No more.
Lanie and I walk into Luxe Lavou, an upscale salon and spa in the heart of Knox Harbor. It opened two years ago and has a wait list months in advance. Whatever Lanie did for the owner must’ve been huge. I’d ask, but some things are better unknown where Lanie is concerned.
“Ladies, welcome,” a tall brunette coos, coming out from behind a large mahogany counter to meet us. She’s wearing a black smock over black leggings, and her hair is twisted into a fancy knot at the base of her neck.
“Thank you, Katrina.”
The woman bows her head to Lanie, grabbing two menus from the top of the bar.
A bulky, medium-height man, wearing a Yankees hat, walks into the salon, heading directly to the desk. His biceps are so built, his veins protrude.
“Hi, Marcus.”
The man looks up, offering a wicked grin to Lanie. There’s something menacing there—a hidden secret only they share—and I’m not sure I want to know it.
“Lanie. Glad to see you took me up on my offer.” He turns to Katrina. “Make sure they receive the best.”
“Thank you, Marcus. We appreciate the hospitality.”
“We have a private room ready for you to relax and unwind while our staff prepares your treatments.”
The woman pulls my attention to her, momentarily distracting me from my suspicious thoughts surrounding Marcus. I shake off the unease and try to focus.
Katrina takes a step toward the back, looking over her shoulderto ensure we’re following. “First, allow us to get you into something more comfortable.”
Lanie slides toward me, pulling my arm under hers and giving it a good squeeze. My excitement mounts, and I’m more than ready to begin the pampering I’ve been promised.
We follow her through a door into a hall where the natural light filtering into the lobby is snuffed out. Chandeliers adorn the ceiling, giving off a warm glow that’s just bright enough to illuminate the walkway.
“There are robes waiting for you,” she says, arms rising out to the side to point at two doors opposite each other. “You may change and leave your belongings in one of the lockers. Your resting room is this door here.” She motions with both hands to the room three doors down. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Mimosa?”
“Wa—”
“Mimosa,” Lanie cuts in, drowning out my request.
The girl has never turned down a mimosa and I’m not at all surprised that today is no different.
The woman looks to me with raised brows.
“I’ll have a mimosa as well. Thank you.”
She nods, bowing slightly before taking her leave.
“Meet you in the room in five,” Lanie calls over her shoulder as she pushes through her door.
I take my time, examining the large changing room. A double vanity is stocked with all the products a girl could ever need. Shampoo, conditioner, lotions... you name it, it’s there. A walk-in shower lines the back wall, and there’s a door leading to a private toilet. Along the opposite wall from the private commode is a row of lockers with a long leather bench situated underneath.
The lockers are all currently open, so I take the middle one, stuffing my clothes and purse inside. I’m ready for that mimosaand relaxation, which reminds me that it’s been more than five minutes, and Lanie is likely wondering if I’ve bailed.
I chuckle just thinking about how ardently I opposed coming here. What was I thinking? This place is magic, and I haven’t even had one treatment.
Shaking my head, I shut the locker door and blink at the figure standing beside me.
“Holy Mary. Where did you come from?”
A young woman, mid-twenties if I had to guess, with large sapphire eyes and a short blond bob, is staring at me in awe.
“You can see me.” It’s not a question. She claps like a kid on Christmas morning, excited to receive her top wish-list item.
