Can I just say that I have no idea how I made it through the last two months. They called him Peaches because the only things he had with him were two small peaches and a rusty switchblade with the letters PR carved into it – all tucked into his socks – and a worn bible in his pocket. If I had shown up at work an hour or two earlier, who knows how fast he would have reached for his knife, and if I would still be here today. All I saw was his rotting finger – probably an old infection that never would have healed right anyway – but he haunts my dreams. I imagine he was a tall, thin, bald black man who just lost his wife and his job and couldn’t find his way back, so he ended up on the street, religiously reading his bible and praying for God to save him from his booze and his lonely peach obsession.
I’m over it. That didn’t take very long, did it? Mom, you were right! Massage is for lazy people who don’t have the guts to get into prostitution and don’t want to use their brains and get a real education. Are you happy? Are! You! Happy! Seems like this spa and I are in a very dysfunctional relationship, and I’ve made it to the one week mark. Time to move on!
So in the past five days, I’ve learned the two most important things you have to master in order to be a luxury spa massage therapist – smiling and apologizing. Master them both if you plan on both paying rent and eating actual food for dinner every night.
You know something, I should have suspected there was something special about The Sky when I first walked into the couple’s room with the softcore porn music playing in the background. Super classy! No wonder they call it The Sly. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was exactly what I needed to start over. This was where everything in my life was about to change.