Page 40 of Yours Truly

“Yo,” my buddy John answers, noises sounding off around him. I don’t know if he’s at work. I don’t even know where he works anymore. Doesn’t matter.

“Yo, you got plans tonight?”

“Nah,” he sighs, “why? Wanna party?”

“Yep. In Bluebell, though. You got a ride?” I ask, unsure if he lost his license or not.

“Hell ya. You got booze and girls?” John asks.

I don’t yet, but that’s the easiest part of all. “I will.” I glance over to the reception desk where Deuce is quietly talking with the new girl, the till on the register open. “Be here in an hour? We’ll get it started.”

“Sure,” he says, “I’ll leave now.”

“Perfect.”

He hangs up, and the next call I make is the one I feel the worst about. Jealousy makes us do ugly, stupid things, but I can’t stop myself. Every time my finger hovers over the end call button, I see her smiling at him. I think of them across from each other at Goode’s, the way we were, and I see red.

“Hey,” I say softly, turning my back to the studio for a sliver of quick privacy. Then I proceed to invite a few people to Ink Time, telling them to be here the moment the shop closes.

Deuce lets me lock up. That means he trusts me with his space. I won’t make him regret it, but I’ll also borrow against the trust tonight.

My lips burn in anticipation, thinking of that first drink and the way it will burn through me, leaving my jagged edges fuzzy, my discomfort muted.

I want that.

I need that.

“Hey,” Ivy hedges, appearing behind me, her hand on my elbow. I jerk out of her gentle touch, causing her face to scrunch. “What?”

“Nothing, just making a personal call.” I keep my face expressionless. “What do you want?” The four words tumble out, cruel and pointed. My stomach clenches. I hate being a prick to her. But goddamn it, why did she say yes to Jeremy?

“I… uh… Deuce is taking care of Jeremy up front, then he’s heading out to pick up Ace.” Her blue eyes dance between mine, searching for why I’m being such a prick after we had such a good session together. Hell, it wasn’t just the session.

We’ve been getting along. We’ve both been trying.

“Great,” I deadpan. “I’m going in the back for a bit. Make sure the entire station is sanitized before you leave.”

She doesn’t say anything. She just stands there in that second-skin bodysuit that makes her tits look so fucking good and that skirt that shows her toned legs, glaring up at me like I just pissed in her cornflakes. I love that sultry, nasty look on her face.

“What? You’re the apprentice. You stay and clean shit up. Why do you have that look on your face?” I shake my head, moving past her to the room in the back of the shop. Deuce mostly uses the room as a small office, but being Trace Calhoun, I have access to everything.

I don’t give her the chance to reply. I walk past her into the stuffy little space and kick the door shut. Deuce keeps a bottle in his desk for what reason, I’m not sure. Tonight it feels like kismet. I grab the bottle by the neck, spin the cap off, sending it clattering against the corkboard, and take a long, slow drink.

I was a fucking idiot to think I had a chance.

So I drink half that bottle in one sitting, because that’s what proper idiots do.

ELEVEN

Tantrum-y baby man whore

Ivy

Jeremy waits awkwardly in the reception area, browsing designs in laminated sheets as I clean the station.

Trace isn’t wrong. This is my job.

But I knew that, and so did he. Which means we both know I had every intention of cleaning up before I left. It’s the fact that he felt the need to remind me. Callously, too.

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