“It’s not what? It’s not like you two haven’t been manipulating me, laughing at me behind my back as you both fucked me? Did you two get together and compare notes on me? Did Carlos show you the pictures he took of me while he fucked me so you both could laugh at what a naïve, trusting idiot I am?”
“No, I would never do that!”
“Oh, but you would lie to me from the moment I met you.” She staggered back against her car as pieces of their triangle relationship began to fall into place. “You were there, that night when Carlos brought another man.”
He nodded and stared over her shoulder. “That was me. Carlos and I wanted to fulfill your every fantasy, and I missed you.”
She threw her head back and screamed her rage into the sky. The door to her parents’ house opened and Brad looked outside quickly before pulling Penny out of the doorway and shutting it with a slam. “How could you do this to me? How could you hurt me like this? You know how much I loved you!”
He jerked as if she slapped him and his face went ashen. “You love me?”
Her empty stomach churned and she regained enough of her mind to just use the button on her key to unlock the doors. “Not anymore.”
He made a strangled sound and she practically dove into her car. As she slammed the door, he came close to losing the tips of his fingers as he tried to catch it. She slammed the lock into place and turned her car on and jammed it into reverse. The tires screeched before they caught the wet pavement and she spun out into the street.
In the reflection of her headlights she saw him crouch to the ground and hold his head in his hands. Wiping away her tears with a shaking hand, she sped down the street and took a few turns before pulling into the empty driveway of a house with no lights on and shutting her car off.
In the sudden silence her breathing sounded loud and jagged as she dialed Carlos’ number on her cell phone. He answered after one ring, the pain in his voice evident as he said, “Violet, I can—”
“Don’t call me, don’t talk to me, don’t show up at my work, don’t show up at my house. You are fucking dead to me, you lying, manipulative, motherfucking rat bastard dickhead douche bag asshole!”
She hung up on him and blocked his number. A second later Morgan tried to call her and she blocked his number as well. Staring through the windshield of her car she called Bethany. It took her ten minutes of hysterical crying to calm down enough to let Bethany know that she was physically okay.
“Come right over,” Bethany said in a stern voice. “The guest bedroom is yours tonight. I’m going out to get emergency ice cream and chocolate.”
“Thanks,” Violet croaked out. She hung up and started her car again, her body shaking with rage and sorrow as she wished with all her heart that she had never met Carlos and Morgan.
Chapter Twelve
Violet trudged into work, moving in a haze of pain and heartbreak. Two weeks had passed since that awful day at her parents’ house and instead of feeling better, each day was worse than the one before. Even her dog had gotten tired of her crying herself to sleep and had started bunking down for the night in the living room instead of her bed.
Bethany looked up from the front desk and sighed. “Well, at least today you remembered to brush your hair.”
With a grunt Violet put her bag down and leaned her hip against the counter. “Is my first appointment here yet?”
Bethany nodded and lowered her voice. “Vi, you’re fifteen minutes late. I’m covering for you as much as I can, but people are starting to notice and they don’t believe me when I say you’re in the bathroom. Mr. Volun is getting pissed at both of us.”
She would have thought it was impossible to feel any worse than she did, but the knowledge that she was putting Bethany’s job in jeopardy added a fresh layer of guilt to her aching heart. “I’m so sorry, Bethany. I promise I’ll—”
Bethany held her hand up. “Just go take care of your client. We’ll talk later.”
Blinking back tears, Violet gathered up her bag and hustled to her room at the back of the spa. She passed Jason where Wendy had him cornered by the drinking fountain. His jaw muscles bulged as he tried to make it past the pushy blonde. The situation stroked the almost constant anger inside of Violet to a boil and she whacked Wendy as she passed with her bag, forcing her to move away from Jason. The wannabe home wrecker gasped with outrage and even Jason looked surprised. She might have hit Wendy a little harder with her bag than she intended, but damn that bitch for trying to manipulate Jason into bed.
Wendy’s protests cut off as Violet closed the door to her room with a solid click and turned to set her bag on the long table that held candles and the stereo. It took more energy than she had to plaster a smile on her face as she turned and said, “Nice to meet you, my name is Violet…” The greeting died on her lips as she saw Dr. Paolo, Carlos’ dad, sitting on her massage table with his legs dangling over the edge.
All the breath left her body in a rush and she said in a strangled voice, “What are you doing here?”
Dr. Paolo looked her up and down before he sighed and shook his head. “I know you and my idiot son had a falling-out.” He ignored her growl and continued. “But the reason I’m here is not about him.”
She gathered up her bag with shaking hands and swallowed back her nausea. In his face she could see the echoes of Carlos’ bone structure and it hurt like a scab being ripped off a raw wound. “I’m sorry, I’ll get someone else to massage you. I can’t be here with you.”
He moved surprisingly quickly for a man in his sixties as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her in place as firmly as if he had shackled her. “Please, forget for a moment that we have any association besides a professional one. I promise you, on my honor, that I will not mention he who shall not be named.”
An unexpected laugh jerked from her lips at his obvious reference and she rather liked thinking of Car—he who shall not be named like that. Picturing him as an evil wizard bent on her destruction appealed to her newly discovered melodramatic side. “You have five minutes.”
He nodded and at once stepped away. “I would like you to come work for me.”
She stared at him and tried to process his words with her sleep-deprived brain. “Excuse me?”
His gaze, so like Car—he who shall not be named—held nothing but seriousness. “In the geriatric ward. I’d like you to come work for me.”
“But I’m not a nurse. I have no idea what he who shall not be named told you, but I have no formal medical training outside of massage and a few semesters of physical therapy.”
He nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. “That is true, but I want you to use your skills in massage and physical therapy.” He paced her small room, a ball of energy in the form of an older Italian man. “I tried to get the healing touch program extended to my department, but it will take a good year or more to get it set up. Most of my patients don’t have that kind of time. They are old, they are dying, and some of them are terribly lonely. They need someone to touch them, to give them the simple joy of human contact aside from holding their arm to take their blood pressure.”
She leaned back against the wall, overwhelmed by his presence. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
He stopped pacing and faced her. “I do. All I need is for you to work with me and my staff. We’ll start out slow, with one or two patients and go from there. If things go well we should be able to hire some assistants to work beneath you in a month or so.” He took a step closer, his hands flying through the air as he talked. “Think about it. I would hire you as a trained massage therapist. You would start out at $39,000 a year and get full hospital benefits, insurance, a dental plan and a 401k. Tell me they are doing the same for you here.”
The picture he painted sounded amazing and terrifying at the same time. “I don’t know if I could do it. What if I messed up? What if I hurt someone? I’ve worked with some elderly patients in the spa, but someone who is dying… I don’t know
if I could handle it.”
“Those are all fair concerns and I would be happy to address them with you.” He fished around in his back pocket and pulled out his worn black leather wallet. As he opened it, a picture of Carlos with his mother flashed before her eyes and her stomach tightened into a sour knot. He pulled out a cream business card and pressed it into her limp hand. “Violet, I’m not asking you to work for me because of…him. I’m asking you because everyone that I’ve talked with at the Children’s Hospital does nothing but sing your praises. The staff and the children adore you and you could still visit and work with them if you choose.”
Tears flooded her eyes and she stared at the ceiling while blinking them back. “This is a really weird situation to be in.”
He sighed and quickly patted her shoulder before stepping back. “I know, and I wish I knew what happened between you and he who shall not be named, but he won’t tell me anything other than he was a colossal asshole who should be taken out back and shot. If it makes you feel any better, he’s miserable.”
Actually, that did make her feel better in a very perverse way. “I’ll think about it.”
He beamed at her and her heart thumped as he once again reminded her of Carlos. “Fantastic. You have my card, call me at anytime of the day or night. Well, maybe not night, I don’t need Mrs. Romano thinking I’ve decided to shack up with a young lady on the side. She may look sweet, but that woman has a mean right hook.”
Violet slid the card into her pocket as Dr. Paolo moved past her to the door. He gave her one last look. “Please, think about it. I trust my gut and it is telling me loud and clear that we need you.”
She stared at the door as it closed behind him and turned his words over in her mind. Trusting her gut was something that she used to believe in, until her gut led her heart and soul into being butchered by those two men.
They had tried to contact her, but after changing her phone numbers, refusing to answer the door, and finally calling the police when they both yelled from her front porch that they weren’t leaving until she talked to them they finally took the hint. Bethany coming out with a butcher knife and threatening to cut their balls off might have helped. Thank God Bethany was there, because if she hadn’t been Violet may have broken down and let them in.
She missed them terribly and hated herself for being so weak.
Possibilities spun through her thoughts as she traced her hand over the pocket of her pants where she had slipped the card. Her gaze wandered over the room that felt more like a cage with every second that passed. It was small, familiar, and non-threatening, but still felt like a cage. She knew her way around the spa and could spend the rest of her life here, fading slowly into the background until she became as much of a fixture of the place as a potted plant.
With that dreary picture in mind, she grabbed her bag and went out to talk with Bethany and tell her about the surprising job offer and to get her advice. Her heart actually sped up a bit as she realized she was really considering it, really thinking about trying something foreign and new. It was as if the terrible pain of her breakup had burned away a layer of her softness and left steel in its place.
She was almost to the receptionist’s desk when a loud man’s voice said, “Stop right there!”
Startled, she whirled around just as Mr. Volun strode across the black-and-white marble floor. His jowls wobbled and his pudgy neck was florid above the expensive polo shirt that stretched over the girth of his stomach. At his side, Wendy sniffed and rubbed her cheek.
Mr. Volun shook his finger in her face, the obnoxious diamond on his pinky ring flashing in the light. “Ms. Bishop, did you strike Wendy?”
“What?” She gaped at him then glared at Wendy. “I did not!”
Wendy sniffed louder and stepped behind Mr. Volun as if she were afraid. “Please don’t make her mad,” she said in a wounded little-girl voice. “I don’t want her to come after me again when you’re not around.”
Heels clicked across the floor and Bethany came up behind Mr. Volun and Wendy with a cup of coffee in her hand and froze. “Mr. Volun, here is your coffee, sir.”
He put a beefy arm around Wendy’s shoulders, patting her back gently. “Give it to Wendy. She needs it after this crazy woman attacked her.”
“I did not!” Violet curled her hands into fists and struggled to remain calm. Unfortunately, what little patience she had flew out the window when Wendy gave her a nasty smirk that Mr. Volun didn’t see. “That bitch was trying to get into Jason’s pants and I might have bumped into her, accidently, to help him escape her Botox claws, but I did not hit her.”
Wendy wailed and Mr. Volun pulled her into his arms, whispering sickly sweet nonsense words to her while she cried and rubbed her breasts against his chest. Behind their backs, Bethany gave her a sad look and Violet had a startling moment of clarity. No wonder Jason had never said anything to Mr. Volun about Wendy, she was his mistress. There was no mistaking the way he touched her in such a familiar fashion while she practically humped him in her “grief”.
“You apologize right now!” Mr. Volun thundered. Wendy peeked up from his arms and gave Violet a spiteful smile.
A rushing, white noise filled Violet’s ears as she stared at Wendy, all the hatred and pain from the past two weeks gathering into a red-hot ball in her chest. As Wendy mouthed the words “stupid bitch” and Mr. Volun ranted and raved, that ball exploded.
Instead of the tidal wave of rage that she expected, she felt strangely peaceful and wondered if this was how convicts felt when they walked death row to their execution. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and said in a very loud and clear voice, “Fuck you, I quit.”
Bethany stared at her and made frantic pleading gestures. Even Mr. Volun stopped ranting and gawked at her in equal shock. “What did you say to me you little—”
Violet whipped up her hand, extended her middle finger and gave him the bird with all the grace of a ballerina. “Fuck you,” she turned the bird on Wendy, “fuck you,” she returned it back to Mr. Volun again, “and double fuck you for taking the word of a whore who gives new meaning to the term happy ending for her clients. I hope you wear two condoms because that pussy has seen more action than the bumper cars at Disney World.”
Wendy’s screech of outrage was the only warning Violet had before the blonde launched herself at her. Obviously, Wendy hadn’t grown up fighting with her siblings like Violet had. She swung at Violet and grazed her chin, then Violet swung and hit Wendy full on in the face. Wendy’s head snapped back hard enough for the weave of her extensions to show as her nose crunched beneath Violet’s fist.
Wendy collapsed to the ground, howling and holding her nose as blood leaked between her fingers. Mr. Volun stared at her in horror and turned pale.
“Help me!” Wendy screamed between her fingers and Mr. Volun made a gagging sound, then stumbled over to the wall and threw up in great heaves.
They had quite an audience now, and a groan of disgust rose from the crowd at the sound of Mr. Volun’s heaving. Bethany and the other employees stared at her with such an awed expression that for a moment Violet felt like a rock star. That moment quickly passed as the smell of Mr. Volun’s vomit reached her and she gagged.
With a final look around the spa where she had spent the last four years of her life, putting up with more shit than anyone should ever have to for a few dollars more than minimum wage, she hitched her bag on her shoulder and strode out the door, ready to kick the ass of anyone who got in her way.
Chapter Thirteen
Violet leaned across the light pine-wood desk of her tiny office at Harper University Hospital and shook Jason’s hand. “Welcome to ‘A Touch of Love’. We’re so glad you decided to join us.”
Jason beamed at her, practically vibrating with happiness. He reminded her of Adam when she treated him to his own small pizza once a month. In fact, if Jason had a tail it would be wagging at light speed.
“Violet, I don’t know how to thank you enoug
h. I couldn’t stand working in that place for another minute. And now that I work across the street from my wife, we can spend more time together.” He pumped her hand up and down as he talked, and she briefly worried that he might dislocate her arm. Dr. Paolo must have felt the same way because he rescued her by handing her some paperwork.
“You earned your position here, Jason. When I spoke with Mrs. Delfin, she told me that you had been working on her after I left and that you did a wonderful job.”
He blushed and shrugged his wide shoulders. “My grandparents raised me and my grandpa had a really bad case of arthritis. He’s why I became a massage therapist in the first place. I like helping relieve people’s pain. It makes me feel good inside.”
“Not to mention that your lovely wife brought me over some delicious lumpia. I haven’t had that since I was over in the Philippines back in the 80s.” Dr. Paolo took the empty seat next to Jason and grabbed the squeeze ball that Violet kept at the edge of her desk. He was so full of energy that even when sitting he had to do something with his hands. She had discovered this after he constantly rearranged the small framed photos of her family and Adam that she kept on her desk. When she had strategically placed a squeeze ball in their place one day, Dr. Paolo had given her a sheepish grin and grabbed the ball instead of her pictures.
Jason grinned at him. “Wait until she hears that I got the job. You guys are going to be up to your ears in her home cooking.” He leaned forward on his elbows and held Violet’s gaze. “Really, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me…killer.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and just barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. After she broke Wendy’s nose, Bethany had been calling her “killer” or Vicious Violet in a wrestling announcer’s voice. She wished she could hire Bethany too, but unfortunately Bethany was trained as a makeup artist and that just didn’t fit into the program.
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