Love Game

“Now she’s teaching you that stuff? Lord, she’ll turn you into a minion. When I come to visit, you’ll be wearing an orange toga and handing out pamphlets at the airport.”

“Orange is a good color for me,” I shot back. “And who doesn’t like to hang out at the airport?”

“Ha ha.”

Since I’d moved to the islands, Jordan’s ribbing

about my boss and her profession—which I hoped someday would be my profession—was nonstop. I never engaged or defended. Like many, Jordan didn’t know what Reiki was; the Japanese energy healing technique sounded like quackery or “New Age mumbo jumbo” to her. But my boss, Melanie Pomerantz, was one of the most sought-after practitioners in the business. Her clients were Big Time. The kind of clients who only needed one name, like Cher, Oprah, Madonna.

“Some will be skeptical about Reiki or make jokes,” Melanie had told me once. “But it helps people relieve emotional and physical pain, and that’s all that matters.”

That’s all that mattered to me, too.

“How’s Keanu?” Jordan asked in my ear.

“He’s fine. Doing great.”

“How is he adjusting to the move from SF? I can’t imagine he’s happy in that Hawaiian heat.”

“He loves it here and so do I.”

My best friends’ voice softened. “That was my next question. How are you?”

“Better,” I said.

“Nightmares?”

“Still happening but not so many.”

“Isn’t the Reiki stuff supposed to cure those?”

“It takes time,” I said, not mentioning that I could only afford so many sessions for myself. “And I’m still new at it. Both giving and receiving.”

Jordan snorted a laugh. “Are we talking about Reiki or oral sex?”

“We are not talking about oral sex,” I said. Loudly. Just as the front doors of the Wellness Center opened.

A middle-aged man in expensive-looking clothes and bearing more than a passing resemblance to Kevin Bacon walked in the glass doors and stood on the other side of my reception desk.

Shit shit shit…

“I gotta go, Jordan,” I said quickly. “Client. Talk to you soon.” I hung up on her and smiled at the man, my cheeks burning. “Yes, hi, how can I help you?”

The man looked like he was biting back a smile. “Is Melanie Pomerantz in?”

“She’s out of town for the next week at a conference in Oahu.”

“Damn. Do you know when she’ll return?”

I checked Melanie’s appointment book on the desk. “First week in February.”

The man’s jaw dropped. “Damn, again. I was hoping to hire her for an extended job. Rather urgently.”

“Ms. Pomerantz is booked months in advance.”

He sighed. “I should’ve guessed. They say she’s the best at…whatever Reiki is.”

I wrinkled my pierced nose with its little gold hoop. “You want to a hire a Reiki specialist, but you don’t know what we do?”