A buzz came from the phone, letting me know it was time to make another client moan. I just wished it was Alexa again, and not Mrs. Wilson.
*****
Alexa
I walked out of The Rub Down with the biggest smile on my face. Nothing could have gotten to me after my massage, not even the parking ticket on my car. The meter maids on Newbury Street were ruthless. If you missed by one minute, they nailed you with a bright orange envelope everyone could recognize from a block away.
As I ripped the damn thing out from under my windshield wiper, I checked my phone for messages. The Rub Down policy was no cell phones, but I was sure they used a blocker, because once I walked past the lobby, my reception disappeared.
Texts from Addison, my best friend and business partner, pinged through on my phone. She and I attended MassArt, Massachusetts College of Art and Design for Fashion Design, together. After graduating, we designed our own fashion line. Since that didn’t keep the lights on and food in our stomachs, we started Dress Me Up, a personal shopping company, and it took right off. Our clients were scattered all over the Boston Area. The wealthy women and men utilized our company for all their fashion needs. Several times, we were even flown out to Martha’s Vineyard to shop with clients visiting their vacation homes.
Addison: so how was your massage?
Addison: did you have a butchy woman rubbin’ you down?
Addison: did you fart?
I laughed out loud, startling several people walking down the street. What the hell was wrong with my best friend? Her weird sense of humor never ceased to amaze me.
Me: massage was AMAZING. My therapist was hot as hell. No, I didn’t fart.
Seconds later, my phone rang. It was Addison.
“Hello, my dear.” I chuckled as I tried to back out of my parking spot. Thank heavens for my car’s built-in Bluetooth.
“Hey, slut, tell me about your hot ass therapist and how a-may-zing he was.” Addison laughed as she exaggerated ‘amazing’.
“Addison, you have to go to this spa. It was seriously heaven.” I moaned in delight. “Even the robes were incredible.”
“Screw the robes, Alexa. Tell me about the therapist,” Addison said in a whiny, high-pitched voice over my skimping on the juicy details. She was still boy crazy, even at twenty-eight.
“I met with the owner, Luke. He’s ridiculously hot. I swear I was close to coming right there on the table.” Shivers traveled down my spine, and I made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh. “I sure as hell moaned more than was appropriate.” Just remembering Luke’s touch made me smile and feel lightheaded.
“That good, huh? Maybe I should go see this Luke,” Addison responded with a little too much enthusiasm.
Imagining Luke’s hands on Addison, I was silent for a second. The thought made me uneasy. “Yeah, you should book a massage there. I have an appointment at four o’clock on Friday. You should totally see if you can get one at the same time.” I wasn’t sure why the idea of Luke and Addison filled me with jealousy, but it did. Maybe it was because men loved Addison and fawned over her as though I didn’t exist. Luke was mine, and I didn’t want to share.
And now I sound like a toddler not wanting to share my toys.
“YAY! Spa day on Friday. I need to double check, but I’m pretty sure the schedule is clear since Mrs. Duffy switched to the morning.” Addison’s headset microphone rubbed against her shirt, letting me know she was dancing around the house. It always created the worst noises in my ear.
“Call and book as soon as you can. I’ll see you in a few. I’m almost there, and I need to find a parking space.” I circled the block for the third time. “Can our next apartment have a designated spot? This hunting thing is way past getting wicked old,” I whined. Parallel parking was not my favorite thing, but it was all Boston offered unless someone paid over five hundred dollars a month for a garage spot. A car the size of a golf cart would make the task easier, but no way was I buying one.
Addison and I shared an amazing two-bedroom apartment in the South End. We loved the young, hipster neighborhood with restaurants, bars, and cute shops all within seconds from our front door. Boston public transportation was easy and efficient, but when we needed to lug around shopping and garment bags, the T was not an option. A car was necessary to hit up the malls in the suburbs that had the staples—Bloomingdale’s and Nordstrom. Thankfully, some of the other high-end department stores were located at the Copley Mall, smack dab in the heart of Boston.
After twenty minutes of searching, a car pulled out, and I nabbed a spot only three blocks from our apartment. Where the ticket failed to interrupt my post massage bliss, driving around the block over and over irritated me.
“Honey, I’m home!” Walking into our living room, I threw my purse and keys on the end table. I loved the open concept with high ceilings, and the beautiful spiral staircase leading up to our bedrooms. Off the living room was our dining room, which also functioned as an office. Addison was sitting at the large table from Ikea, papers spread in front of her. Always the better designer of the two of us, she still sketched originals, where I kind of let that portion of my passion die.
“Hey, sexpot, I’m working on some new stuff. I was feeling inspired. Oh, and bored.” She huffed. “How cool would it be if we were able to outfit our clients with original pieces?” Longing laced her voice.
Addison was beyond talented and could have worked for any top designer in New York. I never asked her to stay in Boston, but she knew I had no desire to move to New York City. She chose to stay here with me, and now Dress Me Up was her dream. She hoped to style at least one of our clients with an original Addison design one day.
“Those are gorgeous, Addison. Your designs are incredible.” I looked over her shoulder at her sketches. “I’m grabbing a drink. Do you need anything?” Our kitchen was tucked in the corner behind the staircase. It was small, but did the job for two single women. “I swear I’m going to drown from the inside out one of these days.”
“No, I’m good. Tell me more about this Luke character.” She wiggled her brows and threw me a sly grin.
I knew Addison wouldn’t let up, but there was nothing really to share. He was hot. I wanted him to touch my body, all day, every day. But other than that, I didn’t know anything. I shrugged off her question with the truth.
“Not much to tell except he’s ridiculously hot and has unbelievable hands.” I sighed, remembering the feel of them on my bare skin, spreading warmth throughout my body. “I’m going to grab my mat, loosen up for a bit in my room, and then shower. Be down in a few.”
This winter was a particularly cold and snowy one, and as I headed upstairs, I wished the weather would warm up. My favorite place to stretch, the large private deck overlooking the Back Bay neighborhood, was covered in snow. Today, more than anything, I needed fresh air to help clear my head.
While I stretched in the middle of the floor, my mind drifted to how Luke was so down to earth and approachable, making it easy to talk to him. He didn’t act as if his shit didn’t stink because he was good looking. I hated men who felt like they were God’s gift to women, and we should be thankful they even spoke to us.
Over the years, I thought I was in love with two serious boyfriends, but at the end of the day, they were more into themselves than me. And more than anything, I just wanted to be loved. The guys weren’t awful to me. They actually treated me very well, but what we had wasn’t epic love. It wasn’t the kind I dreamt of. When the relationships ended, I grabbed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked ice cream, and by the time the carton was empty, I was ready to move on to other things.