"Ach! Shit!" My roommate's voice came from the kitchen. The sound of a knife falling to the floor clanged through the apartment. I came running.
"Are you alright?!" I said rounding the corner into the kitchen.
"I don't think so," she said as she turned to me, blood running down her forearm from the cut on her hand. It looked deep.
"Whoa," I said stupidly as my head spun a little. I'm not really good with blood, but I saw the emergency and shook myself to stay present. "We gotta go to the emergency room."
"I know, I know, but that's gonna take hours and I have a client coming here in an hour." She sounded frazzled. "Shit! Shit! SHIT! Why did I have to fucking do this today?"
"Don't worry about that now," I said as I grabbed her some paper towels to staunch the bleeding. "I'll drive you to the hospital and you can call and cancel the appointment on the way."
"Thanks, Mark, but I can't. I've already rescheduled with this guy twice! Do you know what happens when you cancel someone's massage after that?" Her voice became shriller as her panic grew. "Bad reviews! That's what happens!"
"Bad reviews...? Beth, look at yourself! You're bleeding onto the floor!" I pointed at the drops of red collecting at her feet. "Fuck the reviews, we gotta get you stitched up! I'm sure your client can understand that."
"You should do it."
"I should do what?"
"I've already shown you how to do the basics. An- and I'll split the cash with you!"
I paused and repeated, "I should do what?"
"The massage!" She yelled as though frustrated I hadn't picked that up already. "Remember when we got drunk last year and I showed you my routine? The steps and motions I go through?"
Actually, I did remember that lesson. I'd been waiting for months to find someone to use it on, certain it would get me good points to score some dick. But my year-long dry spell was holding up those plans.
"Y- yeah..." I said tentatively. "But that was just us messing around. I'm not a professional masseuse!"
"Masseur," she corrected.
I put a hand on my hip and raised a snarky eyebrow at her.
"Ugh! Ok, ok! What if you got to keep the all the money?"
I started to say "no," but I paused a moment. "How much is this guy paying you for the massage?"
"200 dollars for an hour."
I considered. $200 was a good chunk of cash. I'd been saving up for a PS5 and that amount put me just under by some $50. I sighed.
"Ok I'll do it. But I've gotta take you to the hospital first!"
"Don't worry about me. I'll just go to the clinic down the block."
"The clinic? Beth, you need the emergency room!"
"They'll take me, trust me! Just please clean up the blood here in the kitchen. Everything is ready in my room, the massage table, the oils, the towels in the heater, it's all there. When he comes in, just take him there, let him have time to take off his clothes and lay down on the table, then come in and get to work. It's very easy." She said all this as she grabbed a fresh wad of paper towels and tossed the blood soaked ones in the trash. "Oh and take a shower."
"A shower?!"
"Yes!" She said before I could protest further. "You're about to have a very close contact encounter with a client I hope to keep. I don't need you smelling like some sweaty dude all over him and ruining my reputation." She emphasized this last point by sniffing near me and pulling a face while she stepped past to get her shoes on.
I reached down to help her since it was difficult without her hands.
"Thanks," she said. "But I mean it. Wash everything that might be smelly, put on some good deodorant but no cologne. The smell can be too pungent for massage."
"I thought you liked my cologne!" I felt stung a little.
"I do, dummy, but you don't know if the client will!" She rolled her eyes as I opened the door for her. "He's expecting to smell a woman in the room, if anything, so let's not scare him away by smelling too much like man. I'll text you any updates, and thank you thank you thank you so much!! I really owe you one!"
"More than one!" I called back at her as she disappeared noisily down the stairs and out our building's front door. When she'd gone, I closed our apartment door. It shut with a finality that gave me the shivers. What did I just get myself into?
I cleaned up the blood on the floor and then padded through the apartment to Beth's room. Just as she'd said, the table was set up. There were 2 folded towels on top, another was already spread over the cushioned surface of the table, and the rest in the warmer. The lights were off save for a strip of LEDs she'd lined along edges of the ceiling. They emitted a soft glow that shifted lazily between tones of blue, purple, and pink. I stepped inside and fingered the bottles of massage oils sitting on a table to the side. Some were scented with lavender, others with sandalwood, and a few more were completely scentless.
I checked my watch, it was a quarter past 5 and I realized I didn't actually know what time to expect the client. Or even his name!