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Her fingers are steady as she applies the red, then the black, blending them in a way I didn’t think possible with polish. She moves quickly on each toe, but as a finishing touch, she grabs a small vial of golden powder and sprinkles it on my big toe.
Erica shellacs each one before offering me her hand. I immediately miss the massager as she helps me to my feet and guides me over to her desk where she soaks my hands and treats them the same as my feet. She fills up my glass a third and fourth time as she massages my hands, something I had no idea could feel so good, and cuts and files my nails.
“Same design as your toes?” she inquires, looking at me with her warm brown eyes.
“Yes, please,” I murmur. My body feels like a limp noodle because I’m so relaxed.
She smiles and begins to paint. I watch her artistry with rapt fascination as she changes the entire look of my hands with just some polish. I almost feel like a different person, prettier even, just from having my nails done. It’s a confidence booster I didn’t think was possible.
“There,” she says after applying the topcoat. “All done. What do you think?”
Words escape me as I bring my hands up and look at my nails. Toward the nail bed, the polish is a deep crimson, like the color of fresh blood, but it shifts toward the tip of my nail, changing to a black as dark as the night. On my ring finger, she added the smattering of gold in such a fine grain that it’s almost invisible. The polish has a matte finish, which I absolutely love.
“I love it, Erica. Really amazing. Thank you so much,” I gush, bringing my gaze to hers in awe.
She smiles. “It’s my pleasure. Now, keep your hands under this light for a few minutes, and I’ll be back in to get you soon.”
I get lost in the paintings on the walls, admiring the fine strokes of the artists before moving my eyes to the orchids. I had no idea they came in so many colors. If I get out of this unscathed, I’m buying myself a shit ton of them.
I’ve just finished my drink and stuck my hand back under the light when Erica returns. She slips cheap flip-flops over my feet and stuffs my boots into a canvas bag. “It was so nice to meet you. Please come and see me again.”
“I would love to,” I reply earnestly. And I would. This is something I could definitely see myself getting into.
She hands me the canvas tote, and I follow her through the filled shop and back to the awaiting limo.
“Wait!” I call, turning around and rushing back inside, but Erica is already there waiting for me, holding my bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Thank you!” I tell her before returning to the limo.
“No problem,” Erica says, waving at me like she’s the queen of England.
Smiling, I allow the driver to shut the door, and I relax as he drives me to my next destination. Another card is waiting for me next to a white rose. I open it with a grin and read Alistair’s note.
Hope you’re having fun. Doesn’t it feel good to be pampered?
Damn right it does.
I can’t help but smile widely and bring the note to my chest, feeling my heart flutter as a warm sensation floods my veins. We drive through the middle of the city, passing couples holding hands and laughing. A group of women hustles toward a taxi, their arms filled with bags from shopping, while an adorable family walks out of a bookstore with the dad holding the little boy on his shoulders.
So carefree, all of them.
I can’t imagine ever feeling that way. Every day, I wake up to stress and uncertainty, unsure of the path my life will take hour by hour.
Not allowing myself to wallow, I grab the forgotten bottle of champagne and take a long gulp just as the driver pulls over. It’s just after one PM, and my stomach begins to rumble. The alcohol is making me feel happily buzzed due to my empty belly.
My door opens, and I grab my roses and step out, finding myself facing another storefront. Modern Christmas trees in white and pink are displayed in the windows, and open gifts below the boughs display various items—brushes, dryers, straighteners, curlers, and more products than I can even name.
We must be at a hair salon.
Chin held high, I head inside as the tune of “Holly Jolly Christmas” gets stuck in my head. Before me is a desk and a purple rose. I pick it up, add it to my pile, and smile at the woman behind the desk. She’s young, probably my age, and her hair is so blond, it’s almost white. It’s styled sharp and pulled down over one of her eyes so I can’t even see it.
“Rory?” she asks, glancing down at her appointment book.
I nod. “Yep.”
She looks up and smiles. “Awesome. I’m Audra, and I’ll be taking care of you today.”
I smile back. “Sounds good.”
“Follow me.”
