by R. C. Martin
“Right behind you,” he says.
She grins at him, reaches up to kiss his cheek, and then turns back to face me. “Got him. Hottie in the vest with his sleeves rolled up?” I nod. “Yeah. He’s definitely looking at you, which means he was definitely hitting on you before. Did you tell him you were going to be here tonight?”
“He might have overheard me, but—”
“Does he make you feel uncomfortable?” interrupts Roman.
I pause, partly because I don’t know. My opinion of him has been morphing and changing as the day goes on. I haven’t decided how I feel about him being here. No, not simply being here—but being here and not being able to take his eyes off of me. Considering how many women in this bar are probably ogling him as we speak, I’m sure I should feel nothing short of flattered to have captured his attention.
However, my hesitation has more to do with Roman than Judah. His question makes me curious. I don’t know if he’s being my Double-O or my best friend’s overprotective brother. “Um, I don’t think so,” I decide without any further thought.
“Why don’t you go talk to him? asks Daphne.
“No,” states Roman, shaking his head to emphasize his demand. “If he wants to say hello, he can come to her. That’s what a gentleman would do.” I fight a smirk, remembering our exchange just before we climbed out of his car this afternoon. “You know what else a gentleman would do?”
Daphne looks over at me with an expression that seems to speak of her bewilderment. Her brother seems to suddenly give two shits about me and I’m sure she doesn’t know what to make of that.
I lift one shoulder in an innocent shrug before cocking an eyebrow at Roman. “Please, enlighten us.”
“He’d buy the beautiful woman with an empty glass a drink. Since Trevor beat me to it, I suppose you’ll have to do,” he quips. “Come on.”
Daphne laughs and I roll my eyes as I get up to follow him. My compliance will give me two things that I want. First, it opens up a seat on either side of our beloved for Trevor to sit beside her. Second, it gives me a minute alone with my beau.
“He saw us earlier,” Logan informs me once we’re out of earshot. “When you dropped me off after lunch.”
“How do you know?”
“He mentioned it,” is all she says.
I find a free space at the bar and prop my elbow against it. She mimics my posture so that we’re facing each other. “He mentioned it?”
“Yeah. He might have called you a fool,” she murmurs with a small smile and a coy shrug.
“I’m sorry, he called me a fool? On what grounds?” I scoff.
“For not giving me a second look after you said goodbye.”
I cough out a laugh. “Wow.” I can tell by the tone of her voice that she was flattered by whatever slick line he used on her earlier. I, on the other hand, am not impressed. I don’t even know his name, but I already know that I don’t trust him. He’s her boss and in less than twelve hours he’s hit on her and followed her to a bar, which wouldn’t be so irritating if he had the decency to come say hello and introduce himself to the guy he assumes is a fool.
Yet, none of what bothers me seems to faze Logan. In fact—“Wait, are you interested?”
“What? In Jude?”
“Is that your stalker’s name?”
“He is not a stalker,” she argues, lifting her hand to rest against her hip. “He must have come because he wanted a drink and this place came highly recommended. And, to answer your question, no. I’m not interested. He’s my boss. The project we’re working on is a big deal. I can’t afford to be distracted by him. Anyway, I just met him a few hours ago. I don’t know anything about him, aside from the fact that he’s good at his job and he’s easy on the eyes.”
As I listen, I’m not certain if she’s trying to convince me or herself.
“Are you sure? Is our arrangement going to get in the way of—”
“There’s nothing to get in the way of, I assure you. Look, I’m not taking any more chances with those two,” she says, hooking her thumb over her shoulder. “I need a boyfriend and you are a sure win. He is not. Case in point—one of you is buying me a drink while the other is watching you do it. Nice line getting me over here, by the way. Although, eventually you’re going to have to admit that you’re attracted to me.”
“I think that goes both ways, M,” I say, signaling the bartender.
Logan snatches back my attention in an instant as she takes a step closer to me and lifts herself on her tiptoes so that she might whisper directly into my ear. “Now, you know good and well that I’ve been attracted to you since the moment I laid eyes on you. There’s no way in hell I’d let you strut around with the title of Double-O if you weren’t sexy enough to claim it. You give Sean Connery a run for his money.”
She pulls away from me just as the bartender approaches. Without a second glance in my direction, she leans across the bar and orders herself a drink. For a moment, I’m struck dumb. Currently, she and I are alone. People might take notice of us, but they can’t hear us. What she just said, I’ve never heard her say before. Sure, she’s flirted with me plenty, but never like that. I wonder if her words were her own or M’s.
“Well, aren’t you going to order something?” she asks, nudging me with her elbow.
“Uh—Breckinridge Oatmeal Stout, please,” I mutter, handing over my card.
“Mm. You might have to let me have a sip of that.”
I don’t know why, but the thought of the two of us sharing a drink makes me laugh. “Right, because that would happen. Baby steps, M, or she’ll know something is up,” I say, nodding back toward the group. “By the way, I don’t strut.”
“Oh, yes you do.” The bartender returns with our drinks and before I can stop her, Logan’s got my bottle pressed to her lips as she takes the first swig. “Not bad,” she says, setting it back on the bar so she can claim her own beer. For a second, all I can do is watch her walk away.
I grab the bottle and take a drink, then shake my head and follow.
She’s going to be a handful, alright.
I’m lost. Kyle, the client in my chair, watches me as I work on his tattoo. His girlfriend winces and holds her breath as if she’s the one under the needle. His best friend came along for the ride, too, and he’s keeping Kyle distracted from the pain with conversation.
I’m lost—lost in every line, in every shade; lost in the rock music that fills the room; lost in the safe place that is my work.
This is Kyle’s second time in. The tribal design that he’s having inked onto his skin starts at his bicep and works its way over his shoulder onto the right side of his chest. I did his arm and shoulder last week. Today shouldn’t be as long as the surface area on his chest is smaller—but the intricate pattern is a challenge that calls for concentration that I appreciate.
I don’t mind when my clients bring in friends or family. A lot of people do. Usually, I try and make small talk with everyone who’s in my room, but I’m still off my game. I haven’t been sleeping well. In the last three days, the most productive rest I’ve been able to manage was when Daphne and I took a nap in the chair where Kyle now resides. Other than that, I’ve caught a couple hours here and there. The nightmares have been plaguing me lately. The last couple of mornings I’ve woken up at my drawing table.
A lack of sleep is nothing I can’t handle. It doesn’t effect my work. What I do is permanent and I respect that. I would never tattoo anyone if I didn’t think I could concentrate. Today, I’m fine. I’m managing. But if I don’t find some sort of solace soon…
I had every intention of going out with Pete at some point this week, but he bailed on me for Willow. I get it. He’s into her. No sense in going hunting when the woman you want is right under your nose, inviting you over to her place to “hang out.” Whatever the fuck that means in their case. I trust that they’re being smart and taking things slow. We’re a family around here and we look out for each other. No one w
ants to see either of them get hurt—including them—so I don’t mind losing my wingman while he figures out his shit. Still, I have my own issues that need addressing. Or, rather, some built up tension I could stand to release.
“Trev—Trevor,” calls Harvey from the door. I look up and he shakes his head at me. I wonder how many times he’s had to call my name. “Ladies night at Monkey Town tonight.”
Monkey Town is a lame ass bar in Old Town that none of us would be caught dead in. However, it is only a couple doors down from Cooper’s. Around midnight, when the drink specials end, groups of girls looking for a change of scene—or plates full of carbs they would only ever ingest while drunk—migrate over. That’s how Harvey met Grace.
Not that I’m looking for my soulmate. Not even close. Harvey knows this. He also knows how badly I need a night out.
“Grace doesn’t mind sparing you?”
Harvey is by no means whipped. He can do what he wants, when he wants, without asking his wife for permission. Grace is a sweetheart who trusts her man. But just because he doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t mean that he won’t—every time. She gets first dibs on him outside of the shop. Sometimes he comes out with Pete and me, sometimes he doesn’t. I get it. I would drop anything for Daphne if she needed me—so, I really do get it. More than that, I respect it.
He rolls his eyes and smirks before he answers. “Logan recommended this book the other night while we were out. Grace downloaded it yesterday. For the last twenty-four hours and counting, I practically don’t exist. It’s cool.”
“Alright, I’m in.”
“Also, Daph is here. She wanted me to check and make sure there were no tits or tail back here.”
I chuckle as I resume my task. “Tell her the coast is clear. You good with that, Kyle?” I ask as Harvey turns to head back to the front.
“You talking about that chick from last time? Yeah. I don’t mind.”
When she walks through the door, I glance up to catch her eye. “Hey,” she says with a small smile. In an instant, I can see her worry. She gets a bit anxious when I have trouble sleeping. I know it’s because she wishes that she could help more than I’ll let her or more than is possible, but all I can do is assure her that it will pass. It always does. For a while.
I feel her as she comes to stand behind me. She’s the only person I’ll ever let come this close to me while I’m in the middle of a tat. She carefully wraps one arm around me while the other holds something at my lips. Without stopping what I’m doing, I close my mouth around the straw and sip. Iced coffee. Knowing I could use the jolt of caffeine, I suck hungrily. I don’t know how much I down before I stop.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“You’re welcome.” She unwraps herself from around me but doesn’t walk away. “That looks good,” she tells Kyle. “How does it feel?”
“Hurts like hell,” he says with a laugh. “The outlining isn’t so bad. It’s the shading that sucks.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Just remember to relax. You’re in good hands.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “That’ll look incredible when it’s all done.”
Kyle’s girl and his best friend agree and they all engage in conversation for a while. I zone back out, focusing on what I do best. At some point, Daphne makes her way to my desk and loses herself in her own task. Sometimes she brings her laptop with her and writes while I work; sometimes she’ll just read her latest book purchase. Whatever she does, I know this is her favorite chill spot and I like that. The fact that she feels so comfortable here is just further proof of our connection; our understanding of one another—our love.
It takes just over an hour and half for me to finish Kyle’s piece. After I get him all bandaged up, I walk him to the front as I remind him of his care instructions. I do free touch ups on all my work, a lifetime offer, and I tell him that if he needs anything to call me any time. Grace helps him settle his bill as I head back to clean up. It’s almost nine by the time I’ve got everything situated. I don’t imagine I’ll get any walk-ins within the next hour, but you never know. I hope not. I’m itching to get out.
Now that I’m free, I make my way over to Daphne so that I might greet her properly. She’s so engrossed in her writing that I doubt she notices as I make my way toward her. I lean over the back of the chair, propping my hands on the arm rests as I bend down to kiss her neck. She jumps as she’s startled out of her thoughts and I kiss her again. I always kiss her again if I scare her the first time.
She inhales deeply and tilts her head so that she can look at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So I was thinking, you need to get over yourself and come over tonight. You’re really starting to look like shit.”
I laugh as I pull away from her and sit on the edge of my desk. “Can’t tonight, Wings. I’m going out.”
“Going out?” she asks in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
She studies me for a minute. I know before she opens her mouth where her head is. “With who?”
I won’t lie. We don’t lie to each other, but I can see she’s putting the pieces together. I try not to broadcast any of my sexual endeavors. She’s not like me. She doesn’t sleep around. She’s seen two men’s beds—Mack’s and mine. While my bed has only ever seen Daphne, I have known a few more than hers—or whatever surface suits the moment. It might not be a secret that I scratch when I have an itch, but neither is it something that we discuss. I know she doesn’t like it. She’ll never say it to my face but she doesn’t have to. Words aren’t always necessary. The truth remains, though. I’m not her boyfriend and she’s not my lover.
Besides—it doesn’t mean anything and she knows it.
“Muscles,” I answer.
“Just Muscles?”
I nod my reply and she immediately starts packing her things. “Where are you going?” I groan with a sigh.
“Home. I’m on a roll so I should keep writing.” She stands and brushes a pathetic kiss against my cheek. “When you finally decide you feel like sleeping—like, drool-on-my-pillow-sleeping instead of charcoal-on-your-face-sleeping—you know how to reach me.”
She leaves without a hint of hesitation and I don’t stop her. I’m not in the mood to convince her to stay, and she’s obviously not in the mood to put up with me, so I just leave it. It’s irritating as hell, because I hate it when we brush each other off, but it is what it is tonight.
It’s almost eleven by the time Harvey and I get to Cooper’s. Roman’s working and we snag a couple stools at the end of the bar. I’m still trying to shake off my mood after I finish my first beer. I know I’ll need a few more before I’m ready to start the hunt. It’s always better, easier, when I’ve got a decent buzz.
“I got next round,” I tell Harvey as I snag Roman’s attention.
“I’m just going to have some Mountain Dew,” he orders.
“What the fuck, man?” I ask suspiciously. I noticed the other night he did the same thing. Now that I’m thinking about it, I vaguely remember he gave Coder his beers on Sunday—which is how Code got so drunk. “What’s going on with you?”
“Trying to cut back,” he says with a smirk and a shrug.
“Bullshit.” I know for a fact that Harvey prefers beer over soda. Sure, he drove, but he can easily down a couple bottles and then wait it out for a while before he heads home. “What’s up?”
He reaches up and runs his hand against his cheek before he leans in closer to me, implying that what he’s about to say is for me alone. “You can’t say anything. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
“Grace and I are trying to have a baby.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter as I lean away. I stare at him with wide eyes. “Are you for real?”
“Trev—I’m drinking fucking Mountain Dew. You bet your ass I’m for real. Grace asked me to give up drinking with her. I figured, seeing as how she’s the one carrying my baby and the one who
will have to push it out, staying dry is the least I can do.”
“Wait—carrying—as in—”
“Oh, no,” he insists, shaking his head. “Not yet. At least, not that I know of. We’re just trying.”
“Wow.”
I’m speechless. For a second, I think of Harvey and Grace as parents. It’s weird to imagine—not because I can’t see them being parents. It’s just strange that we’re all old enough to contemplate bringing new life into the world. They’ll be great parents. Not just Grace, either, but both of them. I sure as hell hope they have a boy first. I’ve seen how protective he can be with his wife. If they have a mini-Grace, every dick in the world better watch out.
I think about how much sex he must be having as they attempt to create a human. Suddenly Harvey being out with me seems like a bigger sacrifice than he let on earlier. I clap a hand against his shoulder and grin. “I’m happy for your guys. Now I sort of feel bad for asking you to come out with me. I guess you’re a man on a mission, these days. I’m keeping you from it.”
He barks out a laugh. “Trust me when I say, I’m actually kind of glad Logan thought of a way to distract Grace. She’s insatiable these days. I could use the break.”
“Damn!”
“I won’t complain, though. I know I’ve got it made.”
I drink my beer as his last comment sinks in. It’s true. He’s just about got it all. Dream job. Dream girl. Before he knows it, he’ll have a family.
I don’t have any family left. At nineteen, I was left all alone. If I have any relatives out there, they’re distant and I have no idea who they are. Sometimes, knowing that it’s just me, it really makes me want to be in a place like Harvey—married and starting a family. Then I have weeks like this—weeks where all I seem to be doing is wrestling with the darkest part of myself, the most selfish part of me—and I think there’s no way. Besides, the woman I love is just as broken as I am; what kind of family would we make?
Shit. I need another beer. I need to stay the fuck out of my head. I need to get laid. I need sleep. And I need to move on.
