by Eve Paludan
The perfect day got even better when a tanned, buff guy—who was in little white gym shorts and nothing else—brought us cut-up fresh fruit in plastic champagne goblets. We thanked him and he turned to leave us.
Amanda’s eyes yearned after his retreating muscular butt for a few seconds. “He’s hot,” she said, when she caught me looking at her.
I cleared my throat. “He’s not on the menu. He works here.”
“You have a lot of respect for others, Pauline.”
“I try to. It’s my business and really, my personal credo, to respect the persons and emotions of others in settings that are appropriate for the situations.”
“You’re right. He would be trouble. My life is already too complicated.” She reluctantly broke off her gaze from the cabana boy and pouted in this adorable way.
When he was out of sight, and the other clients had gravitated toward the pool’s waterfall to hang out, Amanda and I dove into our fruit salads and more conversation.
“You won’t tell anyone my big secret, right?” Amanda asked quietly.
“Amanda, it’s none of anyone’s business,” I said just as quietly.
She smiled with her dazzling white teeth and ate her fruit salad as if she were filming a commercial. I, however, slurped my fruit a little, just because I didn’t have her delicate finesse while eating. She was an extremely girly girl.
“You know how to make someone very comfortable around you,” she said.
“Thank you for saying that. You do seem comfortable in your own skin.”
“That self-acceptance didn’t come easily to me, but over the years, I mostly became who I wanted to be. I’m still a work in progress.”
“I’m so glad for you, Mandy. You’ve come so far.” I meant it.
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Pauline. Your acceptance feels genuine.”
“That’s because it is.”
When I got to the bottom of my fruit cup and she did, too, I threw our plastic goblets and sporks in the trash and we rinsed our fingers in the swimming pool.
She slid into the pool without a splash, her tanned, lanky hipbones moving ahead of everything else in that graceful way that sleek, toned girls lead with their pelvises. Yet again, I was envious of Amanda.
I hopped into the pool with a little splash because the ladder was on the other side and I was too lazy to walk there and use it—I didn’t just slide into pools off the side and lead with my hipbones, wherever those were.
“This feels absolutely refreshing after our busy morning of sweating and scrubbing and getting massaged and wrapped,” I said.
“Agreed.” She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head as we treaded water at the deep end, managing to look even prettier, if that was possible. “How did you like your Swedish massage and your herbal wrap?”
I felt light and happy. “Loved both. I lost three pounds and also, my muscles feel pleasantly worked and a little tingly. Now, I’m so relaxed that I forgot to get a pool noodle before I hopped in.”
“Swimming burns more calories,” she said. “No noodle for you, missy.”
I giggled at her double entendre. “True. Who needs noodles anyway? They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
She giggled at our running pool noodle joke.
We swam four easy breaststroke laps while looking at each other. When she went to the edge of the pool and grabbed it with her hand, I did the same. I felt her measuring me.
“You seem like you want to ask me something,” I said.
“I do.” Amanda paused. “Do you believe that everyone we meet, we meet for a reason?”
“A loaded question, to be sure. I would say, almost everyone.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” she said. “Almost everyone.”
“Amanda, do you have a problem and you want to ask me for help?”
“Yes. But first, I want to talk to you more and make sure you’re the one I was supposed to meet to help me with my problem.”
“Is this a problem that only a medium could solve?”
“Bingo.”
Chapter Four
Around noon-ish, a little gong was bonged by the tanned, perspiring cabana boy—there were no clocks here except for my growling tummy. Lunch was announced and we were instructed to go in and be seated anywhere in the main dining room.
I headed to my room to shower quickly, change into shorts and a tank top, and hang my swimsuit to dry in my private bathroom.
Amanda went to her room, too. While walking next to her into the clinic and down the hall to our respective rooms, I noticed how tall she was. Her legs were incredibly long and exceptionally fit. I tried to stop my envious thoughts because I know that envy isn’t becoming, but she seemed to have it all. Well, except for her little cocaine habit.
We finally sat at a “reserved” table for two with our place cards on them—inmate numbers 9 and 10. Our meals were already served and waiting, along with paper cups with what looked like vitamins in them. I opened my vitamin water and poured it over the glass of ice in front of me. Amanda did the same.
Around us, the other ten or so clients had also paired off with their assigned buddies and were sitting at little tables, too.
“Salad!” I said, and hoped there would be another course coming after I finished it. I poked through the salad with my fork, looking for chicken or other meat. I discovered tofu cubes. Not my favorite thing.
“Want my tofu?” I asked Amanda.
“Sure.”
I pushed my salad toward her and she speared the pieces of tofu and returned the salad bowl to my side of the table.
“Do you think I can ask them for some meat in my salad?”
Amanda laughed and laughed.
“Okay, well, maybe there will be a cheese course.”
Amanda shook her head.
“No cheese, either?”
“Not here. It’s vegan, Pauline. You can upgrade and pay an extra hundred a day for the juice fast regimen.”
“Oh, I was apparently unaware that this was one of those places,” I said.
She put her lips close to my ear and said, “No worries. I have a box of sinfully good Godiva chocolates in my luggage.”
My jaw dropped. “How did you smuggle it in?”
“It’s in a little zippered case that I labeled ‘Battery-operated boyfriend.’ Ain’t nobody gonna touch that. I don’t care what your job description is or how much they pay you. You aren’t going to look in that zippered bag when you search the clients’ luggage for contraband.”
Now, it was my turn to laugh.
“Come to my room, after lights out, for girl talk and fine chocolates.”
“I’m there,” I said. “Do you have a cigarette? I really want one.”
“Nope. I don’t smoke.”
“Okay.”
“Hmmm.” She looked in the paper cup of vitamins.
“What?” I asked.
“Hang on. I want to see what the heck they’re giving us with lunch. Don’t take anything yet.” She took out a jeweler’s loupe from her purse.
A jeweler’s loupe! What kind of a woman carried something like that around?
She sorted the capsules into two piles and looked through her jeweler’s loupe, saying, “Vitamin, vitamin, vitamin. Supplement, supplement, supplement.” And then, she swept an octagonal pill onto the floor and whispered sarcastically, “Oops!”
“What the hell was that?” I asked. I looked in my cup. “I have one of those, too.”
“Don’t take it, Pauline. I had a friend who got a hell of a headache from that.”
“What is it?”
She handed me her jeweler’s loupe and in very small letters, I read, ‘Antabuse.’
“Oh,” I said and handed the gadget back to her. “I signed something that said they were allowed to give me this to make me sick if I drink alcohol?”
“I suppose so. But who could read that tiny print of our check-in contract?” Amanda shook her head.
; “The girl with the jeweler’s loupe could have read it. That’s who.”
She shrugged. “I just signed it without reading it. Didn’t you?”
I nodded. “It was too small for me to read. And there were a ton of pages to initial before the end.” I ate my meager vegan lunch and then I asked, “What’s on the spa’s agenda for the rest of the day?”
She took out her little brochure. I had one of the brochures in my room, too, but had neglected to bring it to the lunch table.
“Drumming and chanting with an authentic shaman on the big hill above the pool area. An affirmations class, a drug education class, yada-yada, and then, a light dinner.”
“A light dinner? After a light lunch?” I complained.
“I’m not done yet. Then, there will be silent self-reflection by the tiki torches of the pool until it’s time for singing I’ve Got Peace Like a River as a group. And then it’s gonna be lights out and a not-so-surprise bed check with the drug-sniffing dog.”
I shook my head. “They stole that song from the Girl Scouts.”
“Whatever,” she said. “What do you think about the drug-sniffing dog?”
“I don’t know. I’m not worried about that. I’m just kinda creeped out and worried by what is in my vitamin cup. No one explained this verbally. I thought this place was all-natural holistic stuff.”
“I also have reservations, seeing as how they gave it to me, too, and I am in here for using coke, not alcohol.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Are you thinking of leaving the spa?”
I nodded. “How did you know?”
“You have an expressive face.”
I winked. “Yeah, so, after the drumming and chanting, I might slip out of here because frankly, I’m hungry. That drumming with the shaman sounds like fun, though. I’ll stay for that. I’ve never done that.”
“And you, a psychic, have never drummed. Imagine that,” she teased.
“Hey, there’s a first time for everything.”
“Are you going to drink or smoke after you leave?” Amanda asked.
“No. I’m just not really into the whole brainwashing part of the two classes tonight, and the presence of the unexpected anti-alcohol, puke-a-rama tablet just gave me the willies. I want to kick alcohol without using drugs. Using a drug to kick a drug just sounds like a bad idea.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said.
I admitted, “True to my slothful nature, I only want to do the fun parts of this place. I guess I want to pretend I’m not here for a substance abuse problem. I want to be here for the camaraderie and the pool, the massages and the herbal wraps. I had their salad and it wasn’t enough. So, later, I’m going on the lam to get a burger.”
She laughed. “Where are you going?”
“Either In-N-Out Burger or Mel’s Diner.” I glanced around before returning my gaze to her. “I’m breaking out tonight,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
She giggled. “No one is locked in here. You can leave anytime. You paid a lot of money to be here, so they don’t give a rat’s ass if you stay or not. It’s supposedly nonrefundable.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Groupon wants their customers happy. If you don’t like your Groupon, just tell them and they will make it right.”
“Good to know,” she said.
“I was just making a joke about breaking out. I’m gonna pack my stuff in an orderly fashion after the drumming and chanting and then, I’m just gonna drive home. I’m so hungry, I’m thinking about stealing the pineapple centerpieces off the tables and chewing the skin off in my room because they don’t let you have any sharp objects in this place. The sharpest things I have seen here are the plastic sporks and your hipbones.”
Amanda laughed and laughed. “After that, I’m coming with you. You are now my adopted sister. You’ll never get rid of me now.”
I protested, “No, I don’t want to mess you up. You should stay. You’re here to kick your tiny coke habit.”
“Do you have any coke?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“To my apartment?”
She thought for a moment. “For starters. Yeah, to your apartment, to discuss my problem for which I need a medium.”
“Fine, fine! You’ve got a haunting and you need me.”
“How did you know?” she asked, amazed.
“Because I’m a medium. Just bring the Godiva chocolates and no one gets hurt.”
“Deal,” she said.
We bumped fists.
“Where’s the haunting?”
“At the mansion where we’re filming. The people who rented it before us said that it was mega-haunted. They couldn’t even finish their movie there. They were talking about poltergeists throwing stuff. Scratching people. Tossing props over the balcony.”
I whistled long and low. “Excellent! This is right up my alley.”
“You’re a ghostbuster, too?”
I laughed. “More like a ghost whisperer. Or just a medium who tells spirits how to finish up their personal business on Earth and how to go into the light…to go Home, I call it.”
“Oh,” she said, not sounding impressed.
“Trust me, it can get pretty exciting.”
“I don’t doubt that, but can’t you just burn sage and chase them off until we finish filming?” Amanda asked.
“That’s kind of cruel to the spirits,” I said. “It doesn’t deal compassionately with the problems that are holding the spirits to this plane of existence.”
“I get it. Into the light. You’re like a stage manager. With a big hook, dragging people to exit stage left. Or is it clowns to the left, jokers to the right?”
I giggled. “I’ll make sure that things are safe on set for your film crew and your cast.”
She heaved a sigh of relief and I saw a flash of one of the spirits that possessed her peeking at me from behind her head. He did not look happy at this turn of events. “Thank you. What do you charge for that?”
“For a whole week of my time?”
She nodded.
“Three thousand,” I dared, knowing we could negotiate downward from there.
“A day?” she asked, appalled.
I relaxed. “No, not for a day. For the week. And you have to feed me and give me my own bedroom at the place where I’m supposed to keep the spirits under control.”
“Done!” she said. We shook hands on the deal and she wrote a check right then and there.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, embarrassed that she had pulled out her checkbook before I had even done a lick of work for her. “You can hang onto your check and pay me at the end of the week.”
“No, Pauline. I feel like I am meant to pay you now.”
“Wow, thanks.” I accepted the check. “My rent is coming due. Is it okay to deposit it yet?”
“Sure. Please do. I mean, who knows what could happen between now and the end of next week.”
“True enough,” I said.
She got out her phone. “I’m texting my leading man your name and telling him that I hired you to remove the disruptive spirits in the mansion. Woohoo, now, it will be smooth sailing to start shooting our film on Monday.”
A scared feeling overcame me. I was scared for me and scared for her. I wondered if I still had enough mojo in me to clear a house of annoyed spirits.
So many different expressions crossed her face that I wondered just how many spirits were possessing the lovely Amanda Jordan.
Excusing myself from Amanda, I left her at the table to go to my room to use my bank app to deposit the check with my cell phone. Apparently, Amanda used the same bank as mine, so the check cleared and the funds were immediately available.
I was pleasantly surprised and grateful because now there was enough money in my account to pay my rent and utilities, both of which would both come out automatically.
Now, I only hoped I could empty her filming location of all of the
perturbed spirits. I wondered how many there were, and if they would throw things at me and scratch me. I shook my head. Nah, that stuff never happened. Hardly.
After I deposited Amanda’s big check, I remembered that I actually had another paying gig scheduled for Monday. Shaking my head again, I face-palmed myself and hoped that a psychic friend would save my dumb ass by filling in for me.
A little chime rang and a class was announced over an intercom, coupled with the verbal promise of carob brownies and herbal tea. Like a zombie, I moved to the specified room number, grabbed a couple of carob brownies from a big plate and went back into the hallway to see if Amanda was coming.
Chapter Five
Amanda showed up in the cutest little robin’s-egg-blue sundress with spaghetti straps that tied over each tanned shoulder. The color kind of matched her eyes. She must have gone to her room for a quick change and to put on some lip gloss.
“I’m skipping the Confessions of an Addict class,” I told her.
“Are you chicken? Because if you are, I will sit by you and make sure no one bullies you into talking about your addiction if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks for that support. No, I just have to make an urgent business phone call.”
“That sucks. Well, I have to attend this class. I need some new material for an upcoming horror script,” she joked. “It’s going to be the paranormal sequel to Reefer Madness—the title is going to be Cocaine Madness and Zombies.”
“You’re too much,” I’d said.
“Oh, girlfriend, you have no idea,” she said to me and proceeded into the classroom.
We parted ways then, as the chairs in the classroom, arranged in a circle, filled up with others of our ilk who first swooped on the carob brownies before sitting in the metal chairs. The chairs reminded me of the ones in the only AA meeting I had ever attended. I hated those chairs.
Before the session began, I apologized to the instructor and said I had a headache, excusing myself to my room and scarfing the carob brownies I’d swiped.