Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,16
to get to the bar. Be more specific.”
“They hit you with branches.”
“What the fuck? Gabe, have you got undisclosed feelings of rage towards me?”
He laughs. “There is nothing undisclosed about my feelings of rage. The massage is actually pretty brilliant. They brush you with the branches, and it improves your circulation.” He hums happily. “Anyway, they asked me whether you’d prefer birch or oak.”
“Did you say neither? Because Dylan would actually like some nice almond massage oil and plinky plonky music. And wine.”
“Nope. I said birch. Gave me rather a public-school thrill.”
I roll my eyes and open the door to find Alex waiting.
“Ah, you’re ready,” he says in a delighted voice. “But you’re missing something.”
He produces two items which on closer inspection appear to be hats. They look like the old-fashioned cloche hats that women wore in the twenties. I accept mine with a smile and look over at Gabe, who is examining his with an expression of bewilderment.
“What is this?” he asks.
Alex smiles. “It’s for your hair to protect it from being damaged by the heat.”
He turns and walks into another room. I pull my hat on and look at Gabe, who is staring at me with a huge grin on his face. That fades when I gesture at his own headgear. “Put it on, then.”
“Absolutely not,” he says. “There is no way on this earth that I am going to look like one of the fucking Flowerpot Men. Ugh! Get off! What are you doing, Dylan?”
The last bit is muttered as I seize the hat and push it onto his head. I step back and try to suppress my smile, but I can’t help it, and he glares as I burst into peals of laughter. “Oh my God,” I finally manage. “This is the best Valentine’s Day present ever.”
He shakes his head which sends me into fresh paroxysms of mirth as his little hat bobs. “I’m unsure why I’ve got to wear this when all I’m doing is drinking vodka.”
“It’s a shared experience,” I inform him and, grabbing his hand, I tow him after me.
The small room Alex disappeared into is so hot that it’s staggering. I draw in a breath, and it burns inside my chest. “Bloody hell,” I mutter.
Gabe grins, heading over to the wooden benches where he proceeds to arrange himself like a king lounging in his court. He looks infuriatingly good even in the hat, as he crosses the long lengths of his hairy legs insouciantly at the ankles.
He eyes me happily. “Onto the table, then, Dylan. Chop chop.”
I shake my head before stripping off my robe and lying face down on the bench. Alex moves about, putting some branches under my face. They’re ice-cold.
“Eucalyptus,” he informs me with a smile.
“It smells lovely,” I say and then stop talking.
Alex brushes branches over me, and it hurts, but it’s so good at the same time, making my skin tingle. After that, the massage is incredibly vigorous as he pummels me, bending me this way and that. I have to say the whole experience is wonderful and utterly unrelated to the occasional massages I’ve had over the years.
“Good job I’m limber,” I gasp as he bends my leg backwards in a way that I’ve only seen action dolls manage.
“I always say that,” Gabe remarks happily. “But I’m afraid it’s normally your jaw that’s the limber bit.”
I glare at him. “Shut up, Bill and Ben,” I say and hear his snort of laughter.
Afterwards, I drift out of the room, following Alex again. He gestures toward a pool, and I plunge into ice-cold water. I rise to the surface, spluttering and wiping my hair away from my eyes. He helps me out and swathes me in towels and instructs me to lie down on a cushioned branch. I lie there for a bit, drifting and seemingly unable to grasp a thought. In the background, glasses clink and I know Gabe has got his vodka.
“After this, we can shower, and then I’m taking you to a mystery destination for a meal,” he tells me.
I try to open my eyes, but they won’t work. “I can feel all my blood moving around in my body,” I say dreamily, and I hear Gabe’s throaty laughter.
“I usually only get that after a couple of bottles of wine.”
“Christ, I actually feel stoned.” My voice slurs, and I can’t open my eyes.
Gabe’s laugh sounds again. “And just think—we didn’t even need Henry and a rendition of ‘Is This The Way To Amarillo’,” he says