Free Fat Chance by Nick Spalding Page A

telling me for a long time, Elise. You know that, you utter cow.
    ‘Yes. That’s why.’
    I fold my arms across my chest and stare down my ex-best friend through the thick studio glass, daring her to carry on this line of questioning. I’m this close to calling Elise some very unpleasant names, which would no doubt force the station to make an on-air apology for explicit language.
    Elise has the good sense to realise this. ‘Well, thanks for that Zoe. Hopefully this competition may help you with that problem over the coming months.’
    ‘And that’s about all we’ve got time for on Fat Chance today,’ Will interjects, clearly sensing the need to swiftly wrap things up.
    ‘You okay, sweetheart?’ Greg says in a half-whisper, knowing full well what the answer will be.
    ‘I want to go home. Now ,’ I reply, pushing my way past the other couples and out through the door to the sound booth.
    With Greg in tow, I barge my way past Lottie and the rest of the production minions.
    ‘Er, we need you to stay for the post-show briefing! There’s a schedule for the next few weeks we need to give you!’ Lottie shouts after us.
    ‘Post the fucking thing!’ I shout back over my shoulder.
    I have no intention of sticking around to look at a room of sympathetic faces for the next half an hour, so I storm through the building with Greg in tow. Within seconds we’re emerging into the morning sunlight through the main doors.
    ‘Um, baby, where are you going?’ Greg asks me.
    ‘Home!’
    ‘But this is where you work?’
    Shit.
    He’s right.
    I can’t even leave this bloody radio station, as I now have to walk round to the back of the building and do a day’s work.
    No doubt everyone will have heard Elise’s little question and answer session. The sympathetic faces will follow me around for the entire day.
    I look up at the lovely spring sun and make a decision. ‘I’m taking the day off,’ I tell him with my hands on my hips. ‘I’ll blame it on stress.’
    ‘Stress?’
    ‘Yes Greg! Stress ! Telling thousands of people on their morning fucking commute that I’m barren is stressful ! ’
    ‘Fair enough. I’ll get the car,’ he replies as quickly as possible, and scuttles off to the car park, leaving me to seethe on my own for a moment.
    Elise comes rushing out from the building, a combined look of guilt and fear on her face. ‘I’m sorry, chick!’
    ‘Why did you do that?’ I shout at her.
    ‘I’m sorry! The segment was going badly and I needed something to spice it up.’
    ‘And my inability to have children was spicy enough, was it, you bitch?’
    ‘Please Zoe, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.’
    ‘No, you bloody shouldn’t!’
    ‘Let me make it up to you.’
    ‘How are you going to do that?’ I snap my fingers. ‘I know, how about we go back on air now and we tell everyone about that drunken fuck you had with Will’s supposedly gay roommate two years ago?’
    Elise’s head whips round to see if anyone caught that. ‘God, Zoe, keep your voice down,’ she whisper-shouts.
    ‘Oh! Oh! You’d like me to keep my voice down, would you? I guess that means you don’t want me to march back in there and tell all your listeners about how he tried to stick it in your arsehole, then?’
    I shouldn’t be, but I’m taking huge pleasure in the way Elise is cowering like a spanked puppy. ‘Please Zoe, shut up!’
    I take a deep breath. ‘Not so much fun when it’s your dirty laundry being aired in public, is it?’
    Greg has pulled up in the car and is watching developments with a wince on his face.
    Elise looks at me with doe eyes. ‘Are you going to stay in the competition?’
    The word ‘no’ forms on my lips, but then I swallow it down. Much as I’d like to have nothing more to do with Elise and this silly competition right now, I know that if I quit I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. If I have to put up with a bit of embarrassment in order to lose weight, then so be it. I