L.A. Spa

Chapter Ten: Night Terrors

Jordan Ryan:

"This is Emma; leave a message." I was sent through to voicemail again.
    
"Hi, I need to reschedule tonight. Could you call me back?"
    
I left that voicemail at noon and still had not heard back.
    
The phone was ringing before I could stop it.
    
"Hello?" She sounded like she was waking up.
    
"Emma?"
    
"Is this a joke?" She asked, and I could hear the sleep in her voice.
    
"I have to reschedule for later this week."
    
"Okay." She paused. "You could have left a voicemail or a text."
    
"I could have" I wasn't going to mention that I had already left one.
    
"When would you like to reschedule?"
    
"I can let you go back to sleep." I regretted that I had called her for a second time within a few hours.
    
"No. I'm up now. I should have been up two hours ago...." She sneezed and then sneezed again. "When would you like me to?"
    
"I was thinking later tonight, but it would be after nine that I would get back."
    
"Another project?" she asked, sounding a little raspy.
    
"Something like that."
    
"All cloak and dagger and no answers," She said, still sounding sleepy.
    
"Cute," I said before thinking. I cleared my throat, looking back at the conference room full of people. "I have to get back to this meeting, but I'll see you around nine."
    
"Sounds good," she said wearily.
    
I walked back into the conference room, dreading the decisions we had to make today.

    
Emma arrived right on time. The only thing I was looking forward to today was the massage my back had been craving. I opened the door to Emma in black pants and a white long sleeve t-shirt. Around her eyes were puffy, and her nose looked red. As she stepped in, she coughed.
    
"Emma, what are you doing here?"
    
"Your massage," she said, looking up at me.
    
"You are sick."
    
"Mind over matter." She said, sounding determined.
    
"I may get sick," I said to her, resisting brushing her hair out of her face.
    
Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that. I should have stayed home."
    
"You are here now." I grabbed her hand and helped her walk down to the sunroom. I turned the fireplace on so the room would be warmer for her. I grabbed a blanket and put it around her. "Stay put. I'll be right back."
    
I walked down to the kitchen, Jaq was still in, thankfully, and I asked him to prepare some soup.
    
Her head was titled to the side; her red curls sprawled out over the armrest. Her phone in her bag started ringing.
    
"Hello," I answered it before it could wake her up.
    
"Emma, you are late for your shift."
    
"Emma is currently unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message for her?"
    
"This is Jane. She is late for her shift; Ted is here and is not very happy... I can only cover for her for so long. I swear she has too much going on." Her coworker kept rambling on about someone trying to fill in for her friend. "Wait. Are you him? Or who is this?"

Who was him?
    
"I am a client of hers."
    
"Is she okay?" She asked nervously.
    
"She is currently sleeping and is under the weather. I don't believe she will be making it in tonight."
    
"Mind over matter," Jane mumbled into the phone. "I'll figure something out." She clicked off before I could say anything else.

I dropped the phone in her bag and sat down across from Emma.
    
Screaming woke me from the chair that I had fallen asleep in. My knee cracked against the end table that was in between the couch and the chair. I was kneeling beside her by the time Frank was storming the room.
    
"Don't grab her," Frank said as I went to put my hands on her. He stepped closer to her as the screaming continued. It was extreme horror coming out of her as she lay on my couch, still sleeping. Frank wrapped his arm around, his other hand free so he could catch the blows that Annabelle swung at him. She went to strike him again, but Frank had his hand around her wrist. He helped her sit back on the couch; she was finally waking up.
    
"Buzz cut?" She asked, looking at Frank.
    
"Yes, mam." He said, stepping back; I moved closer in toward her.
    
"Are you okay?" I asked her, my hand wavering right above her arm.
    
"Jordan?" She was dazed and was still trying to figure out where she was, she had still not encountered my first name, but this was the first time she had dropped Mr. off of it.

She had known who I was.
    
"Emma, are you okay?" I asked her again; adrenaline was coursing through my whole body.
    
"I'm fine. Why?" Her eyes shot open, her hands falling over her face. "What day is it? It's Monday... I'm so sorry." Something was clicking together for her, but I had no clue what it was. "I have to go."
    
"I'll drive you," I said, standing up and not taking no for an answer.
    
"I need my car for tomorrow for work."

"You need to rest tomorrow. You are sick; you can hear it in your voice. I'll have Frank drive behind us. But if you insist on leaving, I insist I must drive you."
    
"Yes, I need to go." She stood, her hands slightly shaking, and her cheeks were flush red from embarrassment.
    
We had just left my gated community when I started asking questions. "Is that... Is it something that happens often?"
    
She looked out the window, not turning to look at me. It was after midnight. "I shouldn't have been sleeping at your house."
    
"I take that as a yes," I said to her.
    
"Does it matter? Why does it matter to you?" She wouldn't look at me as she said this; she kept her eyes away from me.
    
"I think I would care about it happening to anyone." And I meant it.
    
"Right. Mr. Rich, who has soooo much money he can blow five hundred dollars on a mediocre massage, cares about a woman with..." Her voice was dark. "Just forget it." She sat her hands in her lap. "I shouldn't have to explain anything to you. I don't even know anything about you." She sounded as if this had been bothering her for a while.

"Try Google. It knows enough about me." I said.
    
"That's what I thought. My problems are my problems; let's leave it at that." She gave me the last few turns; the rest of the drive was silent.
    
She had me pull up to an apartment complex that had to hold ten apartments at most inside; it was a small building. The building had to be fifty years old, if not older. I knew I could find out more about the building if I needed.
    
"This is me. This is where I live. This is my life. I drive a car that is almost breaking down, but she has been this way for the last five years, and she will make it another three if I need her to. My apartment is barely big enough to fit my sister and me in it. I don't overspend on anything and make a grocery plan for every week, pinching every penny that I can and saving everything I can so I can pay for my sister to go to college without going into debt. And I am ranting to my boss because I have no one else to do this to and because I'm sick and tired, and I just want to sleep." She finally looked at the end of it, and I could see how exhausted she just was.
    
"I know it is not my place, but you are running yourself ragged. You need to cut back on something. You have to cut something out." I was worried she would say it would be me, that I was her newest job, but I was hoping the high pay would keep her coming around.
    
"I'll think about it," She said, turning to get out of her car; I shut it off and walked to the outside of the car.
    
"Also, it is not a mediocre massage. I may have money, but I don't blow it on average; I spend it on extraordinary."
    
I walked away, letting her think about that.

    
"Sir," Frank said as I closed the back seat door.
    
"What was that tonight?" I asked, hearing Annabelle's screams all over again.
    
"Night terrors. My father had them after the war."
    
"Did they ever go away?" I asked.
    
"No, sir, but he never got help for them either."
    
"I need you to find out everything about her mother and what led to her breakdown and if it had to do with Emma."
    
He hesitated before responding; he thought I was crossing the line.
    
"Is this a problem?"
    
"No, sir. I'll get that information tomorrow for you."
    
"Perfect."