Page 3 of Under My Skin
What choice do I have? It sounds like they won’t be taking anything sentimental to their new homes. If I want any pieces from my past, I have to salvage them myself.
“Yeah. I’m coming.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I imagine sleeping in my childhood bed in a house with my parents while they happily dismantle our lives. “I need to find a hotel,” I blurt. “There’s no way I’m staying in that house with them.”
“Just stay here. I’ve got a couch.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you have a whole second room?”
“It’s occupied at the moment. Hey, I have to run. Call Mom and Dad. Let me know your plan.”
I reach for Pudge, scratching him behind the ears. “I’ll have to bring my cat. I don’t think my roommate is capable of keeping him alive.”
“Whatever you need to do, Lucy. Just let me know.” He sounds distracted, and the rattle of keys jingling in the background confirms he’s on his way out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.” Right before he hangs up, he says, “Call Mom and Dad.”
I roll my eyes.
Why? Why should I be the one to call them? They should have told me about this by now. Hell, they should have told me about this a month ago. Why is it up to me to reach out and break the news I already know?
Just the thought has my head throbbing. Lying down on my bed, I reach for Pudge again. He looks mildly annoyed that I keep touching him while he’s trying to sleep, but my eyes feel hot and prickly again, and distracting myself with him is the easiest way to keep my tears at bay.
Chapter Two
EVERETT
Another loud bangvibrates through the ceiling, and one of the artists near the front of the shop stops their line work to glance up. From here, it looks like he and the snake head on his neck are both curious about the noise.
“They won’t fall through, Alex,” I say from my station, and I’m at least eighty percent sure I’m right.
He chuckles and gets back to adding white highlights to a blue butterfly on a woman’s foot. “You sure about that?”
Even she looks up at the ceiling now, like she isn’t sure this tattoo is worth putting her life on the line.
“Mostly sure,” I mutter before pulling out my phone to check the time. My next appointment isn’t for another twenty minutes. Do I want to babysit the contractors I hired on my down time?
No.
Should I?
With another clank that sounds like he’s literally throwing a wrench against the wall, my shoulders drop in defeat.
Maybe.
“I’ll be back,” I groan, and all three artists laugh and say things like “Good luck” and “God speed.”
I flip them off half-heartedly. They know I don’t really give a shit. I’ve worked with Alex and Troy since the shop opened two years ago. Toni is our newest addition, but she’s still been here long enough to know I rarely get mad.
Stressed? Sure.
Panicked? Maybe.
But mad? Who has the fucking time?
I pause before heading up the narrow staircase. From here, I get my favorite view of the studio. It isn’t much. There are four artist spaces, two on each side. The front is all windows, letting in plenty of natural light. You can hardly see the white paint under all the framed artwork we’ve collected over the years. Troy even has a taxidermy owl perched on top of his shelves. I’m afraid to ask him where he got it, but to be fair, I’m afraid to ask Troy a lot of things.
My moment of appreciation ends with another loud clang, and I curse under my breath as I head up the stairs. When I bought this place, it felt like endless possibilities. It felt like I had all the time in the world to turn this space into what I wanted, but buying something with an unfinished apartment means that one day, you have to actually finish it.
