“Good morning, Mr. McCann. Eleven this time.”
He holds out a key card, which Connor takes. Inside the elevator, C presses a button and we ascend. I glance down at the simple blue dress I’m wearing. I thought even that was a bit much for morning in Coynston, but I thought it was a good peace offering. Now I’m not so sure. Connor’s suit probably costs more than my year’s rent.
We enter a suite, and Trick and Anvil are inside. Trick’s wearing jeans and cable knit sweater. He’s sitting on a tufted sofa that looks like it’s covered in iridescent bronze taffeta. Anvil’s wearing a black suit that’s cut perfectly for the concrete wall that is his physique. I suppose he has them made custom.
Trick looks me over with a small smile.
“Good morning,” I say.
Anvil doesn’t answer. Trick just winks.
Connor leads me to the bedroom door. “After you order coffee and whatever else you want, book a salon appointment for noon.”
“Do you want me to order breakfast for you guys?”
He shakes his head and closes me into the room. I turn on the television to overcome the silence and watch a boring morning show. A rap on the door around thirty minutes later makes me jump.
I stroll over and open it. Connor points at a small rolling cart. I draw it inside, peeking out. Trick’s on his feet, walking back and forth. Anvil’s leaning over a computer screen. There’s a second screen in front of an empty chair.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“All good,” C says, closing the door.
I’m so curious, but I know better than to touch the door. I’ve begun to suspect that there’s never been anyone else in the suite when they have their meetings. I drink two cups of the very excellent dark roast coffee and eat my scrambled eggs and avocado toast. Then I brush my teeth and play with my hair, wondering how much I should have cut at my salon appointment.
I surf the net and watch a movie on my phone. Finally the door opens, and C comes inside. I glance at the clock. It’s almost noon.
“The salon was able to fit me in.”
He smiles.
Realization creeps in. “I guess that’s because I’m with you?”
There’s a knock on the door of the suite.
“Take off your clothes, baby. There’s someone here to measure you.”
I’m speechless, but a small woman with wiry black hair enters the suite with a little notebook and bag. She takes out a pen and measuring tape.
“Beautiful,” she announces when she sees me. “All off,” she says.
It feels no different than being in the theater, so I strip quickly. She’s efficient and pleasant. “I’ll send you some things by afternoon. We’ll see what she likes.” To me, she says, “Goodbye, bella.” Then she leaves as unceremoniously as she arrived. I have shades of Rachel being outfitted in stunning dresses. She doesn’t like it, but I’ve always envied her that part of her life at Frank’s. I love gorgeous clothes.
C hands me my dress. “Just hang it in the closet. You can wear your robe to the salon.”
“Am I getting my hair cut?” I ask.
“If you want,” he says.
“What do you want me to have done?” I ask.
“Some treatments that they said were good. And waxing.”
I glance down, putting a hand on my hip. I wonder if the aesthetician will be able to tell how much sex I’ve had the past few days. I felt a little swollen and sore when I washed, but it had been right afterward. I decide I’m being paranoid.
“Ready?” he asks.
I glance down at the robe and at my heels. “I didn’t realize what we were doing. I didn’t bring any slippers with me. A little better communication would be good next time.”
