Why the hell am I thinking about him constantly?He’s in the past. Despite the fact he resurfaced today, he’s dead and gone to me, just like the feelings I thought I once had.
But why now?
I don’t answer that question either, choosing instead to answer the phone. “You got me.”
“Oh, Mags. Thank you so much for picking up,” Taylor, one of my top girls who still works for me, says in a rush as soon as I answer. “I ... I’ve got a problem, and I don’t know what to do.”
I look both ways and then cross the street. “Lay it on me, girl.”
“My last client seemed to think his appointment should have come withother servicesthat are no longer included in my repertoire.”
I release a long breath but keep marching.I swear to Christ, this is why we shouldn’t take male clients. Only women.
“Who was it?”
“Baxter Frye. He paid for an eighty-minute massage. I gave him an eighty-minute massage.” She’s out of breath and sounds shaken.
I don’t want to, but I know I have to ask. “And then what happened?”
“When I told him his treatment was over and that I’d wait in the other room until he dressed, he jumped off the massage table and started yelling that he didn’t get his happy ending, and he wasn’t going to let me leave until he did.” Her voice cracks as she tells the story.
I stop short, and a woman staring at her phone instead of where she’s walking nearly runs into me.
“Where are you? You still there?” I’m poised, practically trembling with the energy rolling off me, ready to start sprinting for Baxter Frye’s home to tear it down brick by brick with my bare hands if he’s keeping my girl there against her will.
“No. I’m home. Safe.”
My shoulders relax, but only slightly. This day has been one shit show after another. “Jesusfuck,girl. You could start with that next time.”
“Sorry, Mags. I held him off with my stun gun and ran. I’m not working on him again. Ever.”
I step around the corner and lean against the brick wall, staring up at the blue October sky. “You won’t have to. Baxter Frye is off the client listpermanently, and maybe every other fucking man in this town too.” To myself, I add,Especially ex-clients who think my girls still provide the services they used to. But I’m out of that fucking business.
“Really?” Taylor sounds so young and hopeful, making me absolutely sure I’m making the right choice.
“Yeah, honey. Don’t you worry. Mags has your back. I’ll make sure Baxter knows what the fuck he’s done, and I’ll sort out what we’re gonna do next.” Nothing short of three or four vengeful ideas come to mind in short order.
“Thank you, Mags. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what it is about me, but it seems like men just—”
“Stop right there, girl.” I shift and clutch my purse to my side. “There ain’t nothing about you that’s wrong. It’s just a man trying to take what isn’t being freely given, and that’s a fucking crime. This ain’t about you, doll. This is about him. And Iwilltake care of it.”
“What would we do without you, Mags?”
I’m proud my girls have always been and always will be able to rely on me. “You don’t have to wonder,” I say, my elbow scraping against the rough wall as I lean. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As I consider the words, a rush of disappointment floods me that I shouldn’t be feeling.What the hell? I love it here. NOLA is my home. Not somewhere I’m sad to be staying.
“Thanks, Mags.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. We’ll talk later, darlin’.”
I hang up the phone and shake my head. I’m all out of sorts today. I should have known this would happen after Celeste pulled the fucking Devil card on me.
Scanning the intersection, I search for any sign of the Creole ghost who blew back into my life today, but there’s nothing.
What the fuck do you want, Moses? Why now?
With a shake of my head, I push him out of my mind the best I can. Next stop, my condo. Then I’ll give ol’ Baxter Frye a call and let him know exactly how badly he fucked up.