Page 22 of Ash
“Yeah, I’ll go grab it.” Wade runs off and I look at Sunday. She’s not fully back yet, her eyes are distant, and she looks confused.
“Hey,” I say softly while sitting next to her. “How are you? Do you know my name?” She looks up at me, brows furrowed.
“A… pain in my ass?” I snort as I press my lips to her temple. The act takes me by surprise. I have no idea what possessed me to do it, but Sunday leans against my lips before resting her head on my shoulder.
“Don’t,” she murmurs groggily. “Don’t leave me alone?” I feel her tuck closer into me, and I know there is no way I’m going to be able to leave her. Not tonight.
* * *
Sunday growls in annoyance.“Ash, I am fine. I am fully capable of living my life without you in it!”
I’m exhausted. Beyond exhausted. I haven’t slept since the night before the documentary. Last night I was up watching Sunday sleep, you know, because she asked me not to leave her. Apparently, that was not the real Sunday, because when the real Sunday came to this morning, she started screaming at me for daring to stay in her house all night. It’s not like I slept in the fucking bed with her.
“Youaskedme to stay!” I try to reason with her as I rub my temples. I have a horrible headache, which is exactly what I don’t need going into the shop today.
“Oh? Is that all it takes? So, if I were to ask you to jump off the roof, would you?” she snaps, hand on her hip.
“If it ends this conversation…” I groan out.
“Mom,” Wade says from his place at the kitchen table where he’s eating his cereal. “Stop being a butthole.” Sunday makes a noise of indignation, and I take this as my shot to escape her wrath.
“Okay, I’m out. I owe you one, Wade.” I point to him before running out the door. I have exactly ten minutes to get myself ready before I need to head to Hel’s.
* * *
“Comenear this shop one more damn time and I’ll take one of those piercing needles and stab it in your jugular!” Janie screams as the cop totes the young man towards their cruiser. The officer looks over his shoulder at the redhead and chuckles loudly.
“You really going to threaten someone in front of a cop, Pierce?” He chuckles, as Fox and I continue to hold Janie back.
“I ain’t scared of you, Kevin!” Janie yells at the cop. “You passed out and puked getting a quarter sized tattoo! I want his ass to get the chair.”
“Okay,” Fox laughs nervously. “Come on, Baby Doll, I think you’ve made your point.” Janie scowls at the man and makes a hand gesture saying she’s watching him before storming back into the shop.
“Stupid ass,” she grumbles as she walks to the show floor and picks up the shirts that were knocked over after the kid tried to grab jewelry out of the piercing area and run out. Stevie is in the back with Atlas and Indy as they try to make sure she is okay while the rest of us are out here making sure Janie doesn’t commit a murder.
“You know,” I sigh as I lift the fallen clothing rack up off the ground. “You really shouldn’t be trying to fi–” I feel an icy chill and when I look, she’s glaring daggers at me.
“This ismyhouse, and he just waltzed in here, dropped his pants and dragged his shit covered ass across my rug.” I look from her towards Fox, who is shaking his head and holding his hands up as if to say he’s not touching this one.
I hear the door chime and thank whatever god is up there for throwing me a bone. I turn to greet the customer, but my already exhausted brain short circuits. Sunday walks in wearing really pretty pastel pink floral romper shorts that have a white thin strapped top attached to it. Her long hair looks freshly colored silver with new red tips, spilling down her bare, tanned shoulders.
“Damn,” Janie whistles. “You coming here to tempt me, Sunday Sutton?” Janie smacks Sunday on the ass and… NO, absolutely not. Not going there.
“Hey, Charming.” She smiles up at me, and the smile is almost apologetic looking.
“Hey, Sunshine,” I breathe, and I mean it. She really is a ray of sunshine today; she’s practically glowing.
Sunday opens her mouth to say something but stops when Indy rounds the corner. I look at my sister and notice the red rubber bracelet around her wrist and frown, knowing what that color means. Since her diagnosis, Indy would never call her days ’good’ or ‘bad’, and she always color-coded them with bracelets. I think it was something she picked up when she worked at the children’s hospital. Pink is the worst of the worst, like she may need to go to the hospital. Blue means she hurts too much to move a lot and needs rest. Red means proceed with caution because a Blue day is coming. Yellow is a normal day, her pain is manageable, and she’s able to get around and Purple is reserved for her best days. I haven’t heard of a purple day in years.
“Are you alright, Indy?” I ask softly, gesturing to her bracelet. She gives me a tight nod, though her eyes are telling a different story. If she isn’t feeling well, why not go home? I’m about to ask her when she looks at Sunday.
“You ready?” I look from my sister to Sunday and raise a brow.
“Ready? For what?” Sunday blushes and Janie snickers.
“Sunday’s getting her nipples pierced.”
* * *
