“Everyone good with starting with a massage?” Daphne asks.
“Hell, yes,” Liza says. “It’s been years since I’ve had one, and I’m in desperate need.”
“Everything going okay?” Daphne asks.
“Everything’s great,” Liza says. “Just the normal busyness and stress. I need to be better about making time for myself.”
“Anytime you need to get away for a bit, you’re always welcome to stay with us.” Daphne turns to me. “How about you, Gentry? You good to start with a massage?”
“I’ve never actually had a massage before,” I say. “I’m up for whatever.”
“Oh,” Daphne says, her focus intense. There’s a feeling from her every time she looks at me, like she’s really interested in everything I have to say and really cares. Brodie is a lucky guy. “You’re going to love it. Massages are the best thing on the planet.”
“And we get massaged together?” I ask. “Or do we, like, take turns?” It’s probably a stupid question, considering there are three massage tables, but I need to know what I’m getting myself into.
“I thought it would be fun if we all got massages together at the same time. That way, we can chat if we feel like it. But if you aren’t comfortable, I’m sure we can get you a private massage.”
“No, I’m fine.” That didn’t come out right. “I mean, this is great. Thank you so much.”
Daphne smiles and drops her robe. She walks to the table completely naked, grabs the towel there and covers herself as she lies down.
I swallow. Am I expected to do the same? I still have my underwear on. Am I supposed to be completely naked?
Ugh, I hate this already.
“Daphne is an exhibitionist,” Liza says, giving me a friendly, conspiratorial smile. “I’m not so brave.”
Liza keeps her robe on, walks to the table, and turns her back to me before dropping the robe and wrapping the towel around herself. She climbs carefully onto the table, and I let out a sigh of relief to see she’s also wearing undies.
I do exactly as Liza does, but I’m still nervous as I lie on the table, waiting for the massage to begin. I hate being in situations where I have no idea what’s going on. Especially when I’m with people I’d very much like to impress for my brother’s sake.
“I’m not an exhibitionist,” Daphne says. “It’s just us girls here.”
Liza laughs. “You’re right, exhibitionist was the wrong word. You’re comfortable in your own skin. Most people would feel at least a moment’s hesitation before getting naked in front of someone they just met.”
“It’s not like it’s anything Gentry hasn’t seen before.” Daphne turns her head to look at me. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“As long as I’m not expected to do the same, I’m totally fine.”
Daphne’s smile is beatific and guileless. She and Liza chat with me, asking questions about Catalpa Creek and my schooling to be a nurse. I don’t tell them I’ve failed after three semesters and have to wait a few months to try again. I don’t tell them how much I hate the sight of blood and needles, or how scared I am of being terrible at the job and hurting someone.
Thankfully, the massage therapists come in before I have to think too much about any of that.
The therapist working with me is a tiny woman with a wide, cheerful smile. She looks to be less than five feet tall and is so petite she probably has to shop in the children’s section. Daphne’s masseuse is a tall, muscular man, and Liza’s is a broad-shouldered, intense-looking woman.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Surely the masseuse assigned to me will have a touch so light I’ll barely be able to feel it. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Belinda, and I’ll be your masseuse today. Do you have any special requests?”
“No. This is my first massage.”
Her smile widens. “Great. I’ll go easy on you, okay? And you let me know if anything hurts or is too intense.”
“Okay.”
She starts at my shoulders with a light touch. “Just relax. You feel very tense, but massages are meant to be enjoyed. There is nothing to be nervous about.”
I pull in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to do as she asks. I’m not sure how to turn off my nerves about a stranger’s hands all over me in a room where two people I very much want to impress will notice if I don’t respond in whatever the right way to respond to a massage might be.
“You are very tight,” Belinda says. The other masseuses are silent, and I feel that everyone in the room must be listening in on this critique of my relaxation status. “I’m going to try to work this knot out here.” She strokes a light finger over my upper back muscle. “It’ll hurt at first, but should feel better as it releases. You let me know if it’s too much, okay?”
