Page 71 of Jagged

The long, annoying, wandering around Seattle day.

Zay and I visited two of the factories, procured the list of employees, and managed to convince one of the managers to give us full access to their stock and store. As it turned out, his Federal Contractor status was something he hoped to preserve so opening up his place of business wasn't much of a risk.

By the end of the day, Bryant had a list of over a hundred names to run through her systems and Clem would have about the same to flow through hers. Thoughts of her rolled through my mind all day, and as I opened the door to Frankie's shop, I considered bailing to see if she was free.

The shop boomed unusually on a weeknight. A customer sat in every chair, their naked body parts exposed to the air awaiting their ink. Frankie leaned over the thigh of some girl who didn't seem to care that her Victoria's Secret panties were visible to the whole room. I recognized the look in Frankie's eyes while she worked and talked. She had a mark, and that mark would end up in the loft above the shop before the day was out.

"Hey." I joined Wyatt at his drawing station. "Wow." I pointed to the design he scratched onto paper. "Is that a memorial?"

"Yeah. I got an Army vet coming in who wants a specific design. Thiago's gonna do it, but I'm designing." He motioned to the work. "Cool?"

"Amazing. Combat medic?" I motioned to the caduceus that stood in the center.

"Yep. I hope they like it."

"Can't see why they wouldn't. Where's Tati?"

"Chillin' at the gallery waiting to bust out. She should be here soon. Her show is getting picked up. Did she tell you?"

"Not yet." A smile broke out across my face. "But I can't wait to hear about it. She's been waiting for so long…"

"I know. This is gonna be it for her. I can feel it." He nodded firmly, asserting his confidence over the declaration. "It's her break."

"I'm here for that."

"How's Clem? See her today?"

"Not yet, but I'm about to text her."

"Cool."

"Who's Clem?" Frankie's raspy voice asked as she came up behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the woman she worked on standing up and fixing her outfit. She glanced at Frankie, and I noticed her movements weren't very quick.

"Who's that?" I nodded in the woman's direction. "Going upstairs?"

Frankie smirked and looked over at her. "Not tonight. Probably tomorrow though, to be fair."

"No surprise."

"Who's Clem?" She nudged me with her elbow. "Deets. Is she hot? Did you fuck?"

I fought the desire to push her down a flight of stairs. "I don't tell you about anyone I'm talking to for a reason and this falls in that category. Stop it."

Frankie lifted her hands in surrender. "Jeez. Calm down."

"No. I've had about enough of you showing off in front of people, Frankie. When we're alone, you're not like this. Stop being obnoxious."

Frankie pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing as if ready to dig out my heart with double-daggers. "Fuck me for caring."

"It's not caring when you ask questions like that. That's being intrusive." I stepped away from them and headed toward the door. "Talk to me when you can be respectful."

"Bitch," she called after me. "I want a divorce."

"Done." I flipped her off right before I hit the streets.

No one in the shop batted a lash at the ridiculousness. Return customers, and pretty much anyone in our community, was used to Frankie's idiocy at times. I never understood why they forgave her such things, but to me sometimes it was unacceptable.

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