For the Love of Money

Chapter 9

The days passed like seconds, and the day of the speech was the day I was to be "physically prepared" for the big event. I knew that was going to be awkward. At ten in the morning, I was placed in a standard black car and transported to another place. The doctor was in the car with me, and when I asked where we were headed, he explained that one of his close friends was an expert at physical manipulation. I was aware what the words "physical" and "manipulation" meant, but put together...what the hell did that mean? Before I knew it, we were at a fancy apartment building, descending rapidly in an elevator. The numbers seemed to decrease exponentially before they stopped. The doors slid open, and I was propelled into another place.

The chamber was incredibly hot, and not the searing hot that can burn you, but the clingy, stuffy hot that made it hard to breathe. I acknowledged that the place wasn't much of a room, but more temple-like in construction. The walls were made of stones, not brick or concrete, and the whole area was slightly wet. The air was heavy with moisture.

And that's when I realized what the place was.

"Is this a bath?" I asked. Listening carefully, I could hear water running. I could see steam rising lazily from behind walls.

The doctor nodded firmly just as another man appeared from behind a wall. He approached with open arms.

"Felix! Long time no see, my friend," he boomed, his voice echoing off the walls. The two briefly hugged, then stared at one another.

"Boy, you've grown. Look at you," the man said. "I last saw you when we were both six."

"Same for you," the doctor replied warmly. His eyes fell on me. "This is the one I was talking about over the phone. Tomorrow he has an important speech to make. We have to make sure he looks good."

The man's gaze swiveled to mine. He smiled welcomingly, making me even more uncomfortable. "Yes my boy, what is your name?"

"Devin," I mumbled, staring at the ground. God, why was this so difficult for me? Looking at the man, who was wearing a bathrobe and no shoes and looked about 30, I felt like my confidence was draining. He made me feel meek.

"What was that?"

"Devin," I repeated, just a tab bit louder. "Brooks."

"Okay, Devin, let's get right into this!" the man chattered excitedly. "My name is Liam, and I own this bath house. I got it from my dad about ten years ago. Nice, isn't it? We wanted to go for the ancient, learning temple look when we designed it, and I think that it's pretty on point--well, nevermind. But yes, I am a master of physical manipulation. That's basically a fancy term for making you look better. Not saying you don't look good now, but we want to make you shine like a butterfly."

"Butterflies don't shine," I said under my breath.

He didn't hear me. "So let's get to work, shall we? I'm already seeing things I like. Pretty toned. Tall. There's a nasty scar on your face, but we can cover that with makeup."

I caught onto the last part. "What scar?"

"The scar on your face, silly. It looks like the negative square root of 'x' if put on a graph."

"What?" the doctor asked.

"Like a small slash," I explained. "Is it really there?"

The doctor peered at me. "Hm. Yeah, it is. Maybe you slept funny."

"Never mind that now, nothing we can't fix anyway," Liam chirped.

I wondered apprehensively what he meant by 'fix' as a very awkward silence ensued. Throughout I stole minute glances at the doctor, conveying my confusion to him with my eyes.

"Well?" Liam said after a while, clapping his hands. "Let's get to work, shall we? We haven't time to waste. Okay, first thing's first, David, do me a favor. Strip."