The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Gretchen had always wanted something like that for herself. Not the feeding by hand or the carrying bit per se, but a man who would pamper and take care of her just like Elissa had with Hunter. Some things just weren’t meant to be, she supposed and shrugged. She had too much to do to stand there moping.
She got back to work with a vengeance. After moving a few more boxes to the storage room at the back of the store, Gretchen, Kylie, Brayden, and Jessica placed some last finishing touches on the front of the place before the rest of the gang left.
She thanked them all profusely and gave them coupons for on the house treatments at their convenience, of course. Brayden blushed when she handed him one, but Jessica insisted he take it.
“Men don’t get pedicures⁠—”
“You would be surprised,” Gretchen replied, shaking her head.
“Seriously, you need one,” Jessica said, taking his hand as they left.
She laughed and waved them away. It was silly how many America men did not believe in frequenting salons. Younger crowds had more modern attitudes, and times were changing, but Gretchen had a feeling she would have an easier time pulling teeth than getting the men of Hunter’s company, Maverick Development, to become Regular clients.
No matter She would just have to prove her services too good to miss. Determination had her scrubbing floors, hefting garbage away to the dumpster in the back, and wiping mirrors for the third time that night before she was too exhausted to continue.
When she was as finished as she was ever going to be, Gretchen headed upstairs to her apartment which was located directly above the salon.
Thankfully, the space was much larger than she’d thought when she’d first looked at the building from the outside. The location was prime, situated on one of Maverick Point’s busiest streets.
In fact, the older woman, whose lease Gretchen was taking over, had converted the two top apartments into one, rather spacious, two-story, housing unit. Clean, polished wood floors were gleaming from the thorough washing and polishing Gretchen had given them after the movers had left.
She’d discarded most of her old, scratched furniture, keeping only the main pieces like her dresser, an old leather couch, a small dinette set, and a few bookshelves.
Before heading down to meet the girls, she’d left the windows open, and the essential oil diffuser on while she worked on the salon. Grateful now for her forethought, Gretchen breathed in the clean smells and smiled contentedly.
The whole place had a clean, fresh scent, and she hummed a tune happily as she walked around closing windows and locking them. For a minute there, she had thought she’d never get the smells of bleach, furniture polish, and window washer out of her nostrils, but thankfully, she was wrong about that.
“This is gonna work. Life’s gonna be so good from now on,” she told herself, giving herself a little pep talk.
Gretchen had spent most of her youth being ignored and trying to remain that way. Growing up chubby was not something her trim uncle and athletic cousins approved of. She’d been taunted and made fun of, especially when she showed an interest in hair.
“Who in the world is gonna go to you to make themselves look good?” Cousin Alfred had told her when she finally packed her bags after high school.
Well, Gretchen had been successfully employed as a stylist for a decade now, so the answer to his snotty question was plenty of folks! She was painfully shy when she was younger, but not anymore.
Having a fuller figure was not a negative, at least that was how Gretchen saw it. She loved her body, her extra curves and love handles, and her unique sense of style. She had a gift for beauty, and a knack for making others look their very best, and Gretchen was not afraid to use either.
She had spent most of her time much since arriving on the storefront, so upstairs, where she would live, was still a bit of a mess. Not dirty, but definitely unorganized. Half a dozen sturdy storage boxes sat piled in the hallway, waiting to be unpacked, but she was too worn out to get to it tonight.
At least the bedroom was all done, she thought, and walked past the new king-sized bed she’d bought herself. It was the one item she’d splurged on. A business necessity, she had convincingly told herself since she’d be on her feet twelve to fourteen hours a day, and therefore, needed to sleep well at night to feel ready and refreshed.
Giggling at the way she’d spun that tale, even if only to herself, Gretchen headed for the master bathroom. It was not overly large, but it was bigger than the one she’d previously had. Neat and clean after the good bleaching she’d given it, she took a moment to admire the gauzy curtain she’d hung up over the window next to an antique oval mirror in a painted frame.
Blue glass tiles lined the floors and the walls, offset by creamy white trim and a large pedestal sink. A bar for hand and bath towels was mounted to the wall, and there was a wire rack for toilet paper. She’d already added a shelf for her hair dryer, curling iron, and makeup, and there was a large linen cabinet against the wall that held towels and other toiletries, giving the whole room a friendly finished look.
The shower was her absolute favorite. Whoever had lived there before had removed the sheetrock wall that separated the bedroom from the shower, replacing that with eight inch glass bricks. The effect was scintillating. A sort of, naughty little peepshow of the person showering for anyone on the other side.
Kinky, she thought, as she settled under the warm spray of water.
Two could definitely fit inside the large stall. Smiling at the image of her and some hot fantasy guy, she gave herself over to the imagery and sighed under the warm spray of water. There was even a seat built into the wall that should certainly come in handy for some smexy fun in the shower times.
If only the occasion arose so Gretchen could test her theory. She picked up her loofah and body wash and built a good lather to wash away the aches and pains of the day’s activities. Moving furniture was not exactly her calling.
Gretchen was used to being on her feet for long hours, sometimes trekking her equipment to people’s houses or hotels for work. She specialized in fancy updos and had catered to plenty a bridezilla in her time. But this was a different kind of sore. Her aches had aches, for pity’s sake!
“Owie,” she groaned, and stretched her muscles.
Stylists had to have good endurance, and she had that in spades. Muscles were a different thing all together. She has always been on the fluffier side of the totem pole. Who was she kidding? Gretchen was more than fluffy. She had big, heavy breasts. Triple D's that required serious support. Beneath those bad girls were belly rolls, large hips, plenty of ass, and some serious thunder thighs.
Sigh.
There was no sugarcoating it. And why should she even try? What you see was what you get with Gretchen. She was what her grandmother had called pleasantly plump, back before she’d been orphaned and sent to live with her uncle.
She was a good, solid size sixteen, with no apologies. Rolling her eyes in pleasure as she ran the loofah over her elbows, knees, and ankles, she washed away the grime and aches of the day’s work.
Next, she grabbed a natural bath sponge and squeezed more of the tiger blossom scented body wash onto it before working the soap into a lather over every single inch of her soft, curvy body. It was her favorite scent and would leave her skin feeling refreshed and silky smooth.
It had taken some doing, but she’d learned to love herself, rolls and all. She couldn’t help her size. Had tried dieting and exercise, but after spending all day standing up doing people’s hair, the last thing she wanted was to go to the gym.
She just liked food. Was that crime? And no, it wasn’t all junk food, though she wouldn’t mind another one of those decadent honey cream claws from the famous Bear Claw Bakery that was located right in the next town.
Serious yum.
Jessica had brought over half a dozen for her and the girls, but Elissa snuck the last two while the rest of them were polishing the bathroom fixtures. Darn her pRegnancy-induced gluttony!
Oh well.
She’d probably needed it more than Gretchen did. Other than the occasional indulgence in sugary coated goodness, Gretchen stuck to grilled meats and fresh veggies for no other reason than because she liked them.
So there.
She wanted to stick her tongue out at all the judgmental people who assumed because she had some extra pounds, she must spend her time eating fast food and candy. The truth was, that sandwich Trigger had brought had been the first thing she’d eaten that she hadn’t cooked in a long while.
She simply didn’t have the extra cash to eat out. Even cheap take out. Not that she had to explain herself to anyone. Gretchen gave up on that a long time ago.
She sighed and stretched some more, allowing the flowery scent of her bath wash and the warm water to relax her. Thank goodness for good water pressure.
Gretchen lathered her hair with shampoo then conditioner, the good stuff so there were few bubbles but extra moisture and damage control she needed since she dyed it so often. She wondered what had possessed her to grow it.
She used to keep it super short because it was so thick, and it grew ridiculously fast. But ever since she’d started toying with the idea of landing a man of her own, she’d decided to grow out her hair.
How many times had she heard plenty a customer remark on how their boyfriends loved their hair long? So, while she did not have a boyfriend yet, she figured she might as well try it.
It was shoulder length now, healthy, and glossy and surprisingly easy to manage. She loved the different braids and twists she could put in it, not to mention the colors.
She might have started out growing it with a man in mind, but the truth was she liked it this length. It was a little bit extra, but Gretchen was a business owner now. Having good hair was kind of her whole shtick.
She dressed for bed, lying on the soft and fluffy duvet that smelled good and clean like her favorite fabric softener. Biting her lip, she felt her anxiety and excitement warring within her. Her new life was about to start, and she could not wait.
Maybe she should check her emails one last time before she went to sleep? Grabbing her cell phone, she opened the app and scrolled, hoping to see a reply to the missive she’d sent out recently.
Sigh.
Still no message from that famous matchmaker Elissa had told her about. Gretchen refused to let that worry her. Tomorrow was her big day. Finally, she was the proud owner of her own business, and her own boss.
If only she had someone to share it with, she thought and rolled onto her side, tucking the blanket under her chin. Uncle Uzzi probably had more important people to match up than a little nobody from Iowa like her.
But still, a girl could hope.