The Masseuse (24 page)

“I
’m going to let go, but you have to be quiet. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded, recognizing Alec’s voice, but not comforted by it like I had been in the past. He released me slowly, and as soon as his hands had loosened, I swung back hard with my elbow and cracked him in the side of his head. He staggered right, and though I should have run, I spun to face him and slapped him as hard as I could.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “You got me the first time.”

“Just wanted to make sure you understood,” I spat.

He stooped to pick up my keys off the ground where I’d dropped them again, and thrust them into my hand. Fear skittered through me as he straightened to his full height, forcing me to look up at him. There was cold fury in his face, hardening his features, making his throat jump with his pulse. His hair was a mess—the oil he had yet to wash out from the massage had made it greasy, and he shoved it behind his ears.

And still, despite everything, I was relieved he was alive.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Oh, you know,” I said, my voice shaking. “A little breaking and entering, a little sneaking around. It’s what I do for fun when the insomnia kicks in.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he said. “I saw you on the video feed. You need to get out of here. Now.”

“No problem.”

He glanced behind him. “Go home. I’ll come by later.”

“Why don’t you go to hell instead?”

I had turned, but he grabbed my arm. “What did you hear?”

“Get your hands off of me,” I said between my teeth. “You don’t get to touch me. Not ever again, all right?”

He let go, eyes flaring with panic. “Anna . . .”

“Enough,” I snapped, continuing on to my car. “I heard enough, okay? So why don’t you go back in and put your feet up because this
assignment
is over.” If I didn’t get out of there fast, I was going to break down.

“You don’t understand,” he said quickly. “I can explain.”

“But you won’t,” I said. “Because you never do.”

I opened the car door but stopped before getting in.

“I know about the woman you assaulted,” I said, staring down at the seat. “And I know about the drugs. I didn’t believe it, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Anna . . .”

“You’re not the only one who can do a background check,” I added. Technically my dad had done it, but he didn’t need to know that.

I lifted my chin. One last time I faced him, feeling as though my ribs were snapping, one by one.

“I thought you were dead,” I whispered. “I knew you had left me for her, and when I saw what had happened on the news . . .”

I covered my mouth with my hand to stop myself from saying any more. He was already wavering in my vision, his beautiful, tortured expression swimming in my tears.

I got in the car and drove away, leaving him standing in the driveway the same way I’d left him in the street the first time I’d met him.

*

It was almost two in the morning by the time I got home. I ripped my suitcase out of the closet and began haphazardly stuffing my clothes into it. The apartment had been fully furnished when I came in, but I had accented it with knickknacks I’d picked up here and there. I gathered those things together now; a few pictures off the wall, the small wire table where I left my keys. A set of bowls in the kitchen that had been my mom’s. I took out my cosmetic case and threw all my makeup into it. The blow-dryer and shampoo were tossed into the sink—I’d find somewhere to put them soon.

It was time to move on; I’d stayed too long. With my smartphone, I’d be able to find a place to stay while I was driving. Southern California sounded nice.

Amy.

The thought of leaving my best friend—my only friend, really—hit me hard enough to slow me down. I glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was still nighttime, not even four a.m.

I sent her a text.

Awake?

Three minutes later I got a response.

U ok?

I held my breath, pushing down the tension in my throat.

No.

Come over. Door will be open.

I left everything where it was and drove to Amy’s.

*

She had the coffee on when I got there. It warmed my body and settled my stomach, but did nothing to patch the hole in my chest. I told her as much as I could before it became too hard to speak, and when I cried, she cried with me.

I’d fallen for a man who not only had another girlfriend, but was only dating me because his boss had told him to. It didn’t get much more twisted. I’d been played fifty ways from Sunday, and I’d been too lovesick to see it.

Sometimes I wondered if there was something really wrong with me. Maybe the damage my birth mother had done was irreversible.

Just after dawn, I called in sick to Rave and crashed in Amy’s bed. My sleep was plagued by nightmares; I was stuck in a glass box while Alec watched from the outside. No matter how hard I beat my fists against the glass, I could not break free.

I woke to Amy’s raised voice at the front door.

“I told you, I’m calling the cops if you don’t leave. She’s not here.”

I sat bolt upright, rubbing my throbbing head. The shades were still drawn in Amy’s room, but there was no light sifting through. I glanced at the clock. It was almost nine p.m. I’d slept all day.

“I know she’s here. Her car is here.” Alec’s voice was like a vise, squeezing my lungs. He sounded hoarse, exhausted.

“So you’re a detective now?” snapped Amy. I couldn’t see her, but I could imagine her jutting her chin out, the way she did when she was really pissed. “How’s this for a clue?”

I closed my eyes, fairly certain she was flipping him off.

“Believe me,” he said flatly. “You can’t hate me more than I do right now.”

Amy sighed. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you . . .”

“Tell her I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I have to talk to her before she leaves town.”

I scooted to the edge of the bed. He must have been in my apartment—he had the security code—and seen that I’d started packing.

I may have forgotten to mention that part to Amy.

“Go,” said Amy after a moment. “If she wants to see you, she knows how to reach you. If she doesn’t, do the right thing and leave her alone. She’s survived losing people before. She’ll do it again.”

The door closed with a click.

Amy appeared in the bedroom a few moments later. She sat beside me silently and stared straight forward.

“Your dad called again. I told him you have the flu and I’m taking care of you.”

“Thanks,” I croaked, throat dry.

She nodded. “Alec looks like shit.”

I picked at my thumbnails.

“So do you,” she added.

I looked away.

“Was that true?” she asked. “Are you leaving town?”

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I hastily wiped it away. I’d cried enough in the past two days to last a lifetime.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” I said.

She looked at me. “You can. You just don’t want to.”

“Amy . . .”

She stood up. “Where will you go when you’ve been to every city in the U.S., Anna? Canada? Where then? Greenland? Assholes are everywhere, but people that love you, really love you, aren’t.”

Amy could sure twist the knife when she wanted to.

She took a deep breath. “Don’t make the same mistakes your mom made.”

I put my head in my hands, feeling about a zillion times worse than I had two minutes ago. I didn’t want to make my mother’s mistakes, I didn’t want to leave Amy and Paisley, but I couldn’t stay waiting for someone else to hurt me. I had to get back in front, keep ahead of the pain. That was how I survived.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay for a while, but I’m not making any promises.”

Though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her victorious smirk.

“Now get your ass in the shower. I bought new flavors of pity-party ice cream.”

*

The next day I went back to Rave. I parked at my place and walked, grateful for a couple minutes without Amy looking at me like I might spontaneously combust. I skipped my apartment, still not ready to face the reminders of Alec or my own half-packed belongings, which ended up being fine since Amy had played human Barbie doll with me before I’d left. She’d loaned me one of her black sheath dresses and a pair of open-toe pumps, and experimented with a darker, more sultry color palate. Unfortunately, the dress was her size—three smaller than mine—so it clung to my curves like it was made of latex, not satin.

Good thing I mostly worked in low lighting.

When I arrived, I cut straight through the salon to the spa area, hoping to sneak by unnoticed. Though no one besides Amy, and maybe Derrick, knew that Alec and I had been together, it felt painfully obvious that I’d recently been chewed up and spit out.

Somehow, I got through my morning without breaking down. I focused on each massage like I had in the weeks after I’d gotten out of school—naming each muscle to myself, diligently attending to each zone I worked through. I stripped the sheets, started laundry, and began again. Each hour that passed, it became easier. Nobody noticed that my smiling face was only a mask.

Just after two, I went on break. I wasn’t hungry—I hadn’t had anything but a few bites of ice cream since yesterday—but thought I’d walk to Javaz and get some coffee.

I had just reached into my cubby to get my purse when the door shut behind me. I turned, expecting to find one of my coworkers, but instead came face-to-face with one of my previous clients.

“Anna.”

“Melvin,” I said, my shock twisting to wariness. “What are you doing here? You can’t be back here.”

I looked behind him, to where he was blocking the door. Urgently I scanned the rest of the room. The wall behind me was lined with lockers and cubbies, the opposite side of the room had been converted into a kitchenette with a refrigerator, sink, and microwave on the counter. A black square table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by three folding chairs.

He’d taken some care with his appearance; his face was clean-shaven, and he was even wearing a tweed suit. It had to have been terribly hot, and lines of sweat ran down the sides of his face. Or maybe that was just the anxiety of stepping foot on a property that he’d clearly been barred from reentering.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve been waiting since this morning to see you.”

My ears began to ring. I should have taken Derrick’s advice and taken out a restraining order. Another stupid trust-Alec move.

“Here?” I asked. Surely someone would have noticed him hiding in our break room.

“Outside, in the back. You asked me to leave that way once.”

“I remember,” I said.

He smiled broadly and pushed his round glasses up his nose. “From the window on the back door, you can see people come in and out of the break room. Since your boss sent me that letter saying I can’t go through the front . . .” He laughed. “This probably sounds a little weird.”

“You’re right.”

He took a step closer. “It’s so good to see you.”

I stepped back, hitting the lockers. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”

With a deep sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re mad about what happened last time. I understand. I was too forward. I should have asked you out to dinner first.”

Slowly, I reached into my purse for my keys. Without making any sudden moves, I wrapped my fingers around the pepper spray.

“Melvin, you need to leave.”

“You got the chocolates I sent to your apartment, right? Did you like them? The man at the candy shop picked them out when I described the kinds of things you like.”

Okay. This was bad.

“You don’t know me, Melvin,” I said slowly. “And you shouldn’t have gone to my apartment without my permission.”

His cheeks turned red. He looked down, and I could see his throat bobbing as he worked to swallow. “Why would you say that?”

“You broke into my place,” I said. “You moved some of my things.”

“Why would you say that?” he demanded again, making me jump. His gaze shot up, and the anger in it brought a slow drip of fear down my spine. I needed to get around him to the door, but he was still blocking the way. Slowly, I inched behind the table, placing a blockade between us.

“I didn’t break in. I respect you, Anna.”

“You’re right,” I said, realizing I needed to play into his delusion if I was going to get out of there anytime soon. “I shouldn’t have accused you.”

“You were being stupid.” He stood straight upright and moved toward me, scratching the side of his head vigorously. “I’m sorry, that was cruel. I don’t mean to be cruel. I love you. Let’s just forget about this little fight.”

“Love?” I asked, unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

In a burst of speed, he grabbed the back of one of the chairs, lifted it, and then slammed it down on the floor. It didn’t break, just made a loud noise. Straight as a board, I dropped my purse and pulled out my pepper spray, holding it out before me. Melvin didn’t seem to notice. He was busy fitting the back of the chair under the doorknob so the door couldn’t be opened.

Somewhere down the hall I heard a door open, then slam shut. Then another. Someone was coming. I
hoped
someone was coming.

I looked at him, seeing longing so evident in his every feature. He did believe he loved me. Pity slashed through the fear. He needed help.

“Melvin, open the door,” I said, voice softer. “I was stupid earlier. Let’s just go have lunch and we can forget about it.”

“You think I can forget about it?” he asked. “It’s as if you don’t want us to be together. I just have to show you, then you’ll see.”

He took off his jacket.

“Take it easy, Melvin.” A jolt of strength ripped through me. My back was to the wall. There was no way out but through him.

When he reached for me, I pressed down to release the pepper spray into his face. He covered his eyes, howling like a dying animal. Quickly, I skirted around the table, but he blocked my path, eyes bright red and streaming tears. Blindly, he swung, hitting me in the shoulder and taking me to my knees. Keys still in my hand, I jabbed them down above his knee, and he cried out in pain as the fabric of his pants ripped.