I got into position. As I lay there, she kept up a steady conversation.
“You said you were referred to me. May I ask by whom?”
“One of my employees’ aunts sings your praises. Jesse gave me your name and number.”
“Oh, really. Do you know which patient? I’ll have to tell her thank you.”
“Irma Washington,” I replied.
“Ah, Irma, she’s so sweet. She’s been coming to me for a couple of years.”
“How long have you been doing this?” I asked. I was attempting to figure out how old she was.
“Four years altogether, but having my own practice, two years. I wasn’t able to afford to go straight into independent practice when I graduated, so I worked in an office that employed a handful of chiropractors.”
She paused as she began pressing along my back. I tried to hold in my hiss of discomfort but couldn’t.
“Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle,” she said.
“It’s okay. Do what you have to do?”
She hit more spots that made me groan or hiss. Some hurt worse than others. She started at my shoulders and worked her way to the top of my thighs.
“Alright, you’re tight, and I’m going to do a combination of massage and acupressure to loosen the muscles before I start any manipulation. What I need from you is for you to relax as much as you can. Try not to tense.”
“Go for it,” I replied.
By the time she finished, I appreciated what she had done and wanted to come back. The manipulations and massage had seemed to have helped. She gave me instructions for what to do at home and recommended that I come back this week, either Thursday or Friday. I assured her I would after I thanked her. I was the last patient, so she walked me to the front desk. As Morgana checked me out and scheduled my next appointment, I kept things polite. I wished them a good week. They returned the sentiment, and then I left.
However, on the ride home, I wondered if my desire to return was more to relieve my pain or to see Dr. Shah. That question took root and stuck with me. I had a feeling it wouldn’t diminish anytime soon.
?
Hanging up, I let the satisfied grin crease my face. Another contract finalized. This one would bring us income for the next three years. Certain companies retained us to work with them on a variety of developments, not just for disaster rescues. And to ensure we’d be available when needed, they paid my company an annual retainer. The longer the contract term, the better the price. It was simple business economics. I’d been courting this particular client for the past two years.
They’d seen what happened in the mine, and that had been what decided things for them. The CEO had called me yesterday and then followed up today. The contract would be finalized and sent to them by Friday. Not wanting to delay, I typed up the email I’d send to my head of contracts. She’d make sure it was done quickly.
Ten minutes later, I had completed the draft and sent it. To celebrate, I got up and went to my coffeemaker. Popping in a K-cup, I hit brew. I stood there, inhaling the scent of robust coffee filling the air and the cup, while I stared out the window. It was sunny, and the people and vehicles bustled along below. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. In an hour or two, most would be headed home for the night.
Picking up the cup after the brewing was done, I took a sip. Mmm, that’s what I needed. I was a pure black coffee kind of guy. I had barely swallowed when I was interrupted before I could take a second swallow. Rowan breezed into my office. He barely slowed down to rap twice on the door with his knuckles before continuing inside.
“It’s customary to knock and wait to be invited inside,” I told him, resuming my seat.
“I’m your brother,” he replied.
I hiked up an eyebrow. “Annnnd,” I drawled.
“Come on, Reign, don’t do that. I know you have to act that way when others are around, but they’re not. Besides, if you don’t want anyone in here, you should close the door.”
I refused to remind him that it had never deterred him, either. I was tired and hurting too much to argue. I changed the topic.
“What brings you to my office, Ro?” I asked.
“I heard DeMonte & Sons Enterprises called back. How did it go? Did we get the contract? If so, for how long?” He dropped into a chair and watched me expectantly. He seemed excited, which was unusual for him.
“Mr. DeMonte Sr. and I just got off the phone about twenty minutes ago. He agreed to the terms, and I sent the specs over to contracts two minutes ago. It’s for three years with an option to extend. He met my price.”
Rowan clapped his hands together, rubbed them, and grinned. “Great! That’s what I wanted to hear.”
