SOLARI
“We’ve made some adjustments to your proposal.”
Opening my mouth to speak, I thought better of it and remained silent. Intuition informed me that whatever the adjustment was, I wouldn’t like it.
Noting my inaudible compliance, Yolanda pressed forward. “We propose a $2,500,000 deal. This will secure the construction of a large facility alongside a smaller location that provides a la carte services.”
“What is the opposition or hesitation toward the initial figure requested?” Pointedly, I asked the question. Simultaneously, my legs commenced to the restless shaking they often did when irritation or anxiety surfaced.
Settling for less was far removed from my aspirations. Five was the magic number. I wanted the full requested amount. Not two-point fucking five. Five million would give me room to open three full-service spa facilities. A la carte service could be added to our list of offerings, but a small walk-in spa was far displaced from my ambitions.
The offered agreement was not what I wanted. Knowing they were denying me of the initial request left me inhaling deeply and forcing a laugh, though nothing was fucking funny.
“We admire your ambition. Your ability to get things done is unrivaled, as demonstrated here on your growth chart for Serenity Spa and Wellness Cente r. However, entering a new partnership with us requires that certain targets are met prior to us diving into a fully vested business relationship,” Yolanda, the lead investor for my project, explained.
Fine .
Uphill, it seemed, a boulder was being forced to little avail. The push and pull between us required an excess of energy. A glimpse at my watch informed me that at one in the afternoon, such exertion was misplaced.
“Two-five is the initial offer. After the establishment of the two spas, we will revisit our initial agreement and reconsider an additional two point five in three years. This will grant you four spas—two of which will be full-service and the other two which will be smaller.”
“Thank you for this breakdown in figures, Yolanda. I’ll need time to review these numbers.”
I wasn’t agreeing to shit. Not yet. I was livid. Disappointed. Disgruntled. Annoyed.
“As expected. We’ll give you a week to—”
“Two weeks. I’ll need two weeks before we reconvene,” I interrupted. “Thank you all for your time.”
Acknowledging the team of investors before me, I gave a curt nod and a stiff smile while collecting my things. My Diamond Tilda 85 Jimmy Choos click-clacked through the glass door of the conference room, signaling my exit.
Deep breaths paired with high hopes buried me. Loaded thoughts of subverted dreams soured my mood. Hopping into my i8, I drove toward Paramour Canyon. My destination was set for a place of peace and relaxation. The inevitable popping of my ears signaled proximity to my stopping point.
As I coursed down the busy highway, I noticed a red Mustang pulling out into oncoming traffic. Slick roads bore evidence of rain, and as I rode down the street, blowing my horn at the oblivious driver, he slowly continued to advance. Eyes ballooned, my subconscious warned me that a wreck was unavoidable. My heel collided with the brakes in an instant. Attempting to avoid a collision, I veered to the far left and into the median, nearly coming to a complete stop as the right side of my car was hit.
Shit .
He hit me. I hit him.
Shit .
Delicate droplets of rain fell from the sky amidst my fender bender. Increasing in intensity, the rain pattered, clashing with the windshield as loud as my beating heart.
Emerging from the convertible sports car was an elderly white man with poor posture. Slowly, he made his way in my direction. I pressed my window button, lowering the barrier to allow us to speak like human beings despite my frustration.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
The marathon in my chest, paired with the adrenaline in my veins, responded no to his inquiry.
“I’m fine.”
In my head, I was rolling my eyes and spewing obscenities in every language in his direction .
Police were called. Together, the older gentleman and I fought against unforgiving oncoming traffic to remove our vehicles from the road. Once in a safe parking lot away from traffic, I exited the car and examined the damage.
Trashed .
The entire right side of my car sported damage from the hood to the rear. A dented passenger door, damage to the rims, and a dent on the side of the hood and headlight. My shit was fucked up.
Ugh .
While grateful to be alive and grateful not to have killed the man, I didn’t need this shit in my life. Not today. Not now. Not ever.
For forty minutes, we waited for the police to arrive. Our little collision without injuries was low on the priority list of incidents to respond to in Paramour. When they finally did appear, the police officer went to the elderly man first. Annoyance swelling and patience diminishing, I released a stream of air. This day was gradually worsening.
Twenty minutes later, I was finally granted an audience with the officer. After recounting my version of the incident, I was given a copy of an incident report and sent on my way.
Stopping at the porte-cochère near the front entrance of the spa, I cloaked my eyes in shades and exited the car, leaving the engine running.
Silver, pale blue, and eucalyptus colors ornamented the signage to Serenity Spa and Wellness Center . A host of services were offered at the prestigious facility. Acupuncture, yoga, massage, saunas, facials, whirlpools, jet baths, steam rooms, and reflexology were just a few of the services in that grouping. After the shitty day I’d experienced, a herculean desire for all of the above was present, along with a stiff one. I could use a fucking drink.
“Would you like me to move you to a spot, Ms. Miller, or will you be returning shortly?” The valet asked.
“I’ll be here for a while,” I spoke, sashaying away from the embarrassment that was my car.
The vibrating of my phone summoned my attention toward my purse. After hunting through the bag, I located the small device. The crown emoji populated the screen absent a name. Informing me who was on the other end of the line, a smidgen of my stress fled. Taking a deep breath, I answered with a sigh.
“Hey, babe.”
“What’s wrong, Bee?”
In an instant, he’d gauged my mood.
For the last two weeks, Duke had been away on business in Dubai again. Today, I could have used his presence. Since he wasn’t local, I settled for the sauna, a mud bath, and deep tissue massage.
“Nothing. It’s just—It’s been a long day.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the spa. Just trying to rinse the ick of it all away.”
“You want to talk about it?”
The lengthy pause between my answer and his question was compelling. Enough to muster more concern. Enough to have him on a flight back from Dubai.
“Baby?”
“ I don’t ,” I sniffed as staggering tears surfaced on my cheeks.
“ Serenity .”
Duke’s voice was low. The way he spoke my name, benign. I wished like hell he was in town. Wished like hell I could fall into his arms. Wished like hell he could make me forget the day. His distance made those wishes impossible to fulfill. His distance placed him eleven hours away.
Aware of the significant time difference between Paramour and Dubai, I asked him, “Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?”
Entering the sauna, I stripped down to my bare skin, placing the phone on speaker. With the robe acquired from the front entry, I draped my limbs and headed for the steam room.
“Nah. It’s not exactly bedtime where I’m at today,” Duke responded. “What are you doing right now at the spa?”
“I’m headed into the sauna. I’ll probably need to call you back.”
Hanging up the line, I fractured into a fit of tears.