by S.L. Jordan

There was always something oddly calming about the antiseptic smells of clinical spas, she thought as she walked past the receptionist desk, across the lobby and through the door leading to the more exclusive and private patient rooms. As long as she had been a patient here she never had to wait or check in, and why would she? As one of the very first patients of the now renowned Dr. Alijah Rosias, the golden carpet was laid out for her every time.

In the privacy of her own room, she let the tension and facade fall. There was no one watching to catch her at less than her best, and she took extreme comfort in that. The pressure to be ON at all times is what led her to not only becoming one of Rosias’ top patients, but a very close friend as well. So close, that he came out of his semi retirement and did her treatments himself. A personalized touch only two other patients received.

She set her exclusive Himalaya Kelley Birkin on the hook next to the examination table, purses don’t belong on the floor and especially not this one. Opening the drawer to pull out one of the cotton gowns the assistants ordered for her – they were more fitted and flattering to her shape, just because no one was there didn’t mean ALL concern went out the window – selecting the aquamarine shade she quickly got undressed and wrapped herself in the 1000 thread count robe. There was a slight chill in the air, so she walked over to the thermostat and raised the temps a bit. Ali hated when she did that, but what was the point in having individualized thermostats if you didn’t set it to your liking.

Once she was settled on the table, she buzzed the receptionist to let them know she was ready for Dr. Rosias. Almost instantly there was a slight knock at the door before Ali poked his head in.

“How are you doing today?” He asked, as he previewed her face. She never came with any specific requests, she let him assess and do what he thought was best.

“I could be better” she said, “ya’know, younger and richer” she continued.

They shared a shallow laugh.

“Seriously, how are you doing? It was all over the news last month.” His voice has dropped to that tone you use when you want to convey pity for someone without saying, “I pity you”.

She cringed. She didn’t want to discuss “IT” with anyone, not even her longtime friends.

“And before you even try to act like it’s nothing, KNOW I did not come back from my vacation early just for you to lie to my face” he said, and took a seat right in front of her all but daring her to lie to him.

“I didn’t know you started a psychiatric practice since I last saw you” she countered flippantly and adjusted the cotton gown closer to her body. She felt so exposed with her personal business being public fodder.

“I mean, it might as well BE. You treat these procedures as therapy. One of these days I’m going to have to Benjamin Button you to get the results you want” he raised his perfectly arched eyebrow for effect and walked to the cabinet that held the cone snail venom. Yes, she thought, the stress of it all had caused some nice lines to pop up and it felt like her brow had been permanently knitted up since the news dropped last month.

The “IT” that Ali was not so tactfully referring to was the bombshell that dropped during sweeps week, her long time husband had been exposed for not only being a nasty prick, but for embezzling as well. Now, she would be lying if she said she didn’t know of her husband’s extra marital affairs, but she was NOT lying when she said she thought they were mutually consensual affairs. Majority of the starlets were married themselves, and if everyone was being completely honest – the industry was a bit of a swingers party with couples swapping out frequently. Marriages in this industry were considered more of a business arrangement than love matches.

How did Jada refer to it? Entanglements. That’s it. That’s exactly what they were.

She had hers, and he had his. Except She kept hers more discreet than he ever cared to do.

Throughout the whole news cycle, all she could hear was her Big Mama in her deep Alabama dialect saying, “Love and Respect go han’-in-han’, not Love and Money”. She tried telling her that she could learn to deal with anything if she was well provided for, but like the old folks say “hindsight is 2020” and her mother could see the writing on the wall then.

She pulled up the sleeve to her gown so that her permanent port was visible, after years of injections she got the permi-port inserted three years ago. It helped the serums go directly to her blood stream. Faster results meant feeling better.

As Ali injected her with the serum, he said “you DO know the youth aren’t more deserving of love, right?”

“Tell my husband that” she said as she closed her eyes and felt the serum rush through her veins.

She felt prettier and younger already.