Page 44 of The War Revision
He’s so damn controlled. He needs to loosen up more. And so this morning, very early morning, I came up with the best/worst plan: pulling a good old prank. That’s how we usually communicate with each other. I prank him, and wait for him to get back at me. It’s our way. It’s familiar. Our dislike for each other is easy. Habitual—today’s word of the day.
Things have changed too much too quickly. Maybe we need to go back to our regular routine for a while. Why doesn’t it feel as much fun as it usually is, though?
The prank I concocted will effectively push a response out of him. And I’m looking forward to it, to seeing the frustration on the fucker’s face. Maybe it will turn into a heated exchange followed by angry sex… Ah, fuck! And I’m thinking about his cock again. That was never part of our regular routine.
It takes me two hours, a drenched t-shirt and some heavy cussing, but when I’m done, his precious BMW coupe looks like a giant orange thingy covered in wrapping paper—even the tires—with tiny middle fingers all over it. My back is killing me and I have duct tape stuck under my shoes and dirt on my gray jeans and shirt, but it was worth it.
After a last appreciative look at my work, I go to wash myself over the sink in the shop. His car is in the building parking lot. I can clearly see the orange monstrosity from Ink Me’s front window.
I hear the ding from the small kitchenette in the back of the shop, and I hurry to grab the popcorn from the microwave, jogging back to the stool I placed near the glass door. I juggle the hot as hell bag between my hands while I sit.
The clock on the wall strikes nine. Cole must be in the office already, but this is the time Russel comes to work. I know because Mel has bragged about making his boyfriend work less since they got together. His obnoxious gloating comes to my advantage for once.
And there it is, Russel’s car, backing in the parking lot. The John Cena of the accountants gets out and is soon jumped by a small pink monkey with wavy hair. Doesn’t Mel ever work? He’s curled around Russel’s back, rolling one hand in the air, bucking his hips like a kid riding a very muscular bull.
Russel is smiling, not at all annoyed by his boyfriend’s antics, when he abruptly stops dead on the sidewalk. He shakes his head and then says something to Mel. They are both staring at Cole’s car. But then their gazes move to my shop until they focus on me.
I wave while tossing some popcorn in my mouth. Mel slides down Russel’s back, gives him a kiss, and moves toward me. Russel goes to the building entrance, hopefully ready to tell Cole about his wrapped-up car.
The bell over the door rings and Mel wanders inside like an energetic whirlwind on steroids.
“What happened?” he asks, flickering his gaze all over my face. “The bruise on your jaw. Who did you piss off this time?”
I wave a dismissing hand at him, looking back outside. “Just a drunk disagreement,” I say around a mouthful of popcorn. Since Mel has witnessed those kinds of disagreements a couple of times when we were living together, he just nods.
“It’s nine in the morning,” he feels the need to state the obvious, looking at the bag of food in my hand.
“And?”
He hops on the stool next to mine. “Give me some.” I tilt the bag his way and he yanks it out of my hand.
“I gather we’re not enjoying the street view without a reason?”
I shrug.
“The reason being Cole’s pumpkin car in the parking lot?” he continues.
“Halloween is near,” I casually tell him.
“Cut the crap! He’s going to go mental. He loves that car.” Mel doesn’t look worried though while tossing a popcorn kernel in the air before catching it with his mouth.
Mental? I wish. “Oh, I should pick you up, put you on my hand and make a wish.” I blow, closing my eyes.
Popcorns hits my face. But I don’t retaliate because that’s when I hear the building entrance door bang open. Show time!
Cole appears first, then Russel. He’s following Cole toward the parking lot. It looks like they are discussing animatedly. Cole hasn’t looked at his car yet, while he shakes his head and waves his arms in front of him with a grim expression on his face. He seems really upset.
I slide down the stool, fully forgetting about the prank. Because I know there’s something very wrong with Cole. He’s trembling with anger. He has no jacket, his vest is open all the way down and his shirt looks wrinkled.
I grab the door handle and push it down when Cole’s eyes finally focus on his car. I expect a curse, a grunt, a glare my way. Something. Anything. Instead, he closes his eyes and rubs a hand on his mouth. He looks exhausted and more. Defeated. He has another stiff exchange with Russel before the big guy hands him something.
I take a couple of steps on the sidewalk with the intention of finding out what the hell is going on.
But Cole moves quickly to Russel’s car and opens the door. Before entering, he looks up, straight at me. His intense gaze is filled with so much I cannot decipher. I take another step in his direction, but he gives me one firm shake of his head. He then gets inside the car and starts the engine before driving away.
“What the fuck was that?” I hear Jordie saying from behind me.
With a serious expression plastered on his face, Russel passes us and walks inside Ink Me.
