Magic Hands (11 page)

Lizzie took a drink. “Total y cool. Real y nice. Not like the gossiping snots I’ve seen you hang around.”

“I do not.” He grabbed for her Coke.

“Oh, since when are Bree and her pack of friends anything but a bunch of self-serving wenches?”

“One drink, come on, Liz.” He grabbed again before she handed it to him.

“So.” He drank, wiped his mouth. “You haven’t heard anything weird about Rachel?”

“What kind of weird?”

He handed her back the drink with a shrug. “Anything.”

“She’s rich, that’s al I know. And, like, is an actress. She’s, like, real y good.”

He bet that. He’d been fooled. He guessed everybody else was fooled too.

Lizzie suddenly stil ed, looking over his shoulder. “Shh—

I think Mom’s coming.”

Cort darted for the nearest cabinet and tossed the chips into it while Lizzie held the soda behind her back as their mother entered.

She looked at them both over the rim of her glasses.

“What are you two doing?”

“Going to bed.” Cort started toward the stairs but she sniffed.

“I smel something,” she said, moving as she sniffed until she was right in front of the two of them. “Something smel s like Doritos.” She looked from one to the other. “Where’s the bag?”

Lizzie shook her head. Their mother raised her eyebrow.

“Is that what you think of my dinner?”

When neither Lizzie or Cort said anything, she looked at them deciphering. “I’l al ow one cheat and this is it. As of this moment however, cheating’s over. What kind of mother would I be if I ignored the facts—healthy nutrition leads to healthy lives. Now get to work on that essential eight hours you need for your stil -growing bodies,” she told them. She grabbed an empty mug from the glass cabinet and went on her way.

Lizzie looked after her, bringing her soda back around.

“You think her sense of smel has like gotten sharper with this tofu thing?”

“No doubt.” Cort stuffed the bag of chips under his shirt.

“Lock up.”

“That’s not my job,” Lizzie complained.

He shot her a grin over his shoulder as he headed to his room. “It is tonight. And you thought I rol ed.”

The message window was open on his Facebook page.

Cort sat down and clicked it open. Rachel. The endless stream of Doritos he’d just consumed turned to rocks in his stomach.

RACHEL: you there?

He debated getting into anything more with her. He was stil weighing what Bree and Shaylee had told him against what Lizzie said, and then there was what Lizzie had said about Bree and Shaylee to consider.

Recently he wondered about Bree and her friends. Being a guy, he only saw one side to her; a flirty, friendly vixen. But after listening to her rag in the salon, he started wondering how nice she real y was.

Rachel, on the other hand, appeared to be everything he fantasized she would be—until today. The nasty rumor ate at him. He wanted the truth but he didn’t have the nerve, or couldn’t be mean enough, to confront her directly.

He had to find another way.

CORT: hey.

RACHEL: hey, did you suck in too many fumes or something?

CORT: no.

RACHEL: OK. but u r mad at me 4 some reason.

CORT: it was u that threw my $ down on the table.

RACHEL: i wasn’t mad at u

CORT: so what was it?

RACHEL: u tel me.

Rachel stared at the screen, waiting. Ever since she’d left Miss Chachi’s she’d been bugged. She ran their conversation over and over in her head and saw no reason for Cort to turn lame on her. She’d gone from mad to sorry to afraid and back to mad again. With some time to consider the future, which looked total y destroyed, she rotated back to fear.

She didn’t like that. Fear meant she cared too much, and that her heart was the next thing to take a hit. But she couldn’t get Cort’s face out of her mind and that was enough for her to try to suck it up and figure out what had happened.

RACHEL: did i say something?

It’s not what you said, it’s what you
do
, Cort thought but couldn’t type it. Instead, he wrote: CORT: forget it. how are the nails?

RACHEL: awesome. u did a great job. if they don’t lift, u’l have a new customer CORT: more proof ?

RACHEL: you’re stil proving? good. 4 a minute i thought i might have scared u off CORT: u don’t scare me

In fact, now that he’d decided his plan of action, he wasn’t concerned about anything. He’d find out for himself if she was walking the streets under the lamplight. Tomorrow night.

RACHEL: some guys have told me i do.

CORT: some guys don’t have any bal s.

RACHEL: Okaaaaaayyyy i won’t go there.

CORT: tel me who carmel and brownie and sunshine are.

NYCBabe16: never.

CORT: do i have a code name?

Rachel grinned.

RACHEL: i’l think of one.

CORT: but you won’t tel me, wil you?

RACHEL: not on your life. let’s see…puppy eyes…fast fingers…

CORT:
FAST FINGERS?

RACHEL: better forget that one.

CORT: stud works

RACHEL: u wish.

CORT: guess i have to prove that, too.

Rachel enjoyed a delicious shiver. There were lots of names she could cal a guy as perfectly packaged as Cort.

Sizzlin’. Magic Hands. Magic Hands—she liked it. Heat flushed in her hands as if he’d just touched them, like when he so gently massaged her fingers.

RACHEL: i just thought of your name.

CORT: uh-oh. what?

RACHEL: i told u u’l never know.

CORT: what’s fair is fair. i’m naming you then.

RACHEL: go ahead.

What kind of name would he choose? How did he see her?

RACHEL: OK. i may give in. if u tel me, i’l tel u CORT: i knew u’d want 2 know.

RACHEL: i just want to see what u’d come up with, that’s al .

CORT: deal?

RACHEL: i’d better go. dad’s on the phone and i want to talk to him.

CORT: OK.

RACHEL: what are you going to do now?

CORT: lie in bed and think about what to name you.

After they said goodbye, Rachel pictured him. Though she’d never set foot in his house, didn’t even know where he lived, her imagination easily conjured up the scene of him in long, plaid flannel pajama pants and no shirt. That ripped bod gorgeously splayed with one arm over his head, muscles flexed while he was hard at work, thinking.

Rachel turned off her computer glad things between them were on a better wave. In spite of her resolve, she wanted something with Cort, even if it was only for him to continue on this crazy quest to prove to her he was solid—not jel y, like most jocks.

It would be cool if something more happened between them. It would rock everything if one day he kissed her. Her first kiss—more than a casual greeting. That’s what she’d think about tonight.

Right after she talked to her dad.

Because he was starving and hadn’t been duped into eating the tofu benedict his mother had prepared for him and Lizzie that morning, the haunting scent of coffee pul ed Cort into Minerva’s.

Poor Lizzie, he thought with a moment’s amusement. At least he had the excuse of a job to get him out of the house.

The bel over the door jingled when he entered. Half a dozen girls he recognized from school sat at green wrought iron cafe tables sipping steamers.

Minerva smiled from behind the counter. “Hey, Cort.

What can I get you?”

He greeted the girls, feeling like a bug under a microscope as he crossed to the counter. “A Min’s Special.”

“With whipped cream?”

“That’d be great.” He glanced around, nodding casual y at the girls stil watching him. “You’re busy,” he said to Minerva.

“Thanks to you.” She fil ed a Styrofoam cup with the rich, dark chocolate—her special recipe. “To go, right?”

He nodded.

“They’re al waiting for Miss Chachi’s to open.” She sprayed on a generous mound of cream, sprinkled it with cinnamon.

“They are?” He paid her and took the cup.

“Ever since you started work it’s been great.”

“Wow.” He sipped, and scorched his upper lip.

“That’s hot,” she warned him. “I guess Miss Chachi loves you, huh? You want to come to work for me too?” she joked.

His hands warmed holding the hot chocolate. “She barely gives me time to breathe or I would.”

“Wel , it’s been so slow down here. It’s great to final y have some foot traffic. You keep it up.” She went about clearing cups from the tables and Cort left the cafe, fol owed by some of the girls.

A guy could let this get to his head, he thought, knowing ful wel a line of girls trailing him was pretty cool.

He walked into Miss Chachi’s and got ready to work.

“You very popular,” Tiaki said with a smile as she set up at her table. “Miss Chachi like that.”

“Yeah.” He set down his cup and took off his coat. Miss Chachi was at the front desk, getting the first clients of the day settled. “How long have you known Miss Chachi?”

Tiaki glanced to the woman before answering. “She give me job. She know my family need me to work and send money back so they can come here to United States someday.”

The news surprised him. “The other girls? Jasmine, Abby and Misu?”

“They same. She pay for us to come here, teach us nail and we send money to family.”

Suddenly al of the money he’d made and spent on stupid stuff like the hot cocoa he was enjoying seemed like a waste. As he worked, al he could do was think about the girls and how little they made, how much he had made in comparison, and how much more they needed it.

Customers came for only him. He had to change that, for the sake of the girls. He started talking them up with his clients in the hopes those who couldn’t fit in his schedule would choose one of the others and stick with her, so their individual client base would grow.

Half-way through the day, he took a break and went back to Minerva’s, and grabbed each of the girls a gourmet fruit juice. He’d never seen any of them take a break. He’d only gotten the reprieve because he threatened mutiny.

As he walked back to the salon, he noticed Bree pul up in her pearly-white convertible. She had her usual offenders with her. Shaylee and Megan never did anything without dragging along on the hem of one of Bree’s short skirts.

He couldn’t believe he’d once thought Bree was hot. She was so different, now that he’d heard her talk, seen the way she was with other girls.

She got out of her car with her dark glasses on and waved at him. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she was there again. She’d come in every week since he’d started working.

“Cortie.” She wore a velour sweat outfit in fawn. Her disheveled blonde striped hair was up in a claw. “Is one of those for me?” she asked, noticing the fruit juice in his arms.

She reached for one, but he pul ed back.

“Actual y, no.”

Pouting, she fol owed him into the salon. He ignored her and passed out the juices to the girls. When Tiaki bowed her head in gratitude, he felt a slug of emotion in his chest.

“What are you doing here?” He sat down at his table.

“I want you to give me a pedicure and leg massage. After the dance, I need it. It was crazy.”

“Jasmine does the pedicures.”

“But I want you to do it. I’l pay double.”

“I don’t do pedicures, Bree.” He was purposeful y harsh so she got the message. She didn’t say anything more, she marched directly to Miss Chachi.

“She’s mad,” Shaylee muttered.

“I don’t give a crap,” he said. But the crimp in his gut told him to be ready. Sure enough, Bree sauntered back with a smile on her face, fol owed by Miss Chachi whose face wore a frown.

“This young lady want pedicure from you, Cort. She wil ing to pay double. You do pedicure.” She pointed to the large, stuffed chairs.

“But—”

“No but,” Miss Chachi scolded. “Pedicure same as manicure. Soak, massage, clean, file and paint.” She clapped her hands.

Begrudgingly, Cort moved to the big chair and waited for Bree to sit. Shaylee and Megan pul ed up two empty stools next to her;
a queen with her servants
, Cort mused angrily.

Miss Chachi started the swirling hot water and patted Cort’s shoulder. “Soak, massage, clean, file and paint. Easy.”

Then she left.

Bree stared at him, her shiny lips curled, her eyelids heavy. “Take off my shoes, Cortie.”

Every muscle in his face drew tight. He’d just love to shove her feet with her fancy flip-flops into the hot water. But he took her feet in his hands and slipped off the light-weight leather sandals without incident.

“Now rol up my pants,” her voice dropped an octave.

“Then they won’t get wet.”

Cort glanced at Jasmine who was in the middle of a pedicure and noticed that her client also had the legs of her pants rol ed up to her calves. He leaned over and started rol ing.

“You have great hair,” Bree told him.

Heat singed his cheeks. He didn’t say anything.

“Higher,” Bree said and leaned close so their faces were within inches. “I want my massage al the way up.”

Cort swal owed a lump in his throat. Part of him responded with an uncomfortable twist inside as his fingers brushed the tanned smoothness of her legs. He didn’t like that.

He sat back. “Rol them yourself.”

Bree’s eyes narrowed. She finished the job, rol ing and pul ing the velour up to the top of her thighs. Then she extended her two tanned, long legs toward him. He couldn’t help but look at them. They were great legs, no matter what he thought of who they belonged to.

Slowly she dipped her pointed feet primly into the water.

“Ahh.” She leaned back with a sigh, settling into the chair like a cat.

While her feet soaked, he watched Jasmine work. In slow, circular motion, she rubbed cream into the girl’s calves. His stomach fluttered. He’d never touched a girl that way before and wasn’t sure he could do it without it affecting him in an embarrassing manner.

“Cortie,” Bree taunted. He looked at her. “Put the cream in your hands,” she instructed. “Since this is your first time,”