Page 16 of The Opposite Effect

Knocking distracts me from the tattoo I’ve been drawing for the past hour. It is a sleek design I’ve been working on for a long-time client. Although he doesn’t have much prime real estate left on his torso for my artwork, this piece is just as important to him as the numerous other tats I’ve placed on his skin.

When I hear another knock, I slide the sheet of tracing paper to the side and check my watch. My lips quirk when I notice it is a little before one in the afternoon. Considering the shop doesn’t open until two-thirty, I ignore the eager patron.

All my best-laid plans go straight to the gutter when the tapping grows louder and louder. Once it hits a point I’m no longer capable of ignoring, I push back from my desk and march to the door. I clasp the stainless-steel door handle, preparing to unleash a verbal tirade on the moron who can’t read the hours displayed in thick red ink on the eye-level sign hanging from the door. My plan goes to shit for the second time in under a minute when I swing open the door and am smacked in the face with a rich floralscent.

“You really need to get your hearing tested. I’ve been knocking for ages,” Clara says with her heat-scorching eyes blazing into mine. “Are you going to let me in?”

I nearly step to the side before reality pummels into me. This wasn’t our plan. “What are you doing here?”

She freezes. “You said I have a two-week trial,” she replies with her icy-blue eyes bouncing between mine.

“Yeah, Tuesday at two.”

Her eyes roll skywards. “ItisTuesday, Brax.”

I only just hold in my surprise that she knows my name. I shouldn’t be shocked, though. I’m sure she spent her entire weekend digging for dirt on the guy she’s playing tricks on.

“Yeah, it is Tuesday,Princess,” I say her nickname with the same disdain she said mine with. “But it isn’t even one yet. You’re way too early.”

Her brows furrow. “My brother previously told me being early shows you appreciate the opportunity bestowed upon you.” Her hands fist the fabric on her jacket before she stammers, “I appreciate the opportunity.”

After leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “First job?” My deep voice only just conceals my laughter. “How old are you?”

She smooths the crinkles her determined hold created in her jacket before locking her eyes with mine. “I’m twenty-five, and yes, it is my first job.” Her tone is full of warning that this subject is not up for further discussion.

Deciding it is too early in the week to engage in World War III, I remark, “Arriving fifteen minutes before your shift will be more than adequate to show your appreciation.”

Clara briefly nods before asking, “So can I come in?”

Her eyes narrow when I shake my head. “I’m assuming that’syours?” I gesture my head to the white BMW convertible parked in prime position at the front of the shop.

A ghost of a smile creeps across her plump lipstick-covered lips. “Yes.”

“Then you need to move it. There’s an employee parking lot located at the back of the shop.”

Her eyes rocket to mine. The gleam brightening her gaze from absorbing her expensive pride and joy dampens as the seconds tick by. “Is the parking lot secure?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “No, but it is where allemployeespark their vehicles.”

“Then my car is fine where it is,” she snaps out before crossing her arms under her ample chest.

“If you think your ride is safer parked in the street in clear view of thieving eyes than the parking lot, Princess, you’ve underestimated this side of Ravenshoe. No gangbanger will dare touch yourpreciouspride and joy if it is parked at the back of Inked.” She snarls, baring teeth, either hating my use of her nickname or me calling out her stupidity. Either way, I don’t care. “If you’re planning on walking into this premises as an employee, move your piece-of-shit car into the parking lot. If not, have apleasantevening.”

A winning grin stretches across my face when Clara rolls her arms in front of her body like she’s curtseying the crowned Prince of Denmark before she walks backward. She just needs to remove the crown from her head and place it on mine, and her performance would be more realistic.

Smirking, I nod when she points to the alley at the side of the shop after unlocking her car doors. “Down the alley and around the back.” She rolls her eyes at the arrogance of my reply.

“I’ll meet you at theemployeeentrance,” I add, rubbing more salt into her freshly cut wounds.

Not waiting for her to reply, I close and lock the door of Inked and head to the employee-only entrance at the back of the shop. I still can’t believe Clara McGregor—Princess-Fucking-Socialite—wants to work at Inked. I took a bit of time the past two days running our prior confrontations through my mind. Other than hitting a late case of teen rebellion, I’m at a loss as to why someone like Clara would want to work at Inked, let alone anywhere. It honestly doesn’t make any sense. Just her tennis bracelet alone is worth more than my annual salary, and her pride and joy I just insulted no doubt cost more than my apartment.

But even knowing she has more money than sense, I’ll follow through with my pledge. Why? Because I’m a man of my word. I’ll play along with Clara’s little ruse for as long as she wants as I doubt she’ll last a few hours, let alone a few days.

After snagging a spare key for the back door off the key rack, I push open the heavily weighted steel door at the back of Inked. Like a shadow I can’t shake, Clara is standing under the rusted awning waiting for me.

“The lock can be a bit stiff, just jimmy the key a little, and it should pop right out,” I instruct while pinching the key between my index finger and thumb.

Clara snatches the key out of my grasp and cocks her brow. “Why give me a key if you want me to jimmy the lock? Seems like a pointless task.”

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