by D. C. Gomez
Bartholomew ran back to the table and retook his seat. I had forgotten all about Bob until he placed two cups of hot chocolate on the table. One for me and the other for Bartholomew. He also brought Constantine a bowl of coffee. Constantine drank coffee? I learned something new each day. On the screen, we could see a large conference room with a table, but nobody was around.
Bartholomew filled Constantine and me in on the current situation. “I finally got some guy named Eugene to pick up my call and then the conference call. He said he was going to find his mistress and would be right back.”
“Mistress? They call her that?” I couldn’t believe it. Bartholomew just shrugged.
I was sure we were waiting for at least ten minutes when finally a woman appeared. Constantine kept telling us she was doing it on purpose to annoy Death. If she was annoyed, Death never showed it. She was just drinking her coffee. I finally got to appreciate Death’s outfit and it was stunning. She was wearing a white Michael Kors sheath dress with bell-cuff bateau-neck from his Neiman Marcus collection. Too much free time had me spending time online researching Death’s outfits, and lately, she was into Neiman Marcus. I couldn’t blame her. Even if she weren’t Death, she could stop traffic.
While Death looked like a Greek goddess with that long, silky brown hair, her sister, on the other hand, was a live version of Barbie. Pestilence’s hair was so blond it looked like it was made of gold threads. She had the big boobs with that tiny waist that wasn’t possible for any humans to ever achieve and bright blue eyes. Death’s white dress was in direct contrast to Pestilence’s black pantsuit. If I didn’t know any better, I would have put money that Pestilence had a new suit on.
“Pestilence, dear, so nice of you to take my call.” Death was overly sweet with her sister.
“Like I had a choice. Last time I didn’t answer your summoning, you just appeared. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call or did you just miss me?” Pestilence was a royal queen B. No wonder that poor boy called her mistress. That chick was nuts. Constantine looked like he was playing dead on the table. He didn’t like her.
“Dear, we had a deal. You wouldn’t make any more zombies and I’d stop sending Constantine to inspect your labs. What happened?” That explained Constantine’s dislike. Death took another sip of her coffee as she waited. She could make a great poker player.
“Nothing happened. We haven’t made any zombies. We had one little outbreak years ago and you went ballistic. You and your soul thing.” How old was Pestilence? She was acting like a spoiled brat; she even rolled her eyes at Death. I was shocked at her attitude.
“That’s interesting. I just found one in Texarkana.” Death looked at her sister and waited for a comeback.
“Why is it every time something weird happens, I get blamed? Have you ever considered it wasn’t me or that I was being framed?” Pestilence crossed her arms over her perfect chest and stared back at Death. This was sibling rivalry at its worst. I was so happy I was an only child.
“Easy, Pestilence. This kind of work could never be created by a human alone. So if you didn’t do it, are you sure one of your Interns didn’t create one by accident?” By the way Death said accident, I was sure she didn’t believe that part.
“Of course we didn’t.” Pestilence was not budging.
“And you have nothing missing that could be altered in any way?” It seems Death was not budging either.
“Who do you take me for, an amateur? I have centuries running a lab, remember?” Pestilence was so offended she didn’t look at the screen. I wasn’t sure how Death was handling this so well. If I ever talked back to my godmother, she would have slapped the smirk off of my face. The funny part, my godmother wasn’t even a violent person, but she believed in respect.
“Of course I know you’re good at your job. That’s why I’m calling. Nobody else has the talent and skills to pull this off. So do you mind checking, just once? Please, for me?”
Bartholomew and I exchanged wary glances.
Constantine supplied the missing information for us as he continued his dying cockroach pose. “Yes, she is that vain that she will fall for that. She can’t resist Death praising and begging her. I’m going to be sick.”
I shook my head and turned back to the conversation on the screen. It seemed Constantine was right because Pestilence had stopped pouting.
“I know this is going to be a waste of time, but fine. We conduct a monthly inventory of all our supplies, so it will be simple to find any discrepancies. Rookie, I need you to compare the last two inventories you conducted.”
Pestilence was looking off-screen to whoever Rookie was. There was a pause and the rest of us couldn’t hear Rookie’s response.
“What!”
OK, that was not good. Whatever the guy said agitated Pestilence. “It seems I have a small problem, hold on.” She stepped off camera.
Death took a deep breath and walked over toward Bob, who was holding the coffee pot. He refilled Death’s mug and she just smiled at him. They were so comfortable in that routine I had a feeling Death drank lots of coffee with Bob. Death slowly walked back to the monitors in time to see Pestilence storming back.
“How bad is it?” Death asked before Pestilence could even get started.
“Why does it have to be bad?” Pestilence was trying to look as pleasant as possible.
“Because the vein on your temple is pulsating and that only happens when it’s bad. So what happened?” Death just stared at her sister.
“It’s probably nothing, but it seems we haven’t conducted an inventory since Halloween. It’s not Rookie’s fault. He’s still new, and it was flu season, anyway.” The way Pestilence said it wasn’t Rookie’s fault you knew he did it.
“You have no way of quickly knowing if anything is missing?” Death was not giving up.
“It might take us a little while, but we can figure it out.” Pestilence did not look happy at all.
“That might be the case, but I don’t have a while. I’m sending my team over to help you.” Pestilence’s face mirrored my reaction of shock. I was hoping Death was joking.
“You can’t be serious?” It seems Pestilence was hoping for the same.
“My dear Pestilence, they will be there today. So have your rookie send the directions to Constantine now. Not a negotiation.” Death’s tone became hard and final.
“Fine, but I have my staff meeting. They can be here at one. Goodbye.” Without waiting for a reply, she disconnected the signal.
“That was pleasant,” Bob added cheerfully.
“Here we go again. This is going to be a giant mess,” Constantine whined from his position. Somehow he managed to still have his head hanging from the table.
“Am I going to meet your sister?” I knew that if Constantine was worried, I should be too.
“Not just you. Take Bob and Bartholomew as well. Pestilence doesn’t deal well with women.” Death gave me a wink and a smile. Oh, this trip was going to be great. “Constantine, you know the drill. Call me if you need help.” Death put her mug on the counter and walked out the door. That was probably for our benefit since she can disappear at will.
Bartholomew checked my phone and figured out where her crazy lab was located. He jumped from his chair, ready to do something.
“That’s interesting. According to this address her lab is only in Hope, Arkansas. That’s less than an hour from us,” Bartholomew informed us.
“Of course it is. Pestilence always has to be close by. That crazy hag.” Constantine pulled himself together and was sitting back up in his Sphinx pose. “Good news. At least, Isis, you still have time for your spa day.”
“You’re kidding. With everything going on and you still want me to get my nails done.” I was sure too much blood had rushed to Constantine’s brain while he was lying with his head over the table.
“Isis, your nails are atrocious.” Constantine was looking at my hands like they were a dangerous science experiment. I instinctively m
ade a fist to hide my nails.
“I’m a musician; it comes with the territory.” I kept breaking my nails setting the strings lately.
“Girl, I knew Prince and his hands were marvelous. Not an excuse. Newsflash, you are a girl, not an infantry soldier. You are going. The appointment is at nine a.m. You have plenty of time. Now, you all go shower, you all stink.”
With that last remark, he jumped from the table and headed toward his room.
“This really sucks.” I was gloomy now.
“Relax, Isis. Ms. Patty is amazing. Besides, you might like it.”
That was the last thing Bob said before he headed out the door to his room. I didn’t want to know how Bob knew of Ms. Patty’s skills.
“Isis, you handled witches and ghosts. You can handle a manicurist,” Bartholomew said on his way to his room.
I was not winning this battle. There was a part of me that wanted to rebel. Unfortunately, the part that was still a soldier had a hard time disobeying a direct order. I figured by now that part would have disappeared. It seemed marines were not the only ones that were always marines. Once a soldier, always a soldier. I took my hot chocolate with me and headed to my room to shower. Constantine was right. I did stink.
CHAPTER 8
Who goes to a hair and nail salon at nine in the morning on a Tuesday? It was sad, but I had never been to a nail place in my life. The only time my nails were painted, it was by my godmother. In the military, I never had to worry about nails since having color on your nails was against regulations. So at twenty-six, I was terrified to enter a beauty salon. That was so depressing. Maybe this was another of Constantine’s punishments. I took a deep breath and got out of Ladybug. I practiced breathing exercises when I was nervous or stressing. That was probably the only part I mastered from my meditation classes—how to slow down my heart rate and relax.
Constantine had given me directions to Patty’s place. According to Constantine, Patty rented a couple of booths in the beauty salon with hairdressers. Not sure what that meant. I was under the impression you could get your nails done at the same place they did hair. I guessed that was not always the case. Based on the little bit of data Bartholomew gave me, before running off to work on his robot, Texarkana had over thirty nail salons. It probably helped that the city had a couple of cosmetology schools.
I looked around the area, stalling for time. Pleasant Grove, or PG as most people called it, was not my part of town. The salon was located on North Summerhill Road next to a small cemetery. The location was odd since the area looked more residential than business. Somehow they had created one of those little plazas with several businesses in the same building. From the front, the building didn’t look very impressive. I slowly walked toward the door. A hospice occupied the space to the left of the salon. I wasn’t sure if it was an actual residence or just a place for the staff to work. I was praying for the second. I usually ran into a lot of souls at hospices and I had a tough time telling the living and the dead apart.
I opened the door and a bell attached to the handle announced my arrival. Great, now they knew I was there. I took another deep breath debating if I should bolt out. This was such a horrible idea. The central area of the salon had a small waiting area with a couch facing the front door and a chair to the right. A large TV stood to the left of the door and I was grateful it was off. That space was too small for that TV. I was sure people would go blind sitting right next to it. Past the couch was a large room with a window that opened onto the waiting area. The room had a couple of those strange chairs you only see in hair salons. Thank God for TV. At least I knew what I was looking at. The room was empty which validated my theory that nobody goes to hair salons on Tuesday mornings.
“You must be Isis.”
I was lost in my thoughts when a tall lady with spiky, reddish-black hair surprised me.
“Hi, yes, I’m…” I was at a loss for words. How do you introduce yourself to strangers who knew your name?
“Constantine said to look for the little girl with the scared-to-death look. You fit the description.”
She smiled kindly. Thank God because I wanted to crawl into a hole and then strangle Constantine. “I’m Patty.” Patty stretched out her hand. Her handshake was firm but gentle. She had black glasses with rhinestones on both sides. She wore purple scrubs like the ones you see at doctors’ offices. Patty was probably at least six feet tall and a full-figured. I was surprised. Most ladies in Texarkana were short. Somehow I managed to find all the tall people in town. I had to smile. At least around them I fit in.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I finally said after an awkward pause. She smiled brightly. I was pretty sure she was waiting to see if I was going to bolt out the door.
“Are you ready?” Patty asked me very gently like I was a spooked wild animal. I was afraid my voice would crack so I just nodded. I needed to get a grip here; it wasn’t like I was going to an interrogation chamber. “Good. We’re going to start with a facial and back massage. Follow me.”
Patty was good at her job because she led me down the hall holding my arm. It was probably a good thing because I was ready to turn around. Constantine never mentioned anything about a back massage. We went down to the last room on the left. The place was designed so that the hall ended in front of a sink, with a bathroom on the right and a strange small space I couldn’t see on the left.
“Isis, this is Valentina. She is going to do your facial and back massage.”
A woman with fabulous blown hair came out of the room. She was in great shape with beautiful black eyes. While Patty radiated warm vibes, Valentina looked like an older, cool sister. It was weird since they were both probably around the same age, mid to late forties.
“Hi, how are you?” Valentine took my hand and smiled. She had an accent, maybe German or Russian. How did she end up in Texarkana?
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I shook hands with Valentina who was beaming with joy. Was every person in the beauty industry this excited to see people?
“OK sweetie, you’re heading in that room with the closed door.” Patty was pointing at the room right next to hers. It was also the only room that had a door. “When you’re done, come and see me back here. I’ll be finished with Ms. Smith by the time you get back.”
I smiled at Patty and realized a little lady with gray hair was waving at me. That was probably Ms. Smith. She had her nails soaking in some strange contraption and looked like she was having a ball. I was afraid to move, but then Valentina led me into her room. The space was dimly lit with only a small lamp on one side. Soft jazz was playing and I was grateful for the music. It was the only thing familiar to me. A weird table with a hole in one side stood in the middle of the room.
“OK dear, please take your shoes off and undress from the waist up, unless you’ll be more comfortable without your pants. If you are, please make sure to keep your undergarments on.” Valentina delivered her speech like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You want me to do what?” Maybe this was a torture chamber and I didn’t know it. Valentina was looking at me with a smile on her face and a faint sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
“Is this your first massage?” she asked very softly. My mouth was dry, and I wasn’t sure if the fear was showing on my face. I nodded again. “That’s a good thing. Listen, most people don’t know all the health properties of massages. I do a combination of the Swedish and deep tissue massages. They are therapeutic and help to relax the muscles and joints, promote better circulation, and helps release toxins from the body.” Valentina sounded like a college professor. She took great pride in her work. “My goal is to make sure you’re comfortable and that your body gets the care it deserves. Your job is to relax and not get any tenser than you already are. Now I’m going to step out and let you get undressed. When you’re done, lie on the table face-up, under the sheets. Trust me; you’ll be OK.”
Maybe it was the tone of her voice or the look of reassurance on Valentina
’s face, but I believed her. I nodded again and she stepped outside. I wasn’t familiar with massages, but I heard some were pretty expensive. I took a few more deep breaths and settled myself. I had been through war and even survived witches’ attacks. I could handle a little massage. I took off my shoes, my top, and bra. I was not ready for my pants. Looking around the room, I slowly climbed on the table and covered myself as much as possible with the sheet. I was surprised how comfortable it was. I started to work on my breathing exercises. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door.
“Are you ready?” Valentina was saying from the outside.
“Yes.” I was as ready as I ever could be. She walked in and smiled.
“Good. All I want you to do is relax. Close your eyes and just let go. I’m going to hold your space, which means I will be silent while I work. If you need anything, please just let me know. I’ll let you know when it’s time to turn around. You ready?” She gave me one of those smiles you give lost little kids. I nodded back afraid to say a word.
Trying to relax was hard, but I closed my eyes and slowly breathed in and out. I wasn’t sure how I was going to relax since I was more stressed just coming in. I focused my attention on the music. Valentina placed her hands on my scalp and her touch was firm but soothing. I could feel the tension on my skull as she worked her magic. Valentina massaged my face, worked on my arms and legs before having me flipped over. I didn’t how she did it, but I felt the pressure in my body melt slowly.
“OK sweetie, I’m going to step outside and let you get dressed. Take your time getting off the table.”
Valentina’s voice sounded far away. Did I fall asleep? How long was I out? I slowly moved around. I couldn’t describe it, but my body felt light and more limber. I rubbed my shoulders. I didn’t realize how much tension I was carrying till it was gone. No wonder people did this all the time. It was amazing. I dreaded coming, but now I didn’t want to get up. A clock by a table on the far end of the room told me I have been here thirty minutes. I needed to get moving.