First Friday, page 7
Agatha sank her fingers into the deep muscles in Carla’s neck and shoulders, even while working over her clothes. Her hands engaged, blended, and melded into the pull of the muscle and fascia. She considered this a meditative practice, like working with clay, just listening with her hands, facilitating an opportunity for change without ever imposing an agenda or attempting to “heal” someone. A person’s body was full of its own wisdom. Sometimes all that was needed was just someone to listen to it, and she could listen with her hands.
She loved that no two sessions were ever alike. Everyone had their own way of processing and releasing tension and stress, and everyone had their own individual, unique pattern of restriction. If you tuned into the pull of the muscles and fascia, you could help to unravel the patterns of dysfunction that a person’s tissues held, like unwinding a tangled string.
She knew that if you looked at her while she worked, it appeared as though she was just sitting there at times, and yet there was a whole world of movement underneath her palms and fingertips. There might be buzzing or muscle twitches, (the nervous system discharging), tears or laughter or old memories that bubbled up for the client; heat, chills, borborygmus, pulses. But it was always the client that led the session. Agatha just observed and offered a space for whatever process needed to happen. And every person’s body was different, every set of traumatic tissue memory and emotion, every individualized path towards healing.
She couldn’t say to someone: “Here is what you need,” or “I can tell you have some anger in that frozen shoulder.” Therapists that did that were imposing their own issues on the client and lacked boundaries and compassion. She simply let the person on the table tell her what was happening, what they needed, what emotion came up, or didn’t, and all the while the tissues danced their way back to a structural integrity while her fingers watched and listened. It was magic.
Now something released in Carla’s left shoulder, and she laughed softly to herself. Not her usual thrown back guffaw, but an almost furtive giggle, as if she were enjoying a private joke.
“How’re you doing, Carla?”
“Oh, just fine, I was thinking about the bishop,” she chuckled again, but the corners of her eyes were wet, as if tearing.
“It’s just funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” She burst out laughing this time.
“I don’t need to know,” Agatha said.
“No, sweetie, you don’t,” Carla said evenly, and without any malice. She was quiet for a minute or two, and then spoke again.
“You know, I’ve done some things I regret. And I’m not sure I always cope with my conscience in quite the right way.”
“How do you mean?” Agatha asked her.
“Oh, it’s complicated.”
Agatha waited for Carla to say more, moving her hands to follow the pull of tension as her soft tissue released, pressing her hands deeper into the muscles around Carla’s neck and cranial base, which then pulled her towards the right clavicle and shoulder socket.
Carla sighed and turned her head to the left. “I really am sorry,” she whispered, “I never meant to hurt anyone.”
The remainder of the session was silent. Carla’s face looked different when she came out from the treatment room, softened and more at ease than her usual guard allowed her to appear. As she departed, Agatha reminded her to spread the word about the upcoming First Friday and Carla promised that she would, although she herself would be working that evening as well, of course, and wouldn’t be likely to be able to stop by herself.
Agatha found that despite Carla’s brazen personality and varied reputation, she liked her a great deal. She was a woman who was energizing and optimistic, successful, and engaged in life. There was something so charismatic and appealing about her. No wonder she had so many lovers and admirers.
Chapter 13
The interior wasn’t finished yet, but the engine was in good shape and the exterior looked great, so Stuart wanted to take the car for a spin. Dean had made quick progress with the Porsche and even though the upholstery was still in need of being refurbished, it might do both himself and the car good to take it out for a little while, just a relaxing drive.
Even so, he brought along his briefcase and a few folders. There was always work that could be done remotely and he had to catch up on the Blaze accounts. Things were not going quite as smoothly with all that as he would have liked.
He’d hoped to take Carla for a ride soon but wanted the Porsche to be in pristine condition before he did. She was avoiding him at the moment, anyhow. Meanwhile, a drive up the coast would help him test it out for now, give him a break from the office.
He made his way up Highway One and onto Mission Street, then turned towards the coast. People were out walking along the footpaths and the sky was hazy but bright.
He slowed at a stop sign and looked over towards the water when he noticed Carla, of all people, her dark glasses glinting in the sun, talking animatedly with Dean on the corner. His fingers gripped the steering wheel as he revved the engine and pulled forward. Damn that man. He didn’t care whether they’d seen him or not, kind of hoped they had. How in the hell did Dean know Carla, anyway?
He fumed as he sped up the coast and turned around twenty minutes later, returning home earlier than he’d planned to. But as he pulled into the driveway Diane rushed out of the house towards him, obviously distraught, and he turned off the engine and got out to meet her, carelessly leaving a file folder on the dashboard.
“What is it, Diane?” he asked her tensely, though not without some wary concern.
She wrapped her arms around him when she reached him and wept silently into his chest. He held her patiently, but without any real warmth.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away and patting at the wet patch on his blazer. “It’s just, well, I had hoped that there would be a chance that I’d conceived again, but my cycle started.” Tears streamed down her face.
“It’s too soon,” he said. “Give it some time, Diane. We can try again down the road. I don’t think either of us are ready right now.”
“But when will we be? What if it’s too late?” she asked, looking dejected.
He shrugged his shoulders. What was he supposed to say? He honestly wanted her to be happy, and she seemed to think that a child was what they were missing. He’d loved Diane once, maybe he still did; he just didn’t feel in love with her anymore. She was all over the place these days, not easy to be around. His thoughts flashed back to the image of Carla smiling at Dean and he winced.
“Let’s go inside. Make a cup of tea, take it easy,” he said, trying to encourage her to be calm. He didn’t feel like dealing with her unpredictable emotions just now.
She took his hand and looked up at him, taking a slow, deep breath.
“Next Friday I want to go out, you and me. Let’s go to First Friday in town. My friend Agatha is having an exhibition of her clay and artwork at the healing arts center, and there’s bound to be some other good venues open that afternoon and evening.” She looked at him hopefully.
“Agatha, your shrink? I hardly think you should be calling her your friend.”
“That’s unkind, Stuart,” Diane said, tears flooding her eyes once again.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t really care to go to something like that. And she is, I mean, your therapist, not your friend. You pay her to talk about your problems.”
“Yes, okay, but you never want to do anything with me anymore.” She looked at him reproachfully. “Look, her event runs all through the afternoon and we don’t have to stay long, and then we could go out to eat afterwards. Have a drink somewhere. Please come with me, I don’t want to go out alone. I need some distraction, something fun to do for a change.”
“Fine, I’ll think about it,” Stuart said in order to appease her.
Diane smiled at him, her complexion still blotchy from her tears.
“It’ll be good for you to socialize, anyway,” she said. “And we need to make time for us, if we’re really going to heal,” she added.
“Actually, Dean said he might be there, too. He knows Agatha, and I want to introduce you to her. She’s helped me through this so much. I think you’d like her.”
At the mention of Dean’s name – why was that man popping up all over the place like a damn jack in the box – Stuart turned away and mumbled that it was time for him to get back to work. He walked down the hall towards his office where he could surround himself with filing cabinets and numbers and feel in control over his surroundings, unlike the volatile world outside.
Chapter 14
It was nearly six o’clock. Nick packed up his upright bass as his last student of the day departed. He winced as he carried it out and hefted it up into the back of his truck. That damn tendonitis. He really was doing better since seeing Agatha those few times, but it still hurt when he strained his wrist lifting something, or when he played his bass for too long without stopping. Repetitive injury. Well, it was his livelihood. If he could get paid regularly for his work, that is.
He still couldn’t understand why Carla hadn’t paid them yet. It was verging on ridiculous. Her vapid promises that they’d see the money soon had begun to sound like hollow platitudes. He was going to demand to be paid by the end of this week or forget about coming back. She’d lose herself some damn good musicians, too.
Trouble was, there were a host of lesser local musicians who would be more than happy to step in and just make tips. If he gave it up, he was passing on a good gig. Well, a potentially good one, with a lot of local publicity at that. He liked that they were featured right up front in the window. They drew people in, and Carla knew it. And she liked their sound and their looks, he was sure of that. She’d have a hard time replacing them. So maybe she would pay up if he put some more pressure on her. It was worth a try, and frankly, he was getting fed up. He had bills to pay and had turned down other gigs to commit to this one. And he really wanted to be able to afford another session with Agatha before long.
He hoped his new therapist would come into Blaze with that friend of hers again and have a listen. He really liked her, although he was pretty sure they were together. But maybe her friend was gay, Nick thought hopefully. After all, the dude wore chaps. At any rate, he planned to drop in and see her at the center’s First Friday open house.
He made his way over to the restaurant. Kevin was there, busy at the bar when he arrived, and there was already a sizeable spattering of people drinking and ordering small plates. Happy hour was just ending.
He set up and looked around again, wondering if Carla was in her office. He walked to the back and through the kitchen, knocking on the door of the little closet of a room that she reserved for her office.
“Who is it?” Carla’s voice came, sounding slow and slurred.
“You okay, Carla? I wanted to check in with you about the payment for the last three weeks. I need to pay my bills. It’s time to pay up,” he said.
“Oh, hello Nick, yes, money.” He heard her riffling around, opening and closing drawers, knocking things about.
“Are you okay in there?” he asked.
The door opened, and Carla stuck her head through, peeking out at him with a grin.
“I’m just fine, handsome. My, but you are tall,” she grinned, openly appraising him. Then she took a step back, shaking her head.
“I think whatever Nina gave me this time for my headaches is a little too strong. I feel downright woozy,” she said, shimmying her shoulders. “Come in here for a minute.” She walked over to her desk, once again noisily opening and closing drawers.
“Carla, I just want to be paid for the past three weeks,” Nick said, standing in the doorway. “And now please, so that I can eat before we start playing.”
“Yes, of course. Free food for the musicians,” she said in a singsong voice.
What was wrong with this woman? She acted like she was on drugs.
But then she returned to the doorway and thrust four fifty-dollar bills into his hand.
“Take this for now,” she said. “I’ll have more for you, I promise.”
“Thanks,” he said, stuffing the money into his pocket, “but you owe us about a hundred more of these. Plus, the sound system I set up for you,” he reminded her. “That wasn’t a freebee. Do you need me to write you an invoice? Seriously, Carla, it’s not like you’re hurting.”
“I know,” Carla slurred, “but I’m waiting for the budget to balance out so that I can pay everyone their dues. I don’t know myself what’s going on, because I’ve always been in the flush enough to keep up with the wages. Stuart tells me that the funds just aren’t there yet, and Stuart holds my purse strings...which is really becoming a problem,” she admitted.
“Stuart’s an asshole,” Nick said. “You pay your employees, whether or not you can balance your own checkbook.”
Carla laughed. “He is a bit of an asshole, the old sod, but so handsome.” She closed the door in Nick’s face.
“Carla! I’m not going to keep coming back if we’re not paid by the end of this week,” he said.
“Oh, you’ll come back, honey. I’ll get you the money. Now go away. I’m trying to cure my headache without embarrassing myself. I have to get out there on the floor and do my hostess thing by the time you all start playing.”
He shook his head in frustration, his color rising as he drew in his breath, purposefully repressing his anger, and turned around, making his way the bar.
“Ugh, that woman. Hey, Kevin, you been paid yet?”
“Yeah, sure. I think everybody getting a regular paycheck on the timeclock has been. Anyway, it’s just minimum wage. I mostly make tips. Carla still hasn’t paid you guys yet?”
“Nope.”
“That’s just crazy, man. Frankly, what’s a few grand to her anyway?”
“I know, right? It doesn’t make sense,” he said, looking around the stylish and well stocked restaurant and bar.
“She’s been pretty stressed lately, though, I have to say,” Kevin said. “Nina’s been feeling it – trying to help her out, but I think Carla overdoes the muscle relaxants sometimes, just between you and me.”
“Oh, I think I just saw what you mean, yeah,” said Nick.
He looked at Kevin, trying to discern exactly what he was saying. So, Nina maybe supplied her aunt with some not just over the counter medication, huh? That might explain some of Carla’s erratic behaviors.
“Hey, can I order?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, of course, what’ll you have?”
He ordered what he pleased. He might as well eat well here since the food was covered, if nothing else. The other musicians began to arrive, and he joined them to tune up, in order to be ready to play their first set and earn their forthcoming wages.
Chapter 15
Cannabis needs a lot of sun, and up in the hills above the fog line the breaks between the redwood groves offered some choice spots. Kevin was scouting the area near a friend’s property. He’d been up to make a run and replenish his own store – this crop was sweet, and he’d been selling a lot lately, but he wanted to check out his own prospects for growing as well. He’d stored enough cash between tips from Blaze and his small-time dealings, not to mention the little bits of extra cash Nina had cut him for their couple of “special” clients, that he had begun to think about getting a little piece of land of his own up in the hills where he could grow his own supply. Then he might really make an income.
He turned right where the path forked, following it down a narrow side trail, wanting to explore what it was like around here, how close the neighbors were to each other. He came to a clearing that opened onto a view of a craftsman farmhouse and small stables. A woman with a long blond ponytail pulled through a baseball cap was out running one of the horses, leading it around in a circle. A second horse stood grazing in the field alongside the building. The house was set further back, along the expanse of hills behind it. Nice place, he thought. Plenty of sun. Perfect kind of setting, the kind of property he’d like to find. But after a minute he turned around and went back up the path to the main trail.
The problem was that Nina liked living in town. They didn’t live together yet anyway, but he figured that at some point they might decide to if things kept going like they were. And frankly, he wouldn’t mind putting a little distance between himself and Carla. They’d had their fun in the past, but it meant nothing. And then he’d met Nina, and Carla couldn’t hold a candle to her, not in his mind. That woman could get seriously annoying with her barrage of suggestive looks and comments. Sure, she was hot, for someone who was easily ten years older than he was, but he didn’t want to cause problems with Nina and was never entirely at ease when he had to be around them together. If Nina found out about their past fling, it might really make a mess of things with her for a while.
Realistically, though, he thought as he looked around at the trees and the dirt path, Nina would probably never go for a place in the hills. She was way more of a townie. He, on the other hand, liked being out here. There were some nice properties, like the one he’d just seen. Maybe he’d walk down and have a closer look at it sometime when nobody was around, just to check it out. Anyway, there were always reasons to scope out a place like that. People left valuable things lying around sometimes. Not that he was into petty thievery, that wasn’t his style. But if you found the right thing just lying around...
After his walk, Kevin decided to head back to the west side and hit the waves before going in to work that night. He had a few packages to drop off so that he could collect his dues. Man, he thought as he took a deep breath of the bay leaf infused air, life was sweet in Santa Cruz.
Chapter 16
Dean removed the prop and closed the hood of the Porsche. He had finished for the day and packed up his tools. The engine was tuned, the radiator replaced, the upholstery refurbished. He just needed to wax and polish the car now, take care of the detailing. But it was getting late. The light was beginning to fade, and he was hungry. He was done for the day and would only have to return one last time later in the week to finish the details.
