Bridge to Fruition

by Laurie Larsen

  He sighed and came around behind the desk, scanning at her notes of the appointments he’d screwed up today. He’d call them personally, apologize for the inconvenience and offer a discount for their next massage. A discount that he would cover to the salon out of his own pocket.

  No wonder he hadn’t gotten into the black yet in this new business endeavor.

  “I’m sorry. When Jasmine got hit by the biker outside the salon I felt it was my duty to ride with her to the hospital. Once I was there, I wanted to wait around and find out how she was.”

  Melinda looked at him. “How is she?”

  “Fine. Thank God.” In fact, I’m going out to dinner with her tonight. Well, sort of. Her and all three of her parents.

  “Well Dax, Robin wants to talk to you. She’s in her office.”

  He couldn’t help the dread music playing in his mind like in the old movies when something terrible was going to happen. Robin was the owner of the salon, and his boss. Of course she’d have something to say to him about his disappearing act today. Might as well face up to it like a man. He headed to the back of the salon and knocked on her office door.

  “Come in.”

  He pushed the door open and immediately began apologizing. “Robin, I’m sorry I left the salon in a lurch this afternoon, and Melinda told me the trouble I caused her today, but I felt like I was doing the right thing going to the hospital with my client who got injured just outside, after her appointment.”

  Robin was giving him a dubious look from her seated position behind her desk, and when he finished speaking, she let out a huge breath. She motioned to the chair in front of her desk, and he sat. “Dax, why do you and I keep having this same conversation?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve never had this conversation, Robin. I’ve never had a client slammed into by a bike rider right outside our salon after a massage. She had a concussion, by the way. She’s still under doctor’s orders. What did you want me to do?”

  “Okay. We’ve never had this particular conversation before, you’re right. But we’ve had so many similar ones, all with the same outcome. Like when you encountered a homeless person on the sidewalk on your way to work, and you felt compelled to take them for a hot breakfast in the diner. Making you late to work, and late for your first appointment.”

  “I didn’t want to just give her the money. I wanted to actually make sure she got the nourishment of eating a hot …”

  “Or how about the time there was a puppy with a broken leg outside your apartment and you took him to the vet clinic instead of coming to work?”

  He gasped. “He’d just been hit by a car, Robin. What was I supposed to do? Leave him there?”

  “You have a Superman complex.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You feel compelled to rescue anyone or anything you come into contact with. Although it’s admirable, don’t get me wrong, it’s disruptive. To your job. My salon. Every time you’re unexpectedly late, I have to pick up the pieces. Or someone I pay, has to pick up your pieces. Just like Melinda did all day today. Scrambling around, getting replacements for you, calling your clients. No. This ends now. I expect you to come to work when you’re scheduled. Period. And work your shift, and then go home. Got it?”

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take disciplinary action, Dax. I’m going to dock one dollar an hour from your pay until I see improvement for one month.”

  He needed to think. He’d never reacted well to threats, especially when they didn’t seem to be in his best interests.

  He could see her point, but why couldn’t she see his? What she was calling a Superman complex, he called being a decent human being. Helping others in need. Isn’t that what Jesus called them all to do, in the Bible? He wasn’t a biblical scholar, but he was sure that was the gist of Jesus’ teachings. Do unto others as you would have them do to you. Or was that the Golden Rule? He was never sure. Or how about this one? What you have done to the least of my brothers, you have done for me. He was quite certain that one was biblical. New Testament — one of Jesus’s teachings.

  So, the question is, did he want to work in a place that was forcing him to go against Jesus’s teachings? Go against trying to live his life like a good person would?

  What would he be giving up if he left this place? A paycheck, sure. But they weren’t paying him much, and now, even less. Considering he had to pay for all his supplies — his massage table, his stereo to play soothing music, his oils, his uniforms. Not to mention, he still had a large student loan payment to pay off that debt for his training. And under his current pay, he was barely making a dent in that.

  As he thought it over, the answer was clear. This wasn’t a good place to spend his days, even though they were paying him to do the job he wanted to do. It seemed backward to quit, but not when he looked at the full picture.

  He didn’t have a parent to run this decision by, and he wasn’t what he would consider a full-fledged Christian yet — he was working on it, but not quite yet. But he took a moment to pray to God for guidance in this decision. A quick, silent, fleeting Guide me, Father. He didn’t know if it would make any difference, but at least by shooting the request up there to the Father, he’d feel a little more confident about his decision than if he just made it alone.

  He opened his eyes and looked directly at Robin, who was watching him smugly. “I want to thank you for the opportunity you’ve given me these last few months. And apologize for the trouble I’ve caused you, too. But Robin, I can’t work somewhere that doesn’t support me in my efforts to help others. So, I quit.”

  It was obvious she hadn’t expected that. She leaned forward so quickly she almost fell out of her chair. She sputtered, “That’s not, no, no, that’s not necessary. I wasn’t saying that, Dax.”

  “My decision,” he affirmed.

  “Dax, think about this. You’ve got a paying job in your field. Why would you give that up? You’re gaining valuable experience.”

  He shrugged. “You’re not paying me enough to even make ends meet outside my expenses. Now you’re threatening to dock my pay to discipline me. I think I can do better.”

  She frowned. “You were due for a raise consideration in four months …”

  “Which you would probably deny, am I right, because you consider me a performance problem.”

  The fact that she didn’t deny it meant that he was right. His heart was lighter than it had been in months. This was the right decision.

  “I’ll gather my stuff and go. Can I contact my regular clients and let them know where I land?”

  “Absolutely not. Those clients aren’t yours, they’re clients of this salon.”

  Okay. He was on his own. Again.

  Chapter Five

  Jasmine sighed at the sight of herself in the mirror. The bruises on her face had become a multi-color rainbow — blue, purple, an ugly tannish color — covering whatever centimeter of skin that wasn’t covered by the gauze bandage on her forehead. Her eyelids even sported the colors. She couldn’t help but cringe when she saw it. How would others who didn’t know her react?

  Putting herself on display at the restaurant tonight and at the graduation ceremony tomorrow evening would make her feel like a freak show. She glanced at her makeup collection, wondering if it was even worth the effort to try to cover it up.

  She’d just picked up the small bottle of foundation when her mom walked in. Her expression changed when she took in the scene.

  “Are you feeling up to going out to dinner? I could just as easily make something for you here.”

  Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t want this face to stop me from enjoying my graduation weekend, you know? I’ll never have another one.” She put on a pouty-faced frown. “Stupid bruises.”

  Leslie took the makeup from her hand and placed it back on her vanity. “If you got it, flaunt it. You’re not going to hide that color, you might as well not try.”

  “Ever
yone’s going to look at me. And what about pictures with the family tomorrow? I’ll be forevermore documented in the family annals with these awful bruises.”

  Leslie smiled. “Think of it this way. If you end up having sons, they’ll think their mom is super-cool for having such awesome bruises.”

  Jasmine laughed. “Really?”

  Leslie nodded. “Jasmine, you are a beautiful young lady, no matter if you have bruises and bandages on your face or not. I’m proud of you for working so hard at college and finishing your degree. I couldn’t care less what you look like, and you shouldn’t either. As long as you’re physically feeling up to it — let’s keep our plans the same. What do you say?”

  Jasmine agreed. This stupid accident wouldn’t ruin her graduation celebration. She wouldn’t let it.

  Hank, Leslie and Jasmine rode to Maxie’s Supper Club later that evening. Her dad was already there, waiting, and standing beside him in the foyer was Dax. She gave him an appreciative stare. Brown dress pants hugged his long legs. A casual tweed sports jacket covered a white button down shirt, open at the neck. With his wavy brown hair brushing over the top of his collar, and the casual scruff of whisker covering his jaw, he could’ve easily been a male model waiting for his turn at the cover of GQ. She should know. She worked in that field, after all.

  Or, wanted to, now that she was graduating.

  She tried to ignore the stress that formed in her esophagus every time she thought about her job search — or lack thereof. What if all the entry-level jobs in the fashion industry were snatched up by more industrious and on-the-ball fashion majors than her? By waiting on her job search till after graduation, what if she was left with opportunities like working retail at a TJ Maxx?

  She pushed the negativity away, painted her normal smile on her face, and went to greet her father with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to Dax.

  “Hi,” she said and couldn’t help but notice that her voice had a breathy tone to it. Would he guess she was so happy to see him because of how absolutely hot he looked standing there?

  “Hi,” he responded and took both her hands in his. He leaned in to kiss her cheek and as he planted his lips there, she inhaled his wonderful scent. Nothing overpowering, but she could picture him spraying some manly cologne on himself, and it was flattering to think that he’d most likely done that with her on his mind. Well, he wouldn’t have done it for her two fathers or her mother, would he?

  “You smell good,” she whispered in his ear, and at her words, he squeezed her hands and pulled back from her, a breathtaking smile on his face.

  “You do, too,” he said, his voice a tad husky.

  She was so focused on him that she almost missed her mother studying the two of them, turning to Hank and saying something softly to him. Hank turned to watch them too, laughed and nodded. Fine, let them think whatever. Part of celebrating her graduation was sharing a dinner with this handsome man. She’d never see him again after tomorrow, so she was going to enjoy every second.

  Until his next words. “Your face looks painful. Is it?”

  Oh, Lord. She’d totally forgotten what a monster she looked like to others, including her handsome dinner date. Her hands flew up to her complexion, as if to hide the discoloration. “Um, only when something touches the bruising. I took a nap earlier and even the pillow caused some discomfort.”

  He took her hands and pulled them away. “Then don’t touch your face. I don’t want you in any more pain than you have to be.”

  The good thing about looking like a hideous monster was that he now felt it was his duty to hold her hands. “I’m sorry I look so hideous.”

  “You don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You look gorgeous in that dress, and the bruises are temporary. I just thank God you had no fractures or permanent injuries. You’ll be good as new soon.”

  The host led them to their table of five. Jasmine sat first, Dax beside her, then her dad placed himself on her other side, leaving Mom and Hank to take the two seats furthest away from her. Nobody caused a scene. It was customary for the Malones to be civil and well-mannered, and besides, Mom had been with her all afternoon, so it was Dad’s turn to be near her.

  Dinner itself was delicious, conversation was adequate, although a little strained, and afterward, Jasmine convinced her mom that she and Hank should go check into their hotel and allow Dax to deliver her back to her apartment. Leslie and Hank had been on Jasmine-duty ever since hitting town after their long drive. It was time for them to go settle in to their room for the night and get rested for the day of graduation festivities tomorrow.

  She kissed all three of her parents good night, thanked them all for coming, and for the wonderful dinner. Dax shook hands with the men and leaned down to her petite mom and planted a polite kiss on her cheek, thanking them all for inviting him.

  Then, they headed back to his car. It was an old one, some late model American boat, but it had personality. He opened the door for her and she slid on to the wide seat, watching him close the door and walk around to his side. When he got in and started the engine, she said, “Thank you for coming to dinner. I think it was easier for my mom and dad with a guest there. It put them both on their best behavior.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know your parents well, but I can’t imagine they would’ve gotten in a Jerry Springer brawl if I hadn’t shown up.”

  She grinned. “No, but with Hank there, my dad might’ve felt outnumbered. Uncomfortable. I don’t know. I just feel like the dynamic was better with you there.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. He turned so he was facing her, and despite the darkness in the parking lot, in the car, she knew exactly when he leaned in close, took her chin impossibly gently in his hand and placed his lips on hers. Her heart rate increased a hundredfold and she gasped softly and closed her eyes.

  He pulled away and she popped her eyes open to see his wide. “Did I hurt you?”

  Confusion at his question quieted her, and then she remembered. “No. No, not at all.” Kiss me again, you fool.

  He leaned in as slowly as before and placed his lips on hers again. Nothing hard, nothing fast, just a sweet brush of his soft lips over hers. He inhaled and brought a finger up to her hair, pushing it behind her ear, being careful not to touch any of her bruising, anywhere that might cause an ounce of discomfort.

  It was the most peaceful and yet heart-racing kiss she’d ever experienced.

  The care he was taking with her made a rush of emotion flood her heart. And all too soon, it was over. He pulled back from her, keeping his eyes on hers as he settled back into the driver’s seat. He ran a hand over his lips, took a deep breath and put the gear shift in reverse and backed the boat up.

  “You’re so beautiful, Jasmine.”

  “So are you.” It had come out without thought. Sure, she thought he was, but that probably wasn’t the best response. She laughed. “I mean, thank you, and you’re very handsome as well.”

  He chuckled.

  “In fact,” she went on, “have you ever done any modeling?”

  He flashed her a dubious look and shook his head. “No.”

  “You should! You have the right build. Tall and slim. You make clothes look good.”

  He stayed quiet, but his face tinged a little pink. She’d embarrassed him. “Seriously, that’s what designers look for. People who wear clothes well.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “I’ve never thought of modeling before. I’m busy enough trying to get my massage therapy career up and running.”

  She let her memory wander to the hour she’d spent under his magic hands earlier today. “You’ve got a real gift for that, too. See, you’re a man of many talents.”

  They pulled into her apartment parking lot and walked together to her door. “Thank you again for the dinner invitation,” he said. “I enjoyed your family.”

  “Really? I mean, I love them like crazy, but they’re mine.”

  “Do you have any other family members?” he asked
.

  “A few. A couple cousins, an aunt and an uncle. And now that Mom married Hank, I have his family members too. A growing list of stepbrother, stepsisters, and in-laws. It’s pretty cool, actually. Oh! And a step-niece — an adorable little girl named Stella, five years old.”

  He nodded with a smile.

  “How about you? What’s your family like? Do they live here in town?” She watched his face transform from casual and happy, to something else. Something sadder. Had she stepped into an undesirable topic? “Oh, I’m sorry, I …”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll tell you. But it’s not a conversation to have while standing outside your door. Do you mind if we go in?”

  She dug through her big purse for her keys and opened the door. He walked in first and looked around. It was a typical off-campus college student apartment, nothing to get too attached to, nothing she’d put too much energy into decorating. But suddenly, she wanted him to like it. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything?”

  He shook his head. “No. No, thanks.”

  He settled into her couch and leaned back, one long leg bent at the knee and resting over the other. “So, my family.”

  “Yes.” She smiled and sat beside him, shifting so she faced him.

  “I don’t have any family.”

  He said it matter of factly, but the reality of his words was shocking. She knew her eyes popped open wide. “None?”

  “No. Although my parents were married when they had me, it wasn’t the first marriage for either of them, and they had other kids before me. Making them my half-siblings. Anyway, when I was born, it was a rocky time in their marriage. They stayed together for four more years, but during that time, it must’ve been hard to deal with an additional kid. So they passed me around to relatives. Aunts, uncles, family friends. They would each get me for six months or so, then they’d pass me on.”