Page 6 of Derek
“In–”
“Sorry,” she whispers, still smiling, but I can see cracks forming, and they make my chest hurt. “I… didn’t realize it was really a no-go.” She lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “I thought it was more of a joke.” Her eyes don’t meet mine as she backs away. “I’ll just take care of these.” She says before making a beeline to the back.
“Oh, my god.” Atlas groans. “You’re such an asshole!” Normally, I’d want to argue with him, but how can I? I am an asshole.
“Dude,” Atlas turns to Fox. “Ash is going to kill him.” Fox suppresses a laugh as I run my hands through my hair.
“Ash isn’t who he should be worried about. I mean, Indy did just walk into the piercing area where Torch, Ren, and Stevie are.”
Atlas nods as he turns to me, face grim. “Yeah, Virginia, you’re a dead man.”
* * *
“Hey, Papa Fox,”Janie kisses the large bearded man on the cheek before sitting on his table. “I’m thinking of tacos for lunch. Sound good?”
“I mean, I could go for a taco” Fox’s suggestive tone causes Janie to slap his shoulder.
“At! Tacos?” she calls to Atlas, who is in the back room grabbing ink.
“Six beef and a chicken!” He calls back. Janie walks up to my station, and I get ready to tell her I’m not hungry when I’m caught off guard and thrown off my stool to the ground. Janie sits on my chest as I fight her ninja-like hands.
“Fox!” I yell as I try to hold her back without causing the girl harm. “Get your wom–OW! Janie, what in the fuck?” I scream as she gets an iron lock on my nipple and twists.
“Listen here, Rowe,” she grinds out through gritted teeth as she twists again, and this time I think my nipple might be ripping off. Fox tries to come to my aid, but the glare he receives from Janie holds him back. Then she turns her fiery gaze at me.
“Indy is fucking rainbows and goddamn sunshine. She spent all day yesterday at the hospital getting her infusion and then made you a fucking cupcake and got you a present. If you don’t march your cranky old fucking ass back there and apologize for making her cry…” She releases my poor nipple before standing up. “You will only get the Sweaty Bettys and Stinky Petes from here on out.”
I pale as I stare at her. Sweaty Bettys are our less-than-optimal hygienic clients that want something in their nether regions. Stinky Petes, well, that’s a dirty dick.
“Fine,” I grumble as I get up, still rubbing my abused tit. “I think you just about ripped my nipple off.”
“The next time you hurt her, I will wear your detached nipples around my neck like a goddamn trophy.” She warns before spinning around and walking out of the area. I look from where Janie left to the speechless Fox and Atlas.
“Thanks, fuckers.” I grumble, and they both burst out laughing.
“Derek,” Fox says between his fits of laughter. “You think I’m dumb enough to get in the middle of her wrath?”
“You got your ass beat by a hundred-pound girl.” Atlas snorts, and I punch him in the shoulder.
“It’s not like I could’ve fought her. Fuck you both.” I shove past them as I head into the back. I glance at the piercing area and decide not to listen to Janie. Mainly because if I go back there and get yelled at by Stevie, I will snap. Why is it my fault she got upset? I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t want anything. So because I prefer to be left alone, I’m the dick? I open the door to the break room and walk in, wondering why it’s so hard for everyone to just leave me be and deal with their own lives.
“Fuck.” I accidentally groan out loud and then punch myself mentally for that slip. Indy sits on the couch, and I watch her flinch at my word.
“Sorry,” she says, giving me her fake smile. “Just let me finish this email, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“N-no, you’re fine, Indy,” I mutter and sit on the opposite end of the couch. While she taps away on her phone, I take the opportunity to steal a glance,or three, at her. She wears checkered Converse shoes… with no socks;that’s weird. Her slender, pale legs are bare and on full display with her light wash jean shorts, and her baggy, off-the-shoulder shirt is white with a cartoon drawing of a green olive with the word “you” under it. I glance at the bracelet on her small wrist; it’s blue today.
“What’s with the shirt?”Why did I ask that? Why do I care?Indy stops typing and looks at me. Her fucking resting face is a smile, what the fuck? How is she that happy of a person?
“You like it?” She smiles as she looks down at the front. “Sunday got it for me.”
“I don’t get it,” I mutter, staring at the shirt.
“Say it out loud.” She smiles, sitting taller to put her shirt on display.
“You?” I state, and she lets out a laugh that does some weird fucking thing to my heart that I refuse to acknowledge.
“No goofy,” Goofy? I have been called many… many things in my life, none being “Goofy.” Indy points to the olive and then to the word “you.”
