Page 34 of Collateral Claim
Endo lied.
This part of the west wing was renovated. Makes me wonder what else he lied about.
I undress at the bench, and my toes curl at the warmth of the heated stone. Compared to the cold stone hallways and the marble stairs, these floors feel amazing.
I lower myself into the bath, dunk under water, then find a spot to rest. The spa might have motion detectors, because when I touch the wall, the bottom of the spa lights up with a soft glow. A single jet pumps water at my back, giving me a nice massage. I sigh and rest my head back.
The ceiling is painted.
The sun struggles to penetrate the clouds that have gathered over a single large boat sailing the wide-open sea. Men work on the boat, but I think that might be a woman at the helm, steering it. She’s smiling and looking over her shoulder at the uniformed man who’s holding his captain’s hat over her head as if passing it to her. It’s a lively image. Romantic, even. There’s a child tugging on her dress.
In the distance, there’s a harbor, and I think she’s sailing toward it.
Sweat beads my brow.
I wipe my forehead and dunk under the water again.
When I come up, I spot Endo standing at the door.
He wears black slacks and a black shirt and leans against the doorjamb with one ankle crossed over the other.
The cold from the rest of the house seeps into the bath, and I shiver.
Endo turns and closes the door, staying inside with me. Trapping me with him. I’m nude, and the water is clear, aside from the little bubbles made by the jet at my back.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
We’re trying to be adults about my nudity. It’s comforting. “The high wore off, so I’m fine.”
“Have you ever smoked before?”
“Once. My freshman year. You?”
Endo shakes his head. “Never.”
“Really?”
“I don’t willingly ingest or inhale anything that clouds my judgment.”
“Ah, when you put it that way, one might peg you for a control freak.”
“One will never peg me, luv.”
I press my lips together to stop from smiling at his sexual reference. I imagine there’s not a bone in this man’s body that would enjoy any form of submission, sexual or otherwise.
He pushes off the doorjamb, and I stiffen, wondering if he’ll undress to join me, but he walks over to the wall and opens what appears to be a utility cabinet. He turns on the lights right outside the large windows and illuminates an infinity pool that appears to end inside the forest.
“Oh, that’s pretty.”
“My slice of heavenly peace.”
It is very tranquil here.
Endo faces the moonlight. The scene reminds me of one of those billionaire billboards, with men in suits staring out the windows of their office overlooking the city.
But Endo doesn’t belong in the city on top of some high-rise, meeting with executives all day long. That kind of life speaks of routine and discipline and predictable behaviors. I doubt Endo enjoys anything predictable. That life would bore him.
“Do you sail?” I ask.
