Chapter 2: Set Up
The soft hum of Nora Jones whispers through the massage parlor's sound system. I kick off my shoes onto the rack, leaving my feet soaked within navy blue socks. Maria, the owner, sits erect on her chair behind the front desk. She looks like a proud lioness, resting before a hunt. Her deep-set eyes are almost black, with caramel-hued skin and silver hair pulled back in a tight bun from her striking face.
"Joshua.
We have you in room three today," Maria says with a faint Spanish accent. I watch her fingers dance across the tablet, making a few notes. I can't help but feel like I'm being graded as she observes me. "Josh?" Maria glances up with friendly eyebrows raised. "Just, uh, just a moment, please." Call me self-conscious, but I run a hand through my wavy chestnut hair, reluctantly pushing my thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose.
I take a deep breath and imaginary steam flows from the top of my head, descending slowly, dissipating the last vestiges of worry on its way down.
Adjusting the collar of my shirt, I approach Maria with reassuring practiced strides. "Ready when you are," I say, offering a stiff neck to be worked on.
She grins in return, acknowledging the subtle imaginary steam I produced earlier. "You know the rules, Joshua," she admonishes. "You're number forty-seven today, so no rebooking.
Don't fall asleep, you owe me twenty bucks if you snore. And no hanky-panky with my ladies," she quips, eyes sparkling playfully. I chuckle in compliance and nod.
"Si, Maria, I'll follow the law." She rolls her matte-red lips, amused by my feeble attempt at humor, then hands me a freshly laundered white towel.
"Your masseuse, Miss Vanessa, will be with you shortly," Maria says, her voice all business now.
Cherry-red walls swallow me as I slink away to room three. I inhale a deep breath; the air is thick with lavender oil—an invitation for my muscles to relax. Carefully, I fold my clothes onto the wooden stool beside the massage table, draping the towel over its peak.
A quiet knock, and I turn towards the voice.
My chest tightens at the sight of Vanessa, the girl from high school, now a woman. I'd hoped for a different masseuse, anyone else. Sensing my surprise, she raises a perfectly-arched brow. "Joshua, hi, it's been a while." She smiles warmly, but there's an edge of concern in her amber eyes.
I muster a vague smile in response.
"Sure has, Vanessa. I didn't realize you worked here." I take a seat on the plush leather chair placed next to the wooden stool in an attempt to cover my unease.
"Yes, I started a few months ago. I've been traveling since college and wanted a steady job when I came back to town," she explains, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. My self-consciousness amplifies at her touch.
Vanessa lays a series of fresh cloths over the massage table, eyeing me carefully.
My stomach gives an involuntary lurch as I size her up, slipping off my socks. "I guess you could say life has thrown me some curve balls," I say half-heartedly, hoping it's a good enough reason for not keeping in touch. "So, what have you been up to, Vanessa?" I ask, awkwardly changing the subject.
She lets out an airy laugh, tucking strands of golden hair behind her ear. "That's a long story," she confesses.