The False Flat

CHAPTER 7

LIFE REALIZATION #5: NEVER TRUST A MASSAGE THERAPIST

Monday morning, in my new temporary office, I felt like I was living someone else’s life. And I couldn’t shake Friday night’s dinner, even though I’d ridden my bike all weekend to compensate. Chad was coming in on Friday night to talk, and if things went well, he wanted to spend the weekend. I hoped I’d feel more settled by then. I glanced at my watch. 8:50 a.m. Ten minutes until my meeting with the clients who had fallen into my lap over coffee at Frothy Monkey.

“Black Coat, Beige! Come in, come in!” I said, inviting the twins into my office at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Okay, I didn’t call them Black Coat and Beige, and I certainly wasn’t that animated when I gestured to the two spartan chairs—dark leather and chrome—opposite my glass desk, but inside I’d done it all.

Black Coat pulled her black coat around her as she sat and looked around. “Lovely office.” It was crisp, clean lines, with absolutely no color, which suited me fine. I was here to do business.

“Thank you.” I only have it for the next three months, and if you don’t sign with me today, I’m likely going back to Minnesota a miserable failure who will never get clients on my own because I’m terrified of marketing myself.

I think I was smiling. I hoped I was smiling.

“Oh, I love lilies,” Beige said.

I looked in the direction of her focus. “Who’s that?” I closed my eyes. The plant. Which I hadn’t even known was there until Beige started fawning over it.

“Your peace lilies.” Beige got up and touched one of the white flowers adoringly.

“My freak sister loves plants. Her whole house is filled with them.”

I reached for the folder on my desk. “Sounds ... fresh.”

“For our birthday this year”—Black Coat was still talking—“she gave me an aloe plant.”

Beige smiled. “The pot read, ‘Aloe you vera much.’ How cute is that?”

“Okay, that was kinda cute,” Black Coat admitted.

Now I knew I wasn’t smiling. This was small talk. They were here to talk money, and unless Beige’s plants had a trust fund that needed managing, we needed to get down to business.

I opened the folder, and the numbered chart whispered, “It’s going to be okay,” and I carried on.

Turns out Beige was willing to be much riskier than Black Coat, but we finally settled in a good place for each of them, and at the end of the visit, I had two new names in my finance book.

I gave them firm handshakes and told them to let me know when they sold their property, so we could get those funds squared away.

After they closed the door, I did a quick victory jog around my office, grabbed the plant—too alive to be in my care—and headed to the coffee stand in the lobby, where I was immediately assaulted.

Hands were on my shoulders, a soft voice in my ear. “You must be Pen.”

I whipped around.

The woman had long, golden dreadlocks that were pulled away from her face. She wore a flowy white top over a long, multicolored skirt that dragged the floor.

“I’m Piper.” I never saw her lips move, but words came from somewhere on her person. Or maybe it was actually all the jangly bracelets up and down her left arm.

She didn’t say anything else but stepped back behind me and started digging her thumbs into the muscles at the base of my neck.

I froze. Should I run? Scream? Throw her over my shoulder and press my heel into her jugular?

Michelle walked up, a coffee cup hiding a smirk that said my panic amused her. “Oh, you haven’t met Piper, have you?” Her smile grew.

This wasn’t funny. This was outrageous. But it felt—oh my goodness—did I want this woman to keep touching me? Of course not, but I—ohhh.

I slid to the side, out from under Piper’s confusing hands.

“You need sex,” Piper said matter-of-factly. “But a full body massage will be almost as good. You also need acupuncture. You’re too tense.”

“I . . .”

Michelle laughed out loud now. “She’s the massage therapist I was telling you about.”

She had not told me about this massage therapist.

I had no words.

In an attempt to quell my anxiety, I’d tried yoga-light, acupuncture, hot stone therapy, anything that didn’t require me to talk about my family. None of it had worked. There were a few days I’d even seen a holistic specialist and had my chakras realigned or cleansed or opened, whatever those were supposed to be. I wasn’t entirely clear on what chakras even were. I probably had no business cleaning them or buffing them or ... bottom line: I would stay away from Piper.

“And I need someone to manage my money. We’ll trade.” Piper smiled and walked away. “Let me know when you’re free. We can talk numbers while I get rid of the rocks in your trapezius.”

What the hell did that mean?

Please, please don’t let me get so desperate I have to pimp myself out to Piper just to sign another client.

I needed to figure out how to market, or maybe I needed to go back to Frothy Monkey and eavesdrop, or maybe I needed to go back to Minnesota, where I knew what I was doing.

I thought of Black Coat and Beige. Right now, they were pulling me through.