Page 25 of Todd
Leaning slightly closer, the woman whispered, “This is my first evening here. I feel underdressed even in my most comfortable clothes.”
Relief flooded through Sadie as she nodded emphatically. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
Their quiet exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Sadie’s dinner, a beautifully arranged plate of sushi that looked more like edible art than actual food. She’d pre-ordered from the day’s limited menu, which had surprised her with its narrow selection of what could only be described as “clean eating” options. Everything was organic and designed to promote wellness and spiritual cleansing, according to the lengthy descriptions that accompanied each dish.
Glancing at her neighbor’s plate, Sadie saw delicately broiled fish accompanied by steamed vegetables arranged in a rainbowof colors. While the presentations were undeniably elegant, there wasn’t a single indulgent item to be found. There were no rich sauces, no decadent desserts, or anything that might interfere with the spa’s philosophy of purification through deprivation.
The sight of the pristine, virtuous meal triggered an unexpected memory that hit her like a physical blow. She could suddenly taste the greasy perfection of that hamburger she’d shared with Todd, remembering the way the cheese had melted over the perfectly seasoned beef, the crispy satisfaction of those beer-battered onion rings, the cold bite of beer washing down the rich, fried apple turnover they’d demolished together. She had been so hungry that day, it had been the best meal of her life.
No, she corrected herself, her chest tightening with familiar pain.It was the best meal because of the man I shared it with.
The gentle clink of silverware against fine china brought her back to the present moment. Around the dining room, soft murmurs of appreciation drifted above the ever-present ambient music as guests consumed their carefully portioned, nutritionally optimized dinners.
“I’m Melinda.”
The introduction came just as Sadie had stuffed an entire piece of sushi into her mouth. Feeling foolish, she chewed frantically, one hand covering the lower half of her face in mortification, before managing to swallow and offer a rueful grin.
“Sorry about that,” she managed, feeling heat creep up her neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Melinda. I’m Sadie.”
Before they could continue their conversation, one of the spa managers materialized beside their tables like a disapproving specter. Yelena Mirov, a severe woman whose platinum hair was pulled back in a chignon so tight it looked painful, fixed them with a glacial stare that could have frozen champagne.
“As you eat,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper but carrying the authority of a drill sergeant, “feel your body detoxing. Listen to the music. Allow the silence to cleanse your spirit.”
The reprimand was delivered with the subtle menace of a teacher catching students cheating on an exam. Yelena glided away with silent efficiency, leaving Sadie pissed.
Sadie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the woman’s retreating form, then nearly choked on her rice when she noticed Melinda making the same exasperated expression. The shared moment of rebellion against the spa’s oppressive serenity created an instant bond between them, a recognition of kindred spirits trapped in paradise.
So far, Serenity Dunes was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and after just one day, Sadie was increasingly certain that when she completed her ten-day sentence, she’d never desire a repeat performance.
An hour after the silent dinner concluded, Sadie found herself restless despite the day’s supposedly relaxing activities. The enforced tranquility had left her feeling caged, like a wild animal pacing behind glass walls. While guests had been “encouraged” to follow their individually tailored schedules of treatments and meditation, no one had explicitly forbidden exploration of the facility… only the grounds outside.
During that morning’s tour, she’d noticed an indoor swimming pool that had called to her like a siren song. Swimming laps had always been one of her preferred methods of working through complex problems. The rhythmic strokes and controlled breathing helped to organize her thoughts while burning off excess energy.
She changed into her practical one-piece swimsuit, a far cry from the designer bikinis she’d spotted on other guests, and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie over it. Sliding her feet intoflip-flops and grabbing a towel and her swim cap, she slipped out of her room and navigated the maze-like corridors toward the aquatic center.
The halls were eerily empty, as if the entire resort had been abandoned. She wondered if everyone had obediently retired early, following another rule she’d missed about appropriate bedtimes foroptimal spiritual cleansing.
Pushing open the glass doors to the pool area, she was greeted by blessed solitude and the familiar scent of chlorine. The space was a monument to understated luxury, with an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by natural stone and underwater lighting that cast dancing patterns on the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered views of the star-filled desert sky, and the absence of the omnipresent spa music felt like finally being able to breathe again.
Without hesitation, she stripped down to her suit and dove into the beckoning sanctuary. The cool water embraced her, and she began swimming laps with methodical determination. Stroke after stroke, she felt the artificial calm that had been imposed on her throughout the day begin to dissolve, replaced by the natural endorphin high that came from pushing her body to its limits.
This was what she needed, rather than mud baths and mineral soaks. Just the simple pleasure of physical exertion and keeping her mind sharp.
As that thought crystallized in her mind, she abruptly stopped mid-stroke, her hands gripping the pool’s edge at the deep end. Her legs floated behind her as a disturbing realization washed over her like cold water.
Staying sharp. She’d always prided herself on maintaining mental acuity, physical readiness, and emotional resilience. But today, she’d allowed herself to be led from treatment to treatment like a compliant sheep, following instructions withoutquestion, letting the soft music and softer voices lull her into a state of passive acceptance.
She was used to following orders in professional situations, but she’d never considered herself compliant in the way that suggested weakness or lack of critical thinking. Yet here she was, having gone along with every item on her prescribed itinerary without once asserting her own preferences or pushing back against the spa’s gentle but insistent control.
How easy it was to be influenced when told it was for your own good, she realized with growing unease. The thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit.
Pushing off from the wall with renewed vigor, she swam more punishing laps before hauling herself out of the pool. She toweled off her face and pulled off her swim cap, her hair falling around her shoulders. The brief rebellion had felt good. It was a reminder that she was still capable of making her own choices, even in this carefully controlled environment.
As she pushed through the doors leading back to the hallway, she nearly collided with a figure standing directly in her path. Brock James, the guest services coordinator, looked like he had been ready to enter the pool area.
“Oh!” she gasped, startled by his sudden appearance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
He didn’t move aside, instead studying her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. His smile was perfectly professional, but his eyes held something that triggered every instinct she’d honed through years of dangerous work.
