Suspicions Read Free

you have to do is show them you care. I instructed for her to place her right foot in my hand. Beverly started laughing like she was trying on a glass slipper. I stared down at her feet and it took all I had not to do a double take. It didn’t matter how often she came in, I still couldn’t get used to her having some big-ass Fred Flintstone toes. The bottoms of her feet were so hard and crusty, one would have thought she had used them to peddle her car over to the salon. “Damn, boo, you got some pretty feet.”
    She smiled just the way I wanted her to, then dropped her eyes and tried to act shy while I removed the polish from her toes. “You think so?”
    â€œMost definitely, I bet your man likes to suck your toes,” I flirted. She grinned and licked her lips—the way females do when you tell them exactly what they wanted to hear.
    Patricia’s nosy behind glanced over at Beverly’s feet and then at me with her brow raised and snorted. “Be for real.”
    It took everything I had not to laugh. What can I say? I aim to please. And so far my fat pockets proved that I knew what I was doing. How’s the saying go? The proof is in the pudding. Before I had even graduated from beauty school I knew that I would make more money doing female pedicures than I ever would cutting a nigga’s head. “What would you like me to do today?”
    The look Beverly gave told me that whatever was on her mind had nothing to do with her feet. Maybe it’s the freak in me, but I like a woman who made her intentions known. I allowed my eyes to run freely over her body. Beverly had a slamming shape. A wide ass and big breasts perfect enough to hold in the palm of my hands, but there was no way I could go out with her. Not with her wandering eye. I wouldn’t know if she was looking at me or the dude sitting at the next table.
    Beverly slipped her feet in the water, then shrugged. “I don’t know . . . What do you think?”
    I splashed water across her legs with my hand as I spoke. “How about bronze polish? I think it would bring out the gold tone of your skin.”
    She batted her eyelashes. “You really think so?”
    â€œOh yeah. And how about a white flower on the big toe with a stud in the middle?”
    â€œWhatever you think.” She giggled.
    â€œI got you, boo.” Art décor was extra. The more I did, the more I got paid, and I was definitely making my money. In a few more months, I would be able to finally get a crib of my own, because living at the YMCA was cramping my style.
    My boys thought I was a joke and said that only a fag would be interested in working at a beauty salon doing pedicures, but I was determined to prove them fools wrong. I’ve got a sister and I know there are things women don’t mind spending money on—clothes, hair, and nails. Half my boys were struggling to pay their child support while I had built a clientele, and never walked around with less than a couple hundred in my pocket. Who’s the man now?
    I had only been working at Situations six weeks, and already the other nail technicians were complaining because I had all of their customers wanting me to sit between their legs and play with their toes. What can I say, except that I know what it takes to make the ladies happy.
    The bell over the door chimed and I cursed under my breath when I recognized the chick coming through the door. Tameka. I instantly felt a migraine coming on. Ever since she found out where I worked, she’d been dropping in every couple of days, and when she did, she always did something to piss me off. She was a fatal fucking attraction. As soon as she stepped through the door and spotted me rubbing Beverly’s feet, I had this feeling she was about to start some shit. My shoulders sagged with relief when she moved into the small shop off to the side where the owner of the salon sold haircare products, hoop earrings, and all