Page 48 of Fox
“Well, I will get my stuff out of there tonight, so you don’t have to worry about where to take your company.” Fox shifts uncomfortably as he looks my way.
“Torch.” His voice is strained and pleading as if he doesn’t want to talk about Tinder. I hold my hands up.
“Dude, it’s cool. I hope you have fun and make good choices.” Fox groans loudly as he smacks his face while I give him two thumbs up.
“First off, never call me dude again. I’m not your dude,” he warns. “Second—would you put your thumbs down?” He bats my hands away before huffing out a breath. “I am seventeen years older than you, Torch. This is a weird conversation for us to have.” Why that strikes a chord with me, I don’t know. But I sure as shit have things to say about the age difference.
“Oh, is it? Because it didn’t seem to bother you when you left a hickey on my tit.” Fox goes slack-jaw as he stares at me, eyes wide. I walk over to him and pull down the collar of his shirt to reveal the fading hickey at the base of his neck. “Didn’t seem to bother you either.”
He pulls his shirt back up and steps away. “Janie, that time here was a mistake, and I’m sorry. I should’ve never taken advantage of you then or at my house.”
It's my turn for my jaw to drop. “A mistake?” I blink and suddenly feel self-conscious. I look at the white floor for a long moment and try to organize my chaotic thoughts.Wow Janie,rejected by the guy a couple times now, when are you going to take the hint that he doesn’t want you?
I cringe inwardly at the realization as I nervously rub my shaking hands together. I don’t do well with rejection or embarrassment. I just want to run and hide. But I live with him. I work with him. God, this is such a mess.
I need to get out of this, all of this. “Listen, I was thinking that—” I try to swallow the hard lump in my throat. “I think I’m going to step back from this whole shop owner thing after my meet and greet. Hopefully, I can find someone there willing to work with me, and I can get back on track.”
“Wait. What?” Fox’s brows furrow together as his lips form a deep frown. “Janie, why would you do that? After everything that’s happened to you online over the last couple of weeks.”
Shrugging, I stare out at the showroom. “That drama is way easier to deal with than this place.”Easier to deal with than you.I chew on my bottom lip nervously while staring up at his dark, angry expression. Usually, I live for his anger and annoyance. But not now.
“And what does that mean?” Fox’s demeanor hardens as he stands before me, almost defensive.
I take a breath, preparing to say the lie I've planned out months now, just in case Fox ever questioned why I wanted out of here. Honestly, I never thought I would have to use it. “Fox, we both know I hate this place.” I really hope that sounds believable to him. “I’m of little to no use here, anyway. I would just rather get the money and move on.” I hate how badly those lies taste, but my statement has some truth. I am of very little use here. So, regardless of how much Hel’s Ink is starting to feel like something special again, I could never keep it afloat alone. And Fox and I could never run it together.
Fox shakes his head as if disappointed. “It amazes me,” he laughs dryly. “That you, being as attached to that fucking box ofashes as you are, are so willing to give up the place that your dad created from nothing.” My heart pounds in my chest as he hits me with his harsh words and icy stare. “You know what my father gave me? Cigarette burns and broken bones. A voice in my head constantly reminding me of what a piece of shit I am.” His voice cracks, and it tears at my heart. “That everything and everyone I let near me will be worse off just by knowing me.” He forces himself to clear his throat before glaring at me again. “Tony did nothing but talk about how fucking amazing you were. Every goddamn day. He was so fucking proud of you, and my fucking god, if you were coming in or calling him, it was as though he had won the fucking lottery. He worked himself to death to give you a well-oiled money-making machine that would take care of you. I busted my ass. Fuck, all of us here did! Just to get the occasional head nod from that man. Your dad justgavethis to you, and you’re willing to throw it away?”
My eyes are tightly closed as I listen to him shout at me. I can’t stop shaking, and if I open my eyes, the tears will fall. I hate him right now. I hate him because the things he's saying are the same things I’ve been saying to myself since Dad’s funeral.
“Stop it.” I’m barely able to get the whisper out as a sob escapes me. Fox doesn’t listen as he continues to tell me all the wrongs I’ve done.
“When he first died, and you said you’d give it to me, I figured you were just stupid, and Tony was one ofthosedads that would take care of their dumbass, useless kids forever. But damn it, Janie, that’s not the case! Over the last couple of months, I’ve learned just how fucking smart you are. So, for you to just say you want to walk away from this, from him… From me? All I can think is that you must just be a selfish fucking brat.”
The loud crack of skin hitting skin echoes in the shop before I even register that I’ve slapped Fox across the face. My bottom lip quivers, and my vision blurs while I continue to glare at him.
“This place is not a gift,” I say through a shaky breath. “It’s a curse. You’re right. It's a machine. A machine you can never stop feeding. It was my father’s mistress, his favorite child, his fucking god. Everything revolved around this fucking shop while I got locked in the fucking back room like a damn prisoner!”
I can tell by his movements Fox is gearing up to fire back, but I continue to talk. I have had enough of thisSpoiled Janiecrap that everyone seems to see with me. Everyone sees me as a spoiled brat. No one gets it, so fine, Fox is going to learn.
“You know what the worst part about it all is? I wanted this.” I look up at the ceiling and shut my eyes before looking back at him.
“I wanted to be the next generation of Pierce tattoo artists. I worked. I worked so fucking hard. I trained and practiced. I wanted nothing but to have one of these stations! But these…” I hold my trembling hands up between us. “You can’t be a tattoo artist if you can’t tattoo a fucking straight-line, Fox!” I shout as I slam my fist on Ash’s tattoo table. The tears start to fall freely now as I run my hands through my hair and think about the heartbreak I've endured over not being able to tattoo. The disappointment in Dad’s eyes when he saw my trembling hands, and he knew I would end up like my mother, making it impossible for me to sketch anymore.
“When I finally accepted that I couldn’t be an artist, I asked Dad if I could do the marketing side—advertising, designs, media. I'd take classes, go to events, whatever I could do! I started gaining traction on social media, and I thought I could use my notoriety for her. He told me no… that he didn’t want me here.” My voice hitches as I say it.
He didn’t want me here.
Fox doesn’t want me here.
“It wasn’t a good place for me to just be hanging out,” I continue, wiping my wet cheeks on my shirtsleeve. “He told me not to worry about it. He said that he would make sure I was taken care of. My tremors started and, I don’t know, I guess he was scared they'd get as bad as my mother’s were and he didn’t want me to have to worry about obstacles.”Regardless of how I felt.I let out a long breath, feeling suddenly exhausted, but as soon as my gaze finds Fox’s glaring one, I feel the adrenaline spike once more.
“I wanted this place more than you'll ever know, Fox. I wanted nothing more than to feed this fucking machine. So don’t you dare call me selfish. You may have worked here and donated your sweat. But I gave my entire fucking childhood, my relationship with my father, and his fucking life.” The silence between us is painfully long. Finally, Fox lets out a loud sigh before taking his hair tie out of his bun so he can run his hands through his hair.
“How did we get here?” he asks, looking around before chuckling. “I mean, we went from someone liking me on Tinder to—”
“Swiping.” I correct him.
He arches a brow. “No, I’m not calling it swiping. That’s dumb and lacks any emotion.”
