Uh-oh. We’re in full-name mode.
“In fact, to be specific, he texted, ‘Tell your psycho friend with the red hair to leave me alone.’”
“Thatisspecific.”
Nikki is not amused. “He said you threatened to kill him like a bear.”
I don’t say anything.
“FromThe Revenant.”
I might not be able to duck out of this one.
“I know how obsessed you are with Leonardo DiCaprio.”
Damn. You have one cardboard cutout of a celebrity in your childhood bedroom, and everyone thinks you’re obsessed. “I just really respect his climate advocacy,” I say, folding my arms as Finn turns off I-5 and onto the Coronado Bridge.
“You dressed up as that bear for Halloween senior year. I’ve seen the pictures, Emma.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, but it’s clear that Finn has heard every word. He sputters like he’s trying to hold in a laugh. I did dress up as a semi-slutty bear and painted blood around my mouth. It was a real whiff of a Halloween costume because I had to spend the entire time we were on Sixth Street explaining it. People thought I was a satanic Winnie-the-Pooh or something.
“Look, I didn’t mean to run into him. Finn was hungry, so we stopped to grab a burrito, and Aaron was just there being an idiot. Finn was the reason we stopped; you should be mad at him.”
Finn flips me the bird as the crisp white wooden facade and the iconic red rooftops of the Hotel Del Coronado come into view.
“Finnisn’t the one who threatened to disembowel him.”
“Well, that only proves that Finn’s not as good a friend as I am. Nikki, we’re about to pull into the Del. Once I get Sybil back to Malibu, you can yell at me all you want.”
“We’re not done with this, Emma.” Nikki hangs up, and I let my phone rest on my knee, trying to practice the app breathing again.
“I’ve really got to see a copy of those photos.” Finn pulls the Singer onto the paved brick roundabout at the entrance of the Del.
“I will be dead and buried before you ever see those photos.” And before he can press further, I’m out the door, leaving Finn to handle the valet. I’ve already asked the concierge to point me toward the spa before Finn makes it into the lobby.
It’s impressive how they’ve managed to keep so much of the original wood and still leave the space feeling bright and spacious instead of dark and claustrophobic. The elegant, climate-controlled interior calms me, and I take a centering breath, reminded why we’re here.
Finn catches up to me as I pass an ornate brass elevator—it looks like there’s an actual bellhop inside. I call Sybil as we’re crossing the courtyard to the spa, but it rings to voicemail. Unlike the opulence of the lobby, the spa is a bright, soothing white. Gentle Muzak plays in the background. Eucalyptus-scented diffusers sit on a lightly veined marble countertop. I try Sybil’s number again on the off chance I can hear it ring nearby, but it goes to voicemail once again.
A severe-looking woman with slicked-back hair appears behind the receptionist’s desk. “Hi,” I say. “I’m meeting my friend here.”
“Of course. What’s her name?”
At least, I think that’s what she says. She seems to be speaking in a decibel only dogs can hear.
“Sybil,” I respond. But, suddenly, speaking in a normal volume feels like I’m shouting, so I repeat in a whisper, “Sybil Rain.” The spa receptionist frowns a bit and taps at the computer in front of her.
“No one named Sybil Rain is scheduled for appointments today,” she murmurs.
Finn steps up to the counter beside me. “Maybe it’s underher parents’ card? Greg or Melissa?” I try not to think about how his raspy whisper is giving serious Morning Voice vibes.
“We’re really not supposed to disclose the names of our guests,” the receptionist says. “Perhaps you should wait for your friend in the lounge?” And with that she glides away.
“Now what?” Finn asks, his voice back to full volume.
“Now we go back there and find Sybil.” I gesture to the double doors beside the reception desk that must lead back to the treatment rooms.
“Oh, sure.” Finn nods like this is a wise plan. “I think I’ve seen this episode ofI Love Lucy. So do you want to pretend to be the masseuse or should I?”
