Archive for the 'Reading is FUNdamental' Category

September 1, 2010 | Life in General,Reading is FUNdamental,Road Trip Wednesday

Road Trip Wednesday is a “Blog Carnival”, where YA Highway‘s contributors post a weekly writing or reading-related question and answer it in on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody’s unique take on the topic.

You’re more than welcome to participate! Just answer the question on your own blog, and leave a link to it in their comments.

Topic #43: What’s the best book you’ve read last month?

BEDEVILED ANGEL
by Annette Blair

A WORKS LIKE MAGICK NOVEL
Book Two

At the Works Like Magick employment agency in Salem, Massachusetts, matching clients in need with magical temps is a piece of cake, especially when the temp happens to be heaven-sent…

In a building collapse, Chance Godricson is meant to live and Queisha Saint-Denis to die, but he sent her up his escape tunnel before him, and it collapsed behind her. At that moment, he became her guardian angel. Now Queisha’s about to face the most difficult challenge of her life and Chance wants to be there for her. Enter Angus, a fellow angel, who knocks Chance back to earth, and to Queisha, without permission. Will the archangels let Chance stay? For how long? And at what cost?

When Queisha Saint-Denis agreed to be a surrogate mother for a jet-setting–but childless–couple, she never dreamed she’d see a return on her gift. Literally. But now she’s looking at two adorable orphans, who come with a lot of baggage: there’s a battle brewing over who “inherits” them and their huge fortune, plus an unwanted (and alarmingly attractive) guardian, whom she’s sure has been hired by the dueling family members to keep an eye on her more than the children.

Chance Godricson is keeping an eye on Queisha. in fact, he’s her guardian angel. Ever since he gave his life to save hers, Chance has felt an undeniable connection to Queisha. And now that he’s back on Earth, in her house, surrounded by two scene-stealing moppets and a woman he finds irresistible, Chance is about to discover that helping Queisha and still staying angelic is not going to be easy…

For the record, Annette Blair is one of my favorite authors. If she had a blog, it’d be on my blog roll over there. (Hint, Hint, Annette. Get a blog. LOL). I really enjoyed reading the “Witch” Series and even gave her a glowing review for one of the books. BEDEVILED is Book Two in a new series called Works Like Magick. I really enjoyed Book One, NAKED DRAGON, and was hoping to get another dragon book this time, but was pleasantly surprised when the story was about angels instead. Guardian angels.

Totally diggin’ the concept.

I love the idea of having a guardian angel watching over you from the minute you’re born and waiting to meet you on the other side when you die.

I love the idea that if you almost die, it’s not a doctor that brings you back, but your guardian angel.

I love the idea that both humans and animals have guardian angels.

I love the idea that guardian angels have rainbow-colored wings and each layer stands for something (i.e. gold = love)

I love the idea that there are different types of guardian angels, depending on how you died, and that each and every one of them has a special job in Heaven.

I love the idea that someone’s last words to you can become the motto you live by.

I love the idea that my guardian angel could be as gorgeous as Chance Godricson. (Seriously. Take a look at that cover again).

Just like the blurb states, Chance became Quiesha’s guardian angel after he dies in her place. Chance’s last words to her inspired her to become a surrogate mother for a jet-setting couple. When they die in a freak accident, the twin girls she gave birth to end up in her care. And Chance, who’s been in love with her for years (even though it’s forbidden), gets kicked back down to Earth to help her out and deal with a shit-storm of a custody battle.

The world Annette created for these four people (Quiesha, Chance, and the twins, Lace and Skye) just pulled me in and made me want to stay a while. Quiesha is this brave half-Kenyan/half-white soul who has to overcome her insecurities about her parenting abilities. It’s not that she doesn’t want or love the girls—quite the contrary—Quiesha just has this teeny, tiny, itty, bitty, okay, it’s a pretty large, problem: she’s agoraphobic. So much so that she’s secluded herself in a big house. On an island.

To be honest, if I were agoraphobic, I would never want to leave my house if it looked like Queisha’s: multiple bedrooms and each one of them painted a different color. It even had a dance studio. With a disco ball, people. How cool is that?

And then there’s Chance. Mr. Hottie on a Stick who’s really one thing but comes to Queisha in a different capacity: as a cook.

I felt sympathy for the girls, who ended up with parents that spent their time around the world rather than with their children. And I found myself rooting for Quiesha and silently encouraging her as she faced her fears. Agoraphobia is a very real and very crippling disease and although it was a subplot, it never overwhelmed the rest of the story. I think it was a great book and I’m really enjoying this series and am looking forward to the forthcoming books. Maybe you’ll like her books, too. Head on over to her website and check out all her other stories.

JUST A REMINDER: There’s still time to add “your two cents” to Chapter 5 of A Royale Pain: A Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant Novel. It’s the final chapter I’ll be posting for my class project and comments close on Sunday.

Technorati Tags: BEDEVILED ANGEL, Annette Blair, A WORKS LIKE MAGICK NOVEL, NAKED DRAGON

August 30, 2010 | "Whoa whoa I gotta go...back to schoooool...again",3rd Semester,A Royale Pain,Adv Children's Lit,Book One,Draven Atreides,Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant Series,Prescott College,Reading is FUNdamental,School Daze,Summer 2010,Your Two Cents

As part of my Creative Project in my ACL course, I’m posting the first five chapters of my work-in-progress A Royale Pain: Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant (Book One) during the month of August. Your opinion/critique is requested. Are you new to the blog? Ready why I’m doing this here. THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER FOR MY PROJECT.

Deets:
* New chapter posted every Monday
* Post your comment/critique/advice/suggestions in the Comment Section
* Comment section closes on Sunday
* ACL Project ends Aug 30th

CHAPTER FIVE

At lunch, I barely get a chance to sit down before Poe jumps on me (not literally, of course).

“So you tracked him down and….”

“And we talked,” I say. If you could call it that.

“And?”

“And he wants to keep his job there a secret. Which we’ll do,” I give her and Rico a pointed look.

“Is he that ashamed?” he asks, confused. “I mean, he works at an exclusive spa. Where’s the hardship?”

“Does he clean toilets or something?” she says around a mouthful of food.

I shrug. “Don’t know. Didn’t get that far.”

She groans and throws her hands up.

Rico adopts an incredulous expression. “Chica, I thought that was the point of going to see him?”

“Not true. The point was to let him know him that his secret wouldn’t get out,” I correct.

She slaps a hand to her forehead and groans again.

He mumbles something in Puerto Rican that I definitely don’t want translated. I’m sure the words “stupid idiot” are involved.

“She obviously needs more training,” Poe grumbles. “Call my secretary and set up an appointment.”

More training? There is definitely no training for this job. My sleuthing skills are positively craptacular, but I have to keep reassuring myself that it’s my first official case. A case that’s been dragging on for four months, granted, but it’s still only a first case. It’s probably performance anxiety or something. This time I didn’t just stumble onto something by accident. This is the real, real deal. Maybe I should treat this the same way. If I sit back, wait, and observe, something is bound to come up.

“Her secretary would be me,” Rico says, freeing me from my inner thoughts. “So what did you guys talk about? What was he wearing?”

I look at him over the top of my glasses, my lips twitching in amusement. “Sweats.”

His eyelids lower to half mast. “Mmm. He must’ve been working out. You know, I had this pretty vivid dream the other night where—” He stops abruptly and his eyes pop open to saucers as he looks over my shoulder.
Tingling prickles skitter up my neck and I know what, or in this case, who, has caught Rico’s attention. The EWS is going haywire today. As calmly as possible, I turn in my seat to see Rader at the soda machine.

“How’s it goin’, Rader?” I call out.

He turns his head and smiles at me. Rico emits a strangled gasp.

“Hey Draven, wassup?” he says, pulling out a bottled water. Flipping it to his other hand, he shoves the change in his front pocket and walks towards us.

“Oh Dios Mio, he’s coming over,” Rico hisses.

I quickly throw him a chill-out look, only to find him staring at Rader like he’s the star quarterback. If we had an athletic team, that is. Which we don’t.

“You guys always have lunch in here?” Rader asks, coming to a stop inches away.

“If we get lucky. These are my friends, Poe and Rico,” I say.

“Hey.” Poe salutes him with her cherry lollipop.

“Charmed,” Rico murmurs breathily, his chocolate-brown eyes checking out the dark gray sweater molded to Rader’s chest, his slightly baggy jeans, and hiking boots. “Nice Timbalands,” he adds.

I roll my eyes. Rico in flirt mode can be embarrassing sometimes.

Rader releases a sharp burst of laughter and glances down at his feet. “Uh, thanks” he says, then turns his attention to me. “So hey, I was wondering. Are you busy this afternoon? I need your help with something and was hoping to meet with you.”

He shifts his weight to one leg, tucks the fingertips of his free hand in the front pocket of his jeans…and my neck prickles turn into an itch that needs serious scratching. What in the world is going on? Maybe it’s his hormones. No, wait, that’s a female thing.

“Earth to Dray, come in Dray,” Poe jokes in a nasally tone, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I blink and brush her hand away. “I was thinking about my work schedule.” And why my EWS keeps going bonkers around this dude. What are those things boys have? Pheromones? Yeah, pheromones. Maybe it’s his pheromones blasting off of him like bad B.O. Except it’s not B.O. just—

“You only work part-time, mija. Is it that hard to figure out?” Rico quips.

The sharp kick to my ankle, from Poe, presumably, gets my attention. I glance up at Rader to find him staring at me with a crooked grin. Get a grip, Draven. Now you’re acting like he’s the star quarterback.

“I’m done at two today. You?” I ask, reaching down to rub my ankle. Brat. She’s gonna pay for that.

“Me, too,” he says.

“Good. Do you like coffee?”

“They know my name at The Perkolater.” He names a coffee house on the corner of McDowell and Seventh Avenue that serves organic tea and coffee.

“Scary. Ever been to CoolBeans Café on Third?”

“No, but I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

“Fabtastic. I’ll meet you there at two-fifteen.”

“Great. See you then.” He waves to my friends and walks away.

I turn back to the table and see Rico leaning out of his chair trying to get a last look. He sighs wistfully and props a chin on one hand.

“I really wish he was gay.”

* * *

CoolBeans Café is a coffee/deli place located in a cute historic house. It’s also a popular hang-out for the students at Craycroft. Rader is already in line when I arrive. After paying for snacks, we walk around the converted house, past the kitchen where Vanessa hands out food, and check out the porch. Then I take him back to one of three non-smoking rooms.

“Do all the rooms have a theme?” he asks as we sit down.

I grin, knowing he’s thinking that because of one of the rooms where I like to sit. I refer to it as the Mother Nature Room due to the “Save the Environment” theme. The used books on the small bookshelf are about natural healing, saving the environment, and nature.

“No, they don’t. This one just happens to have one.”

He nods. “Nice. I like this place. Has a beatnik-type atmosphere—”

“—where some guy is dressed in all black, wearing a beret and reciting poetry that doesn’t rhyme—” I pick up the thread.

“—and everyone snaps their fingers when he’s done cuz it’s so good,” he finishes.

By that time, we’re both laughing. I can’t help it. It’s the same impression I got when I first discovered this brightly painted, eclectic place.

“They have poetry slams on Thursday nights and open mike nights out on the porch on Mondays. I’ve yet to go to one, but I’d like to sometime,” I say, removing the lid from my strawberry yogurt and stirring it with a spoon.

“Definitely sounds like an experience. The closets are so small, but it’s neat how they made them into display cases for all that stuff.”

“Yeah, I never would’ve thought of doing something like that.”

He points at the walls. “Are the paintings from local artists?”

“Yep. So’s the merchandise. The books are from estate sales.”

“Nice. So, you come here a lot?”

“Everyday, actually. In the morning for breakfast and sometimes for lunch.”

He nods. “So this place used to be a house?”

“Uh-huh. It’s been a coffee shop for about eleven years. The ladies who run this place, Jules and Van, told me it used to be a real estate office, a pet shop, a knickknack store, and a karate studio.”

Do I sound like a travel brochure or what? Gawd, just shut up and eat your damn yogurt.

“Well, it’s definitely…interesting,” he says, looking around the room again.

“I have to agree with you on that. That’s why I love it. It’s an acquired taste though. It’s not for everybody. Mostly the creative types, I would guess. No one really knows about it so it’s still like a secret.”

He swallows another bite of his blueberry muffin before sipping his drink. “Yeah. I know all about secrets.”

I pause at the telling remark, then put the spoon in my mouth. Unless he’s murdered someone, I’m pretty sure my secret leaves his flatter than roadkill.

“I don’t know what I would do if someone found out something really private about me. Although, freaking out to the point of sedation seems like an accurate reaction,” I say aloud.

“I was going to wait til Friday before approaching you. I never thought you’d do it on your own. That was pretty brave.”

“Well, I’m a pacifist and I don’t like things being left in limbo.” Can we say, major understatement, boys and girls? “I don’t hold grudges for very long, unless the person really pisses me off.” And then I’ll just turn you over to the Feds. “I just kept thinking about it. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it, really. It just bothered me, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

“It bothered you that I might think badly of you.”

I glance over at him, before taking another spoonful of yogurt. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, Rader. You do that loner thing so well. No one really knows much about you because you hold your privacy under lock and key. It must seem hard for you to trust people. And you have no reason to trust me or what I say….” I trail off with another shrug. If I keep doing that, my shoulders are going to get stuck around my ears.

“You don’t happen to have a degree in Psychology, do you?”

Taking a sip of water, I shake my head. “No. I learned a long time ago that I’m more of an observer than a follower.”

He leans back in his chair and sprawls his legs out. “Like me.”

“Really? So you over-analyze and rethink everything into the ground, too?” I joke.

He lets out a laugh. “Yep, that’s me. Levelheaded to a fault, unlike my—” he breaks off abruptly and shifts in his chair.

I become still, waiting. When he says nothing more, I probe, “Unlike your what?”

He glances at me, then away. A small smile comes, then disappears. “Unlike someone I know.”

“Mmm,” I murmur, positive that hadn’t been his true response.

“How did you get into the spa?”

“How did you get a job there?”

“I asked you first,” he shoots back.

“Invitation. You?”

“The same.”

Well, isn’t this some snappy repartee. We stare at each other for a moment, letting our words sink in.
I speak first. “How? Why?”

“Long involved story. You?”

“The same,” I throw his words back at him. I know how to be close-mouthed, too.

Rader sighs, shakes his head and finishes the rest of his blueberry muffin in silence. I take his lead and do the same. I scoop up the last spoonful of strawberry yogurt and set aside the empty carton. Taking a sip from my bottled water, I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His chewing is methodical and he’s staring into space, unblinking. What’s he thinking about? My Curiousity Door has been flung wide open and I’m suddenly convinced that he’s trying to ask for my help. Without actually coming out and asking, because, y’know, that’s how guys work.

The silence is starting to get to me, and though I’ve been sitting here with him for what seems like hours—but probably only about twenty minutes—the prickles on the back of my neck keep reminding me of his presence. It’s a crawling sensation, not unlike an ant skittering across your skin before it bites you. I realize I’m going to have to break the silence and hurry the visit along before I turn into a slapping, scratching lunatic. I lean down to pick up my backpack.

“Well, this has been fun, but I have homework and—”

“I know someone else who worked there,” Rader says quickly, coming out of his self-induced trance. “He… had to leave for medical reasons and told me about an opening there.”

I straighten up. “That story doesn’t sound very long or involved.”

He grins. “Yeah, well, I’m not used to talking about myself much.”

And yet Taffy knows so much about him. Go figure. “So what exactly do you do there?”

“Most of the time, I check in people at the desk in the Men’s area. I help out at the main desk, too, sometimes. But I make sure everything is stocked, make sure everyone’s comfortable, things like that,” he explains.

“So you’re not a janitor or landscape person?”

He gives me a look, chin down, one eyebrow quirked. “Did you see my uniform? That’s no janitor’s outfit,” he says dryly.

“So you don’t give massages or anything?”

He shakes his head. “No. You have to be certified for that.”

“Right. I figured that.”

He tightens one hand into a fist and attempts to plow the fingers of the other through his gelled hair. “Your friend, though, she seems kinda… protective.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Poe? Really? What gives you that idea?”

“I think it was the silence, the unblinking stare and the way she crunched down on her sucker like she wished it were my head or something.”

I burst out laughing. “I didn’t notice that. Sorry.”

“She moves to a different drumbeat. She transferred to Craycroft from a public school. She’s a little wild, never fit into any of the cliques there, y’know? She had little jokes for them,” I say.

“Jokes? For the cliques? Like what?”

“Like for the popular crowd: they’re so trendy, people imitate their acne. For the geeks: they’re so geeky, their sandals have built-in socks. For the Goths: they’re so freaky, the circus ran away to them….” I trail off as Rader laughs aloud. I laugh too, remembering Poe’s account of the kids at her old school.

“That’s not the best part,” I add, still laughing.

“What could be better than that?”

“She has one for your girlfriend.”

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrt. My smile abruptly disappears. Oh. Snap. Did I just say that out loud? I take a quick peek at Rader. He doesn’t look mad. I take another peek just to be sure. Definitely not mad. Is that a smirk?

“Does she now,” he says, then lets loose with a chuckle-snort. “Can’t wait to hear this.”

“Oh. I…uh….” I giggle nervously. “Did I say your girlfriend? I meant—“

“Oh, you can’t get out of it now, girl. It’s too late for that. You put it out there. I’m interested now. What does your friend say about Taffy?”

I study his expression carefully, openly searching for signs of anger. The only thing I can see is lingering amusement in the depths of his slumberous blue eyes. I blink. Slumberous blue eyes? Gack!

“You really want to know?”

“Sure. Why not? I’ve heard the stories. Taffy’s nowhere near the perfect person only she believes. So go ahead. Roast away.”

I practically rub my hands in evil glee. No, wicked glee. No, no. Glee. Just glee.

“Well, Poe thinks she’s so conceited, mirrors get exhausted. And Rico thinks she’s so blonde, her highlights have highlights. Yeah, that’s a gay thing,” I say with a flick of my hand.

Strangled noise from Rader.

“Anyhow, my favorite is, she’s so naïve, she was born yesterday.”

His laughter is louder this time, drawing attention from the other room. He leans his head back and wipes his eyes.

“That was terrible of me,” I say without a hint of remorse. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I asked,” he says after one last chuckle. “Besides, it’s true.”

“Then why do you go out with her?”

“Because she’s beautiful and popular and a gossip queen. I’ve found out a lot about the people at that school.”

“All lies, I’m sure.”

“Mostly exaggerated truths and rumors started by her, but she has her uses,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

For what? I want to ask. On second thought, I don’t want to know.

“But she doesn’t make you laugh,” I point out.

“No. No, she doesn’t.” He looks at me like he wants to say something else.

I feel my eyes go wide, a blush steal up my cheeks… and the prickles tap dance up and down my neck. Hoo-boy. Is my hair blown back? I think I’ve just been blasted by pheromones again.

“So, you’ve known your friends for a long time?” he asks.

“Only since school started in August. I’m new here, moved from New York. How long have you known Taffy?”

“Eight months.”

Eight months seems to be the magic number with this guy. He tightens one hand into a fist and plows the other one through his hair. He swallows twice.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“I agreed to meet you here. You said you needed my help. Remember?”

“Right. I did. I mean, I do,” he says, rolling his lips inward.

I fold my forearms on the table and lean on them. “So what do you need?”

He looks up and gazes at me, still saying nothing, and I start to get anxious.

Then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes again and stares directly into mine. “I need you to help me take down The Royale Treatment Day Spa.”

Oh. Snap.
———————–
Can’t figure out what’s going on? Read the Prologue and Chapters 1-4 HERE

August 23, 2010 | "Whoa whoa I gotta go...back to schoooool...again",3rd Semester,A Royale Pain,Adv Children's Lit,Book One,Draven Atreides,Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant Series,Prescott College,Reading is FUNdamental,School Daze,Summer 2010,Your Two Cents

As part of my Creative Project in my ACL course, I’m posting the first five chapters of my work-in-progress A Royale Pain: Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant (Book One) during the month of August. Your opinion/critique is requested. Are you new to the blog? Ready why I’m doing this here.

Deets:
* New chapter posted every Monday
* Post your comment/critique/advice/suggestions in the Comment Section
* Comment section closes on Sunday
* ACL Project ends Aug 30th

CHAPTER FOUR

Sunday, I wake up at Poe’s house with Rader on the brain. Stretched out on one of her inflatable couches, I open my eyes to stare at the paper lanterns in different shades of blue dangling from the ceiling. His face is superimposed on a lantern and I have to blink to make it disappear. I lean up on one elbow to check the time. Ten-fifteen. It doesn’t feel like ten-fifteen. Sighing, I turn my head. Rico has fallen off his inflatable blue velvet lounger and is lying in sprawled oblivion on the floor. My gaze moves to Poe, who has shoved her covers to her feet and has somehow managed to end up crosswise on her bed. I shake my head and chuckle silently. I feel sorry for her future husband.

As I lie on my back, I cross my arms over my chest and take stock of yesterday’s events. Before I know it, it’s ten forty-five. I’ve spent thirty minutes thinking about Rader DeChanel. Which can only mean one thing: I’m going to have to track him down today and tell him that his secret job is safe with me. And it has to be a secret. Why else would he freak out like that? I brush my hands over my tangled braids and sigh again. You’re going to have to do it, Draven. It’s going to keep bothering you if you leave it to chance. I’m not a confrontational person by nature. Perfect informant material, if you ask me.

I throw off the covers, make my way to Poe’s bed and crawl up beside her. I poke and nudge her until one eye cracks open.

“This had better be good,” she croaks.

“It is. Tell me where Rader lives,” I say in a low tone.

She makes a smacking noise with her lips, like she’s trying to erase a bad taste in her mouth, and closes her eyes. I’m not about to let her go back to sleep. Not without getting the information I need.

“Poe.” I poke her harder in the arm. When I get no response, I shake her. “Poe,” I say again, louder this time.

“Did you try calling 911 first?” comes the sleepy reply.

“I did, but the guys are taking a break right now and can’t make it,” I say around a muffled laugh.

Her eyes pop open as she tries to focus on me. “That’s not funny,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for not listening. Tell me where Rader lives.”

“What makes you think I know that?” she whispers.

“Because you know people who know people. Tell me,” I demand.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I saw him yesterday at the spa.”

This brings her fully awake. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she turns on her side to face me. Curling her knees up to her chest, she shoves one hand under her cheek while the other plows through her choppy black hair.

“You saw him? Did he talk to you?” she asks, her voice still husky with sleep.

I glance away then back at her. “You could say that. Look, I think it’s supposed to be a secret. Him working there, I mean. He was pretty surprised to see me.” Major. Understatement. Of. The. Universe. “I just want to let him know that we won’t rat him out.”

She stares at me a moment longer, brown eyes unblinking, and I wonder if it’s because I have dried drool my on my chin or she’s deciding whether to talk me out of going.

“I can’t believe you’re going to waste a Sunday tracking this guy down,” she says after the long silence.

Must be dried drool. I wipe the corners of my mouth with an index finger. “Well, I can’t do that until you tell me where he lives,” I point out.

“Right. Okay, uh, don’t freak out but…” she pauses dramatically.

“But what?” I nudge her hard.

“He lives in the same complex you do.”

My jaw drops open and I’m pretty sure it’s dangling near the bed. I prop myself up on an elbow and look at her in disbelief.

“Shut. Up.” It’s the only thing I can get out.

“Well, if you insist,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and snuggling her head in the pillow.

I tweak the lone red strand of hair framing her face. “I was kidding. How is it possible that I’ve lived there all this time and I’ve never seen him? Or Taffy?”

She shrugs. “Mmm-mmm.”

“And all the times you and Rico have come over. How come you never said anything?”

She shrugs again. “You never asked.”

“It didn’t jog your memory until now? I mean, you guys were just over last week. You could’ve at least give me a ‘hey, by the way, Dray Rader lives on the—“ I stop abruptly and look at her expectantly, waiting.

Finally she glances up at me, eyebrows raised. “What?” she asks.

I roll my eyes and release a frustrated growl. “The floor. What floor does he live on?”

“Fourth,” she says.

“How long has he lived there? Who does he live with? You wouldn’t happen to know the apartment number, would you?” I bombard her with questions.

And how is it that, after four months, I don’t know the answers to these questions myself? I should know this stuff already. I should’ve been documenting everything Taffy said, meaningless or not. Some informant you are, Draven India Atreides, I scold mentally. You totally suck golf balls.

“Don’t know, a relative, apartment number 407C,” she rattles off in a bored tone.

Un. Freakin’. Believeable. Seriously, Draven. You need to get your shit together. Right now, your best friend makes a better informant than you.

“So, you’re really going?” Poe’s saying now.

I slide off the bed and start getting dressed. “Yeah.”

“Want me to come with? You know, in case he tries something funny?” she offers.

I laugh and shake my head. “Nah, that’s okay. I can take care of myself.” That’s the whole idea of Kung Fu Sundays with Ty.

* * *

The Portland Square apartment complex on Portland Avenue is the complex where Ty’s men live and lucky for him, I fell in love with the floor plan at first sight. He even managed to get me an apartment on the same floor as his guys. On the street level is the parking garage, a City of Phoenix police sub-station, a small gym, a reasonably priced restaurant, and a sandwich place. A dog park with wrought iron benches sits in the middle of the street, like a median, and spans the whole length of the street from Central Ave to 3rd Ave. It’s three miles from the Black Dragon Academy, the main headquarters for his agency, and it’s five miles from my favorite place, CoolBeans Café, which is on the way to school.

As I take the elevator to the fourth floor in building C, I can understand why we’ve never run into each other. The complex has over four hundred units, four levels each, and the three buildings take up three blocks. I live in building A, he’s in building C, and never the twain shall meet. The doors swoosh open and I easily find the apartment. I knock and then take a step back, glancing up and down the hallway. Seconds later I hear the locks disengage and the door opens to reveal a woman dressed in a sweatshirt, ratty jeans and slouchy socks. She looks young, maybe late twenties with hair and eye color exactly like Rader’s. Definitely a relative.

“Can I help you?” she asks with a curious but polite smile.

I raise a hand in an awkward wave and flash a small grin. “Hi, can Rader come out to play?” I blurt unexpectedly.

A second of stunned silence and then we both bust out laughing.

“Just kidding,” I say around a final chuckle. “At least about the playing part. I’m Draven.” I hold out my hand.

“Ariel. Rader’s aunt,” she says, shaking my hand.

“We’re lab partners and I need to talk to him about an assignment. Is he around?”

“He’s down at the gym but you’re more than welcome to wait for him here, if you like,” she offers, taking a step back.

“No, no, that’s okay. I’ll meet him down at the gym. Thanks. Nice meeting you,” I say.

“You, too, Draven.”

At street-level again, I swipe my key fob across the security panel next to the gym door and open it. It’s no 24 Hour Fitness, but the equipment they do have is top-notch. I see him instantly, shirtless, doing arm curls in the corner. Rader does a comical doubletake when I catch his eye in the mirror. He stops mid-curl, his look of surprise prompting me to give him a cheeky wave and a cheesy grin. His gaze flicks around the room as he slowly drops the dumbbells and picks up a towel. It’s nearly noon and the gym is occupied by Rader and one other person. Apparently Sundays are his workout days, too. He quickly swipes the towel over his arms, chest and head before pulling on a sweatshirt.

Yowza. Now I can see why Taffy makes such a big deal about his abs. And his pecs. And his butt. They’re very nicely, ahem, defined. Prickles dance across the back of my neck as he saunters toward me, making me want to frantically scratch. Knowing that I’ll look like a rabid dog with fleas stops me from doing so.

“Um, hey, Draven,” he greets me warily.

I point a thumb over my shoulder and casually scratch my neck in the process. “Why don’t we talk outside?” I suggest.

“Sure. So, uh, how did you know I was here?” he asks, draping the towel around his neck and holding onto the ends.

“You’re aunt told me. Nice lady, by the way.”

His eyes widen and he glances up and down the street. “How do you even know where I live?”

I lean back and look at him like he’s crazy. “Chill out, Mr. Paranoia. I’m not stalking you. I live here, too.”

“You live here?”

“Yes, in this building.”

“This building?”

Now it’s my turn to look around. “Are we in a mountainous region? Because I’m getting an echo here. Or maybe I spoke too fast. I’ll say it again, slowly this time. Yes. I live here. In this building. Well, not this building specifically. I’m in The Simms, building A. On the fourth floor. Did you get all that?” Each of the three buildings has its own name and address. Building C, where Rader lives, is called The Sloan.

He shoves his tongue into his cheek as though to stop himself from laughing, then says, “Yeah. I got it. Guess I’m just surprised.”

“Join the club.”

“I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“Ditto.”

“But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“What was the question?”

“How did you find out I lived here?”

“I heard it through the grapevine,” I say. Would I have sounded corny if I’d sung that line instead?

“Uh-huh. Sounds like gossip to me,” he says warily.

“Yes, well, that’s what the grapevine usually is. Gossip. So, how long have you lived here?”

“Eight months. You?”

“Six.”
He nods, but says nothing more.

“Yeah, so, I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

His chin notches up and he glances over my shoulder. “What about it?”

“I just want you to know your secret about working at the spa is safe with me. I mean, if no one else knows, that is.”

“What makes you think it’s a secret?”

My eyebrows say hello to my hairline. “Well, gee. Maybe it was your not so subtle way pf booting me out. Call me crazy but that just screams secrecy to me.”

Legs apart, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at the ground. Finally, he raises his head. “Look, no one at school knows I work there and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nod a few times. “Okay. That’s cool. Understood.”

He nods again, too. I’m sure we look like a couple of stupid bobbleheads out here on the sidewalk.

“So is that why you’re tardy sometimes?” I ask.

“Is what why I’m tardy?”

I roll my eyes. Hel-lo. What the hell have we been talking about here for the past twenty friggin’ minutes?

“Your job,” I say in a “duh” tone of voice. Do all guys have the attention span of a gnat or is it just a teenage guy thing?

Note to self: never talk to Rader after he works out.

“Oh. Right,” he laughs sheepishly and shakes his head. “The job. Yeah. Sometimes.”

Sometimes? What about all the other times? I take in the taut jaw and guarded gaze. He’s done talking.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to your workout. Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem. So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” I start walking backwards. “See you later.”

“Later.”

Sitting at Ty’s dinner table that night, I listen to him and his wife, Shannon, talk about their day. My muscles are pleasantly loosened from my weekly one-hour kung fu session and the shower afterwards. I smile wistfully as Ty reaches out to tuck a strand of Shannon’s hair behind one ear. It’s a gesture he seems to do without thinking and it reminds me of John and Abby. It’s funny really, how perfect Ty and Shannon are together.

At six feet four and two hundred something pounds of solid muscle, Tykota Black Hawk is full-blood Apache. His black hair is military short and eyes just as dark peer from a face that appears carved from oak. As well as the hollowed out cheekbones that every male model pays to have surgically created, he has a lean, chiseled nose. He’s also a quiet, intense man who speaks in a low, deep baritone. He can be overprotective, bossy, and irritatingly persistent.

And he’s deeply in love with his wife.

Shannon O’Malley-Black Hawk looks like she stepped out of one of those old Irish Spring commercials. Long, wavy red hair, sky blue eyes, parcelein skin, and a slight brogue, she is the light to Ty’s darkness. She’s funny, sassy, energetic, has a laugh that sounds like tinkling bells, and she barely reaches Ty’s chin.

And she’s deeply in love with her husband.

I glance over at said great couple to find them both looking at me expectantly.

My gaze shifts from one to the other. “Did I miss something?”

“I just said that you’ve been pretty quiet since you arrived. Is there something on your mind?” he asks.

“Other than the assignment? No.”

“Do you have something to report?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, let’s go back to the office and talk.”

I pick my backpack up off the couch in the sunken living room and head down the hall to Ty’s office. The four bedroom, two bathroom house in Scottsdale seems almost too big for just two people. Even though one bedroom is an office and the other a gym, I think Shannon is still hoping I’ll occupy the remaining bedroom. They’ve both made it clear on more than one occasion that they want me to move in, but I don’t want to do the whole family unit thing. At least, not any time soon. If ever.

Right now, I enjoy living on my own and having my own space. Everything in it may have been paid for by the FBI, but I chose it: from the purple Pottery Barn dishes in the kitchen, right down to the vintage purple velvet chaise in the living room.

Mine. My space. My belongings.

I plop down on the comfy couch and set the backpack at my feet. Ty eases into his chair and turns it so he’s facing me.

“What have you got?”

I unzip the main portion and pull out the perfume vials. “These are samples of products they used on me yesterday. You may want to test them.”

His gaze sharpens and he’s no longer relaxed. “Are you feeling any adverse effects?”

“No.” At least, not yet. Let’s hope I never do.

“What about Poe?”

“I don’t think so, no. She would’ve said something by now. They’re using products from different companies. There’s a boutique on the property that carries the product, but I don’t think the new stuff is available yet,” I say.

“Did you get the names of the companies?”

“Yeah.” I dig in a side pocket and hand him a folded slip of paper. “I don’t think Jean-Pierre would pick any of these, though. They seem too, I dunno, American.”

“When in America, do as the Americans do,” he remarks absently, his eyes flicking over the list.

“But his M.O. seems to be foreign. I mean, according to his file, he sticks close to what’s familiar. He’s from France. All the previous companies he used are French. Why would he change his routine because he’s in America?”

“Why indeed? Maybe he thinks the stakes are higher here, so he’ll need to up his game. Try something different,” he shrugs. “It’s a different ball game.”

“I suppose. Have there been any updates?”

“No, nothing yet. You have the same intel as I.” He turns back to his desk and takes his computer out of sleep mode.

True, true. And the intel is usually pretty basic. Agent KAPOW weren’t kidding about that need-to-know rule.

“I’ll contact these companies to see what I can find out and have the samples tested. Were you able to look around at all?” His low voice brings my thoughts back to the present.

“No. I was escorted the whole time.” Well, except for that one time.

“And?”

“And short of getting a job there, it’s going to be a little difficult to snoop around. Think you can work another miracle and get me in?” I waggle my eyebrows.

He chuckles. “Possibly. I’ll talk with Special Agents Karr and Powers to see if they can open any doors.”

“If not, that’s okay. I might have an in.”

Rocking back and forth, he steeples his hands under his chin. “How so?”

“I bumped into someone there. Literally. I ran right into him when I turned a corner,” I begin to explain.

The rocking stops. “Him?”

“Yeah. Rader DeChanel. He goes to my school, we have a couple of classes together and apparently, he lives in my complex, too. He works there at the spa, but wants to keep it a secret.”

“He told you this?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Today. This morning, actually. I tracked him down at the gym.”

Ty slowly leans forward, his eyes like lasers boring into my face. “You tracked him down. In a gym.”

I press my back into a corner of the couch, feeling his gaze like a physical touch.

“Yesss.” I draw the word out slowly, cautiously. “I wanted to tell him that I—we, me and Poe—wouldn’t blab his secret.”

He tilts his head to one side, his gaze never leaving my face.

“Quit with the unblinking puppet stare, would ya? You’re giving me the heebie jeebies.” I add a shiver for effect.

“I see. And how do you plan to enlist his help without revealing your own secret?”

I fidget, finding sudden interest in a loose thread.

“Ahem, well, I, uh… erm… have no idea.”
—————————-
COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE NOW CLOSED

Can’t figure out what’s going on? Read the Prologue and Chapters 1-3 HERE

August 17, 2010 | "Whoa whoa I gotta go...back to schoooool...again",3rd Semester,Life in General,Mentors,Prescott College,Reading is FUNdamental,School Daze,The 4-1-1 on Me

Romance author Carolyn Brown has a book coming out in October with this same title. I’ve been reading her books in between homework assignments and right about now, this feels appropriate.

I am so tired of school right now it’s not even funny.

Today, I busted out an assignment two hours before I had to meet my mentor. Didn’t give a damn if it sucked or not. She said I did good.

One–or both–of my mentors for my Fall semester may or may not be approved by my core faculty. I was worried about it for, like, a day.

Now, I don’t give a damn. I could probably use the break.

I have a 10-page research paper due on the 5th and I haven’t really started on it. Earlier this month, I had to change topics when I couldn’t find enough academic resources. I stressed about it.

But now, I don’t give a damn.

The summer semester ends Sept 6th. The fall semester starts 10 days after that.

Right now, that little window of Education Freedom is lookin’ like a slice of heaven.

I’ve got stack of 9 books in my TBR pile and I’m gonna spend that free time reading my ASS off.

Technorati Tags: Carolyn Brown

August 16, 2010 | "Whoa whoa I gotta go...back to schoooool...again",3rd Semester,A Royale Pain,Adv Children's Lit,Book One,Draven Atreides,Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant Series,Prescott College,Reading is FUNdamental,School Daze,Summer 2010,Your Two Cents

As part of my Creative Project in my ACL course, I’m posting the first five chapters of my work-in-progress A Royale Pain: Draven Atreides, Teenage Informant (Book One) during the month of August. Your opinion/critique is requested. Are you new to the blog? Ready why I’m doing this here.

Deets:
* New chapter posted every Monday
* Post your comment/critique/advice/suggestions in the Comment Section
* Comment section closes on Sunday
* ACL Project ends Aug 30th

CHAPTER THREE

“This should be fun,” I murmur to myself, glancing around the near empty parking lot of the Royale Treatment Day Spa. Situated a few yards inside the private road leading up to the Camelback Mountain Resort, the spa appears to be hidden in a forest.

While I wait for Poe, I decide to go through my bag of tricks to see what I can bring inside. I set my purse on the passenger seat and pull my backpack into my lap.

Lipstick knife? Check.

Lipstick mace? Double check.

Baggie of empty perfume vials? Triple check.

Mini audio/video recorder? I pause and stare into space. Hmm, too obvious. I might as well just hold up a sign that shouts, “Hello, look at me!”

The sound of a revved engine makes me look around and I hurriedly zip up my purse and backpack.
Poe zooms into the lot and comes to a whiplash stop in the space next to mine. She hops out, barely remembering to lock her car, and gives me a crushing bear hug.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” she says, skipping ahead to check out the empty tennis courts.

About as exciting as a root canal. I could’ve done without this little jaunt. Spa visits had been a weekly thing for me and Isabella, an outing I had grown to hate within a month’s time. She had seen it as a way to bond with her new daughter. Of course, that was hard to do when you’re getting treatments in separate rooms, gossiping with your friends in the waiting area, or getting drunk on mimosas.

“Hurry up, would ya? I don’t want to be late,” Poe calls over her shoulder as she runs up the ramp and disappears around the corner.

No bitter spa face today, Draven, I mentally coach myself. At least pretend you’re having a good time. For Poe’s sake. I wouldn’t be here if Plan A had worked: get close to Taffy and find out what I can. Needless to say, that avenue had dried up as quickly as a popped pimple.

Plastering a smile on my face, I quicken my step, round the corner and see Poe looking up at the canopy of trees and turning in a slow circle.

“God, isn’t this fantastic? It’s like being in a nursery,” she says.

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool,” I agree, catching a glimpse of the gym and a boutique hidden amongst the foliage. I make a mental note to check out the boutique when we’re done. “C’mon. Let’s go in.”

The building is modern with an Asian theme. The lobby is sparse. Just the front desk and two chairs in front of a large window partially covered by two huge brick slabs. A scented candle burns on the end of the check-in counter. To the left is a light-colored wood door with a frosted glass insert labeled MEN. The man and woman behind the counter smile as we approach.

“Hello, and welcome to the Grand Reopening of The Royale Treatment Day Spa. Did you receive an invitation?” the woman asks with a kind smile.

“Oh. Yeah,” I say, digging in my purse. I pull it out and hand it to her.

“And your names?” the man inquires, rolling his chair up to a computer monitor.

“Poe Danziger and Draven Atreides,” I say.

He rapidly taps on the keys. “Ah, yes, here we go. Okay, it appears you both signed up for the sixty minute Dragonfly Facial, a thirty-minute Bamboo-Lemongrass Scrub Body Treatment, a Royale Pedicure for Poe and a Royale Manicure for Draven. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Oooh, sounds good to me,” Poe says with a wide, excited smile.

“All right, ladies. You’re all set. Here are the keys to your lockers. Go on through the door marked Women and Marla will get you started. Enjoy your stay.”

Marla turns out to be a short Phillipino woman with a kind, motherly smile.

“Hello girls. Welcome. Are you ready to get started?”

Poe and I return her smile. “More than ready,” she responds fervently.

Clasping her hands, Marla smiles even wider. “Well, then let me take you back and show you around.”
She steps around the desk and immediately stops in front of a long vanity counter and turns to face us.
“When you are done for the day, you can get ready here. As you can see, we have supplied you with everything you need.”

She’s right. The counter is lined with hair dryers, curling irons, small magnifying mirrors, hair spray, hair gel, Kleenex and lotion dispensers; four modern and uncomfortable-looking wooden stools are tucked underneath the counter.

Marla lifts her hand to her left and says, “You will change here. We supply you with robes, slippers and towels.”

Three dressing rooms with slatted wooden doors are standing open to reveal a toilet, slippers on the floor and a robe hanging on a hook.

She raises her right arm and gestures down the hall. “Here’s the steam room and the showers. The Jacuzzi is at the end of the hall. You are more than welcome to use these as well.”

Poe and I peer down the hall and see four tiled shower stalls with frosted glass doors. The burbling sounds of water can be heard from the Jacuzzi, tucked away in a corner by a window.

“Please change now and I will show you where you can place your things,” Marla says.

Poe makes a sound of glee and heads for one of the dressing rooms. I laugh and close myself in the one next to her. I can feel her excitement and, for the first time in almost a year, I feel it, too. The ivory robe is baby soft with deep pockets and falls to mid-calf. The matching slippers are just as soft, making me curl my toes. Both items are embossed with a family crest. Whether real or only for show, I don’t know, but I have no doubt the robe and slippers are of good quality material. I roll up my clothes, tuck the lipstick mace and baggie of perfume vials in my pocket, and pick up my shoes. Opening the door, I step out just as Poe is doing the same.

“Oh my God, these are so soft,” she gushes, rubbing her hands up and down the sides of the robe. “What is this, like cashmere or something?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, but I have a serious love jones for the slippers,” I say, scrunching my toes again.

She laughs. “I know. Gosh, this is fantastic. I wish I could do this every week,” she says, sighing wistfully.

“It gets old pretty quick,” I say without thinking, then promptly wish I can take the words back.

“Like you would know,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, well, I can imagine. I mean, there’s only so many treatments you can get, right?” I joke.

“This place has a lot of stuff. It would probably take over a month to try it all.”

I nod. “Yeah, no kidding.” I almost faint in relief when Marla comes around the corner and smiles at us.

“Come this way, ladies, and I will show you the lockers,” she instructs.

We follow Marla past the steam showers and the Jacuzzi. Turning left, we see two rows of lockers fronted by comfy bright blue benches.

“Your belongings will be safe in these lockers. Did you get your keys from the front desk?”

We both nod, holding them out.

Marla glances at the tags then looks at me. “You are here. And you three doors down,” she says to Poe.

I unlock the door, shove my stuff inside, and slip the phone cord key ring around my wrist. We then follow Marla through the doorway.

“This is the waiting area. You will relax here between each of your treatments. Your estheticians will come get you when they are ready. Outside the double doors is the Zen Garden. Feel free to step outside and take a look. It’s quite peaceful. Would you like some water or tea?” Marla asks.

“I’m fine for now,” I say.

“Me too.”

“We encourage you to drink plenty of water in between treatments so you do not get dehydrated. Enjoy your time here,” Marla says, before leaving the room.

“Holy Mother of Saint Bubble Gum,” Poe whispers in awe. “This place is freakin’ amazing.”

“I’ll second that.” I pause near the door to take it all in.

The room is beautifully decorated in Asian accents with modern art on the wall. Three dark brown bamboo-type chaise lounges are situated in front of windows covered with sheer curtains. A little alcove sectioned off by short, stone walls houses an overstuffed couch with matching ottoman and chairs. To my left, in the corner, an oak cabinet, its doors open, reveals an assortment of juices, iced tea and bottled water. A teapot squats on a hot plate warmer, surrounded by teacups and saucers, packets of tea and a hot water dispenser. Poe’s gasp draws my attention across the room. She has unlocked the double doors and thrown them wide open.

“Check out this Zen Garden, Dray, it’s sweet,” she crows in delight.

I walk closer, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the chill. Even with the sun out, it’s still a bit cool. I step up beside my friend and scan the Garden. This is like no garden I’ve ever seen. Not a flower in sight, but plenty of different types of bushes. On one side of the stone bridge is a large pond filled with rocks and a funky-looking iron sculpture. On the other side of the bridge is a hot tub-sized rock pond built into the stone deck, being fed a steady stream of water from a rock-filled chute connected to another hot tub-sized fountain.

“Do you think that chute has gold in it?” Poe wonders aloud.

I laugh and shake my head. “I don’t think so. Though it seems like it would, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool. Like we’re at a spa in China or something. Only without the wooden platform flip flops. Those things look uncomfortable.”

“That would be Japan, Poe. China’s where they wear the kung-fu slippers. Close the doors, will you? It’s getting chilly in here.”

We move to the lounge chairs and sit in silence, staring out at the garden. A few minutes later, a door to the right opens and a woman dressed in a black Asian-inspired shirt and pants appears.

“Poe?”

“That would be me.” She swings her legs to the floor and bounces up.

The woman laughs and holds out her hand. “I’m Luna and I’m going to be your esthetician today. Ready to go on back?”

“I’m ready. See you later, Dray,” she says with a wave.

“Have fun,” I reply, watching my friend practically skip out of the room.

Moments later, the door opens again. This female is in all black as well. “Are you Draven?” she asks.

I stand up. “Yes, I am.”

“That’s a pretty name. I’m Violet and I’m going to be your esthetician today. Are you ready?”

“Yep.”

“Great. Follow me.”

I follow her from the room to an outside corridor with four doors on either side; satchel bags are dangling on the doorknob.

“Here we are,” she says, opening a door in the middle on the right.

I glance around. “All the treatments are performed out here, in these rooms?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Both men and women?”

“Yes. Only the dressing rooms and waiting areas are separate.”

“And what do the little satchels on the door mean?”

“Those let us know which rooms are occupied. Sun means they’re open, Moon means they’re occupied.”

I step inside and it’s like being in my own bedroom. The room is warm and dimly lit, helped along by dark tiles and the heavy drapes framing frosted double doors; soothing music filters through hidden speakers. A turned down massage table sits in the middle and two pieces of equipment stand sentry to its right.

“Okay, Draven. I’m going to have you remove your robe and slippers and slip under the sheet on your back,” Violet says. “I’m going to step outside here and give you some privacy.”

I quickly remove my slippers, hang my robe on the hook behind the door, tuck my glasses in the side pocket, and climb onto the table. There’s a knock on the door and it opens a crack.

“Are you ready?” she inquires.

“Sure, c’mon in.”

I listen as Violet washes her hands at the sink, then takes a seat on the stool at the head of the table. She scoots it around until she comes into view on my right.

“Have you had a facial before, Draven?” she asks.

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago.”

Violet nods. “Great. Well, let me tell you what we’re going to be doing today. I’m going to do the facial first, the scrub second, then send you off to get your manicure. After the facial, I’m going to take you back to the waiting area and give you a chance to relax for about fifteen minutes before the next treatment. The Dragonfly Facial begins with an application of self-heating mud on your spine and feet. This will not only relax you during the facial, but also detoxifies and puts minerals back into your body. While that’s going on, I’m going to do a skin analysis, cleanse, steam, extract, exfoliate, moisturize then follow it up with a mud mask. How does that sound?”

“Great,” I say.

“I thought it would. I’m going to need you to sit up for me now, so I can apply the mud,” she says, standing up and placing a supportive hand underneath my shoulder.

Using Violet as leverage, I sit up and keep the sheet tucked under my armpits with my free hand.

“So, how’s the reopening been going? Are you pretty booked today?” I ask.

“All weekend, actually. Kinda crazy, but it’s good.”

“What’s the deal? Was the place remodeled or something?”

“A little bit. It’s more exclusive. For the longest time, the spa was open to the public. You didn’t have to be staying at the hotel to use it. Now it’s open only to hotel guests and exclusive members.”

“It’s not even open to employees?”

“Oh, well, yeah, but only certain treatments.”

“Sounds lame. Can’t you guys get in on that exclusive membership deal?”

Violet snorts. “We would, but the yearly fee is way out of our pay range. I think that’s the way the owner wanted it to be. A lot of celebrities come through here, so the more exclusive it is the more they’ll tell their friends and come back, I guess.”

“Huh. So, that’s it? That’s a stupid reason to have a Reopening,” I say, frowning. “Not to mention a little selfish.”

Violet laughs and waves a hand in the air. “No, no. That’s not the only reason. New staff has been hired and we’re trying new product lines.”

If my ears had been dog ears, they would’ve flicked back in interest. “New product lines? You mean the stuff you’re using right now?”

“Yep.”

I watch as she lays down a strip of foil, the kind used for mylar balloons. She spreads a strip of brown goo down the middle, then covers it up with a strip of gauze; she folds the top and bottom half. I sniff and wrinkle my nose.

“It stinks,” I say.

She laughs and nods. “Yeah, it doesn’t smell very nice. It’s not really mud but freeze-dried seaweed, so it’s going to smell like low tide. You’re going to feel it bubbling up on your back and feet, but it’ll feel like a massage. It’ll be worth it, I promise. Okay, go ahead and lie down and let me get your feet. Then we’ll get started on the facial.”

An hour later, I sit up with Violet’s help and practically melt off the table.

“Okay, we’re done for now. After that treatment I would normally apply lotion, but since you’re getting the body scrub in a little bit, it wouldn’t do you any good,” she says. “I’m going to step outside while you put your robe and slippers on and then I’ll take you back to the waiting area.”

She quickly washes her hands and dries them before stepping out of the room.

The minute the door closes, I hurriedly get dressed, then step over to the sink. I take three vials out of my pocket and place them on the counter. I didn’t get a chance to ask about the names of the companies during the facial, nor do I know which company Jean-Pierre has chosen to “consult” for. Getting samples of all the products that are used on me is the only thing I can do. For now.

The tentative knock at the door nearly makes me drop a vial. “Draven, are you ready?” comes Violet’s muffled voice.

“Yeah, uh, my glasses got smudged and I needed to clean them off. I’ll be right out,” I say around a frantically beating heart.

“Okay,” she replies.

Pushing said glasses back up my nose with a knuckle, I shove the vials in my pocket, make sure nothing looks out of place, and open the door.

* * *

Too soon, I find myself alone, pulling on my robe and slippers after the final body treatment. The body scrub has left my skin so slippery that this time I practically slide off the table.

“How do you feel?” Violet asks.

“Awake, clean and soft,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll take you back to the waiting room now. One of the nail techs will come and get you,” she tells me, starting to close the door.

Outside the room, we only take a few steps when she suddenly stops. “I forgot to turn off the steamer machine. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, I know how to get back to the waiting room. It’s just around the corner there. You don’t have to take me,” I say.

She bites her lip in indecision. “Are you sure? It’s my job to escort you back.”

“I’m sure. I won’t tell anyone,” I assure her with a smile.

“Okay then. Thanks for coming in, Draven. Hope to see you again soon.”

“Thanks Violet. I had a great time.”

Hands in pockets, I head down the path, turn the corner…and plow into a hard chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you—”

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention—”

We both speak simultaneously as I reach up to rub the back of my neck. I glance up and immediately move my hand from the back of my neck to the lapels of my robe.

“Rader. What are you doing here?” I manage to squeak out.

Rader takes a step back, his eyes wide in surprise. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“Hel-lo. It’s a spa.” I take in his clothes, the same black kung fu-type outfit Violet is wearing.

“You should know that. You work here.”

He takes a quick look around, shifts from foot to foot. “Look, you shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Leave? I don’t think so. I’m getting my nails done next. What’s the matter with you? What’s goin—”

He slices a hand in the air, effectively cutting me off. “Just believe me when I say that you shouldn’t be here,” he says, then quickly walks away.

I stand there for a moment, stunned. O…kay. Who pissed in his Cheerios?

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Are you completely clueless as to what’s going on? Read the Prologue and Chapters 1-2 HERE