Draw Me In (8 page)

“Oh, Mel’s old neighbor is Japanese. He drew it for us, which was really nice, since they haven’t gotten along very well in the past.”

I nodded sagely. “That explains it.”

Thanks to Hailey’s well-timed interjection, instead of the “drunk whore” tattoo that they’d brought in, Roger would be putting the requested “sexy” mark on each hip.

As Roger disappeared into his studio with the four gorgeous girls draped over him and the correct symbol in his hands, I turned to Hailey. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed out here with you for the first customers.”

Hailey shook her head, sending her long chocolate-dark hair swinging. “No, it’s fine. You’ve got stuff to do.”

I crossed my arms, settling back against the desk. “So nothing happened with that big dude first thing?”

Hailey went pale as snow. “Did Frankie say something?”

“Frankie?” I shook my head. “No, why?”

Hailey’s blush would have been endearing if it didn’t worry me so much. “Just a little misunderstanding. I need to apologize to him.”

My hand fell atop the counter. “Go ahead. I’ll cover the front.”

“No way. I’m not going in there until I know he’s not, uh, busy.” Hailey turned her back and started rummaging in the bag she kept stowed under the desk. “It’s not a big deal.”

I sat silent, watching as she fumbled in the bag and pulled out a small unmarked bottle. My stomach tensed involuntarily, and I gripped my arms as I watched her tap out two little white pills. My knuckles went white, and it was a fight to keep my voice level. “Whatcha got there?”

She glanced up at me, confusion plain in her gaze. “Tylenol. I’m getting a headache. Did you need some?”

I shook my head, doing my damnedest to keep the worry and anger shoved deep down.

She popped the pills into her mouth, tilting her head back as she swallowed. I stared as she did it, unable to look away.
Just Tylenol,
my mind replayed her words, trying to get my damn guts to unknot.
Just a little painkiller, totally innocent.

“Ugh, they’re sticking in my throat,” Hailey rasped. “I’m going to grab a water really quick. Mind watching the desk?”

I shook my head, then watched as she disappeared around the corner. Once she was gone, I moved like a shot.

Yanking her bag from its hiding place, I rifled through it like a pickpocket, my hand closing on the small bottle almost instantly. Jerking it free of the bag, I popped the top off, nearly cracking the plastic in my frantic haste. I dumped the bottle’s entire contents into my shaking palm.

The white cylindrical pills lay there innocently, about half of them turned right side up, with reddish-pink letters declaring that she’d told me the truth. “Tylenol.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the iron grip around my lungs would let go. It was fine. Everything was fine. My hand shook harder as I replaced the pills and closed the bottle. Carefully, almost reverently, I replaced Hailey’s bag in its hiding space. Gripping the counter as I sank back against it, I concentrated on slowing and evening my rough, ragged breaths.

She was just my employee, but that didn’t matter. She was a nice girl, a beautiful girl, and even the barest thought that she’d have drugs had driven me half insane.

Gretchen used to say that: “It’s just Tylenol, babe.” She’d laugh. “Just ibuprofen. I’ve got cramps.” And then an hour after, she’d be out of her fucking mind on Oxy, or Ecstasy, or whatever the hell. And later, she didn’t even try to hide it. She didn’t give a fuck about herself, or me, or anything. Except the drugs.

I should apologize to Hailey for going through her things.

I should apologize for going mental.

I should apologize for it all, but I wouldn’t. Apologies required explanations, and Gretchen was something I didn’t talk to anyone about.

Ever.

Chapter Six

Hailey

I stayed in the break room longer than it took to get a bottle of water and clear the stuck pills from my throat. I arranged the coffeepot filters into a neat stack on their little shelf above the sink, more to kill time than anything else. I didn’t know what to say to Neill. I felt I should apologize about the first two groups of customers. The guy for obvious reasons, and the girls because I hadn’t known how to handle them. When Tasha had been here, she’d been cool, knowledgeable, and professional. She’d had no problems telling customers when they were wrong, but she made them feel good while she was doing it.

After the filters were evenly spaced between an industrial-sized can of coffee and a roll of paper towels, I took another gulp of water. I had tried Tasha’s approach with the girls, and I couldn’t do it. But if I didn’t find a backbone, and soon, I’d have bigger problems than four girls with “drunk whore” on their ass.

Footsteps neared the break room door, and I grabbed my bottle, ready to bolt. When Frankie appeared in the doorway, I wished I’d made my escape about thirty seconds earlier.

“Hey, Frankie,” I said lamely, wishing I could melt into the floor. “I’m so sorry about earlier.”

Frankie didn’t bother acknowledging my apology. “Can you get me my appointment schedule for next week? I’ve got a friend who needs some touch-up.”

“Sure,” I said, and left the break room. Well, he was definitely being unexpectedly extra-cool about everything. When I got back to my desk, Neill was still there, chatting with a young couple who had matching septum rings.

“Excuse me,” I said as I squeezed behind Neill to get to the appointment book. I didn’t mean to, but my breasts brushed his back, and a shiver went through me. Damn this tiny front desk, but also, thank heaven for it.

I grabbed the book and faced the tiny space again. “Sorry again,” I said softly as I stepped behind Neill. He leaned backward just a bit, deepening our touch. My hand brushed his lean hip, and I breathed in deeply as I passed. God, he smelled good. Felt good, too.

He’s your boss, idiot. Stay away from him.

My mental voice went totally ignored as I returned to the break room and handed Frankie the appointment calendar.

He spread it out on the table and bent over it, concentrating for a few seconds before passing it back. “I’ll do him on Thursday at three. Can you put that down for me?”

I glanced down at the date. “Sure. What’s the name?”

“Albert. First name, Prince.”

I looked at him for a second. A heartbeat, maybe two. But then his smile cracked, and every drop of blood in my body rushed to my face and neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could sink through the floor. The measure of relief I felt that Frankie wasn’t mad was completely overshadowed by my total humiliation. Dammit, I hadn’t wanted to see his junk, it had just happened.

Frankie collapsed on the table into piles of laughter. “Lord, kid, you should see your face right now!”

“Fair enough,” I said as I grabbed the schedule book and rushed from the room. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I settled for running.

Luck was with me for the first time that day when I rounded the corner to the front desk and realized that Neill wasn’t there to witness the results of my humiliation. There was a little sticky note on the monitor: “In my studio with a client, but buzz if you need me. —N.”

And just like that, my shame kind of flew into the background of my thoughts. Still there to torture me later, but for now? I smiled at the note, and without really thinking it through, I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. He had such nice handwriting.

I didn’t have a long time to moon over the note, because at that point customers started to trickle in. I chatted, smiled, and tried to handle cranky assholes, but when things got complicated, I was forced to pick up the phone and dial Neill’s extension.

“Hey.” His warm, deep voice melted my insides. “You okay?”

“They’re standing about four deep out here. Mind lending me a hand?”

“Two seconds.”

I hung up the phone and smiled at the customer. “Sorry for the wait. How can I help you?”

After a brief conversation, I handed over portfolios for the customer to look through while Neill greeted the people who’d been waiting for me to finish taking a payment that the credit card machine refused to process. My smile was feeling brittle, my nerves frayed. After Neill got the customers settled with artists, appointments, or the piercer, he came to my side and squeezed my tense shoulder. I wanted to relax against his warm grip, but I was afraid if I did, I’d break.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice was calm, concerned.

“Sure!” My response was too bright to be genuine, and I knew it. Hopefully, Neill wouldn’t see through my bullshit. Not right now, with clients only feet away from us.

He looked down at me with a twist to his lips that indicated he wasn’t buying it.

“Seriously, I’m fine. I need to make a copy of these consent forms, though, so can you keep an eye on the desk?”

“No problem,” Neill said. “After you do that, go take ten minutes. Step outside, get some fresh air. You’ve been through the wringer so far today.”

I didn’t argue. A few minutes at the copier later, I’d breezed through the lobby and stepped out the back door. The quiet of a Sunday-afternoon downtown was soothing, and once the silence surrounded me, I realized how tense I’d become.

The little parking lot was, thankfully, pretty secluded. With enough room for about eight vehicles and only one exit, it was an insulated patch of nothing but gravel and the concrete blocks surrounding it. I sank onto a parking bumper, tucking my knees beneath my chin. A breeze tickled my face as I rubbed the sweaty water bottle between my hands, my brain running too fast to keep up. What had I been thinking? This was way more than I could handle.

As much as I hated to admit it, Dr. Fields may have been right. Could I handle this job, at this pace, while studying for exams? What about when I had a project due? Weekends were when I got the most drawing and painting done for class projects, not to mention my personal artwork. That time would be completely sacrificed if I kept this job.

My eyes welled, and I sniffed. I hadn’t really thought about that.

Gulping water helped to ease the clogging in my throat, and I stretched my legs out in front of me, the backs of my sandals making divots in the gravel. Dragging the warm spring air into my lungs, I blew it out, imagining that the exhale held my worries and stress.

A quick glance at my watch revealed that only five minutes had gone by. I still had time to try to figure things out.

I set the water bottle down, twisting it into the gravel to keep it from falling over. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I looked up at the sky. It would be great to think out loud, but I’d seem like an idiot if anyone came out here and caught me talking to myself. Who could I talk to? Dr. Fields was out. Even though he’d been a wonderful sounding board in the past, something had changed when I told him about this job. Despite his medical background, he didn’t seem impartial about my job. Lily, or Rose, maybe I could talk to.

My hand drifted to my pocket, feeling the hard edge of my cellphone.

The last time I’d tried this, the phone must have screwed up. That was the only explanation for Mom’s phone to be out of service. Should I try again?

I glanced at my watch. Three minutes left on break. Enough time? It’d have to be.

I pulled the phone free and unlocked the screen. Before I could open the contacts, a voice behind me made me jump.

“Hey, kid, do you have those consent forms on the girl who wants the bumblebee? I’m ready to start on her now.” Roger was poking his head out from behind the metal door.

I pushed myself to my feet. “Sure.” Grabbing my water and shoving my cell back into my pocket, I followed Roger back into the fray. I’d call Mom after work today. Hopefully, the call would connect, and I’d get some good advice and some reassurance. If nothing else, I kinda just wanted to hear my mother’s voice.

After grabbing Roger’s paperwork, I took over from Neill, who had yet another customer. I found my gaze following him as he led the laughing girl into his studio. Jealousy rose in my throat, bitter as bile. I shook my head determinedly. Nope, not going there. I’d bury my attention in my work and not think about him working on her skin.

More checking in, more forms, more customers; some were polite and easy to deal with, while others made me want to scream, they were so obnoxious.

By the time six o’clock rolled around, I was exhausted and just a little bit cranky. Arranging stacks of paperwork into piles to be filed the next evening, I glanced up to see Neill turning the lock.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. His eyes were drawn, wary. “I’m really sorry about today. Normally, Sundays are kind of slow. I’m not sure what the deal was today. Did it go okay for you?”

I paused halfway through shutting the filing cabinet drawer. A lot had happened today, but I’d gotten through it. After clicking the drawer shut, I turned to Neill and shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’m not really sure. There was a lot to deal with.”

My honest answer seemed to sail right into him like a bullet. His shoulders fell as he leaned harder against the counter. “I know. I did a shit job. I should have pushed some of those people off till next week and stayed up here with you.” He stared straight into my eyes, making my breath stick in my throat. “But you seemed so confident, so cheerful. I should have known you’d never let on when you’re being overwhelmed. You’re too nice.”

I nodded slowly, glancing away. “I should have been more up front with you.”

Neill gave a sad laugh as he shook his head. “No way is this your fault. I’m just not used to being the boss. When Karl comes back, he’s going to kick my ass for this, and rightly so.”

“Karl?” I asked, tilting my head in question as I moved closer to Neill. “Who’s that?”

“He’s the other half-owner of Sinful Skin. He’s kind of . . . Well, he’s my mentor and my friend. Helped me out a lot, made me his apprentice when I was just a kid.” Neill shoved his hand through his hair, the shaggy mass falling back into the same position when his fingers left it. “Hiring you was kind of my first official act on my own, and I kind of fucked it up.”