The Masseuse

by Sierra Kincade

  “You can tell me if they found a man in the car with her!” I shouted.

  She was quiet. “Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to lower your voice.”

  “You’re a huge fucking help, thanks.” I hung up, and dialed my father, hoping his connection in the Tampa police department might have some friends working the accident, but after four rings, my call went to voice mail.

  “Where are you?” I demanded as his greeting played.

  Bowling. I dug my thumb into my temple. It was bowling night. Did he always stay out so late when he was out with the guys? Rattling off a message that I needed to talk ASAP, I slipped on my sandals and grabbed my keys. I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. Bobby was clearly awake, and if anyone had the clout to find Alec, it was Maxim Stein.

  At the front door I paused, forcing myself to take one second to think. If I showed up frantic in the middle of the night looking for my non-boyfriend, I was going to lose my position there. Hell, I might not even get through the gate.

  Alec had chosen Charlotte over me. If he had been in the crash, he had been with his girlfriend. I was nothing to him.

  But I loved him, and betrayed as I felt, imagining him dead hit me like a punch straight through the chest.

  I turned on the security system—the precaution Alec had insisted on—and ran down the stairs and through the parking garage to my car. The drive took far too long, and I prayed that there was no law enforcement to pull me over as I drove thirty miles over the speed limit.

  How had Charlotte lost control of the car? The news had said her company, Green Fusion, was bankrupt. Had she tried to kill herself? Taken Alec with her?

  No. I couldn’t think that way. I would get to Maxim’s house, and they’d tell me Alec was alive and well and I had nothing to worry about.

  And then I could hate him for breaking my heart.

  My tires squealed as I tore through the ritzy neighborhood like a drag racer. When I reached the front gate of Maxim’s estate, I slammed on the brakes.

  The gate was open. It was never open.

  I rolled inside, nerves raw. The property was still, though well lit by the security lights that bathed the circle around the fountain in an eerie yellow hue. I didn’t go all the way to my usual spot; it was too dark in that direction to tell if any other cars were there. Instead I parked behind the black SUV directly in front of the main entry. My eyes were drawn to a long scrape down the side panel. Apparently someone had had a hard time parking.

  I climbed the steps on weak legs, doused by a sudden terror. I’d hoped Maxim would help me get information about Alec, but what if he already had the information? He might already know that Alec was dead.

  “Please be alive.” I knocked on the door.

  No one answered. I moved to the window and looked inside, but the interior of the house was dark. There was a high likelihood that Maxim wasn’t even here—he could have been anywhere in the world.

  Voices drifted toward me on the breeze. I recognized Bobby’s, though I couldn’t tell what he was saying. Making the split-second decision to take my chances getting arrested, tazed, or, worse, shot by Maxim’s security, I crept around the far end of the house, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.

  The manicured grass gave way to the stone path that led to the guesthouse, the same place I’d found myself trapped my first time here. I snuck toward the lights that glowed in the window, listening for news I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear, much like before. The irony of the situation was certainly not lost on me.

  I reached the wraparound deck and plodded along the floorboards, telling myself I should stand and walk to the office door. Knock, like a normal person. Instead I found myself crouched below the same window, scarcely breathing so that I could hear what was being said.

  “It’s not my fault she drives like a bat out of hell. It was an accident—don’t look so fucking glum. Now we don’t have to keep watching our backs.” I recognized Bobby’s voice.

  “A woman’s dead,” came Maxim Stein’s low rumble. “A woman I had relations with. You don’t think someone will look into this?”

  Bobby stammered. “There’s no chance of a kickback. I swear. Not on the redhead’s end anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There may be a problem on Alec’s side.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  Maxim’s demand was met with a period of silence, then a third voice entered the conversation.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Alec.

  Alec was alive.

  Alec was here.

  I sobbed, and then silenced it in my shirt sleeve. I should have left; I had the information I’d come here for. But I couldn’t bring myself to stand. I’d been so afraid he was dead, I just needed to hear his voice one more time.

  “She called here, asshole,” said Bobby. “Your assignment. The masseuse.”

  My ears perked up.

  “When did she call?” asked Maxim. “What was said?”

  “She said she knew about Charlotte and needed to talk to Alec,” said Bobby. “It was about an hour after I got back.”

  “What did you tell her, Alec?” Maxim demanded.

  “Nothing,” said Alec. “She doesn’t know anything.”

  “You took her to New York,” insisted Bobby.

  “How was I supposed to keep eyes on her if I was out of the state?” Alec shot back.

  My spine zipped straight.

  “Why would she call here?” asked Maxim.

  “She said he left his cell at her place.” Bobby cleared his throat. “Maybe if he wasn’t so busy fucking her, he might have paid more attention.”

  Something smashed against the interior wall of the office directly behind me, hard enough to send reverberations through the window above my head. Surprised, I jumped, and straightened one leg out on the deck. It had to be visible from the window above if someone was looking. As fast as I could, I pulled it back to my body.

  “Knock it off!” shouted Maxim.

  “Fuck!” Bobby’s voice was muffled now.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” Alec said again. His tone was cold as ice.

  An overwhelming need to run kicked through my body. I crawled across the deck in the direction I’d come, and when I was clear of the office lights, I ran down the path, hard breaths louder than my footsteps. The sinister shadows of the foliage reached toward me. The uneven stones threw me off balance. Before I reached the driveway, I fumbled with my keys and dropped them. It was so dark I had to get on my hands and knees to feel across the ground.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  Hurry, hurry, hurry chanted through my brain.

  Finally, my fingers closed around metal. I rose. My car was ten feet away, clear of the looming shadow of the main house.

  A second later someone grabbed me from behind, and a hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my scream.

  Twenty-seven

  “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, a
nd 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.”