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— Good afternoon, — said the nail master named Lindsey with a smile to Mike, adjusting her white coat and putting on a mask. She already knew this client: a tall guy with a neat beard and a completely bald head, who time after time asked for a simple men’s manicure. She had gotten used to him, though at first she had been cautious — after all, it wasn’t often that men came into her salon at all.
— Good afternoon, — he repeated a little louder, and right then a short girl with a badge reading Megan came up to him. She always greeted him at the entrance, smiled, and helped with his jacket, leaving him only in a white hoodie with the words “Good Times” on it.
— Let me help you, — Megan gently pulled the street jacket off his shoulders and hung it in the locker.
He coughed awkwardly, not used to this kind of service, but over the past months he had accepted that here, in this salon right inside his own building, everything was too “girly” attentive. To be honest, by now he was coming here mostly because of Lindsey. Though of course, in the beginning it had been a bold experiment, basically a test of his own boundaries, as he explained it to himself back then.
A bald-headed guy with a beard walking into a nail salon — that alone was already a challenge. At first it was almost like a joke: ‘What if I sit in the chair, let them file my nails, and see what it feels like?’ How many cigarettes he smoked before that, glancing around nervously as he entered this pink place. And yeah, at some point the anxiety went away. The experiment could’ve ended there. But Lindsey. There was something about her. Something that pulled him back again and again. She even once admitted to him that she wasn’t much of a talker with clients, though with him she always kept a sweet conversation going and even laughed at his jokes. But did she have a boyfriend? Mike never dared to ask.
— Coffee or tea? — Megan asked as usual, squinting at him.
— Cappuccino, with sugar, same as always, — he answered in his usual calm tone.
The salon was almost empty, only someone getting a pedicure in a chair at the far end. Lindsey was already busy near the work desk, wiping the lamp and neatly laying out the tools. Mike sank heavily into the soft chair, pulled out his phone and buried himself in it.
— Give me your hands, — Lindsey said in a professional tone, sitting down at the table and adjusting the mask on her face. — How are you?
— So-so, — he shrugged, — all good. Slept little.
— What kept you up? — Lindsey narrowed her eyes slightly, moving the lamp closer to him and taking his large hand into her thin fingers.
— Watched a movie, — he smirked, — got carried away. Though maybe not the movie, maybe just… thoughts.
She nodded, habitually trimming the cuticle. Mike felt a light tingling from her touch — as if too intimate, yet still official, professional.
— What movie? — Lindsey tilted her head to the side, continuing with confident movements to run the tool along his finger.
— An “old action movie,” — Mike smirked. — Probably not your genre. Some guy in a leather jacket running around saving everyone.
— You’d be surprised, but I like action movies, — she raised her eyes and gave a soft smile. — Sometimes it’s nice to look at that kind of “hero.” Though, of course, in real life it’s never that pretty...Full story (12 200 characters - 2 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon