Page 13 of The Fallacy of True Love
“You could work with me part-time if you need extra money,” Nikki put in.
My heart warmed at their offers. I’d met Nikki when I, in my desperation upon my arrival in Juana, almost begged for any job to cover my stay here. Despite my lack of experience, Nikki took a chance on me and patiently trained me to become a decent—at best—waitress.
I’d worked at Cuppa Jo for almost a year, until I’d built up my work portfolio and scored Carlson Tech, my first regular client. The day I turned in my apron, both Nikki and I breathed heavy sighs of relief.
Luckily, my lackluster waitressing skills hadn’t turned Nikki off from being my first real friend in town. She’d introduced me to Jo and Eric, and that had been that.
“Thanks, guys. Nikki, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not good for your business,” I told her.
“You’d scare off the tourists,” Eric said.
I shrugged. “Only the ones that need scaring.”
“You think most tourists do.”
“Yet I agreed to tattoo for your event. You’re welcome.”
He chuckled. “Thank you. You’re still not willing to charge for your tatts as a side gig?”
“Not unless I’m desperate.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
“Speaking of tatts, what’s it going to be this time?” Nikki asked.
While some people rang in the new year with a list of goals and resolutions, I did so with new ink. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
“I really don’t know how you can decide on something permanent on a whim.”
“It’s just skin.”
As much as I chose tattoos that held special meanings, at the end of the day, they were surface level. Deeply symbolic art that hinted at what I’d been through, like the white lines on my stomach and my thighs and the scars on my legs and neck. They weren’t a full reflection of who I was.
What lay beneath the surface—that was for me and the few people I trusted. I could count them on one hand, and they were more than I ever dreamt I’d have.
In fact, they were more than enough.
I couldn’t imagine sharing myself, scars and all, with anyone else.
Chapter Six
Alonzo
The day after Christmas, I borrowed my parents’ car to pick up Dani for our date. I’d made a reservation at this fancy restaurant she kept mentioning—the type that served multiple dishes coined as a tasting menu because each serving was only big enough to be tasted. It meant I’d be hitting the drive-thru later since there was no way I’d be full. But if Dani was happy, no way would I complain.
She’d texted me to meet her inside her house, so I parked by the back gate and waited for Mang Berto to let me in. Her dad’s favorite Benz was missing from their garage, a sign that her parents were probably out.
When Dani opened the door, I grinned at her. “Merry Christmas, Dani.”
She smiled, but it seemed subdued. “Hey. Merry Christmas.”
I pulled her in for a hug and felt her stiffening in my arms. “Is everything okay?” I studied her face, noting she wasn’t meeting my eyes.
“Let’s talk about it in my room.”
My heart pounded as she led me up the stairs. That she was bringing me to her room told me something major was up, since her parents forbade her from having me on the second floor of their house.
“Are you sure your dad doesn’t have a CCTV here or something?” I tried to joke as she opened her bedroom door and let me in.
“Huh?” She blinked at me, looking like she’d been lost in her thoughts. “We just need to talk.”
