Chase
Chase Davidson shivered in disgust. His previous client, a woman in her early seventies, was making every effort to set Chase up with her “sexy” granddaughter. He certainly had nothing against said granddaughter; it was her grandmother’s methods that made him squirm. Between the innuendo and blatant inappropriate comments, Chase had nearly ended the session early and asked her to leave. He was glad for a break between clients to clear his mind and refocus.
Chase had spent the past six-plus years living in Laurel Falls, a picturesque but largely undiscovered small town in Maine. Most of that time, he was fortunate enough to live in the apartment above The Sweet Spot Bakery, a little shop on Main Street with a vintage feel. The owner of the bakery, Amelia Butler, whom he called Ms. Millie, had become like a third grandmother to him. Her feistiness strongly reminded him of his gran. He helped her out as much as he could and she rewarded him with hugs and far too many sweet treats. They had a good relationship, which had made it extra confusing when she’d given him basically no notice that he had to move out because she needed the space.
Like most people, Chase hated to move. But at least this way I won’t be as likely to develop diabetes. The thought led him to remember the old commercials with Wilford Brimley. Dia-bee-tus. Chase chuckled to himself. He had found a small house for rent on the edge of town at an incredible deal because the wealthy owner had a generous heart.
Since moving from his hometown in North Carolina, he had been working as a massage therapist at the Laurel Falls Spa, a full-service spa in a beautiful white Victorian house. He’d quickly become a favorite among the town’s massage-needing clientele. He was also a favorite among the young women of the town, who were excited to have another male to choose from. He, however, never let them choose him. He had tried casual dating when he’d arrived in town, but he’d quickly realized that that wasn’t the best idea living in such an isolated small town. Chase avoided all the sidelong glances, stepped back from all the touches, and redirected all the flirtatious conversations. Casual didn’t work and he was leery of getting too close in a relationship. The possibility of loss seemed too great. The whole risk versus reward thing often didn’t come out in reward’s favor.
Chase was often found with world-renowned artist Ryan Kishlar, a man with whom he knew there was no possibility of getting too close. Mr. Kishlar had, in fact, been the greatest draw for his move to Laurel Falls. He was Chase’s favorite painter, and as Chase had hoped, Mr. Kishlar had taken him under his wing. That is, if one considers having him clean the art studio and do landscaping as “under his wing.” Mr. Kishlar did, however, let Chase observe him painting and offer words of wisdom on occasion, so Chase thought it was probably worth it to get to learn, even a bit, from a modern-day master.
During his break before his last client of the day, Chase sat at a table in the staff kitchen/break room. He sketched an idea he had for his next painting. It’s early morning and the rain from the night before has passed. What’s left is dense fog that glows in the early-morning sunrise. Dark, contrasting shadows of tree trunks and rhododendron balance the warmth from the light, and the wet leaves make the colors more vibrant than usual. It’s fall, but just barely, so green is still king. The other colors are beginning to make themselves known.
Chase glanced at the clock, seeing it was two minutes until his last appointment for the day. He stood, stretching his arms and hands, then straightening his shirt. Had Chase known this would be the day his life changed, he would have worn his blue shirt. His mother always told him blue brought out his eyes. He never gave it much thought. Chase walked toward the living room that served as the waiting area for the spa. He spotted his client before she noticed him. He stopped in his tracks, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
Standing near the sofa, in a stream of light from the window, was a woman whose hair looked as if it contained actual strands of gold. She looked beautifully pensive as she peered out the window. She wore dark high-waisted jean shorts and a top with a subtle floral pattern.
She was the most beautiful woman Chase had ever seen. I can’t believe I got massage oil in my hair during that last massage. What terrible timing. Although it might help to calm it down—it was a little unruly last I checked. Chase continued to stare, frozen to his spot, his brain putting all of his energy into his eyes. Her glasses are cuter on her than I thought glasses could be. Her hair looks so soft. And those legs. He moved his eyes back up her body to her face. She’s a masterpiece.
When Chase regained some of his faculties, he moved forward and spoke.
“Ruby? I’m ready for you.”
The woman looked toward Chase.
“I’m glad you needed a massage today.”
Realization dawning, Chase went wide-eyed. He schooled his features as quickly as he could. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here. What brings you in for a massage today?”
He smiled his most professional smile and, heart hammering, awaited her response.
“You’re glad I need a massage today?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t want you to be in pain or overly stressed.”
“That’s nice, but then why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. I massage a lot of old people and it was a pleasant surprise to see you. I mean, not pleasant, but different. It was different to see someone so beautiful come in. Not that I was thinking about you being beautiful and wanting to massage you. Your body’s just different. Tight skin and all. Not that I was thinking about your tight skin. I actually noticed your hair first. I wasn’t thinking about how nice it would be to massage you.” Stop talking, you idiot.
She stared at him, her face a mixture of shock and anger covered by a thin veil of politeness. “I feel like that was exactly what you were thinking.”
“It wasn’t.” Not exactly.
She continued to stare at him, seeming to consider her next words or move.
This isn’t going to be good.
“This is unbelievable and absolutely unprofessional. You should not be in this line of work if you can’t do better than this. Where is the manager?”
Am I about to throw up in front of this woman? How can I fix this?
“I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. This isn’t who I am. The owner isn’t here right now, but I’m begging you not to contact her. I really need this job. How about a massage with Janie? On me. She’s a very talented massage therapist. She doesn’t have any more appointments today, but she owes me a favor. I could make it happen very soon, I’m sure.”
“For some reason, I’m feeling a little weird about getting massages right now. I can’t believe this—I had heard such great things about this place and you in particular. And my back is so tight, so you’ll understand if I am more than a little ticked.”
“I do. I really do. I can’t apologize enough. If you would be comfortable with it, I could work on your back just standing here out in the open. Just until it loosens enough for you to have some relief.” Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
Ruby eyed him, considering. She looked toward the window, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” she asked, looking back his way, a stern but rather cute look on her face.
“No. Absolutely not. And there are three ladies cutting hair in the next room, so you could always yell. Although, I promise there will be no need.” Oh my gosh, I’ve messed up. Please forgive me and let’s move on and forget this ever happened. Why does she have to be so cute in her glasses? I wonder if she’s a nerd. I’d love that. Stop it, Chase!
“Yes, okay. I guess I’m desperate, so let’s do that. Just know, I will not hesitate to scream,” Ruby said with that stern/cute look.
“Noted. Come over here, closer to the hair salon.” She moved toward him. “Let me run and grab a ponytail holder to keep your hair out of the way.”
Chase took the opportunity during his short journey to the salon to take a few deep steadying breaths and gather himself. I can do this. I can massage this girl professionally and make her realize that I’m not an awful person who deserves to lose his job. I’m good at what I do and that’s why I do it. I’m certainly not a pervert. I can’t help it if she’s so pretty that my brain stopped working, can I? Stupid brain, get your act together.
Walking back into the room, he decided it might be a good start to introduce himself. “I’m Chase, by the way. You know, in case you need a name for your voodoo doll.”
Ruby scoffed, but he could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. She pulled up her hair and he stepped behind her, noting the difference in their heights. It seems like she’s about six or seven inches shorter than me. So that puts her at five seven or eight. Why does that matter, Chase? Focus! “I’m going to start if you’re still okay with it.”
“Yes. Go ahead,” Ruby said, taking in and releasing a deep breath.
Wow. She really does need a massage and I ruined it for her like a big jerk. I’ll give her the best awkward standing massage I can and fix this. Chase took another deep breath. Mistake. She smells like sunshine and cookies. Okay. Hands on autopilot, brain on something distracting. Tomorrow’s to-do list. Buy groceries. Finish unpacking. Well, that certainly sounds like an exciting day off. Maybe Mr. Kishlar will let me come over for a while. Ruby is such a nice name. I should incorporate some ruby into my painting. I’d like to paint her. Look at all the color variations in her hair. I’d have a hard time capturing that, but I’d like to try. I missed her eye color, I’ll have to… stop it, Chase! Good grief. Okay, other things. Maybe I should try to plant a garden this…
“Yes. Right there seems to be the worst of it,” Ruby said, startling him out of his thoughts.
“Ah. Yeah, it does feel like it could be the source of your problems. You obviously needed this, I’m so sorry.” Chase paused and, when she didn’t respond, continued, “What have you been up to that has you messed up?”
“The phrase ‘lift with your legs’ didn’t occur to me until it was too late.”
“That will do it. Some heat followed by stretching should help. Maybe some ice before bed tonight. But like I said, I’ll get you in with Janie soon. Your contact info is already in the system. She’ll give you a call.”
Chase continued working in her problem area and he could feel her relaxing under his touch. Suddenly a moan started to slip out of her mouth, but she caught herself and stepped away from Chase.
Ruby had seemed to realize she had relaxed rather too much to maintain her attitude of righteous indignation toward him. She stiffened her posture and pursed her lips. Without thinking, Chase said, “You’re going to ruin what we just did.”
Ruby looked at him like he was an idiot and left, slamming the door behind her.
Her eyes are like moss just after a good rain.
