Page 5 of Jagged

"Sounds like it." I dropped down to sit beside Reagan and let out an obnoxious burp to make her laugh. "Well, pardon me."

Reagan giggled her head off and flopped backward into the chair.

"Gross." Frankie shoved my shoulder. "Also, is that my shirt?"

"Nope." I swatted her hand away.

"Hmm. And my jeans."

"Like my arse would ever be in something yours was in." I scoffed and fought the laughter that threatened to take hold.

She shoved me again and I grabbed her thumb to twist it backward. "Ow! Jag."

"Don't assault a cop." I narrowed my eyes at her while Reagan laughed so hard I worried she'd pee herself.

"Hey, idiots." Wyatt threw the hacky sack at me, and I caught it a split second before it collided with my head. "We all know Frankie is the sole owner of all the giant plaid shirts. As for the torn up jeans." He chuffed like an annoyed puppy. "Those are mine."

"Well, no one's wearin' my clothes. That's for sure!" Reagan pointed at her frilly skirt.

The three of us stared at her, then erupted with laughter.

"Righteous, kiddo." Wyatt grinned at Reagan and high-fived her in the air. "Wanna chill with me while Jag works on the mural?"

"Can I answer the phone?" Reagan hopped off the chair and rushed over to him.

"Heck yeah. And you can write in the appointment book, too." He grinned and helped her into the barstool chair beside him.

Frankie smirked before pulling a pair of black nitrile gloves from the pocket of her skirt before setting them down on the chair. "I've got a client in twenty."

"Good. You got the fans off in the back?"

"Yeah. Drop cloth all set, too. When am I finishing your ink?" She nodded to my shoulder. "Tomorrow?"

"Not sure. I'm chasing down a case and technically still working. I bailed for Tati." I glanced at Reagan's excited face when the phone rang.

"She's good with Wyatt for now." Frankie nodded for me to follow her, and she led me down to the back room, now completely vacant save for my crate of supplies.

Plastic drop cloths covered the floors, leaving bare the huge brick-face wall and three ratty old wood plank paneled ones. I stepped into the center of the big space and turned in a slow circle.

"Mav did a good job exposing the wood."

"She did." Frankie propped her hands on her hips and the metal of her chain-link belts clinked. "It's gonna make a great showroom."

"It is. You sure you want me to cover the whole brick?" I moved toward my gear and shrugged out of my jacket.

"Yeah. Work your magic. Street up the rest of this place." She stepped back toward the door, her eyes wandering around the room as if attempting to envision something. "Finally own this place so I want it ours, you know?"

"Yeah."

"We've come a long way from sleeping in a puppy pile in the alley behind it," she added, her hands on her hips as she watched me.

"Remember Wynona pulling us off the streets and saying some shit like, 'You wanna sleep here, you gotta work here,' and made us scrub salon chairs?" I smirked at the salty memory of days gone.

"Oh yeah."

"Best meal I ever had after that though…"

"I know…" Her tilted smile said more than her words did in the moment.

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