
    “I thought all spas were like that.”
    Ryan handed her a tiny croissant, stuffed with succulent crabmeat. “I’m sorry your experience has been so unpleasant-John and I have visited some marvelous spas. Salt rubs, hot-oil massages, herbal wraps... ah... the pleasures never end. I And the food is healthy and wholesome, but delectable.”
    “Yeah, well, the Royal Palms is a no-frills sort of club. I don’t know if it ever was legitimate, but it certainly isn’t now. They’re obviously operating on very limited resources. I think I they’re in serious financial trouble.”
    “Yes, they are,” John said, scooping some pâté onto a bit of bread. “We’ve checked for you. The Internal Revenue Service has a lien on the property, and the bank is about to foreclose on their mortgage. Several of their creditors are bringing lawsuits against them. I’d say bankruptcy is on the near horizon.”
    “Lou Hanks needs Kat’s life insurance