Nightingale (The Awakening Book 3)

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Nightingale (The Awakening Book 3) Page 3

by Keri Armstrong


  Jeff shook his head. “I’m sorry, Al, but I can’t believe that you, of all people, had never heard of Midnight Ink.”

  “I didn’t say that I’d never heard of it. I said I’d never heard of them. My friend works there, but he’s never talked much about them other than to say he likes the place and his boss. I can see why, now. His boss was nice. It’s the other one I’m not sure about.”

  I pouted at him. I hated that he was making me feel even more foolish than I already had. Of course, he had no way of knowing that my tattoo and piercings were done by delinquents in abandoned buildings. Nor did he need to know that.

  “Anyway, just tell me what you know,” I said.

  “From what I heard, he’s pretty reclusive. He only takes on a few select customers himself, and only late at night.” Jeff’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. “My God, do you think he’ll ink you? That would be so sick.”

  “Of course, Jeffrey. Because, how could he resist?” Even though I knew it would never happen, the thought was enough make my insides buzz with electricity. An exclusive design by a master? One could only dream.

  Jeff’s next words were so ridiculous, they pulled me out of my fantasy.

  “You might want to be careful, though. Some people claim he’s a vampire and that’s why he only does work at night.”

  “Oh, that’s crazy!”

  He shrugged. “Just repeating the rumors, darling.”

  “Please. Maybe staying out of the sun is how he retains his youthful complexion.” I patted my pasty white cheek. “Works for me.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re rocking that whole corpse bride thing.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’ve told you I don’t swing that way, sweetheart. You’ve really got to get over this hopeless crush you have on me.”

  “And you really should get some meds for those delusions you suffer.”

  Jeff’s response was interrupted by music coming from my phone. I quickly went for it, but he grabbed it before I did. As he held it out of my reach, I wondered about my odds of being acquitted by a jury of peers.

  “Unknown caller,” he said.

  Our eyes widened as we came to the same conclusion at the same time. “Could it be that golden god from today?” he asked, having heard all about my customer before we’d gone on to the topic of Midnight Ink.

  “Give it!” I jumped for the phone.

  “Only if you promise me all the graphic details.”

  “If I can’t answer the phone, there won’t be any details to give.”

  He quickly handed it over.

  I pressed “Accept” and barely made it in time.

  “Allie?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeff snickered and even I rolled my eyes. My voice had come out all breathy like a bad Marilyn Monroe imitation.

  “I was about to conclude that you’d given me a fake number,” Luke said and I could hear the smile in his voice, which made my lips lift too.

  I pressed the phone closer as he continued. “It also occurred to me we were never properly introduced, and for that I apologize. My name is Luke Terran. We met earlier this evening over a lovely meal of high quality seafood, champagne, fresh flowers, and a warm breeze blowing in from the Riviera. At least, that’s how I like to remember it.”

  I laughed and even that sounded like a vixen to my ears, but I couldn’t help it. The humor and warmth in that deep voice were too appealing. Jeff gave me a shit-eating grin, and I left the table, flipping him off as he pouted.

  “Where are you?” Luke asked.

  “On the balcony of my fabulous villa, of course, thinking about a midnight stroll on the beach.” Oh, God. Where had that come from?

  “I hope you’ll let me join you.”

  “People might gossip.”

  “You don’t strike me as someone who’d care what others think.”

  I smiled, face warm. I had to get a grip. I’d never acted this way before. Never even knew I could – I’d never had the chance before. My chest was tight, my skin tingly, and my mind whirling.

  It was scary and exciting.

  But it had to end. I looked out at the run-down buildings covered in gang graffiti in the neighborhood I’d called home the past few years. It wasn’t safe, but it was one of the safer places for someone like me.

  The smile left my face and my skin grew cold. Bitter disappointment filled my stupid, rapidly beating heart that had dared to hope, to play along, even if only for a moment.

  “You’re right, I don’t care. And I’m sorry, but I have to go.” My finger hovered over the “End Call” button as he yelled, “Wait!”

  I switched the phone off and set it to mute. Just like I’d done to myself.

  I was thinking of what lie I’d tell Jeff when I saw another flash on the phone. I was going to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of me.

  Nightingales.

  By the time I got back to the table, I had another tale for Jeff. “You are not fucking going to believe this.”

  “So tell me, girlfriend, because the suspense is killing me. Are you going out? Where are you going?”

  I shoved back the stab of regret that brought and said, “No, something even better. I got the job! And not just one, but two.”

  He cocked his head. “He offered you a job?”

  “Both of them did. I can’t believe it.”

  “Wait, I’m still confused. What just happened? Did gorgeous Luke and Midnight Ink both offer you jobs?”

  “No, no. Midnight Ink and Nightingales, both offered. Part-time cashier with Ink and part-time busser with Nightingales. Which, I gotta say, is a big surprise. He didn’t seem to like me much. Hard to believe, right? And not sure I want to bus tables, anyway.” I kept talking to avoid any more questions about Luke. The distraction seemed to work.

  “What’s wrong with bussing tables?” He sounded offended.

  “Nothing! I’m happy to take any honest work I can get. It’s just that guy, Laurent…. I don’t know. I’m afraid if we don’t get along, it will mess up my chance working with Gabriel Lara. I mean, he seemed nice, and my friend Caleb works there sometimes, too.”

  “It’s a bit weird, don’t you think?” Jeff said.

  “It was definitely unexpected.”

  “No, I mean, they didn’t even really interview you, right? Just took your application and said, ‘okay?’”

  In my excitement and confusion, I hadn’t even thought of that. Even Eric had interviewed me when I put in an application. I was ready for the night’s emotional roller coaster ride to an end. Jeff had a point. Gift horses often came with rotten teeth.

  To dispel my growing unease, I fluffed one of my purple spikes. “Of course. We are talking about me, you know.” I said.

  Jeff laughed. “Seriously, though. What did they say?”

  “Please. Stop. You’ll inflate my ego.”

  “Your ego’s about to pop as it is. Now, spill. What did they say? When do you start? And don’t even think about passing this up.” He pointed a fork at me.

  “I don’t know. It is kind of weird. But between the two jobs, it’s a lot more money than I’m currently making. On the other hand, that Laurent guy kind of creeps me out. He seems like a control freak.”

  Jeff laughed so loudly, I had to ask what it was about.

  “Honey, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re the definition of a control freak.”

  “I am no—”

  “And besides,” he cut me off, “maybe you’re being a little too hard on the guy. After all, he did offer you a job.”

  “Yeah. Cleaning tables. Besides, offering someone a job is no indication of character. Eric offered me a job, too, remember?”

  “He wanted to get in your pants.”

  “Eww!”

  “I agree, but that’s beside the point.” He leaned forward, his eyes eager. “The real point is: Will your two new jobs interfere with you banging that hot customer from tonight?”

  “No
pe. ’Cuz not gonna happen.”

  His face fell. “Why? What did you do?”

  “Me! Why do you always assume it was me?”

  “Honey, it’s always you. Told you. Control freak.”

  Wow. That actually hurt. I sat back against the plastic upholstery of the booth. “Why do you say that?”

  His eyes softened. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Al, but you do have a way of keeping people at a distance.” He waved a hand at my clothes and hair. “Everything about this screams ‘control,’ and you’re not even in your usual wear.”

  He sighed, and started again, as if explaining to a kid who didn’t understand. Which, apart from me being a kid, was true.

  “Sweetie, you spike your hair until it’s hard as a rock. You wear your piercings like armor. The leather, the chains. It doesn’t just say “rebel,” it says, “keep away.” It might seem like chaos to some people, but I’m your friend, remember? I know how disciplined you are. I know how hard you work.”

  Damn tears burned my eyes. His gentle tone was too much. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I accused. “And I’ve got to go. Need to break into my own place so the old bat doesn’t come knocking on my door. I have to get my birth certificate and stuff together to take to Midnight Ink.”

  “Yep, control freak.”

  Five

  Well, the good thing about my hasty departure from Jeff is that I never had to give a cover story about why I wasn’t going to go out with Luke. I resolved to let him think whatever he would. I wasn’t able to spare the time or emotion to think about it further.

  Jeff had texted an apology in case he’d hurt my feelings, which I accepted, and texted him back to let him know I was going to take my ID to Midnight Ink tonight.

  Mr. Lara asked me to bring in either my passport or my driver’s license along with either my social security card or birth certificate. I was familiar with this requirement from other places. My fakes had held up so far; there was no reason to think they wouldn’t pass. He’d also said I could drop them off any time between 8 PM and 4 AM in the next couple of days.

  I’d figured no time like the present.

  It was after midnight when I’d successfully sneaked back into my apartment without waking the landlady. I had showered and changed and now stood in front of the mirror, wondering if I should do something different with my face. Jeff’s “corpse bride” comment still rang in my mind.

  Work, school, and worry had taken their toll, and perhaps the black lipstick wasn’t a good choice with my pale face. While I normally wouldn’t give a flying pig’s ass what people thought of my appearance, I desperately needed—and wanted—this job.

  These jobs. I couldn’t afford to blow either of them.

  Ugh. Laurent’s perfectly pressed suit and shining blond hair came to mind. I couldn’t imagine him ever finding grunge under his nails.

  Speaking of which…. I checked my fingertips. All clear. And my hair, while not blindingly brilliant, was at least clean and no longer smelled of old fish oil.

  Straightening my shoulders, I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter what he thought. Midnight Ink should suit me well enough if Nightingales didn’t want me.

  But the extra money… Damn.

  I wiped off the black lipstick and picked up a tube of red, which I applied with a light hand. The result left me grimly satisfied that I could handle bussing tables in some snotty, fancy-pants restaurant. Bus people were supposed to be basically invisible, right? I’d be a chameleon a little longer if I had to.

  Just until I turned twenty-one.

  My reflection nodded in agreement, and I left to discover what the rest of the night would bring.

  I parked my cranky Dodge a couple of blocks away from the shop to use the walking time to settle my nerves. It was well after midnight and the air was cold. Shivering, I lifted the collar on my jacket. Garbage and other unidentifiable, unpleasant odors wafted out from a darkened alleyway as I passed by. I picked up the pace to get away from the smell. The sudden sound of footsteps behind me caused the hair to rise on the back of my neck, and I whirled around.

  Nothing more than an old man walking his dog. Nevertheless, my stomach clenched when I noticed the dog was unleashed. Living on the streets for a couple of years had taught me to avoid roaming dogs.

  That and having Dobermans set on me by my own family.

  I took the last block at a sprint.

  As I came up to the building, I stopped to get a better view. I’d been in such a state the last time, I hadn’t paid attention. The downstairs windows of the shop were filled with tattoo designs and neon, making it hard to see inside. The upstairs windows of the building were completely dark. I took a deep breath and pushed at the door.

  It was locked.

  I knocked. No answer. I peeked through the samples that covered the windows, but could only make out that the counter area was empty. Reaching for my cell phone, I cursed when I realized that I hadn’t filed it into the phone. After trying the door again, I finally noticed a small button in the frame and gave it a push.

  Moments later, it opened.

  Ah, crap.

  “Miss Baker, you’re back.” Laurent sounded surprised.

  “I have an appointment with Mr. Lara.” I tried for a professional tone.

  His mouth twitched. “Then by all means, come in.” He opened the door wider, waving an arm in a flourish of welcome.

  I walked past him, determined not to let him fluster me. I was used to people taking an instant dislike to me, but for some reason, his was disapproval harder to ignore.

  A moment of awkward silence fell after he shut the door. He merely stood there, watching me.

  “Is Mr. Lara busy?” I asked, attempting to keep annoyance out of my voice.

  “He’s with a customer at the moment, but I can help you if you’ve brought back the paperwork.” He held out his hand, which had unusually long fingers like my own.

  I clutched the envelope which held my fake IDs. I was afraid he might throw it away and never tell Gabe that I came by. I took a seat on one of the chairs lining the wall. “That’s very kind of you, but I can wait.”

  “It may be a long wait, and we wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” I smiled sweetly.

  “As you wish.”

  He surprised by me by walking away. When he disappeared toward the back, I followed. The sound of voices and a mechanical humming became louder the farther I went.

  I stopped when I realized I’d stepped into the working space. Gabe was bringing a design to life on the man’s arm. The sheer beauty of his work took my breath away. He had mad skills. This was worlds above the little homemade stars on my neck and temple. What would it be to have that kind of work done? To have that kind of talent?

  “She’s here,” Laurent said. His voice held a mocking tinge, and he looked at me, rather than Gabe.

  Gabe’s head rose, his face a picture of surprise. “You didn’t have to come back tonight. I told you any time in the next few days.”

  Laurent chuckled.

  Wasn’t Illinois due another major earthquake? I prayed that any moment the ground would open and take me away.

  Gabe turned back to his work. Head still down, he asked Laurent, “Did you get copies of her ID?”

  “I tried, but I believe she wanted to hand them to you herself.” His dry tone left no doubt what he thought about that.

  Gabe raised his head again. “No need for that. Laurent can take them. He’ll need copies, too.”

  The customer looked up at me curiously, too. Three pairs of eyes viewing the freak.

  As my face burned, I forced myself to not run out. I handed the envelope carrying my documentation to Laurent.

  “I’ll go make copies. Please wait in the front.”

  “Sure.” I quickly went back to the waiting room and soft laughter followed my departure.

  I didn’t waste any more time once he re
turned the originals to me. Just thanked him and turned to go.

  “Allison.”

  Hearing him softly say my name like that stopped me in my tracks. I looked back, my stomach a little sick with trepidation.

  “Someone will call you tomorrow to discuss your schedule. Is there a best time for you to be available?”

  He moved a little closer, and I stepped back involuntarily. His lips pulled to side grin. “I promise, I won’t eat you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his phone, a much higher end gadget than mine, and handed it to me. “Please give me your number. It will be easier than searching for it later on the application.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to working with someone so… diligent.”

  I gave him a sharp glance. Holding the phone tightly, I entered the digits and silently cursed my shaking hands when I gave it back to him.

  I froze when he pulled my hand and bent over to touch it lightly with his lips. As he rose, he breathed in deeply and I jerked my hand back, barely managing to keep from hitting him. Apart from it being a bad idea to hit your new boss, I didn’t know what to make of his expression.

  All mockery was gone. His expression cycled through shock and confusion, and his eyes appeared to flash yellow-gold.

  “Who is your family, really, Allison Baker?”

  Fear, cold and sharp, sliced through me. I backed toward the door, ready to run. “What do you mean?”

  He blinked then, his face clearing as if nothing had happened. “No matter. It’s you we’re interested in having work for us, not your family.” The short smile he gave was unconvincing.

  “Right. I’m going to go.” I turned and ran out the door, back into the darkness.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Self-recriminations hounded me down the street. Whatever had possessed me to think I could work for people like them? They were clearly well above my pay grade, and possibly dangerous, as well. Why did he suddenly ask about my family?

  A prickle of tears burned my eyes. God, I had wanted this job so badly. But seriously, I had no real experience in places like Midnight Ink, and certainly not Nightingales. And if Laurent was going to delve deeply into my background, then I never would.

 

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