Page 13 of Tinsel Time Treasure
I crossed my arms. “Janet, call the cops.”
Frederick growled. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Yeah?” I asked, raising my voice despite the calm atmosphere we tried to maintain. “I already made one when I let you knot me. Biggest fucking mistake of my life. I told you to leave me alone, and I mean it. Get out!”
“This isn’t the end.”
“It had better be!” I snarled. “Leave me alone!”
He pounded his fist on the reception desk, making Janet flinch. Then he stormed out.
“Do I still need to call the police?” Janet asked after a few quiet seconds, phone in her hand.
“No,” I replied softly. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then walked over to where she sat. “Sorry about that. Are you ok?”
She licked her lips. “He went from zero to a hundred real fast.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“You really let him knot you?”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “You saw how he is at the beginning—polite and flirty?”
She nodded, blood draining from her face.
I sighed. “I met him at that benefit party last week. He hid that dark side well, and was the perfect gentleman until we reached his place. Then…” I shuddered. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. My idiot ass decided to ignore the danger signs too.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Maybe I should have realized something was off when he made the appointment. He said he’d heard good things but didn't know what massage place you worked at and…”
I shook my head. “You can’t treat every potential client like a crazy stalker just because they might only have a name but not the right workplace. Mindsets like that just lead to you eventually looking at everybody as if they’re dangerous.”
“But…”
“No,” I stated. “This isn’t some non-commission retail or fast-food place where it doesn’t matter who takes care of you and asking for one particular person should raise concern. The bottom line is that we get referrals sometimes. People like who they like and sometimes say to book a particular masseur when they talk about us to their friends. It’s like if you tried to book an appointment at a salon, only for them to tell you that they can’t verify if your stylist works there or not.”
“I think I get it.”
I forced a smile and a small nod. “Good. Go ahead and blacklist him though. I don’t want him in the building at all, even if I’m not the one taking care of him. I’ll let Dean know what happened so that he’s not blindsided if a complaint comes in.”
“Ok,” she replied, then, “Were you really ready to call the cops on him?”
“Yeah,” I stated. “I’ve already blocked his number on my phone. But this was a step too far. Incessant calls and texts are one thing, but calling around until he found my work?”
I shook my head. “Maybe I should call the cops anyway.”
“Want me to call?”
I considered it a moment, then shook my head. “No, but I will ask Dean to come out here so he can hear your side too. And write it down for me, will you? If it does escalate to getting the cops involved I want to establish a paper trail.”
She nodded. “Will do.”
“Thanks.”
I blew out a shuddering breath, and finally noticed that my hands were shaking.
“You ok?”
I shook my head. “No. But I will be. I’m going to go sit in my room for a few minutes to collect myself, then I’ll get Dean.”
