by Nicole James
“I’ve got a shop t-shirt from the display case that you can put on, Ava.”
She opened the door a few inches and took the item he held out. Smiling, she thanked him. After closing the door, she removed her silk blouse. The caramel-colored soda had stained it horribly. She tossed it in the garbage can and dried off her skin. She did the best she could to absorb the wetness that had seeped into her bra, which she wasn’t about to remove. Slipping the t-shirt on, she ran the towel over her skirt. There was a big wet spot, but she’d have to wear it home. She dried her face again, looking at herself in the mirror above the sink. At least, the girl hadn’t gotten too much of it in her hair.
As she studied her reflection, she began to wonder if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this crazy deal. She angrily tossed the wet towel in the corner. Jameson obviously didn’t want her there, and if this was the abuse she was going to have to put up with on a regular basis, she seriously considered throwing in the towel.
She opened the door and stepped out.
Liam was leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his head down. He looked up when she emerged.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m sure I look like hell, but I’m fine.”
“Jamie’s on his way.”
She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but she nodded. Then she headed toward her desk.
“I’ll drive you home if you want. I’m sure Jamie would understand if you took the rest of the day off.”
“We have a deal. I’m not giving him an excuse to say I didn’t fulfill my end of it.” She reached her desk with Liam following behind her. He came around and stood at the counter as she dug through her purse for a hairbrush.
“Ava, Jamie is not going to think you’re welching for going home after what just happened.”
She violently tugged the brush through her hair, her shock beginning to be replaced by anger. “I’m fine, okay? Just leave it alone, Liam.”
He didn’t look happy, but he nodded and walked off. She was sorry she’d snapped at him, but her nerves were a little frazzled. Perhaps she should focus her anger on Jameson, she thought to herself… and imagined throwing a drink at him.
***
A half hour later, the man himself strode in the front door. He walked straight to her, coming around the counter. Surprised, she swiveled her chair to stare up at him.
“You okay?”
She noted the genuine concern in his eyes and admitted quietly, “I’m fine.”
He studied her, as if weighing the truth of her words. “She won’t bother you again. I promise you.”
“All right.”
“Come on.”
She frowned up at him. He said nothing, just reached past her to grab her purse, and then took her hand, pulling her from her chair. She followed behind him; it wasn’t like she had any choice in the matter. “Where are we going?”
He led her toward the door. “I’m taking you home.”
She pulled back. “Jameson, I’m fine.”
He stopped, his eyes telling her not to argue. They stared at each other long enough for the silent communication between them. She closed her mouth, and he continued to the door, her hand still clenched in his.
He led her to a pickup truck parked two spots from the door. It was a big shiny black crew cab.
Jameson moved to the passenger side and opened the door for her. The lift-kit had her hiking her skirt to climb in. When he made sure she was seated, he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side.
Ava looked around at the spotless cab of the truck, noting the new-car smell that still permeated the interior. The driver door opened, and the truck rocked as he climbed in.
He glanced over at her. “Buckle up.”
In a haze, she did as she was told. When her belt was clicked into place, he started the truck up and backed out of the diagonal spot. He spun the steering wheel with his palm as he maneuvered the big vehicle.
“What’s your address?”
She gave it to him.
He returned his eyes to the road, and Ava noted a quiet rock station played in the background as they rode silently through town.
He pulled to the curb in front of her house. “This it?”
“Yes, thank you.” She reached for the door handle, but his words stopped her.
“Look, Ava, I’m sorry about what happened. That had nothing to do with you; you just got caught in the crossfire and you never should have.”
“I can take it. I’m tougher than you think.”
“I’m finding that out.”
She glanced down at herself, wondering at the turn the conversation seemed to have taken and tried to lighten the mood. “At least I got a free shirt out of it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Silver-lining kind of girl, huh?”
She looked down, plucking at the hem. “I try to be.”
“I’ll pay for the blouse.”
She met his eyes. “That’s not necessary.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Okay, then. I’ll let you.”
He surprised her by grasping her chin in his hand and pulling her closer, staring intently into her eyes. “What I said yesterday in the supply room? I meant it.”
She knew right away what he was talking about. When he’d told her to quit. She tried to pull her chin up, but he held it. “I did, too.”
He studied her a long moment, his eyes dropping to her mouth, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her again. But then he seemed to pull himself back, murmuring, “See you tomorrow.”
She was surprised by the letdown that swelled inside her when he didn’t kiss her, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she frowned. “I can just go in and change if you want to wait.”
He shook his head. “Take the rest of the night off.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Least I can do after tonight.”
She swung her door open. “All right, then. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She climbed out and turned to watch him leave, but he sat parked, waiting for her to get inside. She moved up the walk, up the two steps onto her craftsman style porch, and fumbled with her keys in the lock. It wasn’t until she had the door open that she heard the big truck’s engine as it pulled away.
Chapter Seventeen
Late the next night, around 8:00, Ava realized the last customer had left. She pulled up the calendar in the computer and frowned at the entry she hadn’t noticed before.
Landry Party, it read.
Every artist’s time was blocked off. She thought that was odd.
Max, Liam, and Rory wandered up to the lobby.
Max folded his arms and leaned back against her counter, his eyes on Rory. “How well do you know this girl?”
Rory stood with his hands in his pockets, his feet spread wide. “She’s our drummer’s fiancée.”
Liam moved to sit on the sofa, his arms stretching along the back. “She cute?”
Rory grinned over at Liam. “She’s a knockout. Her whole posse is. Don’t worry, Bro. You won’t mind working on any of them.”
“They’re all getting a piercing?” Max asked.
Rory shrugged. “Don’t know. Think some are just coming along for the fun. There’ll probably be a few partying.”
Ava frowned. “What’s going on, guys?”
Max looked over his shoulder at her. “Didn’t anybody tell you? Bachelorette party is coming in tonight. Rory shoulda told you. It’s his deal.”
Her eyes cut to Rory. “A bachelorette party? Why would they come here for God’s sake?”
Rory grinned big. “They’re all getting their bellybuttons pierced.”
“A bellybutton piercing party?” she joked with arched brows.
“Suppose you could call it that.”
Liam teased, “Isn’t that what all you women do on a Saturday night?”
“Where I come from we have Tupperware
parties.”
Jameson walked up, giving her a grin. “This’ll be a whole lot more fun than a Tupperware party, sweetheart. You gonna be able to let go of all those repressive attitudes and have some fun?”
“Fun? What fun will I be having? I’m working the desk.”
Jameson grinned, then cut his eyes to Rory. “We need some music.”
Rory grinned back and moved to the sound system. “Absolutely.”
A moment later, a driving rock beat filled the shop and about twenty girls came through the door. Although they all had cheap tiaras on their heads and feathered boas around their necks, the bride-to-be was easy to spot. She was dressed in white short-shorts, a tight white tank with bride spelled out across her chest in rhinestones, and a veil attached to the back of her tiara.
“Welcome, ladies,” Rory greeted them, and then kissed the bride. “Stacy, love, you look beautiful. Sure I can’t steal you away from Gary?”
She kissed his cheek. “I won’t stop you from trying, hon.”
“So ladies, are you all getting piercings tonight?” Rory asked.
There was some loud whooping.
“If you are, we need releases signed. Ava, here, will help you with that. We’ll be locking the door and flipping the closed sign for your party. I see some of you brought some refreshments—”
Another high-pitched whoop went up as drink cups were raised in the air.
Rory continued, “We just ask that if any of you want a tattoo, that you aren’t drinking. If you are, we can schedule you to come back for that.”
“What about piercings?” one of them shouted from the back. “Can we get one of those?”
Rory chuckled. “Piercings should be fine.”
A girl in the back pushed through the crowd with a stack of plastic shot glasses and a bottle in her hand. “Good, because I brought the Fireball!”
Another whoop went up in the air.
“We’ve got a display case full of jewelry for you to look through. If you don’t see what you’re looking for, hit me up and I might have something in the back I can show you.”
“I’ll just bet you do, Rory!” one of the girls called out. The others all hooted and Rory grinned big, waggling his brows.
Liam took a stack of release forms from Ava and began passing them around. “Fill these out, and we’ll need to see IDs, ladies.”
And so the party commenced. Ava couldn’t believe this was happening. Girls who soon had the forms filled out were either shopping the jewelry case or dancing to the music and doing shots. If she didn’t know better, she would think she was in a nightclub.
Jameson leaned on the counter. “How about you, babe? You up for getting a piercing tonight?”
“I’m working,” she hedged.
Jameson turned to one of the women, but his eyes stayed on Ava when he said, “I like when a woman is brave enough to let loose, go wild, face her fears…”
The girl held her glass in the air, whooped, and bumped hips with him.
He smiled, his brows arching. “Well?”
Ava lifted her chin, determined to show him. “Fine. Let’s go.”
He grinned as she stood, shoving her chair back. He swept his arm out, indicating the jewelry case across the lobby. “On the house, sweetheart. Anything you want.”
She glared at him, but held her head high as she moved around the counter and headed toward the case. She bent and peered at all the different styles. Her eyes were drawn to the sparkling crystal designs. There were flowers, hearts, dolphins, butterflies, angel wings, even spiders. She settled on a simple round pink crystal attached to a curved barbell and pointed to it. “That one.”
Jameson glanced at it, nodded, and then grabbed a release form. After she’d signed it, he said, “Follow me.”
He led her through the crowd of girls who were getting piercings in the main area and back to the private piercing room. Stepping inside, he helped her up on the table.
“Lie back.”
When she did, he moved off to dig through the cabinet for the ring she’d picked out, searching by its stock number. She glanced around nervously. She’d been in this room before, but it was completely different when she was the one on the table. There was a full-length mirror on one wall, and she rolled her head to look. She could see her reflection staring back at her, and the look in her eyes said, what the hell are you doing up on that table, girl?
Jameson pulled over a rolling tray and set up with the needed supplies. She glanced over and saw a pair of clamps, a couple of swab sticks, her jewelry, and a white packet marked 14 Gauge Curved Needle, Sterile.
“You an innie or an outie?”
She frowned. “Beg your pardon?”
“Not everyone is a good candidate for a navel piercing. Outies get in the way, so innies work best.”
“I’m an innie.”
“Let’s see.” He lifted his chin, motioning for her to pull her shirt up.
When her belly was exposed, his eyes moved over it, and not just in a professional way either. She caught a flash of something in his expression that told her he was more affected by the sight of her smooth skin than he should be.
“Good,” he murmured.
The piercing room was immaculately clean, and the padded table had a protective paper cover that crackled when she shifted. A quick look around the room revealed bottles of disinfectant nearby and a hand sink.
Jameson moved to it and began washing his hands thoroughly.
“Um, is it going to hurt?” she asked in a quiet voice.
He glanced toward her. “Everyone has their own personal pain threshold, but don’t worry, sweetheart, this type of piercing is not as painful as it looks.” He winked at her. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Women take pain better than men.”
She smiled, grateful for his assurance even if she wasn’t sure it was true.
He pulled some paper towels and dried his hands, and then reached in a small paper box, grabbed out a disposable oval shaped mask, and hung it around his neck. Then he reached in another box and pulled out a pair of black latex gloves. He turned to her as he snapped them on.
“You don’t have any latex allergies, do you?”
Ava shook her head.
He cocked his head to the side. “You nervous?”
She frowned. “Why do you have a mask?”
“All this good hygiene goes toward lowering the possibility of transmitting blood borne diseases such as HIV and hepatitis. Not saying you have those; it’s just safe practice all shops should follow for blood borne pathogens.”
He moved toward her, reaching up to push her shirt further out of the way. He must have noticed the way her stomach trembled.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier. You nervous?”
“A little.”
He reached up on a shelf and retrieved something. Then he held it out to her. “Stress ball. Sometimes they help.”
She smiled and took it. “Thanks.”
“This will be a little cold.” He scrubbed her navel with a surgical wash to sterilize the area. His eyes flicked up to hers as she jumped at the coolness. “I usually don’t have the need to apply topical anesthetic for this, but I do keep it on hand for the especially squeamish.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ll feel some pain, but most people describe it as a momentary pinch or prick.”
“Okay.”
“First I have to mark you. It’s best to stand up.” He held his hand out and helped her off the table. Then he positioned her in front of the stool he sat on and picked up a surgical marking pen. He made a mark about a centimeter above her belly button and then one inside.
Ava found it awkward having his head bent so close to her exposed belly. She watched as he picked up the jewelry she’d chosen off the tray and unscrewed the top. Then he held the barbell up to the marks, checking the length. When he was satisfied, he pulled back and gestured toward the mirror. “Check and see if you’re happy with where I mark
ed it.”
She moved to look.
“Is it aligned horizontally?” he asked.
“It looks like it.”
“Okay then?”
She nodded.
He patted the table and grinned. “Now comes the fun part.”
She climbed up and reclined back.
He put his mask up and tore open the needle packet. The crinkling noise seemed especially loud in the quiet room as she lay there nervously anticipating the needle puncturing her skin. When she saw the thickness of the needle, she took a breath and blew it out through her mouth slowly.
He glanced over. “You okay?”
She nodded, watching as he slid a rubber band around the handle of the clamps. “I just didn’t realize the needle would be so big.”
“It’ll be quick. You feel light-headed? Nauseous?”
She shook her head.
“Talk to me so I know you’re good.”
“I’m fine. It’s just the waiting.”
He turned toward her and tapped her nearest arm. “Move this arm, sweetheart.”
She did.
“That’s good. Right there.”
She watched his hands as he lined up the clamps with the marks he’d made.
“This will pinch,” he warned. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m gonna pierce on the exhale.”
Aligning the sharp end of the needle with the mark on the underside of the clamp, he pierced from the bottom up with one fluid movement pushing the needle through the skin, making sure it exited through the mark at the top of the clamp. He quickly slid the barbell into the needle and pushed it through.
“And you’re done.”
He took the loose ball and screwed it tightly onto the top of the barbell. Then he took a swab stick with solution and very gently—and thoroughly—cleaned around the piercing. It stung, and he glanced up when she flinched.
“Does that burn?”
“Just a bit.”
“Was it as bad as you thought?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve had a bee sting hurt worse than that.”
“See, not so bad. Like I told you, just a pinch. The clamp probably hurts more than needle, right?”
She smiled. “Right.” Lifting her head, she glanced down at it. “How do I clean it?”
