Everything Changes

by Bybee, Catherine

  The first one was some sort of check-cashing location. He glanced inside and didn’t see any sign of her, so he moved to the next and saw her kicking off her shoes.

  “A nail salon? You gotta be kidding me.” There was no way he could pretend to bump into her inside a freaking nail salon.

  She sat in a lounge chair and put her feet in the water.

  Dameon stared.

  He realized someone inside the shop was watching him, so he pushed inside. Act casual.

  “Grace? Is that you?”

  With the call of her name, her head shot up. “Dameon?”

  “I thought that was you.” Several sets of eyes moved his way. There was a woman sitting at a counter with her hand inside some kind of light. One of the employees wheeled a stool by Grace’s chair and adjusted the water pouring in.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I was, ah . . .” He pointed a thumb out the door. “Just at the . . .” Shit, he had no idea what was in the shopping center to say he’d been at. “So this was your thing today?”

  Suddenly it was Grace in the hot seat. Her cheeks turned red. “It’s important.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” The question came from one of the employees.

  “I’m sorry, what?” The question caught him off guard.

  “An appointment.” He shook his head.

  It was Dameon’s turn to feel heat in his cheeks.

  The woman getting her nails painted started to laugh.

  He looked up at Grace, who was hiding a smile.

  “I can sit you next to your friend,” the employee insisted.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t . . .”

  “She wants to know if you want a pedicure,” Grace explained.

  God no.

  He looked around, completely out of place. “Uhm.”

  “Well, you can’t just stand there,” Grace told him.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  Grace looked at the empty seat beside her.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Yeah, okay.” Someone somewhere was cutting his man card in half.

  The woman smiled, lifted the armrest on the chair, and encouraged him to sit.

  He toed off his shoes before slipping into the seat.

  He noticed Grace’s smile before she removed a remote from a pocket on the side of the chair.

  “This is how you spend your lunch hour?” he asked.

  “It’s close, and noon is always a good time.”

  He started to sit back while the employee turned on the water. That’s when it occurred to him that he needed to take off his socks and roll up his pants. Which had to be the stupidest thing he’d done all year.

  Once he knew his dress pants weren’t going to get wet, he put his pale feet in the water. One toe in and he yanked it out. “Hot.”

  The employee stuck her whole hand in the water, looked at him with a you gotta be kidding me expression, and then turned the dial.

  “It’s cold outside.” And he wasn’t used to taking his shoes off in public places unless he was buying new ones.

  The woman at Grace’s chair pulled one of her feet out of the water and started removing the polish from Grace’s toenails.

  Dameon tested the water again, deemed it comfortable, and sat back.

  “Let me guess. You’ve never done this before?” Grace asked.

  “Men don’t do this kind of thing.”

  The seat doubled as a massage chair, and Grace’s whole body arched as the roller ran down her spine. Dameon tried not to stare at her chest as it heaved forward.

  “I see guys in here all the time,” Grace told him.

  “Really?” Because he didn’t know anyone with a penis that had pedicures.

  “All the time.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re pulling my leg?”

  Grace spoke to the woman doing her toes. “Nell, you get men in here every day, right?”

  Nell nodded and smiled.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” Grace asked.

  Dameon wiggled his toes in the water and pressed a button on his remote. The chair started moving forward, which didn’t seem right. “Uhm . . . how do I get this thing to go back?”

  Grace reached over and pressed the right button. The words on the remote were worn off from years of use. “Sit back,” she told him before putting the chair in motion.

  Suddenly his body was heaving just like Grace’s. It actually felt kinda good.

  He wiggled his shoulders side to side. “That’s not bad.”

  “An hour of stress release,” Grace told him as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  He was insanely happy there was zero chance of anyone he knew seeing him in there.

  “I’m moving to town,” he announced.

  Grace’s eyelids shot open. “You’re what?”

  “Mainly weekends. Probably be a few weekdays once things get rolling. Called DWP and had the water and power turned back on at the house.”

  “In the canyon?”

  He nodded. The employee at his feet tapped the space where Grace had placed a foot and looked at him. When he didn’t move, she gently tugged on one of his legs until he had a foot perched like Grace. She drizzled some kind of cream on his toes, grabbed a pair of nail clippers, and went to work.

  “Dameon,” Grace said his name, pulling his attention back to her.

  “Yes. The house with the grandma couch. I thought it would be more convenient than me driving back and forth to the city or staying at the hotel. I already own the place, might as well make use of it. I’ll set up the back bedrooms as offices, use the den as workspace.”

  “So you plan on sleeping there?”

  “Yeah.” What was the woman doing now? It looked like she was clipping skin away from his toenails, but he didn’t feel a thing. He pointed down and asked, “Is that normal?”

  “Yes,” Grace said. “What brought that on?”

  “I thought if maybe I experienced the area for more than an hour at a time, I might better grasp what’s going to work.” All of which was true, but not the main reason he had a small crew of workers at the house that morning to clear out the left-behind bed and odds and ends throughout the place.

  “That’s going above and beyond, don’t you think?” Grace asked.

  He stopped looking at his feet and directed his attention to her. “Maybe. I need this job to go smoothly, Grace. Not going to sugarcoat it. If there was a place I could meet all the essential players that I’m going to be dealing with over the next year to make this project happen, I’d jump on it.”

  “You sound nervous.”

  He decided it wouldn’t hurt to give her a few facts. “I’m responsible for a lot of employees. My main investor pulled out. And while my company has the funds to do this, it would be a huge weight off my shoulders if I could network with some of the players.”

  “You mean schmooze.”

  “Yeah,” he said with an unapologetic nod.

  “Is that what you’re doing with me?”

  He lost his smile. “No.” There were a lot of things he wanted to do with her, but schmoozing wasn’t on the list.

  “So you’re sitting in here getting a pedicure, not schmoozing?”

  The chair started pounding his back. “I’m here doing this because you won’t say yes to dinner.”

  Grace rolled her eyes.

  Nell laughed but didn’t comment while she worked on Grace’s feet.

  “C’mon, Grace . . . you’re my only friend in town. You must know someplace this circle of people spend time.” The employee moved on to his other foot after all but pushing the first one back in the water.

  “There’s a holiday event this Friday,” she told him.

  He tried not to smile and give away his excitement. “Oh? Who’s going to be there?”

  “You never know who will show up. With free food and alcohol, a lot of the people you’re going to deal with will be there.”r />
  “How do I get an invitation?” he asked.

  “It’s not that formal, but I can put your name down. Different investors have been known to come. The who’s who of the community will be there.”

  His foot was plopped back in the water, the other one was lifted out. Next thing he knew, the woman was scraping it with some kind of sanding block. Each pass made him jump.

  Grace started to giggle.

  “It tickles,” he told her while trying to stay still through the torture. “What are you doing, anyway?” he asked the woman at his feet.

  “Scraping dead skin.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. Worse, he didn’t like the feeling of that. He turned his attention back to Grace. “So, you’ll pass on the time and place of this event?” he asked for confirmation.

  “I’m happy to.” Grace leaned back and closed her eyes as the woman at her feet poured lotion on her leg and started to rub.

  “Are you going to be—”

  Her palm in the air stopped him midsentence. “No talking during the best part.”

  Much as he wanted to keep going, he found his leg oiled up and hands running up and down his calf.

  The best part didn’t last nearly as long as he’d have liked.

  “Yes, I’m going. It’s the only office party we have, even if it’s a free-for-all event.”

  “Is it formal?”

  “You mean black tie?”

  He nodded.

  “We’re not that kind of city.”

  Nell started applying a bright red polish on Grace’s toes. For one brief, fanciful moment, Dameon imagined her foot rubbing the side of his while they were tangled up in sheets.

  “So you’ll go?”

  He blinked away the vision of her lying next to him. “What? Yeah. Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You want polish?”

  Dameon looked at his feet and the woman waving a clear nail polish in the air.

  “No. I’m good.”

  Grace started to laugh. “Men get polish, too.”

  “I call bull on that,” he said.

  She kept laughing.

  His feet were dried and his pants rolled back down. The woman thanked him and walked away.

  Dameon waited until Grace’s toes were painted and carefully tucked into a pair of sandals. He stood and reached for his wallet as he approached the desk where he’d noticed the other woman check out a few minutes before. “Both of us,” he said, pointing to Grace.

  He thought he’d get an argument from her, but found silence.

  She looked at him with innocence. “What? You yammered through my stress relief. The least you can do is pay for it.”

  That’s the sarcasm he was growing to appreciate from the woman.

  Nell told him a price and he handed her his credit card.

  The transaction went through and he put the card back in his wallet.

  He started toward the door.

  Grace stopped him. “You need to give them a tip.”

  “Oh, of course.” He reached for his wallet again and whispered, “What’s appropriate?”

  She smiled. “Ten each.”

  Considering the bill was less than fifty, he thought that was a bit much.

  “And it is the holidays,” Grace added.

  He removed two twenties and handed one to each employee.

  The cash disappeared quickly with thank-yous and smiles.

  He opened the door for Grace and followed her out. “I just over tipped them, didn’t I?” he asked.

  Grace giggled. “Yup.”

  “And men don’t go in there, do they?”

  “Well . . . it’s cheaper than a podiatrist when you’re on a fixed income,” she pointed out.

  He cringed. “That’s what I thought.”

  He walked beside her.

  “I’m sure my brothers have had pedicures.”

  “Really?”

  “No. They wouldn’t be caught dead in there.” She started to laugh as if she’d been holding it in for the last hour.

  It was worth it, he decided, just to hear her happy. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  She placed her hand over her stomach with laughter. “Nope.”

  They stopped at the edge of the strip mall.

  “This was fun, but I need to get back to work.”

  Dameon wanted to pull her in for a hug. More, he wanted to kiss her. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  “I guess so. I’ll text you the information.” Her eyes were searching his. “I gotta go.”

  “Right.”

  She turned away.

  “Wait.”

  “Yeah?” She looked at him again.

  “Where’s the best place to buy a bed in town? I can use Grandma’s sofa, but the bed needs to be replaced.”

  “There’s a mattress store on the Old Road.”

  He knew where that was. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  She turned again.

  “Oh, and Grace?”

  “Yeah?”

  He glanced down at her feet. “I like the red.”

  And just like that, her cheeks matched the paint on her toes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Concentrating at work became a chore when Grace kept remembering the maze of expressions on Dameon’s face during his virgin pedicure. Absolutely priceless. She wished she had known it was coming so she could have set up a secret camera to record it.

  Before it slipped her mind, she sent Dameon a picture of the invitation that went out to the masses for the holiday event and called to leave a message for the coordinator to add his name to the list of attendees.

  She no sooner hung up the phone than her cell buzzed.

  I feel the need to attend a boxing match after today.

  She laughed, texted him back. Do you feel like a girl now?

  What can I do to convince you to keep today a secret?

  Grace sat back in her chair and looked at her drying toenails. My price is steep.

  Name it!

  Never mind. I’ll hold onto the information to lord over you.

  I see how this works. Blackmail.

  She couldn’t stop smiling. We all have our ways and means. Now go away. I have real work to get to.

  Grace stared at her phone, knew she was flirting, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  Thirty minutes before quitting time, Richard walked into her office without so much as a knock.

  No hello, no excuse me, he jumped right in with his demands. “I need you to go by the Sierra Highway site today.”

  She looked outside. The sun was already low on the horizon. “Why?”

  “Mr. Sokolov called my office, said he had a plan that doesn’t require the city to step in.”

  Grace felt her pulse rising. “I told him end of business yesterday.”

  “He said you told him he had until next Monday.”

  “Richard . . . he—”

  “If it will save us time and upfront money, we’re going to do it.” He waved to the clock. “You have time.”

  No, actually, she didn’t.

  “He said five o’clock.” Richard walked away, putting any argument she had to rest.

  She dropped her pen onto the desk and pushed the chair back. A stream of words ran in her head but didn’t escape her tongue.

  Not only was she not dressed for an on-site meeting, she hadn’t brought the right coat to be traipsing outside. Especially once the sun went down. Even though she lived close enough to change, there wasn’t enough time if she was going to make it to the site by five. Not during rush hour.

  She powered down her computer, grabbed her sweater and purse, and left the office.

  Grumbling all the way across town, Grace arrived at five minutes past five. Instead of parking on the street, she pulled into the mobile home complex and parked on the side of the road.

  Sokolov’s car wasn’t there.


  She removed her cell phone from her purse, glanced at the time to see that it matched her car’s, and swiveled in her seat.

  The wind had picked up, and the sun was long past warming up the day.

  She was going to give the man ten minutes and then she was out of there.

  Two cars drove past. Their lights shined inside her car, but kept going.

  One minute to her self-imposed deadline, the dark sedan pulled in behind her. She was actually disappointed. Unable to avoid the man, she stepped out of her car.

  It wasn’t full dark, but it was getting awfully close.

  Mr. Sokolov pushed out of his car and pulled at his pants as if making room in the crotch. The man was disgusting. “Nice to see the city jumping to meet with me,” he said instead of a simple hello.

  She wanted to contradict him, but he had a point.

  “Do you have plans for me to look at? Or a contractor for me to meet?”

  Because standing in the cold, dark mobile home park with a man she loathed wasn’t going to last long if he was there stalling.

  “I had my guy write something up.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  “You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” His voice felt like acid down her spine.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, cell phone tight in her hand.

  “It’s late, Mr. Sokolov.”

  “Okay, okay . . .” He rounded his car, opened the door to the back seat, and pulled out rolled-up papers she assumed were plans.

  He unrolled them on the hood of his car and used his cell phone as a flashlight.

  Grace set her phone on the hood and used both hands to hold the plans in place.

  Even though she didn’t have her drawings with her to compare, she knew at first glance the scale wasn’t right. “You’ve shrunk the scale,” she said.

  “These are almost identical to what you gave me.”

  She pointed to the guidepost she used as the cornerstone of the plan. “This is where it needs to start.” She moved her finger to where his plan began. “Not here.”

  “That’s not what you told me before.” He was so close she could smell the tobacco on his breath.

  “There’s nothing here about material or infrastructure.”

  “We’ll get to that later.” He stood too close, so she sidestepped away.

  “There is no later. This meeting was to offer a solid plan and the name of the contractor you’re using.” Her gaze moved around the plans. She flipped the giant paper to see an empty one underneath. No name or contractor’s license number anywhere to be seen. It was as if he scribbled the drawing himself.