After changing into a more “appropr

After changing into a more “appropriate” outfit for the day, Scout quickly rushed down to the spa. She wasn’t sure if she needed anything. A sweet girl about her age with beautiful teeth and a cheery smile greeted her.
“Evelyn?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I’m late.”
The girl came around the counter. “That’s no problem at all.” She held out her hand. “I’m Beth.”
“Evelyn,” she said stupidly and blushed. “But you already knew that. I might as well just tell you I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ve never been to a spa before and I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Beth grinned and somehow her trepidation vanished. “You’ll love it. Just be yourself. Mr. Patras arranged for you to have quite a full day. We’re going to start you off in the salon. Mr. Patras made it perfectly clear that your hair was to remain long, but we should clean up the ends for you. They have some great hot oil treatments as well. Once you get back to Isabella you guys can discuss color if that’s something you’re interested in. From there you’ll meet with Ivone for your massage, then Katelyn, who’ll help you select the right kind of makeup for your coloring. You have beautiful skin, by the way. After that, Richard will style your updo and then it’s back to Katelyn for your makeover.”
As Beth spoke she led Scout back to the salon. Various scents fought over the airy space. Everyone wore black and had perfect hair. Even the one stylist with spiky pink hair had managed to accomplish the perfect spiky pink.
Scout was ushered to a cushiony seat and introduced to Isabella, who also appeared to be quite nice. Her hair was taken out of her ponytail and fondled by several stylists. She tried not to flinch at being touched. They each commented on its thickness and how lucky she was to have such nice natural waves. An unfamiliar pride filled her with each kind word.
They each put in a suggestion of the type of cut and style she’d look best with. Scout had no opinion on the subject, so she remained silent. She was brought to a small sink where magical fingers massaged her scalp and delicious-smelling products were rubbed into her hair.
When the first snip came, a mixture of excitement and sorrow swirled in her belly. She’d never cut her hair. They said it would remain long, but as each coil of brown fell to the polished floor she fought the urge to tell them to stop. It was just hair, but oddly, watching it fall to the floor made her sad, like she was saying good-bye to part of herself.
Everyone was so nice. The massage was a chore of sorts. At first she couldn’t relax. She wasn’t used to being touched, and her personal space was something she took very seriously, but eventually Ivone had her practically weeping as her hands worked over her flesh.
When the masseuse lifted her arms, she quietly asked about Scout’s shaving situation. She blushed and explained that she was too afraid she’d cut into an important artery if she shaved anymore. She smiled and suggested she see a girl named Patrice to get waxed.
Waxing sounded worse than shaving, but Ivone swore it was the way to go. She also hinted that Mr. Patras would probably like it. Her comment turned Scout’s cheeks scorching hot with embarrassment, but also convinced her she was right.
It was very hard not to punch Patrice in the face after she pulled the first sticky strip away during what she called a Brazilian.
Brazil must be filled with a bunch of sick, sadistic bastards.
Her underarms weren’t that bad, but it took serious courage to allow her to put wax on her eyebrows. Patrice applied a topical cooling cream to her face, which helped. She also gave Scout something for the damage she’d done on her legs.
After the waxing fiasco was over, Katelyn yelled at poor Patrice because apparently it wasn’t the best thing to have a wax the day of a makeup consultation. Poor Patrice. She had been nothing but badgered all morning. Scout decided next time she helped her get pretty—if there was a next time—she’d ignore the temptation of attacking her when she caused her pain. She truly understood now what the girls at the salon meant when they joked that “beauty is pain.”
Richard styled her hair in a crown of cascading curls that exposed her neck and swept off to the side of her face and over her shoulder. She looked like a woman from the 1920s. Once her makeup was done, Scout could hardly recognize herself. She smiled the entire way back to her room as people stared at her admiringly.
It was only four o’clock and all she had to do was dress. She decided she’d wear an ice blue gown that gathered at the lower back. The bottom reminded her of a mermaid tail. Out of navy blue heels and strappy silver ones, she wasn’t sure which matched. She went with the strappy silver ones in the end.
Being that she had some time to kill, she walked around in her underwear and shoes for a while. She had terrible balance. How did women manage to get around in these things? What if she needed to run for some reason? She didn’t want to stumble and embarrass herself or worse, break her neck, so Scout spent the better part of the hour simply walking back and forth, back and forth until she worried her toes might bleed.
A light was blinking on the phone beside the bed and she stilled. There were all kinds of instructions written on it, but they were useless to her. The first group of words was next to the number nine. She pressed it but nothing happened. Next was the number zero followed by more words. She pressed zero.
“Patras front desk, this is Kevin. How may I assist you this evening?”
“Um, hi, my name’s Evelyn Keats and I’m in room 3000.”
“Good evening, Ms. Keats. Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Uh, yes, thank you. There’s a light blinking on my phone. Do you know what that means?”
“That would mean that you have voice mail. Just dial ‘star’ and your room number and it will connect you.”
“Oh.” She had no idea who’d leave her a voice mail. Perhaps it was Tamara calling about her schedule change or Lucian calling to cancel and tell her he no longer wanted to see her again after the way she spoke to him. A sick ball of dread rolled in the pit of her stomach. She thanked the man at the desk and did as he instructed.
“Hello, Evelyn. This is Dr. Vivian Sheffield. I’m calling to let you know that all of your tests came back perfectly fine. I’d still like to see you again in a few weeks if that would be all right with you. We also need to discuss contraception when you’re ready. If there’s anything you need me for or any questions you have please don’t hesitate to call.” She left her number and Scout quickly formed the numbers on a notepad labeled with the recognizable Patras logo.
Scout looked down at her sloppy handwriting and thought about what this meant. Did Lucian know her blood work came back clean? Yes, he probably knew before she did. She was substantially relieved she wasn’t sick. So many people had so many different sicknesses, and although she was always careful with her mother, there was always a risk.
Her gaze landed on her underwear. Perhaps she should change into something a little fancier. Her stomach did a cartwheel at the thought. She tucked the number into her bag and walked some more. On her fifth trip past the bag with all the fancy panties, she stopped and pulled out a lacy blue pair.
At ten minutes to, she brushed her teeth, freshened her lip gloss and slipped into her gown. She couldn’t get the zipper all the way up on her own. She didn’t want to walk through the hotel half-dressed, but she tried to reach every which way for the zipper and couldn’t. Slipping on her shoes, Scout grabbed her key and, again, placed the Do Not Disturb placard on the door before she left.
When the gilded elevator arrived at Lucian’s suite, she was ridiculously nervous, her anxiety causing her stomach to cramp painfully. She wasn’t late, but feared he’d be upset with her anyway. Maybe he was still mad about this morning. She’d had time to cool off and wanted to forget about the whole thing. She took a steadying breath and knocked, realizing she forgot the room key he’d given her.