Page 29 of Unapologetic Obsession
My eyes darted to the exit after the man who had just stormed out.
“I’ll call the spa and tell them to send over a team,” she added.
I thought no one was allowed on this floor.
It turned outmenweren’t allowed on this floor. I peeked into the hallway and saw two female security guards monitoring it.
Who were they keeping out?
There was no way these guards were here for my benefit, right? The boat probably had limited security measures. Siccing two guards on me because I might be on the run from a lunatic seemed unlikely.
Amelie ushered in a small army of beauty professionals—a petite nail technician, a stylist with purple hair, and an aesthetician.
The aesthetician directed me to the tub to wrap me in seaweed, and Amelie insisted on helping because of my bad ankle. The stylist followed us to the bathroom as she’d rathershampoo and wash my hair while I was in the tub. The nail technician used a similar logic.
Amelie settled into the chair beside the tub. “This will be so much fun,” she quipped.
I awkwardly tugged at the strings when the aesthetician asked me to shed the hospital gown. “Sure.” I managed a weak smile, my eyes darting nervously because I knew what came next.
Cornered, I had no choice but to shed the gown. I saw the flicker of shock in everyone’s eyes as they caught sight of the angry scars crisscrossing around my midriff. I should have saved themfrom being exposed to this horror.
“Oh,” the aesthetician breathed, quickly averting her gaze. Revulsion hit her hard when she saw the scars up close, but one stern glance from Amelie had her acting like they were invisible.
“How about some cucumber water to go with our spa day?” Amelie said brightly, trying to dispel the tension.
I felt my cheeks burn with shame, and I wanted to sink beneath the bubbles and disappear. But I had to be extremely careful not to get the dressings on my arms, neck, and chest to touch the water. Luckily, Amelie removed the bandages on my legs to soak my ankle.
Everyone else busied themselves with their preassigned tasks. “Such beautiful hair,” the hairstylist cooed, fluffing my strands. Her thick accent sounded vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place it. As she washed my hair, I sank deeper into the tub, relishing the hot water. The rich had no idea how good they had it. A bath was a luxury.
Amelie returned with cucumber water and a stack of glossy magazines. She reclaimed her seat, and somehow, it was normal for three people to watch a grown woman bathe.
I didn’t know much about my former self, but I had an inkling that I was a reserved person. Yet, I was the center ofattention today and found myself enjoying the whole shebang. They spoiled me, and the lonely homeless girl in me was starved for the coddling.
The beauty team—Maria, Ying, and Lisa—spent the better part of the day polishing my body while Amelie molded my mind into a twenty-first-century woman. She introduced me to all sorts of technology, gave me the lowdown on pop culture references, and played Korean dramas and music videos on the bathroom television. Girls’ day also consisted of gossiping about your coworkers and friends.
The girls discussed the blossoming romances between crew members, fielded rumors about the current couples, and made predictions for future breakups and hookups. They talked about the other passengers, too. There was a big group on the boat celebrating a bachelorette party. A few of the women were single, and at this morning’s boozy brunch, they daringly admitted to having their eyes on the prize—Dr. Maxwell.
It seemed too many women wanted him. The competition was fierce, and I had no chance whatsoever. There was little solace in the other women being just as insecure about their odds. According to the beauticians, the rules of his boundaries were abstract, and initiating physical contact was a no-go.
Amelie chided the beauticians for gossiping about the boss and redirected the conversation to a new territory—sex. The other three seemed initially reluctant to share but eventually started swapping stories of their wildest sexual encounters.
I tried to recall my sexual escapades when I couldn’t decode some of their references. They talked about where they did it while leaving out the sordid details ofit. The basic lingo about body part references was clear, but the act itself eluded me. I needed a sex education—a demonstration or a play-by-play.
The conversation stilled once they exchanged stories of how they lost their virginities, and Lisa declared it was my turn to share. It seemed only Amelie was informed of my memory loss.
I didn’t know whether I was a virgin. Scratch that, I didn’t even know what a virgin was. I thought about asking them before realizing I was in too deep. I’d look like a fool who had been nodding along with their tales.
Luckily, Amelie came to the rescue and said I couldn’t stay in the hot tub any longer. Doctor’s orders.
The aesthetician dressed me in a fluffy white spa robe and guided me back to the room. A cleaning crew finished making the bed and wordlessly swapped places with us to tidy up the bathroom. They were so quiet in their efforts that I had no idea they were scrubbing the room clean while the aesthetician did the same with me. She tugged on a handle and pulled out a table tucked into the wall for space management. It was one of those examination tables found in doctors’ offices. It doubled as an aesthetician’s bed. She had me hop onto it to wax my underarms and legs. The beauty session ended with something called a Brazilian bikini wax. By the time I realized what she intended to do, it was too late to chicken out.
Who knew beauty was so intrusive and painful?
Amelie flipped through her latest magazine as the hairstylist put the finishing touches on my hair. “Oh, look!” she exclaimed, holding up a page. “Dr. Maxwell was featured inTimemagazine again.”
I peeked at the image, my breath catching in my throat. Underneath, it said,Dr. Caledon Maxwell, NewTech University.
The photo was similar to the others he had shown me, though this one lacked any women clamoring for him. Of the articles he had shown me, each one featured him with a different breathtaking woman. I felt something inside medeflate at the thought. It was barely reassuring that his recent pictures were solo shots.
