His Curvy Temptation #2
There is no name tag on the desk, no label anywhere announcing my location. But the sheer opulence and grand scale of the room say it all; there’s no doubt that I’m in the right place, the office of the one and only Elijah Stone, a man who I was told is very important and very wealthy.
But..where the hell is he?
“Hello?” I call out as I step into the vast, unoccupied office.
My shoes are still wet, squeaking loudly as I take clumsy, lopsided steps. I’m so tired from the trip over here that I have no idea where I’m going to find the strength to give a ninety minute deep tissue massage. All I want to do is change into some clean dry clothes and curl up in bed.
“Hello?” I say again.
Annoyance pricks at the back of my neck.
After going to all of this trouble just to make his precious traveling massage appointment happen, he’s not even here.
We could have canceled, and I’d be back at the spa right now instead of in this deserted office, tending to my loyal regulars who were disappointed that I had to move their appointments to another day.
On the wall to the left there’s a brown tufted sofa. I wobble over to it and sit down, letting the traveling massage table rest against my knees.
How long do I stay and wait before leaving?
I text Tricia, but she doesn’t respond. The only other person I could call is Nick…and I’ll be damned if I’m calling my boss to talk about this. I’d probably get yelled at just for bothering him.
I glance at my watch. It’s nearly a quarter past four. At this rate, I’ll probably have to go directly home after this appointment since The Angel Spa locks its doors at six on Wednesdays.
Sighing loudly, I pass the time on my phone for a while, answering an email from my professor and then scrolling mindlessly through social media.
As if I needed any help with my bad mood, a post from Deepti slides into view on my screen.
She’s got her arms wrapped around a sullen-looking man with a heavy brow, and she’s grinning from ear to ear.
A pair of bedazzled mouse ears is atop her head and she’s tagged her location: Disney World, Orlando, Florida.
Of course.
She’s somewhere warm and sunny taking photos with Mickey Mouse and eating ice cream with her man-of-the-month while I’m here covering her appointment, rain-soaked and freezing to the bone.
Beneath the photo she’s written a caption.
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. I love you, Aiden! Thank you for being my partner in crime. #yolo
I begin to type a public comment beneath the photo, but think better of it. Instead I send Deepti a text.
“You seriously quit the spa without giving notice? And then you post about your getaway trip to Disney World knowing I’ll see it? What the fuck?”
Within a minute, my phone shows that Deepti has read my text. The typing bubble appears and I wait for her reply, growing angrier by the second. But then the typing bubble disappears.
No response from Deepti.
And now, because I can’t help myself, I fire off another text message.
“Hope you’re having a blast. I know I’m not.
At Elijah Stone’s office right now filling in for you.
Took the subway and walked in the rain, and he’s not even here.
Not my fault, but Nick will probably grill me about it anyway.
Maybe you won’t be the only one of us who is jobless soon. Thanks again!”
I lock my phone before I really lose my temper and say worse things that I’ll regret later. That’s when I look at the time again. It’s nearly half past four. The rain has slowed down and I think I can see a tiny ray of sun peeking through the gunmetal clouds.
This might be my shot at getting home without having to duck through the raindrops all over again.
I stand wearily, picking the table up by the handle. Frustration is burning within my chest. I look around the large room, taking in the luxurious furnishings. This man, whoever he is, must have everything he wants in life.
Every convenience that money can buy is at his fingertips. And that’s what I am to people like him; a convenience to be bought.
“Thanks a ton, Elijah Stone!” I call out, my loud voice echoing off the empty walls and marble floor. “Really appreciate your wasting my time. Have a great day! And by have a great day, I mean that I hope you step on a lego…or six.”
I taper off weakly, feeling foolish for talking to myself. I walk back to the elevator, fighting the temptation to kick over the nearby standing lamp that looks expensive and fragile.
Pressing the elevator button, I switch the hefty weight of the massage table from one hand to the other to give my right arm a break.
“If people as wealthy as you even have legos,” I mutter under my breath. “You probably don’t even know what legos are. Playing with bars of gold as a child instead…or…whatever.”
The bronze doors to the elevator open with a ding and I’m about to step inside when I hear a deep masculine voice speak from right behind me.
“As a matter of fact, I do know what legos are.”