Vera Doesn’t Hold Back
Lara glanced at the rose-gold clock on the wall, frowning slightly.
“Wasn’t someone supposed to be here at nine? Or am I mixing things up?”
Mia didn’t even look at the booking system.
“Vera’s coming in for a pedicure. Want me to call her?”
“No, it’s fine. She’s never late. It’s only five minutes… I’m sure there’s a reason.”
She had barely finished speaking when Vera’s tall, athletic figure appeared in the doorway. She pushed the door open in a rush, bringing the warm, sunlit scent of a May morning in with her.
“Sorry—Jesus. One of those asshole dads stopped me,” she said in a rush. “You know, the one who stares at my chest—I told you about him.”
Lara nodded quickly, running through her memory. There was always at least one “asshole dad” in Vera’s stories. Some stared at cleavage, others checked out asses—there had even been one who got handsy.
“After we finished with his daughter—finally getting her to throw the ball into the basket properly,” Vera went on, her voice rising, “instead of being happy for her, instead of saying well done… the creep is murmuring to my tits about how nice the weather is. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people?”
She tossed her bag onto the small sofa by the door. Mia flinched at the thud.
Lara silently gestured for Vera to sit. The warm, bubbling foot bath was already waiting.
Everyone knew the blunt, foul-mouthed physiotherapist needed a few minutes to vent. No point interrupting her. A nod, a small gesture—that was enough to show they were listening, that they cared, that they were following.
“Same as usual—different colors on each toe, baby,” she said suddenly, switching tone. She wiggled her toes in the water with obvious pleasure. “The kids loved it. Especially my girls. Let’s go neon this time—they’ll love it.”
Mia smiled faintly and glanced at Nico. If she had to pick a favorite client, it would be Vera. For all the heat with which she tore into men, she spoke about her patients with real warmth, almost devotion. In her long, rambling sentences, “my sweet little angels” and “useless assholes” somehow fit side by side.
“God, that feels good,” Vera groaned, closing her eyes.
For a few minutes, she just soaked it in. Her breathing slowed, the tension easing out of her chest. Nico, Mia, and Lara all seemed to hold back slightly, waiting for her to settle. Finally, Vera let out a long, satisfied sigh—her signal that she was calm again, ready for her usual easy chatter.
“So,” she went on, slower now, more relaxed, “that chest-staring idiot is actually on one of the dating apps. I mean, he’s not bad-looking—pretty well built—” she lifted and flexed one arm, “—just a complete jerk. He ogles my assistant too, practically drooling, and she’s flat as a board. Doesn’t seem to bother him—he just fills in the blanks in his head and stares at whatever he imagines.”
Lara gently lifted Vera’s foot into her lap.
“Easy there, baby. You went a bit hard last time,” Vera said, shifting her heel against Lara’s knee.
“I know. I won’t file it down as much this time,” Lara said calmly.
The salon door opened, and Gael, the massage therapist, stepped inside. His tall, lean frame hung loosely in a white cotton T-shirt and slightly sheer cream linen trousers. Mia leaned across the counter and took both of Gael’s hands in hers.
“Gael!” Vera lit up. “So good to see you. My blue-and-green bruises from last time—courtesy of those bony fingers of yours—are finally fading.” She shot him a faintly teasing look. “I’ll be ready for round two soon.”
He gave a faint smile.
“Weren’t they purple and black?” he asked, feigning uncertainty. “Or are they blue and green already? Just so I know what these are capable of.” He wiggled his long fingers.
Vera laughed.
“Either way, everything hurt like hell. And that cracking sound—my ears were ringing from the way you were snapping my bones. I do not want to hear that in my nightmares…”
“It’s good for you. Especially you. You spend all day crouching and bending over those kids.”
“I’ll pass on the bone-cracking, thanks. But can you book me in for a sixty-minute full-body massage, Mia?”
As usual, Mia tapped the mouse lightly against the desk, then clicked a few times.
“All set. Next Wednesday, same time—nine o’clock.”
“Perfect. Let’s just hope that chest-staring dad doesn’t show up that day—maybe his ex-wife will. She’s not much brighter than him, but at least she’s not staring at my nipples.”