Page 8 of His Curvy Temptation

“Yeah he’s pretty easy going for a rich client,” Deepti says knowingly. “Never makes a peep. Well, one time he complained about the lavender oil blend that I used, which is ridiculous because if anybody needs extra help relaxing it’s that guy.”

“Uh huh,” I reply, not knowing what else to say. To be honest, my mind is still back in Elijah Stone’s office, though I left hours ago.

“Well, I know it must have sucked to drag that horrible traveling table across town in the rain, but you have to admit, the giant tip makes it worthwhile right?”

“Tip?” I ask, my mind snapping back to the present.

“Yeah,” Deepti says slowly. “He tipped you right?”

“No,” I groan. “I didn’t even think about that. I never forget to count my tip after an appointment but he didn’t even tip at all and I was too awestruck to even notice! Damn, he must have been really disappointed in my service, huh?”

“That’s not like him,” Deepti says. “I mean, even if you did an awful job, a man like him doesn’t seem like the type to cheap out on the tip.”

“He never complained,” I groan. “Never said a word, just like you said. And he acted as though he’d like me to be back for an appointment again, he asked whether we’d have a replacement soon…Unless he wanted to know this to find out whether he’d have to suffer from my bad massages again. Fuck! That’s probably it.”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Deepti replies quickly. “Come on, you’re, like, way better at this than I am! You probably seemed like a free upgrade compared to me!”

“You’re just being nice,” I sigh. “I mean, if he thought I did a good job, he would have tipped me like he normally tipped you. But he didn’t. He just walked me to the elevator.”

“He walked you to the elevator?” Deepti asks. “That’s…interesting.”

“What? Why? He never walked you to the elevator?”

“Nope.”

I lean against the kitchen counter and watch the steam swirling off the surface of my cup of tea. Learning that Elijah Stone hated my service is just the icing on the cake when it comes to this crappy day. All of that effort to get to the travel appointment, and for what?

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t call in a complaint to Nick,” I mutter.

“Andy, you’re overthinking this,” Deepti says. “Elijah is a nice client! I’m sure it was just some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe he plans to send you a digital tip through the app, or something.”

“Maybe,” I say.

I can tell Deepti is in damage control mode, trying her best to comfort me even though the situation seems pretty obvious to me.

“I’m sorry that I assumed you quit the spa on the spot,” I say, my voice softening. “I should have given you more credit than that. I should have reached out to you for the full story first.”

“Maybe,” Deepti says lightly. “I don’t know. Maybe I deserved it – I mean, Iama huge flake. But come on girl, you know I wouldn’t try to sabotage the opportunity you gave me like that!”

“Thanks,” I say. “You’re a great friend. Next time you decide to quit your job and go to Disney World though, maybe shoot me a text message and tell me what’s going on?”

“Better yet, I’ll just take you with me!”

* * *

The next weekrolls around and I groan on Wednesday morning when I realize what day it is. Even with the new massage therapist we hired, the workload at Angel Spa has been tough. And once again it’s Wednesday, the busiest day of the week where I must leave my last class of the morning not to go back to my apartment and retreat to my comfortable bed, but instead work on my feet until seven or eight o’clock.

I know my busy days are my own fault. It’s my final year in business school and I wanted to get everything over with by taking all of the classes I could in the same semester. When I was registering for classes, signing up for so many seemed appealing — sure it would be a tough semester. But then I would bedone.

Free.

With my degree completed soon, there will be no more homework. No more exams and study sessions in the library. Just me versus the real world, where the true adventure can finally begin.

That adventure being owning my own business; owning my ownspa.

I don’t dare tell Nick about this dream of mine. I keep it quiet, my own little secret, because I know that if Nick ever caught wind of my ambition he’d rip it to shreds. And honestly, I’m not sure that my confidence can handle that kind of thing. I think I’m smart…I think I can do this, can run my own business. But a small part of me is scared to death of failure.

So whenever Nick asks me about school, I pretend that I’m studying History instead.

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