Page 16 of Beautiful Lies
“Because of you.” It was the truth, but it was also a lie. Oxy made my heart race, too.
“Good answer.”
“Do I win a prize?” I teased.
“You already did. I’m the prize.” Her fingers tap-danced across my chest to the beat of the music. “I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”
“You’re only going to Queens, babe, not the other side of the country.”
“I know. But still. Dorm life, ugh.”
Her parents wanted her to live in the dorms at St. John’s University to get the full college experience. If it had been up to her mother, Ava would have been sent to another country, as far away from me as possible but my girl knew her own mind so Queens it was. “We’ll spend our weekends together and I’ll visit you so often you’ll get sick of me.”
“I’ll never get sick of you,” she said. “Not even when we’re old and gray.”
In that moment, we were whole, and we were perfect.
When the meeting ended, Tate and I escaped the heat of the church basement and exited through the side door into the outside air that was ten degrees cooler. We stood by our parked Harleys, taking deep breaths of fresh air. Or as fresh as it got in Brooklyn.
“You get anything out of that?” Tate asked.
“Does tripping down memory lane count?”
He crossed his arms and tilted his head, his brow furrowed as if he was giving it serious thought. “It counts that you showed up.” Tate scratched his head. “Been thinking about what you told me the other night. About buying the shop. What’s holding you back?”
“I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“Ain’t happening. The business is established so you’re not starting from scratch. You already manage the shop when Jared’s out. You work what … fifty hours a week?”
“About that.” Probably more. I stayed after-hours to clean or do whatever I could to help Jared out. I owed him that, and more. For the past six years, my job had been the only constant in my life, and the only thing I hadn’t screwed up. Jared deserved the credit more than I did. Junkies didn’t make the most reliable employees, but even after disappearing for months, leaving him in the lurch, he’d taken me back, no questions asked. And I was grateful for that.
“You might need to rack up more hours, do the accounting, and keep on top of all the paperwork. Nobody wants to mess with the IRS. But you’ve got it covered. You know what you’re doing.”
“As a tattoo artist, yeah. But the rest of it…” I didn’t have a fucking clue.
“If an old dog like me can learn new tricks, a young pup like you should have no problem.”
With that, he straddled his bike, strapped on his helmet, and took off down the street.
Ten minutes later, I walked into Killian’s gym where his women’s self-defense class was in full swing. Back in January, Eden and Ava had taken Killian’s co-ed Krav Maga classes, and I was told they’d kicked ass. I smiled at the thought of tiny Ava taking down a guy twice her size.
“Can I get a volunteer?” Killian asked the women standing in front of him. Every hand shot into the air. He beckoned with his hand and Mitch, the weekend bouncer at Trinity Bar and one of Killian’s instructors at the gym, trotted over and stood by Killian’s side. The women’s faces fell when they saw they’d be dealing with Mitch and not Killian. Mitch had a face like a bulldog and was built like a tank.
I chuckled to myself on the way to the locker room.
After putting in two hours in the weight room, I hit the shower. It was the first time I’d worked out since I’d gotten the tattoo, and when I stripped off my clothes, I didn’t feel like I needed to hide my chest from any of the guys coming in and out of the locker room. I could shower without shame. Progress.
Showered and dressed, I sat on the bench to put on my boots. My cell phone rang in my backpack and I slid it out, checking the screen before I answered. Jared.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Zeke’s here. Says you’re supposed to meet.”
Fuck no. “Tell him I don’t need his help.”
“You tell him.”
Two seconds later, I heard Zeke’s voice on the line. I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried not to lose my shit. “Forget it. I’ve got this.”
