THE PEDICURE
"Motherfucker!," swore Merle as his foot tore through the end of his worn black sock. "My last fucking sock," he exclaimed. He picked up an empty beer can and threw it at the wall, grunting with pain. Merle had wrecked his bike a couple weeks ago and broken both the bones in his right hand, leaving him in a cast from elbow to fingertips. A bar room fight last week had left him with a torn muscle in his lower back. The only way he could get pants and socks on was to dangle them in his left hand and hope he could push his right foot through without bending at the waist. He was coming off of a three-day binge and he was cranky as a rattlesnake - hung over, pissed off, and in pain. And where the fuck was Daryl?
"Where ya at boy?" yelled Merle. His usually raspy voice was even hoarser with alcohol dehydration. He listened for a reply then yelled again. "I need some of yer socks. And bring me some oxy." Daryl emerged from his bedroom, shirtless, with an unlit cigarette between his lips. He looked at the torn sock on Merle's foot and grimaced. "What the fuck Merle? When's the last time ya cut yer nails? I ain't givin you none of my socks just to get 'em torn up." Merle snarled in exasperation and replied, "Is that so? Ya fuckin' countin' yer socks now?" Daryl lit his cigarette then squinted through the smoke. He was hung over too and he was sick of taking care of Merle. "I ain't counted them lately but I can tell you the number I'll give your gnarly ass feet is zero. And you took all the oxy two days ago, you been too drunk to notice. All we got is aspirin."
The two brothers glared at each other. Merle knew if he couldn't even get socks on there was no way he could cut his own toenails. And he wasn't going to wear his boots without socks He decided to switch tactics, trying his best to exude a little charm. "Fine then," he said. "Why dontcha bring out them clippers, we'll take care a' my feet, and you can give me a pair of socks." Daryl regarded Merle suspiciously. "What do you mean WE'LL take care of your feet?", he asked slowly. Merle smiled innocuously and Daryl connected the dots. He coughed a puff of smoke with disgust. "I'm not touching yer fuckin' feet," he stated. "Not now, not ever. You can pay someone to do that shit, ain't happening with me." Merle looked at him icily. He had $20 in his pocket, overgrown toenails, and no socks. "Fine," said Merle. "We're goin' ta town."
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Two showers, a pot of coffee and a truck ride later the Dixons walked into the pink, green and white door. A set of small wind chimes signaled their presence and a petite woman wearing a maxi sundress in a palette of blue and green hues greeted them with a smile. She had close cropped silver hair and long silver earrings that twinkled when she smiled at them. "Hi," she said. "Welcome to Nice Tips, Senoia's newest nail salon and spa. "I'm the owner, my name is Carol. What can I help you gentlemen with?"
Daryl froze. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He felt his face getting hot and he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet. She tilted her head at him and smiled, and he noticed that her nose crinkled adorably. He was just beginning to mumble when Merle swaggered to the fore. Merle smiled down at Carol and checked her out from head to toe, then he poured on the charm. "Mornin' miss," he said. "We was wonderin' if ya cut nails, you know, fer discerning gentlemen." Carol nodded and smiled again. "Of course, it's actually becoming much more popular with men. It's $10 for a toenail trim, it comes with a warm foot soak in a recliner, a manual foot massage, and moisturizer. Should I prepare chairs for both of you?"
Daryl stepped back in terror and Merle laughed. He held up his hurt arm and explained, "No miss, just for me. I can't imagine anything more relaxin' than gettin pampered by a beautiful lady like yaself. The boy here is just my driver." Carol smiled again at Daryl, pointedly ignoring Merle's advance, and called for Maggie in the back room. A harried looking brunette emerged, wiping her hands on a towel. She took one look at Merle and Daryl in their black leather, and rolled her eyes. "We're packed back there," she said to Carol with obvious distaste. "Maybe they should come back tomorrow." Her body language made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with 'servicing' either of these two rednecks. Carol looked at her firmly and said, "I'm sure Mr...", then looked uncertainly at Merle. Merle looked coolly at Maggie and said, "Dixon. Merle Dixon." Carol smiled and said firmly, looking Maggie in the eye, "I'm sure Mr. Dixon won't mind waiting in the massage chair until a footbath opens up. Perhaps he'd like a coffee and a magazine." Maggie sighed in displeasure then pasted a fake smile on her face as she motioned Merle towards the back. "Fine," she said as Merle strode past her. "You may have to wait a while."
Carol turned back to appraise Daryl who looked significantly more nervous with Merle absent. "Please," she said. "Sit down here in the waiting area, right next to the coffee pot. Help yourself, and if you need the bathroom you just come on back. You don't need to ask." Daryl nodded his head, noting the creamy skin dotted with freckles on her shoulders, then clumsily sat down.
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Daryl had to pee. He'd burned through the pot of coffee waiting for Merle and he had read everything in the waiting area, including the sign that had taped to it the first dollar spent in Nice Tips Nail Salon and Spa. He read in a pamphlet that Carol Peletier had opened the business after divorcing an abusive husband and that a portion of her profits were donated to a local woman's shelter. He remembered his own abused mom and wondered if she could have gotten away from his dad if she could have done something like this. He doubted it, she had been to far gone with alcohol by the time she died. One thing was for sure - he wanted to throttle the son of a bitch who could have ever struck anyone as beautiful as Carol Peletier.
His need to pee was urgent now and he wanted to run outside to whiz in the parking lot but didn't want to get caught. So he stood up, walked uncertainly to the curtain and into the spa. He looked frantically past hordes of gabbing women and God knows what kind of equipment to find the bathroom. When he spotted the door he walked quickly to it without making eye contact, used the toilet, then bolted out of the bathroom towards the waiting area. All he had to do was navigate to the curtain and he was home free...then it happened.
"Scuse me" he mumbled when he inadvertently bumped into an occupied reclining chair. The large woman in the chair was clad in a white robe, she had a white towel wrapped around her head, white cream all over her face, and cucumber slices over her eyes. Soft snores were emanating from under the face cream. Daryl moved carefully around the foot of the chair to avoid further contact and hazarded another glance at the sleeping form. Jesus, those are the ugliest fucking feet I've ever seen on a woman, he thought to himself. Then in shock he gaped at the sleeping form. "Merle?!", he croaked incredulously. Merle's snore ended in an abrupt snort and Daryl was distracted by the presence of a young, impossibly perky blonde moving into his space.
"Hi, you must be Daryl" she said. "I'm Beth. I'm training for my aesthetician license and your brother is helping me. He said you wouldn't mind if it takes an extra half hour or so, and you don't have to worry, it's all free!". Daryl stared at the 20-year old, momentarily tongue-tied. She had large blue eyes set in a heart shaped face and looked about college age – and as wholesome and innocent as the day she was born. Merle will eat this one alive, he thought in panic. She excitedly brushed past him to lay out an assortment of crèmes, oils and lotions on the table nearest the chair, humming as she organized them by whatever the fuck use they had. Daryl sidled awkwardly not knowing what to do and was saved again from mortification by the owner, Carol was her name?, appearing at his elbow. He was met with sky blue eyes that perfectly offset the cropped salt and pepper hair that curled slightly at the ends. The image of a pixie popped into his brain, and he wanted to kick his own ass for thinking about pixies. She smiled at him and strangely he felt calmed. "Do you think you could look at my washing machine in the back?" she asked. "It went on a rampage in my utility room last night and I'm worried now that the hoses are pulling out of the wall. I can't get any service people in until Monday." Daryl hurriedly nodded his assent – anything to get away from this foreign environment! - and followed her into back, trying his best to not visibly check out her ass.
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Beth gently wiped the shea oil beard softener from Merle's face and carefully removed the cucumber slices from his eyes. She was met with a steely blue gaze and she smiled. "How is that feeling Mr. Dixon?," she asked, and Merle smiled back. "Well little miss that was the most relaxin' nap I've had in a while, he answered, "and I think yous right, that shea oil is soothing my beard follicles just like ya said. But I sure wish ya'd call me Merle." Beth squealed and said, "I just knew it! And the cucumber freshened the circles under your eyes right up! And it looks like Maggie's still busy so we have time...but Merle, I'm worried about your pores closing up, so I'm going to get the steamer and astringent spray, then I'll work on your eyebrows a little bit before your face massage. Well, that is if you don't mind me practicing on you." Merle smiled like an alligator and purred, "Why Miss Beth, I'm happy to help ya any way I can, you just go right ahead now and see if you can purty up a rough ole piece of work like me." Beth giggled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before stealing a glance at Merle. "Well I don't think that will be too hard," she confided before jumping up to get her things, and Merle leered after her. Don't like it when ya go but I sure love watchin' you leave he thought.
In the utility room Daryl had the back off of the washing machine and was swearing as he reinstalled the drive belt. Carol stood silently next to him, handing him tools. He was amazed at how easily this repair job had gone, usually if Merle was helping him he ended up doing all the work himself, but Carol seemed to know which tool to hand him before he even said it, and even helped hold the corner of the machine up to get it leveled. He tested out the final adjustments and grunted in approval, then began to screw the back of the machine back on. "Ya good with tools," he acknowledged. She had been silent throughout but had seemed very comfortable that way. He liked that she didn't think she had to talk all the time to fill the void. "I helped my dad a lot when I was young," she said. "He always told me I shouldn't have to rely on a man to get basic repairs done." Daryl glanced at her, she was smiling but her eyes had a faraway sad look. "He sounds like a good dad," he grunted. Carol awoke from her reverie and nodded. "He was," she said. "You remind me a little bit of him. Quiet. Focused. Thoughtful." Daryl looked up at her and they shared a long look. Carol cleared her throat and said, "Thank you so much for helping me, the least I can do is comp your brother for his trim today. And maybe I could give you a gift certificate for your...wife or girlfriend?" Daryl looked down and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. He picked up the tools clumsily and handed them to her, then moved to the front of the machine and shoved it back into place. "Aint married or nothin'", he said uncomfortably and she smiled. "Well," she said lightly. "Maybe things will change." He looked at her in surprise and she walked out, her ass swaying seductively in blue, green and silver.
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"No," Beth laughed in delight, pursing her lips in an exaggerated fashion. "Like this!" Merle pushed his lips out and she applied the herbal lip mask. "You have to keep it on for two minutes," she said, trying not to laugh at the biker who now had fluorescent green lips. "I look like a faggot?" asked Merle suspiciously and she kept her face straight. "No, you look like a gentleman who cares about his lip hydration. The ladies will love it." The timer went off and she carefully dabbed the lip mask off. Merle inclined his head toward her and gazed at her steadily as he replied, "Little Girl, aint nothin' about ole Merle that the ladies don't love." Beth's mouth opened in shock and she exhaled in surprise. "Um, I just have to get...your um...your tea tree scalp stuff, um treatment...I'll be right back..."
Merle chuckled as he watched Beth's retreating figure then he started abruptly when a stony faced Maggie strode into his field of vision. She was holding a dremel tool in her hand and as she approached she sharply pulled the lever on his footrest so his bare feet dropped to the floor with a thump. "Time for your trim," she said darkly as she switched on the rotary blade, and Merle's surprised howls of pain were drowned out by the grinding of metal on flesh.
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Merle sauntered into the waiting area and Daryl did a double take. Merle's teeth gleamed white against a perfectly groomed five o'clock shadow. His short curly hair shone against his freshly massaged scalp and his steely blue eyes were shadowed by perfectly manicured eyebrows. His skin actually glowed. He looked like a fucking movie star. Beth followed him holding a plastic bag full of grooming product samples and was reciting a long list of instructions. "...and don't forget the tea tree oil scalp emollient every seven to ten days," she continued, handing him the bag. A small bottle rolled out of the bag and Beth chased it down in front of Merle. "Got it," she said triumphantly, stuffing it back in the bag with a smile. "You don't want to forget your sandalwood and walnut shell facial mask." Merle thanked her then looked seriously into her eyes. "I do have a concern, maybe you can put my mind at rest." Beth nodded and said, "Of course, Merle, anything I can do!" Merle grunted softly and leaned in closer, giving her the Dixon bedroom stare. "I heard them tea tree allergies can be real dangerous, what if I was to suffer one a them and I was all alone. Not sure I'd know what to do." Beth looked at him with huge eyes, she had never thought of that. She was so concerned didn't hear Daryl's snort behind her. Merle's eyes searched her face, then her neckline, where a demure white satin camisole covered what promised to be a perky set of assets. Way too young for me but goddamn this feels good, he thought. "Well," continued Merle, "I think I'd feel better if I had your number, you know, in case one a them allergies hits on a Saturday night or something." "Oh, Merle, you're right," she agreed, "I'll go write it on a business card right now!" and she scurried off to get one of the new business cards she had just had printed last week.
Merle laughed so hard that he started coughing while Daryl berated him in hushed tones about acting his age. They both straightened up when Carol came out. "No charge for today gentlemen," she said cheerfully, and she walked to Daryl, holding out her hand. Daryl held his out and shook it, not wanting to let it go but knowing he had to. She looked him in the eye and he blushed, looking down at the floor. Meanwhile Beth danced out from behind the curtain and handed a business card to Merle. "C'mon," said Daryl grumpily, pushing past him to the door, and as they filed behind her Beth suddenly jumped and squealed, then blushed furiously. That hand's feelin' better already thought Merle cheerfully as the warm Georgia sun hit his face.
They got in the truck, Daryl scowling and Merle grinning like a fool. Merle slammed the door shut and Daryl sniffed the air. "Ya smell like a fuckin orchard Merle", he growled. Merle appraised him haughtily. "Ya ought ta try it little brother, might finally get ya a piece a ass." "Yeah," mumbled Daryl, lost in thought as he backed up the truck. "Maybe."
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Athlete Girl here! Please review me! I'm on crutches for 4 weeks after hip surgery and I could definitely use some love!
