Page 9 of Kicks

Scott handed each of them a succulent-looking chocolate treat.

“Come on,” Scott said. “This deserves a cup of tea. Doris, you’re a dream.”

They walked through the double doors and into the office. All three made a beeline for the canteen to devour Doris’ delights.

“We’re completely undoing any good that exercise did,” Tyler said.

“I don’t want to lose weight,” Scott replied. “You heard Doris.”

“It’s about health, remember?” Eddie said.

“Blah blah. I’m not going meet my future husband by being pale and skinny.”

“I can picture what your wedding would be like,” Tyler said. “Would your theme be extra?”

“With a capital E,” Scott replied. “At this rate it’ll be you going down the aisle instead of me. How depressing would that be?”

“Your time will come,” Eddie said.

“Ugh,” Scott replied. “Don’t give me all that nonsense.”

“Hey,” Eddie said. Breaking off a tiny piece of brownie, he threw it at the back of Scott’s head. “I’m only trying to keep you motivated.”

Scott spun around. He returned the bombardment with a chunk of cake that bounced off Eddie’s forehead.

“Oi!” came a voice from across the canteen.

They all groaned as the office manager, Barry Cunningham, came across the floor like a missile.

“Now you’ve done it,” Eddie said.

“Does he have eyes in the back of his head?” Scott replied.

“Brace yourself,” Tyler added, standing up straight.

A red-faced Barry reached their table. “Scott Fitzgerald. Did I see you throwing pieces of cake?”

“A tiny crumb,” Scott replied. “In the singular.”

“Then why are there lumps on the floor?”

Scott pointed to Eddie. “He started it. I was merely defending myself.”

“I dread to think about the state of your flat,” Barry said as he stooped to pick up the offending items. “Eat it, don’t throw it. Why are you all in exercise clobber?”

“Eddie wants to get fit,” Tyler said.

Barry turned to Eddie “Is that right?”

“Not religiously,” Eddie said, feeling the need to defend himself. “Just to keep the belly under control.”

Barry took Scott’s hand and put the crumbs in his palm.

“Barry!”

“Do you want me to report you for throwing food?” Barry asked. “Carla said if you got into bother one more time, she’d do something about it.”

“You play a dirty game,” Scott replied.