Chapter 12
Ekaterina, clip board in hand, led me down the corridor and though I noticed the array of closed doors and soft music playing overhead I could only focus on the sound of her heels. Clinking away, leading me onward as we marched to another unknown. I had been so overwhelmed with the events of this past month, that I never gave myself time long enough to breathe, let alone think. John was finally gone, I knew I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt only alone and naked. The thought sickened me, did I really care for a man who had kidnapped me and practically raped me? I knew better, I was better than this. I had survived my own personal hell, I had raised myself when my own family could not and fought for my freedom despite all the fears I harboured inside. Where was the little brave girl who revived her ailing mother when pills and alcohol nearly took her? Where was the young women who told her abuser that he could break every bone in her fucking body, but he would not break her? Who was this person who mindlessly followed the sound of but another captor? I did not know the answer anymore…I just knew I had to keep going.
We reached the main lounge that I first had come upon with John, the same four security guards stood by their posts like statues, stoic and impassive. All thoughts of reaching out for any kind of help left me. I was on my own, it was time to actually face that fact. Ekaterina, gestured for me to take a seat on a chase lounge chair, taking her own seat across from me, pen and clipboard out and ready. Aside from another woman on an IPad across the room, I seemed to be the only patron around.
"Mrs. Wick, seeing as how you will likely be here for the next couple of hours and on closed communication, I figured we could tour service by service based on what you would like done today, does this suit you?"
I nodded in response, "Please, call me Celest." I felt uneasy and uncomfortable in the chair. I had been to a spa once before for my sister's bachelorette party and it had been nothing like this.
"Your husband is set to arrive in the evening, so we will do hair and make-up last, here is a list of some services we could do prior," she said, handing me a white and gold pamphlet with the C.S initials. I looked at the first page and stared back at her in disbelief. It was a list of different kinds of massages with a detailed passage description next to each service. The next few pages, were much the same with categories of detailed specialities for facials, manicures, pedicures, pools, saunas, tanning, waxing….it went on. Seeing as how I knew very little, I settled on the one thing that I knew of.
"Can I just do the manicure and pedicure?" I asked, almost expecting her to choose for me.
"Certainly, would you like hot stone? Classic? Paraffin? Shellac?"
"Umm…to be honest I don't really know the difference." I had glanced over the descriptions, not really thinking there would be specifics… I mean, wasn't it just nail polish and paddle work? She went on to explain my options and I settled with the classic… It seemed like the most straightforward of the choices.
I followed her again through a bout of corridors, passing glass doors filled with different kinds of pools and steamy rooms. She led me to a modern style change room where I was given matching white silk pajama pants and a tank top. The piece de la resistance was the white fluffy housecoat with my apparent initials, C.W., embroidered in gold. Though I declined at first, she insisted it was mandatory for all services. I had a choice between the PJs and a silk gown, it was an easy choice as I felt somewhat more secure wearing pants…if you could call them that. She handed me a pair of white flip flops after putting my clothes away in a large locker with the same C.W. inscription. Yet another reminder of the man I could not escape even in this wonderland of fluffy housecoats and tranquil sounds playing overhead.
"Let's get you started," gesturing for me to follow her out of the change room. I again marched to the sound of her clinking heels, pulling my housecoat tightly around myself. She spoke into her blue tooth head set, "C.W, classic pedicure and manicure, 215." She came to a stop outside a large glass door that read M/P. The door automatically swung open to reveal a large white and blue room lined with pedicure stations and manicure tables. A few house coat clad women sat about being attended to by women in black uniformed lab coats. In the center of the room was a desk and what appeared to be a small bar. It seemed everyone had stopped talking the moment I arrived, most eyes rested on me before returning to their conversations. Ekaterina brought me to the desk where a young brunette greeted me with a big smile.
"Celest, I leave you with Julie, your personal esthetician as included in the membership. If you have any concerns or questions, Julie knows where to find me. I will come to collect you when you are finished."
"Thank you," I nodded in return. Ekaterina turned to leave and the clinking heels finally disappeared from earshot.
"All too serious for a spa, don't you think?" Winked Julie, clearly referring to my Russian friend.
"I suppose so," I said smiling back. I was about to tell her that my jailors attitude had fit her post, but I did not feel like having that conversation. This woman still worked for Madame Valkarie and surely, she knew our story. She led me to a pedicure station, where the water in the tub below swooned with pink bubbles. I took my seat and she guided my feet in the tub after removing my flip flops. The water felt incredible, the bubbles tingling and popping around my feet. I settled back in the chair and let out a little sigh, barely noticing the freckled redhead beside me, clad, too in her fluffy housecoat, with the initials, B.G.
"Now you just need a drink, friend?" Spoke my redheaded counterpart, raising her martini glass to gesture the advice.
"I could use a drink," I said, turning to face her. So far, I had only spoken to the women who worked here and I was curious to speak to another woman in my situation.
"What would you like to drink?" Asked Julie, diligently clasping her hands in front of her.
"Could I get a double gin and tonic please?" Yeah, a double seemed appropriate. My nerves were shot. Julie nodded and headed over to the bar.
"Careful now, they'll cut you off eventually," laughed the redhead. "Emily, dear, could I please have another," extending her martini glass to the woman who was massaging her feet. The girl merely nodded, taking the glass away.
With the estheticians at the bar, the woman turned over to face me fully and extended her hand, "Brigitte Galway, and you are?" She smiled.
Taking her hand in mine, I paused. Could I use another name? I looked to see her initialed housecoat and realized it didn't matter, "Celest Wick."
"You're new, aren't you?" She questioned. I nodded.
"You have that look about you," she stated.
"What, look?" I asked. Sure, I wasn't thrilled to be here, but I wasn't crying either.
"You know, whether you can't decide to leap from the chair or down your drink instead?" She replied as if on que to the women returning with our drinks.
I took mine gratefully, thanking Julie and holding it between my hands, staring down at it. Was I to swallow my thoughts as she suggested?
"Trust me, take the drink Celest," said Brigitte as if she had been reading my mind. I had not really thought about trying anything regardless, but was dulling my senses the better choice?
I took a slow sip, letting the gin wash over my tongue and linger in my mouth. As I resolved to take another sip, I felt the warmth come over me, comforting me.
"See now, much better?" she said smirking. I turned to face Brigitte while Julie started with one of my feet, wrapping it in a hot towel. "How long have you been coming here?" I questioned.
"I don't know, she answered with a small laugh. "Emily, has it been five, six years now?" She asked looking down at the girl working away.
"Five years coming up," replied Emily.
"And your fine with this…all of this?" I knew I was prying, but my curiosity got the better of me. I so desperately wanted to understand this world.
"Not at first…but unlike most, I knew my marriage was coming…and I knew Patrick was a good man." I took another sip from my drink, waiting for the numbing feeling to wash over me. I was about to ask Brigitte another question, but my thoughts were interrupted when another housecoat clad woman walked in the room. She flushed a hand through her dark ebony hair and pointed to the seat next to me while an esthetician followed suit. "Jenna, I want the water extra hot this time, and my usual please." The girl retreated away after adjusting the tub settings, clearly intimidated by the woman. She took her seat on the other side of me and I kept my peripheral sight on her while I sipped my drink. She slowly took off her rings, placing them in a zippered gold hand purse, and then dipped her feet in the pink bubbles below her.
There was a coldness in her beauty, as her esthetician returned with her drink it became more apparent as she attempted to smile at the poor girl. She turned her cat-like eyes to face Brigitte, ignoring me entirely, "Brigitte, so tell me, who is your new friend?" The question rolled off her tongue in a sultry but accusing manner.
"A new member," Brigitte said turning to face me, "Celest Wick, this is Zana Geha," introducing us. Brigitte clearly was not bothered or intimated by her demeanour, turning a rude meeting into an appropriate one. I liked her already.
She fixed her cat-like eyes on me now, "So young to be married off to baba yaga?"
"Baba yaga?" Questioned Brigitte.
"You know, the boogey man of the continental," answered Zana with amusement.
"You're kidding?" Brigitte just stared at me as if I had suddenly grown horns.
"How many Mrs. John Wick's do you think there are?" Laughed Zana.
I placed my drink down and looked between them both. I was sick and tired of all the innuendos regarding john… the valet man, the officer, the doctor, even Madame Valkarie…
"Why do they call him that?" I finally asked in frustration.
"You really do not know, do you?" Zana trailed off clearly amused again.
"Celest, all I know is what Patrick once told me. It was a few years ago, Patrick had helped an associate, gave him some of his best men to fend off your husband…I remember because I spent weeks at the spa then…many of the wives did."
"We had nothing to do with that affair," said Zana cutting in.
"No, but your family didn't wait long to step over the bodies, did they?" Said Brigitte sharply.
"It was an opportunity, people were weak."
"He said he was a hitman?" I stated, utterly confused.
"Yes, they say he's the man you send to kill the boogeyman…that's where he got the name…from his Russian friends. The same hosts whom he unwittingly gave power to when he wanted to retire. Then the same Tarasov's he would later take everything from…slaughtering everything in his path."
"He's retired?" I asked.
"Who knows anymore? He retired once before for his wife…and when she died, he came back. It's a little tricky to follow, but from what I know, he's still both in and out."
"He was married before?" I asked, suddenly feeling a pit in my stomach. There was so much I did not know.
"You really don't know anything…tsk… tsk," chastised Zana.
"Zana, not everyone is born into this like you and I, give the girl a break," snapped Brigitte rising up a little from her seat.
The three estheticians each paused to look up. I wondered if they would intervene, but they continued their work, handing each of us colour swatches for us to pick for the polish. Zana and Brigitte settled back in their seats.
"My apologies Celest…all I know is that his first wife died of an illness. I think you need to ask your husband the rest," said Zana, in a surprisingly kind tone.
"Thank you," I nodded. The two continued to banter on about nail polish colours. I desperately wanted to ask them if they knew more about the continental marriage and of a way out. But how could I trust them? Not to mention the estheticians were also present. Who knew what Madame Valkarie's ladies line of work entailed? I resolved to stare at the swatches myself and settled on a dark red. The rest of the time went by rather quickly as they brought us over to have our manicures done. Julie cut me off after the third drink, causing Brigitte to stir into a fit of laughs. Brigitte insisted I do French shellac nails, and feeling a little lost, I let Julie work away. My nails never looked this nice…I was used to keeping them short and simple as a nurse. The numbing sensation started to fade a little, even more so apparent when Ekaterina returned to collect me, this time with Julie in tow.
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Dear Readers,
Thank you for the kind messages and reviews. I appreciate all and any feedback. I understand this is not how all of you would like to see JW, and to be honest I wrote this to live out an odd and strange fantasy. However, I know it is a tad darker then most would care for, and though I am tempted to take advice and switch the category to 'horror,' the plot has not been laid out in it's entirety. Stay tuned if you dare:)
celly1991
