Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
“Ican’t believe you talked me into this,” Thomas hissed.
“This is the chocolate flake of aftercare,” Scott replied with a cocky grin. “It’s an essential part of your ice cream.”
Thomas shook his head. “Aftercare is making sure you don’t drown in the bath and you’re well hydrated –”
“They kind of contradict each other.”
“Aftercare is not this…whatever this is.”
They were once again strolling through town together. Scott ran a hand through his hair, pouted and slightly sucked in his cheeks, his most alluring look, but no one spared him a glance, not when he was walking next to Thomas.
“Are you okay?” Thomas asked.
“Of course I’m okay.” Scott frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“You keep pulling a face like you’re sucking a lemon.”
“Madonna swears by this pose.”
Thomas shook his head. “Maybe twenty years ago.” He sighed. “I thought maybe your chorizo was chaffing…”
“My chorizo is fine, thanks for asking.”
“This isn’t going to take long, is it?”
“Why?” Scott asked. “Have you got some place to be?”
“Well…no.”
Scott shrugged, holding up his hand in front of him to study his nails. “Mine should only take about thirty minutes.”
He was in desperate need of a manicure after the swan incident.
“Yours…”
“That’s what I said.”
Thomas stopped walking. “It kind of implies we’ll be there longer…”
“I’ve booked you in too.”
Thomas gaped. “What? Why?”
“Your nails need some loving.”
“Scott…”
Scott tried to link his arm with Thomas’s, but Thomas shoved him away. “This isn’t my thing.”
“No, it’s mine, but I want to share it with you. I’m a good friend like that.”
“We’re not friends,” Thomas hissed.
Scott pointed at the nail salon ahead. “It’s literally there.”
“I’m not happy about this.”
“You’re not happy about anything.”
Thomas glared. “I was quite happy watching you get fucked out of your mind…”
“Look, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave.”
“Now I know how your clients feel.”
“Fuck. You.”
Scott led the way, hoping Thomas was behind him. He pushed the door to the salon open and immediately got wrapped up in spindly arms. Jeff hugged him tight, making a keening sound as he did, then abruptly pushed Scott away, gripped his shoulders and looked into his face.
Jeff’s fake lashes fluttered as he took Scott in. He pouted in sympathy. “Been a rough few weeks, has it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me,” Jeff murmured, cupping Scott’s cheek and stroking his thumb beneath Scott’s left eye. The fake nail he had on was sharpened to a point, and Scott was pretty sure it took off a few of his bottom lashes on the way past.
Jeff inspected his thumb with an even bigger pout. Concealer smeared the digit. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Scott shrugged. “I’m…stressed.”
Jeff nodded. “Does the stress have anything to do with the man glaring at us?”
Scott shifted his gaze to the side, catching Thomas watching them.
“No. Thomas is good…most of the time.” He frowned. “Actually, forget I said that, he’s an arsehole.”
Jeff stepped back from Scott and offered his hand out to Thomas. “Nice to meet you, Arsehole.”
Thomas surprised Scott by shaking Jeff’s hand.
“Takes one to know one,” Thomas mumbled in reply.
“Wait until I tell you about the balloons,” Scott said, climbing out of his hoodie and hanging it on the coat stand.
Jeff was too busy staring at Thomas to hear. “Did it hurt?” he asked, waving a vague hand at his face.
“When I fell from heaven?” Thomas asked. “No.”
Jeff snorted. “I like you already.” He touched his nose. “Just making sure mine is still in place.”
“Yours?” Thomas lifted an eyebrow. “I doubt anything on your face is original.”
Scott inwardly cringed.
Jeff had full lips, high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and a cute button nose.
His brows and his eyeliner were tattooed on, and he wore purple contact lenses with oversized pupils like a cartoon character.
He was fifty, without a single grey in his brown hair, couldn’t pull an expression to save his life, and had disappeared to Turkey only to return with a new hairline – yet – he swore on his mother’s soul he hadn’t had any work done.
“This…” Jeff touched his face. “It’s all natural.”
“Bullshit.”
“All you need is a good skin care routine, peppermint tea, and yoga, and you get to keep your youthful looks. Or at least I do, runs in the family you see. Good genetics.”
“There’s genetics, and then there’s cutting the face of a teenager and sewing it to your own.”
“I’d rather the teenager than a reptile from a zoo,” Jeff said, then he laughed.
Thomas didn’t laugh, but he didn’t storm out of the salon, which Scott considered a win.
“I think you should do Thomas first,” Scott said. “How I showed you?”
Jeff’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I think they’ll suit him.”
“You’ve got to promise not to look until they’re done,” Scott said.
Thomas grimaced. “What?”
“Trust me.”
Jeff led the way to a pink plastic chair and stood behind it to tuck Thomas beneath the tall table.
Thomas rolled his eyes and went over, muttering beneath his breath. Scott pulled up a chair beside him, offering a reassuring smile, but Thomas just glared.
“You have thirty minutes, then you have to walk home,” Thomas mumbled.
“Home?” Jeff asked.
Thomas squeezed his eyes shut. “I meant back. You have to walk back.”
Scott told Jeff about the balloon shoot while he worked, and Thomas seemed to relax after Jeff congratulated him on playing Scott for a fool.
“And how is your cute bubble butt now?” Jeff asked.
“Getting better.” Scott shifted in his seat. “Still a little sore in certain positions.”
Jeff smirked, shaking his head. “I still want to kick it, though.”
Scott leaned back. “What?”
“You heard me. I want to kick your cute bubble butt.”
“Why?”
Jeff blew out a breath. “What do you mean, why?”
Scott blinked. He glanced at Thomas for help, whose eyes hadn’t left him, but he looked uninvested in the conversation. Scott was pretty sure he’d zoned out.
Jeff sighed. “If you needed money, you only had to ask.”
Scott’s breath caught.
“I would’ve leant it to you,” Jeff whispered. “And so would’ve Zara. She was so upset when you got sent down, upset and furious, and I felt the same. Blackmailing a politician, Scott, I mean, seriously?”
“It wasn’t my finest idea.”
“And he wasn’t even one of the hot ones.”
“Are there any hot ones?” Thomas asked.
Jeff shook his head. “It was stupid.” He looked at Thomas. “Did you know Scott did time?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied. “I did it with him. We’re ex-cellmates.”
“Turned real mates, aww.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you tell him he was stupid for what he did?”
Thomas shrugged. “I don’t need to tell him; he reads it off my face.”
“How much did you need anyway?” Jeff asked.
Scott pressed his lips in a firm line.
Thomas ran his gaze up and down Scott before replying, “I’m guessing about ￡100,000…”
“￡100,000! Christ, Scott!” Jeff flung himself into the table to lean closer. “What are you involved in?”
“I’ve been wondering that too,” Thomas said, cocking his head.
“Nothing.” Scott glanced at the water cooler. “I need a drink.”
He took his time.
He took so much time that when he returned to the table, neither Thomas nor Jeff brought up the money again.
Thomas pointedly didn’t look towards his hands once; his eyes were glued to Scott’s every move. Scott drank the rest of his water, then crushed the cup.
“Can I guess?” Thomas asked. Scott swallowed, and Thomas quickly added, “I mean about the nails. Can I guess what they say?”
Scott and Jeff both frowned.
“Do the fingers on one hand spell out dick, and the other, head?”
Scott laughed. “No, Thomas, although that sounds much better than what I came up with.”
“I could’ve done smiling willy’s on the thumbnails.” Jeff pouted. “That would’ve been cute.” He glanced behind him. “You could’ve been on the wall of fame.”
The wall of fame consisted of crude nail designs, Scott’s personal favourite was the coming penis on the nail of a forefinger that shot its load all the way to the little one.
“We’re done,” Jeff announced.
Thomas took a deep, long sigh, then looked. He stared. He blinked. He stared some more. Scott and Jeff exchanged worried glances.
Thomas moved his hands closer to his face, studying them.
“Well…” Jeff said. “What do you think?”
Thomas looked to Jeff, then turned to Scott. “I…love them.”
Scott wiped the sweat from his brow. He beamed.
The nails on Thomas’s thumbs and middle fingers were black, with an undercoat of green when the light hit them just right. His other nails had the same snake-skin green and beige pattern of his tattoo, only glossier.
Thomas stroked his nails, amazed. “They feel weird.”
Jeff nodded. “If it’s your first set, it’ll take a day or so to get used to them.” He smiled. “I think Scott’s design works well.”
“Scott’s design?” Thomas asked.
“I drew a picture on my phone, chose the colours, and sent it to Jeff. It’s him who brought them to life.”
Jeff blew Scott a kiss. “Now switch seats so I can sort your nails out, Scott.”
Thomas got up, still admiring his nails.
He didn’t speak the entire time Scott was having his manicure.
When they were done, Jeff kissed Scott on the cheek. “You and your friend are welcome any time.”
Scott waited for the inevitable moment Thomas announced they weren’t friends, but it didn’t come.
They left the salon and headed back to the car.
“I knew you’d like them,” Scott said smugly. “Aftercare goes both ways.”
“It…it doesn’t usually.”
“Well, that’s stupid.”
He stopped abruptly in front of Thomas’s car, staring wide-eyed at the windscreen. An unhappy face drawn on a paper was pinned beneath the windscreen wiper.
“What’s that?”
Thomas strode around Scott and grabbed it with a questioning glance back.
Scott schooled his face. “No idea.”