“Hey Rick, you want to go check out the newest salon after the game? It’s another one of those Asian salons but I heard the ladies know a thing or two about a thing or two,” asked Hank. His arm rested on top of the couch behind Rick’s head.
“Alright, cool. Maybe they can hook me up with a little something if you know what I mean.” He nudged Hank with his clean shaven arm. Their skin touched for a single breath taking moment.
Rick removed his arm and coughed. Hank scooted closer towards the arm of the sofa. There was a brief air of silence. The football game on the television had been muted. Rick and Hank enjoyed watching grown men piling on top of each other, trying to grab a ball. They didn’t care much for the announcers.
“Hey, it’s that field reporter chick. She’s looking good today,” Hank pointed to the screen.
“Yeah, I really like her purple blouse. The silver earrings and necklace accent it nicely,” Rick chimed.
“Can’t say the same for her eye brows, ever heard of tweezers?”
They shared a hearty chuckle. Rick rose from the couch, his underwear slightly caught under his pants. Hank caught a glimpse of his pale cheeks but quickly turned away.
“Ready to check it out?” Rick turned to Hank with an enticing eye. His hair was combed from both sides to a raised ridge in the middle of his head. Flakes of dried gel were dotted along the points, making them appear like miniature snowcapped mountains. Rick extended his hand to help Hank from the couch. He firmly grasped Hank’s soft, baby like hands and pulled him up. They were face to face; Rick could smell the remnants of Hank’s last beer on the lips below his thinly trimmed moustache. Hank popped his collar, put on a sweater vest, and let out a squeaky fart.
“Nice one. Let’s hit it.” Rick grabbed a cardigan and the keys to his monster of a truck. He would never trade in The Beast for a luxurious or extravagant car just to fit in with the rest of Los Angeles.
“Welcome to Long Wang Salon. How can I help you gentlemen?” asked the receptionist.
“I’m thinking I’ll get a pedicure,” Rick said. “How bout you bud?”
“That sounds good. I’ll get one too. My toenails are totally gross man.”
The receptionist escorted them towards the back. Hank sat down with a men’s health magazine while Rick was reading an interior design journal. The pedicurists sat down at their feet and started filing, picking, and rubbing. Hank let out a soft moan as a pleasurable sensation tingled up his spine. Rick peeked over to him and smiled.
“Would you gentlemen care for happy ending?” one of the nail technicians asked.
They exchanged a few raised eye brows and head bobs.
“No thanks,” Rick responded, “We’ll take care of that at home.”
Hank and Rick were sitting on the couch with their fresh pedicures resting on a coffee table. They held pint sized ice cream containers in the air and announced a toast.
“To life without wives. All I need is my best bro,” Hank said.
“Thanks man. Pedicures, television, ice cream, and my best friend, this is what I call a happy ending,” Rick said.
“Cheers!” they both said in unison.