Page 56 of The Confidentiality Clause
“But, you don’t need a gift to buy your way into her good graces,” she adds, “because I have the perfect plan.”
There’s a devious quality to her voice that has me worried.
“I’m going to hate this plan, aren’t I?” I groan.
“Probably, which is what makes it all the better.”
I scowl even though she can’t see me. “And what is this amazing plan of yours?”
“We’re getting pedicures together.”
I blink. “What?”
“Me, you, Shaw, and Sutton are going to get a pedicure. I already booked it. Sutton doesn’t know you’re coming, but I know she’ll be ecstatic.”
“I’m not getting my nails done, I’m a grown man.”
Ariel laughs. “Debatable. And besides, Shaw is getting his done. Is your masculinity so fragile you can’t soak your feet in some water for an hour?”
I wipe a hand over my face. “Why do you think this will make her happy with me? Can’t I just pay for hers and call it a night?”
Ariel scoffs. “Sutton is filthy rich. She doesn’t need you to pay for it. She needs you to show up for her. And make her laugh–which watching you get a pedicure will certainly accomplish.”
“Fine,” I growl. “But I’m not staying longer than an hour.”
“Yes, yes, the very busy sports agent who never has fun has to go back to work. Ugh, spare me.” I clench my phone tighter. She continues, “We’re about to leave for the salon. I’ll text you the address to meet us at.”
“Have I told you lately how much I despise you?”
She lets out a happy sigh. “No, and I’ve missed it.”
I hang up on her laughter.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” I mutter under my breath as I walk back to the front of the store.
On my way out, I spy a Star Wars blanket. It’s cheap, but I know Sutton will love it, and she gets cold easily, so it will be good for the plane ride. I buy it and bring it with me. Can’t hurt anything.
It–unfortunately–doesn’t take me long to get to the nail salon. I walk inside and grimace at the strong smell of nail polish. When Sutton and Ariel used to paint their nails in her room, the smell always made me nauseous. This is a hundred times worse.
Sutton gasps when she sees me. “Brock! I can’t believe you’re here.”
Even Shaw looks surprised. Ariel, of course, does not.
I walk over to the large massage chairs they’re all seated in. There’s one left next to Ariel, with water bubbling in the foot tub. A petite, elderly woman with long black hair walks over to me.
“Take off your shoes, roll up your pants, and sit,” she orders with no preamble. What happened to hello?
The hard look in her dark brown eyes has me scrambling. Ariel giggles as I get situated. The woman presses a few buttons on the chair, and it starts pounding away at my back like it’s angry at me for sitting in it. I grip the armrests with wide eyes.
“Put your feet in the water,” the woman says, and I do so. It’s scalding hot. “Too hot?” she asks. I shake my head. “Good. We will be right with you.”
She walks away. The volume of Ariel’s laughter increases the further the old woman gets.
“What is going on?” I hiss.
Ariel leans over and turns down the massage to a more comfortable level. I hover my feet above the steaming water to avoid third-degree burns.
“She can be intense, but this place gives the best pedicures,” Ariel says.
