Page 12 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

They answer at the same time, “No.”

“Guess I’m going to have to find a yoga loving kind of gal.”

Liesel smirks and states, “I’ll bet Serge is free.”

Chapter 5

Where Is the Snack Chakra?

KAT

Canyon Point, Utah

Colin’s asshole best friend, Zane, gifts him tons of miles so Ginny got us first class tickets and to be honest I didn’t fucking care where we were going. As long as it was one giant step away from the life I was pretending to build.

She’s driving and glances over. “It’s not an ashram, it’s a spa. With meditation, holistic healing, exercise, tailored diet and spa treatments. It’s your cosmic reset, and I’ve always wanted to go to one of these wellness spas. Just go with it.”

I sigh and nod at her. Maybe on the other side of the chakra fixing desert, the moon will tell me how to handle a civil conversation with my mom or find a life. I thumb through the resort website. Maybe iridology can change the course of my shitty life.

She doesn’t know I repacked my suitcases after she told me where we were going. I’m not sure I can be without my emotional support Oreos right now.

“That skirt took up most of the plane seat, thank god we were first class, but tuck that shit down. You’re very shiny. Kind of like a burned-out whore look. The leather white bucks are a nice touch, though.”

Ginny’s fashion forward enough to pull from almost anything. My turn to try. “I love these shoes and could never find the right outfit for them. Turns out it’s a tulle ball skirt and emerald green silk halter top.”

I reach for a bottle of Gundlach Bundschu Zinfandel from the back. I yank the foil. Then I take my shiny buck off and place the bottle in the heel. I bang the shoe on the dashboard until the cork pops out of the wine. It’s only after I take a seven-second pull from the bottle I look at my horrified friend.

“If this doesn’t fix you, I’m not sure we can be friends any longer.”

As we pull past the modest sign telling us we’re on our path to healing, my stomach turns. It might’ve been the Twinkies I scarfed in the airport bathroom. Could also be I’m not good with reality.

The roundabout driveway and impeccable landscaping are dead giveaways of a pricey hotel disguising itself as a spiritual dwelling. I get out of the car and wrappers, crumbs, and a cork fall off my skirt. A bowing dude greets us in his flowing peach caftan. Ginny immediately bows back. Still clutching my bottle of wine, I do a twirl for all to see who I am right now. My mother would be horrified, but I didn’t see the need to be appropriately dressed for cupping.

Our sage takes us inside where Ginny genuflects to every person we pass. Our luggage clicks on the tile lobby floor, and I follow the parade inside. Ginny’s platinum pixie cut is striking against the drab terracotta lobby. I think she has a gravitational pull and people instantly think she’s regal and erudite. I project the depth of a YouTuber who fills pools with Jell-O.

Skirted dudes hand us demitasse cups full of what appears to be Palmolive dish soap.

“It’s your first step to your new harmony.”

Another series of bows from the crowd wearing bed sheets as we stare at the cups. Ginny sips it as if it were a fine Scotch. I shoot it like tequila. Tequila it is not. I struggle to keep the heaving to a minimum. Washing it down with a quick slug of Zin as Ginny takes a step away from me. It dribbles down my chin and lands on my skirt. Son of a bitch.

A way too gentle gentleman motions us to follow him. “There seems to be an issue with Ms. Taylor’s luggage. Please come with us to identify your confiscated contraband and sign a damage waiver.” I sheepishly grin as Ginny glares at me.

“I assure you the items we’re removing will be held in the utmost regard, except the perishables.”

I hold my shoulders to my ears as I turn to my annoyed friend. “I wasn’t sure I could go days without processed foods.”

Ginny shoots me a look and grits her teeth. “Try.”

“Ms. Taylor, come with me. Starshine will lead Mrs. Davis to your room.”

Oh, come on. Cliché much?

I turn to the man who is taking away everything I have left, including my sanity. “Starshine, and who are you? Moonbeam?”

“I’m Serge.”

“Like a power surge?”