Firstly, I’m excited to join my fellow Casababes and introduce myself. My first novel with Sourcebooks and the first in the Demons Unleashed series, Demons Prefer Blondes, will be released in June. It’s been a roller-coaster of a ride from start to finish, and it’s been worth every twist and turn.
I find it exciting that this month focuses on treating ourselves. One of my favorite ways of treating myself is going to the spa and getting a pedicure. There’s nothing more relaxing than sitting back while someone massages my feet and makes them all nice, soft, and pretty. Especially when Spring and Summer roll around. That way I can wear sandals without being embarrassed about showing my feet in public.
However, in a way it’s utterly ironic.
“Why?” you ask.
Well... Lucy, the heroine in Demons Prefer Blondes, owns a suburban hair salon and spa. Matter of fact, the first time we meet her, she is on her knees, bending over a bubbling foot spa scrubbing pair of the most hideous feet she has ever seen. Not the most pleasant job in the world, that’s for sure.
Here’s the scene to whet your interest:
When Lucia Gregory became a cosmetologist, she never expected this. Here she was, sitting over a bubbling footbath, scraping the calluses off Mrs. Gunderson’s bunion-ridden feet and sandblasting her thick, yellow toenails.
Thank goodness for the soothing scent of lavender foot scrub and the protection of latex gloves. This
wasn’t what she had in mind, at all. But when your nail tech calls in sick again, what can you do? Grin and bear it. Bearing it was easy. The grinning part she still needed to work on.
“There you go, Mrs. Gunderson,” she said, a wide smile pasted on her face. “You’re all set.” With a quick pat of the towel, Lucia—Lucy to her friends—dried the woman’s feet. Feet that shouldn’t be seen in public.
“Oh dear, you’ve got it all wrong.” Her voice, high and whiny, would make fingernails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony.
“Standard pedicure, Mrs. G.” Lucy ripped off the rubber gloves, powder flying, and threw them into the wastebasket.
Mrs. Gunderson huffed and crossed her arms. “Suzie always gives me a paraffin bath.”
“That’s a deluxe pedicure,” she replied, pointing up to the pricing chart that hung on the wall.
“Suzie ain’t ever charged me extra.”
Suzie ain’t here, damn it! “Okay, Mrs. G.”
Which is another reason , although I love pedicures, I dread going to the local day spa. My own hairstylist confirmed that when she gets someone requesting a pedicure, she schedules it with one of the other stylists. She also said when the others aren’t available, she tells the client that she’s booked. Yikes! My feet aren’t at all as bad as the ones described in that scene, but they do tend to get a bit dry and cracked, especially in winter. Does the person scrubbing my feet the same way as they works on mine?
Then again, once those feet hit that warm bubbly water, all my worries slip away. So what if they think my feet have skin like an alligator. After all, he or she has probably seen worse, right? And they’ll get a hefty tip in the end anyway. If they do a good job and take care of me, they can think whatever they want about my sandpaper like heels.
Matter of fact, I think I’ll get one of those fabu pedicures today. My feet deserve it.