chapter 2: the owner

Chapter 2: The Owner

“Yeah, I hear that. It’s chaos up north. Nobody knows what caused it.”

“No? Wasn’t it a tornado?”

“They’re thinking it was a hurricane”

"So much for sleep." Thought Heather as she lay dozing off in her seat. She sat right next to two men having a conversation. She thought one of them sounded foreign, something like Australian, he had that twang in his voice. She sat on a window seat of a Boeing 747 in economy class. While the thought of complaining to her editor about not springing for business class or first class came to mind, she was effectively being paid to go on vacation. And she didn’t want to rock the boat too hard.

After enough time had passed that she felt like she couldn’t sleep regardless of how much she wanted to, Heather pulled out her laptop and got back to work researching the Lodge. There was a peculiar weirdness to all of the testimonials she was reading about. They all mentioned some “light”.

“We all saw the light”

“There is a light emanating from this place, it changed my life”

She wondered if this was a Florida thing, given how many stories they ran in the past about religious cults coming out of there. It weirded her out a little but wasn’t too out of the ordinary. At least not yet. She still took out her notebook and started writing some notes. Potential religious angle. Seems to attract weirdos. Press owner on it.

She also started reading more about the owner, Jezebel Richards. She came across some articles about how she worked as a magician, or at least a magician’s assistant. "See premier illusionist Barry Benedict and his marvelous head slicing act. It leaves the world stunned straight out of Fabulous Las Vegas." As she scrolled down in the article, she found a picture of a strait-laced young man right next to a black wooden box. And on his left was a young woman in her 20’s in what could only be described as a sexy tuxedo and a top hat.

"Jezebel Richards" Heather thought. She continued writing in her notes. "See if she looks this good in person. Determine if she received breast implants." Heather continued her research, wanting to see the mental health angle. She saw a particular testimonial about the methodology on its website. “Faris Lodge uses innovative techniques to create lasting change in its visitors. Traditional psychotherapy is expensive and inefficient compared to truly lasting change. The complete package includes a money back guarantee.”

She continued writing. "See if I can get Val’s money back after the week is up. See if owner will freak out about it in person, could play up a religious cult feel in the article." Heather decided to take another break and closed her notebook and laptop. The flight stewardess came by asking for food orders.

“I’ll take a steak” said the man next to her, the one who had what she still assumed to have an Australian accent.

“Do you have a vegetarian option?” Heather asked.

“Yes, we have a fruit salad option.” Heather was relieved, the last plane ride she went on lacked any vegetarian options.

“I’ll take that, thank you.” Heather became a vegetarian in college. Much to the incessant teasing of her ex-boyfriend Michael. It was always a sore spot for the two of them. She didn’t mind that he ate meat but he was always so argumentative about it. It was usually for health reasons as to why Heather chose to avoid it. She would usually get stomach cramps after eating various meats like beef, poultry and fish. Val had occasionally gotten her to write health articles for the website about vegetarianism since she knew a lot about it. It was probably why she was on this trip to begin with, since she had contributed a lot to the health section.

When the fruit salad came, she ate it. It was okay but a bit dry for her liking. Still, it was better than pulling a meat patty off a cheeseburger and getting a funny look from the person sitting next to her. She wanted to continue working but after starting to feel drowsy. Heather decided to finally give into her body’s needs and fell asleep.
~~~
It was 3 in the afternoon when the Boeing 747 finally touched down just outside of Tampa, Florida. There weren’t any airports near Lake Faris so she had to take a brisk bus ride there. By the time the bus arrived just outside the Faris Lake lodge, Heather felt like she had caught up enough on sleep and was finding her focus return. She took in the sights a bit after retrieving her bag. Lake Faris was a vast lake tucked into a small valley. She spotted some boats and people jet skiing far off into the distance as the glare of the sun reflected up at her. The lodge itself was built into a hill overlooking the lake, with a narrow path leading to a beach and a boat launch. It was a multi-story hotel, surprisingly modern too. It looked like it was built within the last decade. A carved wooden sign stood out front “Lake Faris Healing Lodge”. With a graphical overhead map of the area right next to it. The Lodge had a few other buildings within walking distance. A bar named “Ricky’s” and a family style restaurant named “Rebecca’s”. There was also a swimming pool. Heather jotted these names down in her notebook and noted the peculiarity that a hotel advertising itself to heal against substance abuse would have a bar within walking distance. She shrugged it off and walked toward the lobby.

The check in counter was just as modern as the exterior. With a rounded counter and a cute receptionist who looked up at her when she walked in. “Greetings. Welcome to the Faris Lake Healing Lodge.”

"They earn their tips here." Heather thought. “I have an appointment.” Heather said. Placing her passport on the counter for identification. “I’m writing a piece on Faris Lake and the Lodge. I’m a journalist.” The counter girl’s face lit up a little. “May I see the owner. Jezebel…”

“Jezebel Richards yes. She should be in her office. I’ll check and see if she’s available.” She picked up a phone and dialed. “Miss Richards? I have a journalist here who wants to interview you for a news article about the lodge…” Heather waited patiently. Setting her bag down, she took out her notebook and started writing some more notes. "Place is neater than I expected. Not as many cockroaches as I thought."

“Yes… yes… alright I’ll tell her.” The counter girl put the phone down and smiled. “Miss Richards is in her office right now and she would be delighted to meet with you. It’s on this floor.” She pointed at a hallway to her right. “it’s the last door down that way. I’ll make sure your bag is looked after.” Heather thanked the counter girl and started walking.
~~~
The hallway was illuminated only by a few lights embedded in the ceiling. The red carpet blended in nicely with the beige wallpaper. "Nice color coordination" she thought. Wondering what an ex magician’s assistant was doing running a hotel this nice. She stopped at the last door and knocked. “Come in…” She heard from inside. Heather opened the door and walked into the office.

Jezebel Richards didn’t look anything like her photograph did. She looked noticeably older, closer to her 60’s than the 20 something Heather previously assumed her to be. She had long white hair draped to her shoulders and wore a trim red dress. She sat behind her desk but stood up to greet Heather as she walked in. Heather noted her breast size and cleavage did match the girl in the sexy tuxedo. “I’m Jezebel Richards. A pleasure to meet with you.” She had a thick gravelly voice that sounded like it was ruined by decades of smoking. “I heard you are a journalist.”

“Yes.” Heather responded. Sitting down opposite her. “I was wondering if I could ask some questions. I’m writing an article for my organization’s health section and we want to show to our readers what a guest at your lodge receives.” Heather’s notebook was out. She was ready.

“Ah I see.” Jezebel responded. Heather noticed a burning cigarette left in an ashtray on the desk. “The Lodge is a place of healing for our guests. An alternative to traditional psychotherapy. People come from all over the world to visit. What interests you about our organization?” Heather noticed the old crone sizing her up a little. It made her feel a little uneasy.

“I was wondering what kind of people tend to visit for starters? What do they get out of the experience?” Heather maintained eye contact and a sweet demeanor as best as she could. She didn’t want to get on the owner’s bad side. At least, not yet.

“Our guests come here from all walks of life. They each arrive seeking a cure from something. Be that addiction, heartbreak, obsession. My staff and I convene and determine what program bests suits that individual and tailor the program to their needs. We have very reasonable rates.” Heather continued to write in cursive. "Potential extortion of the mentally ill."

“That’s very interesting.” Heather said smiling. “I’d like to partake in this program if I could. Teach our readers from a first-person perspective what it’s like coming here.”

“Indeed.” Jezebel responded, a peculiar grin appearing on her face. “Very well. You are here on business and it would enhance our organization’s image, I’m sure. Your stay will be free of charge.”

“You’re too kind." Heather responded sweetly. Although Heather had no illusions about Val paying for everything anyway, she always did. She wrote "She’s hiding something in her notes."

“You’ll benefit from the full program of course. My staff will determine what you’ll be entitled to on a daily basis, and you’ll have full access to the facilities of course. Allow me to extend a warm welcome to you on behalf of the Lodge.”