More Than Lies (13 page)

Two uneventful weeks flew by after we returned from our weekend at my brother’s. Shawn has been acting like a douchebag ever since. Mostly he’s been avoiding me, but when he is home, he’s a brooding dickhead.

He may have saved me from making a major mistake with Mason the night of Kylie’s party, but I’m not about to go telling him that. Frankly, I’d like to forget that ever happened. It’s not that Mason isn’t attractive. Trust me, he’s more than attractive, in both looks and personality department. I mean, the man is gorgeous, even more important; he’s funny as all get out. However, Mason and I? I just don’t see him that way, unless of course, I’ve had a bottle of tequila.

Gosh darn Patron.

If I didn’t need something from Shawn, I wouldn’t be waiting around the studio late on a Friday evening. I was supposed to work tonight at Mac’s pub, but I called in feigning a headache.

Shawn is cleaning up his station when I walk over. The only other person still here is Kenny and his station is toward the front of the large room, near the receptionist’s area.

“Can I talk to you?”

He pauses from wiping his chair down then tosses the used paper towel into the trash bin a few feet away from us.

“Sure, what’s up, Tara?” He looks down at me.

I place my hands in my back pockets and rock on my heels. I haven’t the slightest idea how to start out this conversation.

“If it’s that damn serious, maybe you need to take a seat.” He gestures to the chair he finished cleaning moments ago. He has a good point. Maybe sitting will calm my nerves. I don’t even know why I’m so itchy. Nothing is probably going on, anyway. It’s all probably in my head. I’ve never run a business. I’m probably way off here.

I go ahead, taking the seat he’s offered.

“You’re never here this late, what’s going on, Tara?” he prompts, looking concerned. Shawn’s arms fall to side as he awaits my reply.

“Um,” I pause. Shoot, where do I begin. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, it’s just things aren’t adding up.” I stop talking. One, I’m rambling and not making sense. Two, my voice was increasing with every word out. That happens when I nervous and jumpy. I look around to see if Kenny heard me. He looks up, but doesn’t look curious.

“You don’t want Kenny to hear us?” Shawn looks from Kenny, back to me. I nod my head. “Lie back in the chair and unbutton your pants.” He turns away from me.

“Excuse me?”

Seconds later he’s standing next to me holding what I know is transfer paper with a design. I can’t see what’s on it.

I look up at Shawn, confused. Did he tell me to take off my clothes?

“You don’t want anyone to hear us talking so I’m going to act as though I’m positioning a design on your hip bone.”

“Why my hip?” This isn’t making any sense.

“Do you want me to listen or not?” His eyebrows furrow.

“Fine.” I lay back and pop the button on my jeans. The self-conscious feeling I tend to get when I’m around him starts to set in the moment my jeans and panties lower to reveal the skin surrounding my hipbone. It’s not like he can see anything substantial. All of my girly parts are still covered and Shawn’s seen more of my flesh when I’m in a bathing suit than in this moment. Still, there has never been a more intimate moment between us than right now. I don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to talk while lying in this position?

All I can think about is him looking at the pudginess of my stomach. I’m pretty sure I have a stretch mark or two from my weight fluctuation.

Shit. How did I even get in this predicament?

“Now would be the time to start talking, Tara.”

Shawn lays the paper against my skin, rubbing his hand thoroughly over me to make sure the marks take to my skin. His hands feel amazing, even if it’s not full contact and there is a thin sheet of paper between us.

Shoot, my breathing starts to accelerate.

Calming breaths are what I need.

“Today, Tara. I’m not getting any younger.” He isn’t looking at me so I doubt he can see the way my cheeks have started to heat. I take a slow deep breath then exhale even slower.

“It’s about Adam. Well, the studio, actually.” That causes him to pause his hand on me to look up. His palm remains flat against my body as his brown eyes penetrate mine.

“What do you mean?” He’s curious and looking at me intently.

I’m starting to calm. As I do, I’m able to relax further back into the cushioned seat.

“Over the last few weeks I’ve noticed things.”

“What things?” If he would give me a chance, I’d tell him without him having to ask. Shawn’s impatient when you peak his interest. Actually, the only time Shawn isn’t inpatient is when he’s working. It’s a pretty thing to watch. Shawn is totally and completely calm and in his own world when he’s hunched over someone with a needle clutched in his hand.

I don’t know if you can compare the two, but his mom is the same way when she is in her element. Pamela Braden is a pediatrician. She was my doctor up until I graduated high school and technically became an adult at the age of eighteen. Both of Shawn’s parents are doctors. Mr. Bill is a Cardiologist and works at the largest medical facility in North Mississippi.

“Adam’s finances with the business,” I tell him. I chew on the side of my lip as I look for the right words. I’m no expert here. I’m doubling in majors at Ole Miss; one in English and the other in Accounting. My dad’s doing, of course, because one major wasn’t enough to please him. “I’ve always handled just the payroll side of things.” I don’t know why I’m starting out this way, but I feel the need to explain in details.

“I know this already, Tara. You’ve been doing it for two years now.”

“Yeah, but when Adam got me to start paying the bills and ordering stuff he gave me—” I’m not able to finish because Shawn cut me off.

“He what?” He’s looking at me a little dumbfounded when his eyebrows close together forming a tight crease in the center. “So he has you doing his job now? What else does he have you doing?”

“Besides payroll, I pay all the incoming invoices, and order everyone’s supplies.” I bite the inside of my mouth behind my lips. If this is pissing him off, what I tell him next may flip his lid. “He also asked me to interview a piercer he has coming in next Friday.”

“Are you shitting me?” He’s seriously shocked. I didn’t think it was possible to shock Shawn.

“Yeah, I mean he only asked me today if I’d do it. He said he was going out to Vegas and didn’t want to reschedule the guy’s interview.” Maybe Shawn was the wrong person to bring this to. Heck, I haven’t even gotten to the point of what I wanted to talk to him about.

Shawn takes his right hand off of my hip and places it onto the smooth surface next to my left side. He starts to shake his head.

“He’s having you do his fucking job so what he can take a vacation? Unbelievable.” His expression turns hard. “He’d better be paying you more to do all of the shit he’s supposed to be doing.”

Paying me? As if.

“Umm.” Yeah, I don’t really know how to say this next part.

“He’s not, is he? Cheap motherfucker.” Again he shakes his head as if he can’t believe the ways of his boss. It’s true. Adam is cheap. I mean, I have to bargain-shop for the basic things the studio needs, like toilet paper and hand soap.

“He’s never paid me. At all,” I add.

“Come the fuck again?” His jaw locks and his eyes turn dark. He’s mad.

“He doesn’t pay me, Shawn and frankly I don’t think he can.” Not after seeing his bank statements. Adam is barely keeping the lights on in here.

“The hell he can’t. Business is great and has been for a while now. None of us are sitting on our ass without clients to service.”

“Look, this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Then what is it? Spit it out already because I have a boss’s ass to kick. You can’t let him or anyone else take advantage of you like that, Tara. What the hell were you thinking?”

“First, it started off as a favor and it was working to my advantage too. I was learning things I could use for my accounting classes and it’s not as if I hate coming here. The opposite, actually; it’s a job without being a job, I guess.”

I’ve never seen myself doing anything other than writing. My dream is to get published and it’s something I intend on making happen. My father wanted me to go into law like him since it was obvious my brother wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps. I’m not either, but for me that meant also majoring in something I could fall back on, if the whole “writing hobby”, as my parents put it, doesn’t work out.

It’ll work out, I’ll make sure of it, because I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to be financially dependent on a man like my mother is. I don’t understand it, to save me. I’m not judging here, it’s just the way I see things. I’ll never feel as though I can’t make my own way in this world. For me, that means getting out and earning my own living. Bringing my own food to the table, so to speak.

It’s the reason I have a part-time waitressing job at Mac’s Pub. It certainly isn’t because I like the job. I don’t. Most of the patrons are nice, but there are always the creepy, cheesy men that make little comments, or place their hands on me. Not to mention, I have to wear a top that shows off my boobs.

“Look, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought anything up. It’s not like I know if anything is going on, but I didn’t want to go to Adam without talking about it with someone. And I don’t want him to think I screwed something up.”

That’s my real issue. I’m afraid he’s going to blame me for something I know I didn’t do, or at least didn’t do intentionally.

“What are you talking about? Please explain it to me because I’m not following.”

Shawn looks back down at my waist. A few seconds later, I feel the paper being lifted off of my skin. I’m dying to see it, but I don’t look down yet. I need to get everything out so that someone else can confirm that I’m not crazy.

“I’ve been noticing the online bank statements are way off from the written ledger Adam keeps in his desk. I only use it when I write down anything I pay out. That’s it, I swear.” I say this like I’m guilty of something when I’m not. “Two weeks ago I decided to figure out where the discrepancies were coming from. It’s taken a while, but I think I figured it out, with the help of one of my teachers.”

Shawn balls up the paper and tosses it into the trashcan. He’s still looking down at me. His eyes are big. Shawn has big round brown eyes to start with, but right now they are wider than normal as if he’s in awe. Surely he’s not.

“I’m listening.” He finally looks up.

“The amounts deposited each week don’t add up to what I’ve been paying to each artist based on their commission and what the studio profits off each artist’s clients.”

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“It looks like I’m overpaying the artists, but Shawn, I check myself multiple times. There’s just no...I don’t know how I could make mistakes like that.”

“Tara, stop.” Shawn glances back down to where he laid the design. It’s only a second or two, but it’s as though he can’t stop looking at it. I really want to see it now. “I check my shit every week. I can’t speak for most of the jacklegs in this place, but I know Adam and Kenny check their shit too. If you were overpaying one of us, we would have caught it. Kenny is a stand-up guy. He’s honest. I’m damn sure he wouldn’t let that go on without correcting it, and neither would I.”

“Then.” I stop, not wanting to continue. Continuing means I’m accusing other people of stealing without any proof. “Fuck,” I sigh out in a long breath. Shawn raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, like you’ve never heard that word, come out of my mouth before.”

“Sure I have. Maybe once or twice, but only when I provoke you.” He smiles his half smile that normally melts me on spot. “Then what? Finish what you wanted to say.”

“There are only three people that touch the money that comes into this place. Adam, Sabrina, and myself.” Sabrina is the receptionist for the tattoo studio. She runs the front. Answers the phones, schedules most of the appointments for the artist, and makes daily deposits to the bank. “I would never steal from Adam or anyone. I—”

“Tara, stop defending yourself to me. I know you wouldn’t and not for a second did that thought ever cross my mind.” He’s serious. I breathe in relief, knowing Shawn believes me. I don’t know how much weight that will hold though; it’s Adam that has to believe me. “I’m going to tell you something, but it stays between us until I’m ready for others to know, okay?”

I nod my head once, telling him I understand and agree.

“I’m buying the studio from Adam. I sign the paperwork and hand over the check on Monday. If someone is stealing money from the business, I need to know ASAP. Whether it’s my friend and soon to be former boss or some little cunt that needs to get a boot in her ass and shoved out the goddamn door, I need to know who and I need to know now.”

I’m startled, but not at his use of the “c” word. I thought Shawn stopped shocking me years ago, but at the confession that he is not only staying in Oxford indefinitely, but also he’s going to be the proud owner of a business in three days.

I was worried what would happen after graduation. None of us have really talked about it. I know Shawn loves his grandparents’ house, but I also know Chance, Adam’s cousin who is coincidentally another of our brother’s good friends, offered him a spot at his tattoo studio in Las Vegas. I over-heard a discussion about it this past summer. Shawn is a talented tattoo artist. His work should be seen everywhere and where else but to get his name out there than in Sin City.

“What do you want me to do?”

“We need to figure out who’s taking the money. I gotta say, I don’t see this being on Adam’s shoulders. I mean, it’s his business and I know he’s disconnected from it and simply put, he sucks at managing which is another reason I decided to give it a go.”

“So you’re thinking Sabrina, then?”

“I don’t want to think anyone that I work with day in and day out would stoop that low, but sometimes you don’t really know people. People are out for themselves and a lot don’t care if they harm someone else in getting what they want.”