Touching Tension 1

Chapter One: Unspoken Tensions

When Brittany Monroe hired Evette Wallace to manage several units at WellSouth Rehab, it felt like more than just a professional decision--it was the kind of reunion that only happens when two women who had spent years in the same circles finally cross paths again. Evette was only three years older than Brittany and had been a registered nurse four years longer than Brittany. However, Brittany was now a seasoned professional; someone whose experience was both intimidating and inspiring. She was a mentor to many, but Evette, remembered her when she was bright-eyed enthusiasm and ambition. Evette had once been Brittany's charge nurse and preceptor when she graduated from Alabama State University at the age of twenty-two. Even then Brittany had always been the one who stood out. A heavy-set black woman who proudly told anyone who listened that she graduated from "The Alabama State University" and was a member of their plus-size dance team, the Honey Beez.

Not long after Evette had settled into her new role, they were sitting in Brittany's sleek office, a stark contrast to Evette's more humble setup. The large windows gave a sweeping view of the city skyline, a reminder of Brittany's success. As they discussed schedules and strategies for the coming weeks, Brittany's tone shifted, casual but pointed.

"You know, Evette, after Billie's resignation we're really in need of a good physical therapist," Brittany said, leaning back in her chair, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest. "Someone who understands the body--your husband, Eddie, would be perfect for this."

Evette blinked, caught off guard. "Eddie. Eddie Wallace?" she asked, half-laughing. "You want Eddie to apply for the open PT contract?"

Brittany's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm not saying he has to, but he has the skills, right? The hospital could really use his touch. You always speak so highly of him."

Evette chuckled, a little surprised at how seriously Brittany seemed to take her husband's skills. "Well, he's definitely got the hands for it. He's always working on me, especially when my back's acting up. You should see the way he works out the knots."

Brittany's expression didn't shift. She seemed to take a little too much interest in the casual mention of Eddie's massages. "I bet he's good," she said with a knowing smile. "I'd love to see what he can do." Brittany then gave Evette an unsealed envelope with a proposed salary and benefit package. Evette peeked inside and blushed, trying not to look to eager, she smiled.

Later that night, Evette mentioned the suggestion to Eddie. He wasn't thrilled. "Why would I want to work there? So close to you?" he asked, his voice low and hesitant. "I've got my own practice, Evette. This feels like... I don't know. Weird."

Evette laughed, trying to ease his concerns, then handed him the envelope Brittany had given her earlier. "The pay's good, babe. Flexible hours. And you know Brittany--she's persuasive. Besides, she really wants you there. Think of it as an opportunity. It's a big facility--lots of potential clients."

Eddie sighed, the idea still uncomfortable. But as the days passed and the offer seemed to linger in the air, Brittany's influence became harder to ignore. Her follow-ups were gentle, coaxing. A few weeks later, Eddie finally agreed to meet with Brittany for a casual interview.

That's when the joke first came.

Brittany, ever the playful one, leaned back in her chair, a half-smile forming on her lips. "Well, if Eddie's really that good, maybe we should test his skills out right now. What do you say, Evette?"

Evette raised an eyebrow, a challenge flickering in her gaze. "Oh, I'm sure Eddie's ready to prove himself. Aren't you, babe?"

Eddie had no choice but to oblige. The room grew quiet as he stood and moved behind Brittany. His hands, large and firm, began massaging her shoulders, each movement measured and professional. Brittany closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. The atmosphere in the room changed, the tension palpable. It wasn't just about the massage anymore--it was about the undercurrent of something else. Something unspoken.

When Eddie finished, Brittany stretched, the smile on her face still lingering. "Well, that was... impressive," she said, turning to him. "Maybe we should make this a regular thing, Eddie. Keep me in good form for my busy schedule."

Evette's voice cut through the moment, a playful glint in her eyes. "For what you're going to be paying him, he might as well be on-call for you, too."

Laughter filled the room, and the moment passed. It was harmless--just a joke, Evette told herself. Nothing to read into. After all, Brittany was just being her usual self--charming, confident, and always with a joke up her sleeve.

Eddie accepted the offer and later completed a formal interview with the board. He was one of several therapists who applied, but ultimately, he was the one awarded the contract.

Over the next several months, Eddie and Evette settled into a comfortable rhythm working together. Then, one afternoon, Brittany showed up at work after playing tennis at her gym, casually mentioning some soreness in her right shoulder and elbow.

Evette, half-joking, suggested that maybe Brittany could use one of Eddie's massages--the same ones they had often teased about. After the second massage, the request became more commonplace. It started out casually--after tennis, after workouts, after long days at the hospital. Each time, Eddie remained strictly professional, and Evette found herself becoming used to the request. It felt normal. Routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Evette brushed it off as just part of the job. Brittany was, after all, the boss.

Then came the day that changed everything.

Brittany had casually mentioned she was dealing with premenstrual cramps. "Girl, these cramps are killing me," she told Evette that morning, half-laughing as they stood by the break room coffee machine. "I've taken everything I can think of, but nothing's helping."

Evette nodded, recalling how Eddie often gives her a massage that completely relieves the throbbing aches she usually gets in her lower abdomen, back, and thighs when she's cramping. She described the technique to Brittany in detail before casually offering, "Girl, if you don't mind, I'll check with Eddie and see if he's up for swinging by your place later to give you that same massage."

Evette didn't think much more about it--until later that evening, just as she was getting ready to leave for the night. Her phone rang. It was Eddie, calling from his truck, parked outside Brittany's house. Waiting.

"Babe, are you sure about this?" Eddie asked, a knot forming in his stomach.

"Just think of it as a wellness check," Evette said. "Brittany's cramping. I'm sure it'll be fine."

After all, Brittany had made the request in good faith. Eddie was just doing his job--nothing more, nothing less