Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“You want one or not?”
My nose wrinkled. “Want what?”
Deek folded his arms over his chest. “Alright, that’s it. Sit your ass down.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you and me, we’re going to have a talk.”
“Why do you sound like you’re in dad mode?”
“Just sit, Billie.”
I rolled my eyes but tossed the paper towel in my hand into the garbage before planting my butt in my hydraulic chair. “What’s up?”
Deek pointed at me. “You’re fucking miserable.”
“I am not.”
“You’ve been cleaning crap for almost two weeks now. You’re the person who spills shit and leaves it long enough that you yell at someone else to clean it up because you no longer remember you did it.”
I squinted at him. “I do not.”
Deek turned his head toward the front of the store. “Hey, Justine!”
“Yeah?”
“Who spilled the purple juice that sat on the floor for six months?”
“Billie. Why?”
“And does Billie ever clean?”
“Only when she’s pissed off or sad.”
Deek turned back to me. “So, like I was saying, you’re so miserable that even our customers are feeling it.”
I took offense to that. “I don’t give bad tattoos, even when I’m in a bad mood.”
“Didn’t say you gave a bad tattoo. But the poor girl who walked in here the other night wanting a butterfly walked out with the Grim Reaper on her arm, Billie.”
I shrugged. “So? The Grim Reaper is way better than a butterfly.”
“I agree. But the girl wanted a fucking butterfly. It went with her annoyingly chipper personality. But when she asked your opinion, you told her most people who get butterflies are shallow ex-cheerleaders who live empty lives and wind up marrying for money that they blow on bad Botox.”
Had I really said that? Oh God. I guess I had. Yet I shrugged. “Well…it’s the truth.”
Deek smiled. “Of course it is. Who the fuck wants that shit on their body? But my point is, you’re usually good at vibing with a client and giving them what they want, even if it is unoriginal and boring.”
I sighed. “I went out with Eddie last week.”
“I knew that. Figured you’d tell me about it when you were ready.” He paused. “Wait, that fucker didn’t do something to you, did he? I’ll stick a dumbbell up his ’roid-riding ass…”
That made me smile. “No, Eddie was a perfect gentleman. He didn’t even complain at the end of the night when he went in for a kiss and I stopped him.”
“So what’s bugging you?”
“Well, while I was on my date, Colby texted me. Holden was at the same place Eddie and I were, and he told Colby I was on a date. Colby was really hurt.”
Deek frowned. “Why don’t you just go out with him already?”
I hesitated for a moment before speaking quietly. “Because I’m scared, Deek.”
A giant smile spread across my friend’s face. “It’s about fucking time you admitted it.”
I flipped him the bird and shook my head. “Every damn time I’ve put myself out there, I’ve gotten hurt.”
Deek walked over and put his hands on my knees. “I get it, sweetheart. It’s not just guys you dated who have screwed you over. Your mother and that deadbeat father of yours didn’t exactly instill trust through their actions either.”
I shook my head. “Colby makes me feel things, Deek.”
“I know. Why do you think I’ve been pushing for him so hard? I see it in your eyes, babe.”
“I’m so afraid I’ll get hurt again.”
“Aren’t you hurting now, though?”
“Yeah, but it will be easier to get over him if we never get involved at the next level. Plus, he’s got a daughter. I don’t even know if I want kids.”
Deek smiled sadly. “The kid thing is just an excuse, and you know it. I’m kinda tired of hearing it. But it’s your life, so I won’t keep bugging you about it. Though I’m gonna say one last thing.”
“What?”
“I don’t think we ever get over the one. I’d rather try and get hurt than spend the rest of my life wondering what I might’ve lost.”
***
A couple of hours later, Deek and Justine were getting ready to leave for the day. Deek went into the back to use the bathroom, and when he came out, he thumbed toward the rear of the studio.
“I think the AC is broken again.”
Oh crap. I was warm, but I’d thought it was just me. There was a vent in the ceiling above the station next to mine, so I hopped up on a chair and held my hand to feel if anything was blowing. “Ugh. Nothing’s coming out.”
Deek shrugged. “I turned it off and on when I was back there. No luck.”
I sighed. “By tomorrow when we open, it will feel like ninety in here with this humidity. And we have a packed Saturday and Sunday schedule.”
“You want to call the super, and I’ll stay and wait for him?”