Page 60 of Blue

At least she looked exactly how she felt, as if a truck had plowed her over. So, she had that going for her.

Frowning, she spotted something brown peeking out from her dyed, but quite knotty, locks. “What the?”

She reached up to pluck it from the tangles. “Ugh.”

She rolled her eyes at the small twig that had somehow gotten itself caught in her hair. A memento of their side-of-the-road tryst that shouldn’t have been. She tossed it into the trash.

How was she supposed to stick to her guns and not fall back into the trap that was Mooky? Her soul burned for him. Her brain stopped functioning around him. He was everything she wanted with just one hiccup. Wallowing in hopelessness, she sniffled back the tears threatening to fall.

Shaking her head at herself, at her weakness, she collected herself in the bathroom to call Stella. She hadn’t a clue what to say to the woman other than to apologize. It had to have been scary witnessing that whole mess. Then Blue had just sent her off without a thought with the prospect.

Jesus, she was a shitty friend. Why did anyone even like her?

Leaning against her counter in the kitchen, she tapped Stella’s number on her phone. With her head hanging low and her other hand on her forehead, she placed the phone to her ear.

If she was lucky, Stella would send Blue to voicemail. If the shoe was on the other foot, Blue would. Now she needed a new mentor again. Who the hell would train her to be a tattoo artist? Stella had been her last hope. She was running through mentors way too fast. This wasn’t a good look. How would she ever become a tattooer?

Fucking Christ, she really shot herself in the goddamn foot. She was a moron.

“Blue!” a breathless Stella answered.

“Stella? Are you okay?” Blue asked, standing straighter. “Where are you?”

The giggling on the other end didn’t make sense. “I’m fine. Stop it.”

Stop? Who?

“Where are you?” Blue repeated.

“Home, why?” The tattoo artist hushed someone on the other end.

“Oh?” Okay?

Happy. Best-case scenario. That was unexpected but good.

“I’m sorry about the prospect thing. Last night went to shit,” Blue resumed her apology.

“I had a blast. I’ve never ridden on the back of a bike before. That was so awesome.”

Blue furrowed her brows. “Huh?”

“I mean, he said it won’t be a regular thing,” she said in a hushed voice, as though she didn’t want someone to hear her. “But, I mean.”

“Wait? Is he still there?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Blue slapped her hand over her head and dragged it down her face. Another one bites the dust. One more woman fell for the charm of the motorcycle and the leather. And this guy wasn’t even fully patched.

“Is that bad?”

“No,” Blue lied into the phone.

Of course, it was, but there would be no telling her that. She’d drunk the Kool-Aid now. There was no turning back.

“I thought you and Mooky were…”

“We are. I mean, we were. It’s complicated.”

“So, this is cool?”

---