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“Anyway. Place in Silver Lake—like I said, best kept secret in the city, if you ask me. Tiny joint, no more than a few guests at a time. You walk in and bam—relaxation heaven. Good vibes, nice music, perfect ambiance. And…”
He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, as if he was about to say something that he wasn’t sure he should’ve said, but really wanted to.
“And…?” I asked, taking the bait.
“The women there. Let’s just say they’re the type you’ll be very, very happy to have putting their hands all over you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, raising my palm. “This isn’t one of those ‘happy ending’ places is it? Not exactly my scene.”
“Nope. All legit. But if you’re into that kind of thing, I know this perfect little place in Koreatown…”
“I’ll pass,” I said with a grin as he reached across the span between us and gave me a slap on the knee to let me know he was screwing around.
Then again, with Matt you never really knew.
“And it’s on me. I mean, I know how much you pulled in from this last tour, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Then that means you’ve already made the appointment?”
Another impish grin. “Made the appointment and told the driver to take us there.”
“Wha—?”
I looked through the windows and, sure enough, we weren’t headed to the Hills.
And that was that. The traffic had been light enough that we’d managed to reach Silver Lake in pretty damn good time.
Then there I was, standing in front of the Roman-inspired façade of Circus Maximus, a name that almost struck me as more suited for a casino.
“I’ll get your shit back to the house!” called out Matt from inside the limo. “Take your time, bud! You’ve earned it!”
I wasn’t one to pat myself on the back, but I had to admit that hey, he wasn’t wrong. Just looking at the kinda-corny front of the spa was enough to make my muscles cry out for some damn relief.
The limo pulled away, and I was alone.
A fucking spa day. I stepped up to the glass door and grabbed the handle. First time for everything.
I pulled the door open and stepped through, the cool air hitting me, the scent of cedar wood thick and rich. Shit smelled good—had to admit.
However Roman the outside was, the interior was that to the millionth freaking degree—marble everywhere, pearl-white sculptures of nude men and women, and a staff of good-looking women in very short togas. Hell, I half expected the staff to start speaking to me in Latin.
“Welcome to Circus Maximus,” said, in English, the pretty, shorthaired front desk woman. “Can I—”
She was trying to do this elevated, back-in-time thing with her voice. But before she could even finish her sentence, her eyes went wide, and I knew exactly what that meant.
“Ohmigod!” she shot out, her hands gripping the edge of the marble desk as if she was on the verge of flying away. “DJ Mad-Ox!”
I put a big smile on my face, ignoring how much I, in spite of myself, wanted to be on a massage table or a hot tub or hell, even in my own bed.
“Hey!” I smiled.
“Listen, I don’t want to fangirl out or anything, but I am such a big fan. I heard your set at Phuket last week, like, live, and it was freaking insane. When you hit the drop for Silk Harmonics and went right into the chorus for Shine, I was like—damn.”
“Glad you liked it,” I said, approaching the desk and flexing my fingers for the inevitable autograph.
“Like, your stuff’s pretty much all I listen to anymore.”
She gestured to the Apple desktop next to her, which looked very out of place among all the Rome cosplaying.
“And I—”
A throat-clearing from the other side of the room cut her off. Both of us turned as a suited, heavyset man with a really, really bad thing on the top of his head that was possibly the worst attempt to hide a bald spot I’d ever seen, approached.
“Mary!” he said sharply under his breath.
The young woman sat up spear-straight, her eyes going wide.
“I’m sure Mr. Maddox is more interested our services than you telling him what a big fan you are.”
“It’s no problem.”.
And it wasn’t. Believe it or not, bumping into fans who recognized me in the wild hadn’t really gotten old. More than anything I was worried she’d mistake my dead-tiredness for annoyance.
The manager strode over, all car-salesman smiles.
“You’re in for a treat today, Mr. Maddox,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder and leading me away from the desk. “Your manager called a little while ago to book you nothing less than the Augustus Package. Right now you’re looking at hours of the most relaxing, attentive treatment you’ve ever had in your life.”
“That sounds kind of nice. What’s up first?”
