Big Bad Billionaires

by Naughty Aphrodite

  Too scared to get out of my apartment, I decide to use the peephole on the door to check the hallway. I lean closer and place my head against the door just in time to catch a glimpse of a silhouette unlocking the door opposite mine.

  “Who are you?” I whisper as I’m trying to observe more details about the mysterious figure in the hallway.

  “He’s a man, judging by the shape of his body. Broad shoulders, an endless back, muscled hands, and short-cropped hair. He’s huge,” I mutter to myself. “He has the key to the apartment’s front door, so this means he either owns the place or knows someone that owns it. Either way, he hasn’t packed too many things so he won’t stay for long,” I guess.

  After I realize I’m stalking a man like a nosy neighbor, I pull back and take a step away from the door. I look myself in the mirror and see my face flushed from the embarrassment. My black hair is ruffled and my brown eyes are still glistening from the drowsiness.

  “So, a new neighbor. That can be nice. Except if he’s loud. Then it won’t be nice, not at all.”

  Not losing any more time, I take a deep breath to muster my strength and head to the door once again. I unlock it and step outside. The man has vanished inside his apartment. I didn’t get to meet him, but by staying so close to one another, I’m sure I’ll end up meeting him sooner or later.

  The rest of the morning (from cleaning up the shop to baking the bread) goes by in a flinch. Like every other day, Frank is one of the first customers I get. “Good morning, Frank. Today, I have a surprise for you. I know something that you don’t,” I say to him joyfully.

  “Before that, I have bad news for you, Heather. I hope you didn’t decide on expanding next doors,” he says.

  I freeze on the spot. “The couple got it first, right? Did they sign a contract? I can top their offer. Just--”

  “It’s not the couple, but someone took up the shop next door. And I’m not sure you’re going to like it, Heather, but...they say he’s going to make it a tattoo studio.”

  “A what?” I say and hit the dough with excess strength. The flour spreads in the air around, a veil of white powder.

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t have more news for you yet, but I’ll ask around today and come back later and tell you everything I learned. Okay?” he says.

  I pass his usual order over the counter and head behind the register. “Yeah, thank you, Frank. I owe you one,” I mumble behind my teeth.

  “No, you don’t. I was the one that got the idea in your head in the first place. I feel awful. If I knew that someone would have taken the shop this soon, I wouldn’t have said a thing,” he continues.

  I nod before replying to him. “Don’t worry, Frank. Maybe it’s for the best.” I smile to him and head back to the kitchen, a subtle sign that he has to get going now.

  After Frank is out, I know that more customers will be arriving soon. I try to focus on the cupcake mix, but my mind is far away. “Should I have been faster? Was there something I could have done?” I say to myself. Sullen, my hands return to their work mechanically. “Well, that’s life.”

  It takes me five minutes of rethinking Frank’s words to figure it out.

  “Wait, he said that he is going to make it a tattoo studio. Could it be? Did he mean the man that just moved in next door?”

  At the same time, the doorbell rings as usual. It’s easy to forget that I’m in my shop when the only thing separating it from my apartment is a staircase and two doors. Nevertheless, I shake my head and put on my best smile when I walk out to the front.

  However, I’m not prepared for what I witness.

  “Uh...morning. Are you...Heather? I got that right?”

  A man full of tattoos has entered my shop. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, both of which perfectly outline his muscled body. His black hair is short-cropped and...oh God! He’s my neighbor.

  Say something, Heather. Don’t be rude to the man. “Uh...yes, that’s me. Heather Rose, at your service. What can I do to help you?”

  ***

  MITCH

  She’s nice, I think. Not too skinny, not too fat, the perfect analogy of booty and boobs, and a pair of eyes to die for. Yeah, I could get used to working next to this Heather girl. She also owns a bakery, so that should mean free cupcakes once in a while, right?

  Still, if I don’t reply to her, I’m sure she’ll get the wrong impression of me.

  “Yeah. I just moved up upstairs and I thought of passing by to say hello,” I say.

  The woman looks at me like I’m an alien or something. For a moment, I think that I did something wrong. However, she breaks a smile and continues. “Welcome to the neighborhood, then. I’m sure you’re going to like it here,” she says.

  “I think so, too. So, anything I should know about the town? Any quick tips to get by easier?”

  Her smile slowly becomes two pressed lines on her face; her mood has changed.

  “I’m sorry...I didn’t catch your name,” she says.

  “My bad. Yeah, it’s Mitch. Mitch Graves. Nice to meet you,” I reply and stretch my hand to form a handshake. Only that she never grabs mine.

  “Mitch, I’m sorry but I’m super busy. You’ll have to go by yourself for now,” she says.

  I let my hand fall on my side. Did I just get told off out of nowhere? “Oh. Okay, then. Thank you. Then, I’ll get going. I have so many things to do. You probably haven’t heard it, but--”

  “You’re opening a tattoo studio next door. Yeah, I know. News in this town travels fast.” She isn’t smiling anymore. On the contrary, she has crossed her hands in front of her chest and is looking menacing.

  I could have left at that point, I could have ended this awkward meeting and went on with my business, but I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I wanted to know why Heather, a woman I just met, was so aggressive with me.

  “Excuse me, Heather, did I do something to offend you?” I suddenly say.

  I catch her by surprise. Her expression gives off the feeling that she doesn’t know she was doing that. Still, instead of softening up, she decides to further this conversation. “No, you didn’t. I just...I don’t know if a tattoo studio would look nice next to a bakery.”

  Her answer shocks me. I shoot my brows up in the amazement. “I’m sorry? I didn’t get that. You don’t think a tattoo shop will look nice next to your small...bakery?!? What got you thinking that?” I say.

  “Well, I don’t know. The people that come to shop here are quiet, normal people. They don’t want any trouble with...” she stops.

  Furious, I take a step toward the counter. She takes a step back. “With what, Ms. Rose? Tattooed dudes like me? What? Muscled dudes like me? What’s your problem here, Heather? Did your gossipy friends found out that I’m an ex-convict too?”

  After uttering the last words, myself, I know that I’ve gone too far. My temper once again has gotten the best of me and I was standing too close to her. Shaking, Heather starts talking. “Get out of my shop now or I will call the police.”

  The sound of the word police brings me back to reality. Fuck, I can’t return back there. I can’t.

  Quickly, I head to the door. Before leaving, I turn and look and her. “I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t mean to start off like that. I hope you have a great day.” I know that I won’t.

  Not waiting for her to continue her false accusations, I rush out of the little bakery and straight to my empty, soon-to-be tattoo studio. The lights are off and it’s still early enough to be dark inside here without electricity. It did take me some time to realize it, but I’m panting. The last three days since I started this fucking trip have been a disaster. Everywhere I go, people judge me by my appearance.

  I don’t know how longer I can keep this going. I don’t want to fall back to being a criminal again. I have worked so hard to get out of the prison.

  “I won’t let them get the best of me,” I mumble to myself. However, when I remember the eyes of the passengers on the bus, and Hea
ther’s eyes just a while ago, I feel anger boiling inside me.

  It bubbles and swells until I can’t keep it in anymore. “Fuck!” I yell and hit an old table with my foot.

  When I regain my calm, I decide that I should better start working. My priority is to catalog the things I’ll need to open up the shop. It’s small, smaller than I expected, but it’s good enough for a fresh start. The apartment upstairs and this little place down here belong to me. I inherited them from my Uncle Will. He had no kids, no family, except me and my father. My father is a drunk that would have sold this whole place for booze, and I... well, I just got out of the prison.

  So, this is a fresh start. A tattoo studio in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing I wanted to do more than paint when I was younger, and after a while, I found out that tattoo art was my favorite expression.

  In a way, this little shop is my dream come true and I won’t let them take it away from me.

  “Now, to the real problem. Where will I find the things I want in this town? I’m sure they don’t sell ink and needles here,” I say to myself.

  I stare outside the shop window and see that the sky has taken a golden color. I don’t know why, but for the first time since I got out, I have noticed that the sky looks different. It’s bigger, more alive...it’s the sky of freedom. And no matter what Ms. Rose from the next door thinks about opening up this shop, she doesn’t know that this is something I earned. The hard way.

  Chapter 3

  HEATHER

  It has been two weeks since the meeting with Mitch happened. We didn’t exactly start on the best of terms. I didn’t expect him to come in my shop and ask me the reason why I don’t like him. I mean, he’s an ex-convict for Christ’s sake. Is there a reason more important than that?

  But, since that day, we never talked again, not even when we bumped into each other at the shared hallway outside our apartments. He avoids talking to me and I avoid even recognizing his existence. Things are kind of weird, but like every crafty businesswoman, I have a plan to make it right again.

  I put in the oven a very delicate shuffle. I’m doing my best not to shake it or else the whole recipe will be for nothing. When it’s in, I carefully close the oven and set a reminder for thirty minutes later. After that, I head to the front part of the shop. There are a couple of new invoices which I need to sort out for my accountant and better not to mess them with the chocolate dough and flour. Plus, the large shop window offers me the opportunity to observe the street and strangers to go about their own business.

  I sit on a stool behind the counter and stare outside. Unable to control them, my eyes fall on the clock on the other side of the wall. It’s 6 pm. It’s about time. I shake my head, ashamed of my own thoughts. Still, I eagerly wait for him to appear from the other side of the shop window.

  Any moment now. He’s never late.

  As soon as I complete my thought, there he is. Always in a tank top, always appearing holding something in his strong hands…always the bulge down his body being pretty apparent. Today he’s wearing a pair of shorts and his usual sneakers. He’s already sweaty, probably returning from his run. Through the tight fabric of his tank top, I can see his abs moving up and down as he’s walking with a firm step.

  Thanks to the safety of my shop window, I can watch him all I want without being too obvious. However, today is one of those rare opportunities that I also don’t have much to do. No customers, no imminent thing to take out of the over…nothing. So, I just stop and stare at him walking up and down as I feel my nipples getting hard at the thought of his hand caressing them.

  My lips part and a silent moan comes out. At the same time, I feel ashamed and turned on.

  Suddenly, he stops. I snap and stand up on my feet. I move my hands around the counter, appearing like I’m doing something. I wait for him to go before I finally sigh. “So close,” I mutter.

  If he had seen me leering at him like a thirsty woman in the desert, I’m sure that would have given him the confidence to barge in here again and have his way with me. But that is something I don’t want.

  Or maybe I do?

  Fuck, I have no idea what’s going on with me anymore. The only thing I know is that this man is dangerous and I have to make him go away. I can’t have him ruining my business. That, and if he leaves, I’ll finally be able to expand my bakery next door.

  Still, I’m going to miss seeing you walking up and down in those sleeveless shirts all day. Gosh, I think I’m going crazy in here.

  In the distance I see Frank waving. It’s a nice surprise, him coming here for the second time in one day. As he’s getting closer, the reminder sets off. I wait for him to come inside before leaving.

  “Hello, Frank,” I say as he walks in. “Can you please wait a moment? I have a shuffle that needs to be taken out of the oven.”

  He nods. I rush inside and take it out. It’s perfect, as always. When I return, Frank is there, in front of me, saying something, but my eyes drift away to the image of Mitch walking up and down.

  “Are you listening to me, Heather?” Frank suddenly says.

  “Um...sorry, Frank. I have many things on my mind today. Tell me now, how’s our petition going?”

  His face roughens up as he leans closer to me. “Most of the people in the town have signed it. Now we only have to make it official.”

  I’m ready to say something when he stops me. “Heather, are you sure this is the right thing to do? The man hasn’t done anything to provoke us, and...and he just wants to open up his shop. Aren’t we a tad too rough with him?” he says.

  Without losing any time, I reply to him: "He’s an ex-convict, Frank, one that isn’t ashamed to share this fact with a stranger like me. What will happen if he decides to go back to his old ways? I mean, God knows what he was jailed for. Domestic violence? Burglary? Drugs? What if the tattoo studio is just to mask his real business? This is a peaceful community- do we want to change it? So, no, Frank, it isn’t right, but there are thousands of towns in America. He can go somewhere else to open up his studio."

  Frank nods to my sayings, agreeing to my logic. He has a wife and two kids. He can’t do otherwise.

  At that moment, Mitch passes in front of my shop again. For a split second, he stops. He tilts his head, ready to turn and look inside my shop, but he doesn’t. He walks away in a hurry.

  I’m blushing. I turn around so that Frank can’t see me. No matter what my heart feels - I need to stay strong and protect what I have worked for so hard.

  ***

  MITCH

  I’m working hard to get my tattoo studio finally ready. But the whole process takes too long. I needed to do some major and unexpected construction work to meet strict hygiene criteria for a tattoo studio. Though I did everything myself it was a big blow up to my budget. I am still trying to get the machines somewhere cheaper but so far no luck. This frustrates me because without them I cannot work and the longer I don’t work the longer I am without income and food to put on the table.

  I don’t sleep well because of the money worry. I have invested so much into this place, yet I am no near to opening. And there still seems to be so much work to be done.

  I’m thinking of painting the outside of this place too, but I need to watch my finances. This dream could only happen thanks to my uncle’s inheritance, God bless him. When I left the jail, I had nothing - just the desire to start a new, better life.

  Generally, I’m excited about this whole thing. Excited and afraid at the same time. After the incident with Heather, I don’t know if my studio will be a success. I’m nearing the end of my budget and if things don’t get well in here fast, I might not even open for one day.

  The good thing is that tattoo has been undemonized and now everyone has one on some part of their bodies. Even older ladies are using tattoos to express themselves nowadays. What’s concerning me is Heather telling everyone that I’m an ex-convict. I’m not sure the people of this town would walk into a shop owned by a crimina
l.

  I sigh and look at the watch. It’s late in the afternoon so I decide it’s time to call it a day. There’s no point in staying any longer since there are not many things left to do. Come Monday, I’m opening the shop. I check everything one more time before closing and head outside. Heather, next door, is still inside her bakery, probably doing something annoying like she always does.

  Passing outside, I stop for a second and glance inside her shop. I can see her figure stepping up and down in her kitchen. “It’s a shame,” I whisper to myself and continue on my way.

  It’s a shame that she must be so narrow-minded. If she could stop and listen for a moment, then we probably would have hit it off already. She’s beautiful with her long, brown hair and her big, brown eyes. She’s stunning in a next-door kind of girl. But someone that doesn’t have in her mind to forgive and forget doesn’t belong to my life.