Wrong Kind of Lights Out: Murder at Midlife Book 3 by Coco Wright

Author:Coco Wright [Wright, Coco]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sloan Creek Press, LLC
Published: 2023-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-six

I steeled myself for yet another conversation with the spa receptionist who liked me about as much as I liked her.

Which wasn’t much.

After standing at the desk looking at her for a moment while she twisted a glass cube filled with bamboo stalks to the left and to the right as if trying to find the exact right positioning on the counter, she finally deigned to look at me.

“Yes?” she asked, as if speaking was an effort.

“We’d like towels for the shower, please,” I said, “and two of those nice waffley bathrobes.”

This was the benefit of attending a yoga class at a spa as opposed to at the rec center.

Ironically, even though we’d just spent the last hour sweating in jungle-esque humidity in the hot yoga class, I was looking forward to a steaming hot shower to wash off the sweat-salt that I could feel caked on me.

She tapped away at her tablet and then flipped it around to me.

“That will be twenty-four dollars,” she said.

“No, no,” I said. “The yoga class said it came with a towel. I already paid, don’t you remember? My own credit card worked and everything.”

“Those are the towels that come with the yoga class,” said the receptionist with disdain, pointing to a classy wooden stand with small sage and cream colored hand towels wrapped into cute little cylinders.

“These,” she said, pointing to the gorgeous puffy bath towels behind her, “are twelve dollars each. As is the robe.”

“I don’t want to keep them,” I said.

“You’re not allowed to keep them,” she said dryly.

“That is highway robbery.” I was shocked.

“That is the cost of quality. Card?” She held out her hand.

“I’ll make due with the included towels,” I said, holding my head high.

“That’s your call,” said the receptionist, flipping the tablet back around to her. “Also your call would be if you would like to sign up for additional services with us. We offer a wonderful hot stone and almond oil massage that could do wonders for your sagging neck.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m all good for today, thank you ever so much.”

I walked over to the hand towels, and then made eye contact with her. I took one.

Then another.

Then another.

Her eyes narrowed back at me.

“Is there a limit to the free towels included with the yoga class?” I asked, sweet as pie.

“No,” she said, in a way that I could tell that that one little syllable pained her.

“Oh good,” I said.

And took two more.

* * *

The shower was indeed wonderful, and I tried not to think too much about how I looked drying myself off with the little hand towels, one section of my body at a time. I looked over with light jealousy at Melanie, wrapped in a waffle robe, patting her face dry with the fluffy bath towel.

“Traitor,” I said.

“Just think of it as you taking a more monastic approach to your time at the spa,” said Melanie. “And you’re getting an extra exfoliation by scrubbing yourself with the yoga towels. Since I

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