One More Day

by Hadley, Auryn

  "Yeah, you look like you need a hell of a lot more than that. What's wrong?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing."

  "Liar."

  Super Hot Guy refused to let her go. He stood there, against the side of a building, waiting for her answer. Mackenzie didn't know what to do, so she shrugged again.

  "You ok, Mack? Babe, I've seen you walk this way for a year now, and you've never been crying. What the hell?"

  "I got fired," she said softly.

  "And it's that bad?" he asked, lifting her chin, and smiling at her timidly.

  She just nodded. "Yeah. My life's kinda going to crap right now."

  She felt the tears battering at her eyes again, but damn it, she would not cry in front of Super Hot Guy. Not any more than she already had, at least. Her eyes had to be red and puffy, and she was sure her nose was running. Nice fucking impression, Mack.

  Not that she was a stellar beauty normally, but like this, she had to look like the Loch Ness monster! A pudgy girl with average brown hair, average brown eyes, of average height, with flaming red eyes and a streaming, snot yellow nose. Lovely. Just the impression she always wanted to give.

  "Wanna talk about it?" He tilted his head to the building behind him. "I'm not booked for a couple of hours, and I can brew a pretty good cup of coffee."

  "Not really."

  "Ok. You wanna have a cup of coffee and a table big enough to spread your paper across?"

  She thought about it. That's exactly what she had planned to go home and do, and it could be worse, right? At least the one person in the world who decided to talk to her was the cute guy. Not that he'd remember her tomorrow, but still. With a shrug, Mack gave in.

  Ryan pulled open the door and held it, gesturing for her to come inside. With a glance through the large windows, she realized it was the tattoo parlor. She looked up and saw a very professional sign proclaiming the name, Sterling Ink.

  "You do tats?" she asked, realizing how stupid the question was as soon as it was out.

  "Yeah," he said. "Tuesdays are slow."

  She stepped inside the building, into a well lit, clean, and modern looking room. The counters were polished wood and the floor was pristine tile. Not that Mackenzie could tell if any of it was fake or top end, but it was clean and even pretty. On the walls hung countless images, each in a glass covered frame. Most were meant to be inked, but a few were simple drawings, done for nothing but the sake of art, proudly placed between the rest.

  She stopped at one. It was amazing. An acrobat hung by one leg suspended in a pale ribbon, painted in what looked like acrylics. Every nuance of muscle was accounted for, the shading was nearly perfect. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the glass gently.

  "This is amazing," she said.

  Ryan chuckled. "Thanks."

  "You did this?"

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Yeah. I get bored when it's slow. Sometimes a few things come out together, and end up working. Other times, not so much."

  Mack just looked at him, stunned. "You're really good. Why'd you want the chameleon, if you can do this?"

  "Yeah, um," he glanced away. "Because it's good. Look, I don't get inspired like you do. Either I have an idea, or I don't. Usually I don't. Most of these were drawn for clients, using their ideas."

  "You drew all of these?" She looked at the myriad of frames. Large ones, small ones, all scattered across the walls.

  "The other guy hung some of his, but yeah, I think most are mine. You still want that coffee?" He gestured to the break in the counter, inviting her to follow.

  Unsure of what else to do, she trailed behind him like a lost puppy. He led her through a door at the side, and up a long narrow hall to a large open room. A table was the main feature in it. Nothing fancy, and it was liberally stained with scuffs of paint and inks, but it looked like heaven to Mackenzie. The light was good, the table had plenty of elbow room, and there was even a sink. Ok, and a refrigerator, coffee maker, and other items typically found in a break room, but this break room was designed for an artist.

  "Make yourself at home. Colby won't be in tonight, so it's just you and I."

  "Colby?"

  "Yeah, he's the other artist. I mean, tattoo artist," he explained as he set the coffee pot to brew. She noticed that he'd used a bag of really good quality grounds, not the cheap stuff she was used to.

  She dropped her bag on the table and sank into one of the chairs. When he was done, he joined her, leaving an empty space between them. She felt like a bipolar idiot. She'd walked into the shop crying, but now she was starting to just feel numb again. Of course, no sooner had that thought crossed her mind before she felt her throat try to pinch off.

  She sucked in a long breath, telling her body to stop it. Just one more breath. Just one more day. She could do this.

  "So you really like that job or something?" Ryan asked, gently.

  "No," she admitted. "I kinda need it though."

  "I know how that is. What do ya do? I mean, besides amazing art."

  "It's not that amazing, not compared to yours."

  "You can't compare something I worked on for a year with what you do on your lunch break. I scraped that canvas so many times, trying to get her just right."

  "Really?"

  He nodded. "Yeah. I'm proud of her. I dunno, I just always see her as this defiant woman, using the most unlikely strength to show the world that not everything is what they expect. I mean, there she is, all alone, so graceful, performing for a beam of sunlight."

  Yep, that was all it took. Her eyes started up again, and no matter how many times she blinked or breathed, nothing was going to stop them.

  "I can't do this," she mumbled.

  Ryan just stood, and slowly walked over. Without asking, he tugged a chair closer and sat, pulling her head against his shoulder. "You have someone at home?"

  "No," she muttered through her sniffles.

  "Anyone I can call?" He gently pressed her head closer to him.

  "No. My dad's on the road. He's a trucker."

  "Best friend? Boyfriend?"

  Mack just laughed. "No."

  "Then you're stuck with me, Mack. I got two shoulders, and I have a funny feeling that your job was just the straw on the poor camel."

  She nodded.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "No," she said as another rush of sobs hit.

  He didn't ask again. The Super Hot Guy that she'd never met before that day just held her against his shoulder, and let her cry until her eyes simply couldn't cry anymore.

  Sniffing, she pulled back and rubbed at her face, shame warring with the appreciation she felt. She wasn't the kind of girl to break down over something silly, but cancer wasn't silly! She also wasn't about to tell some perfectly good stranger about it.

  Yeah, they'd had coffee at the same time for almost a year, but they hadn't talked. It's not like they were friends, and it sure wasn't going to be anything else, not with the wonderful first impression she'd just given. Hell, who was she joking. Super Hot Guy wouldn't think of her as anything but a hard luck case. So, he was beautiful and sweet. That made it even more embarrassing. She's just smeared mascara all over his shoulder.

  "There's a bathroom around the corner to the right," he said, rubbing her shoulder gently. "Washcloths are in the cabinet. Sorry, most are stained with ink, but they're clean, I swear."

  She chuckled a bit, and smiled at him as well as she could, while she wiped at her eyes. Pulling herself to her feet, she followed the directions, and found it. The washcloth wasn't as bad as he made it out to be, not until she wiped the black rings away from her eyes and onto the pale fabric. Giving up any hope of looking decent, Mack just scrubbed at her face, removing everything. She might look plain now, but at least she didn't look like a plain raccoon.

  She found her way back into the break room to see Ryan pouring two cups full of coffee. He glanced over his shoulder.

  "Cream? Sugar?"

  "Yeah
, lots."

  He nodded at that and mixed it in. Carrying both cups back, he sat beside her again, gently sliding the paler coffee toward her.

  "So how'd you get started in art anyway?"

  She chuckled. "Yeah, there was a cute guy in high school who was in the art classes. I signed up my senior year. Found out I liked it, and I've just stuck with it."

  "You're really good," he said.

  "I really got mascara all over your shirt." She gestured to his shoulder.

  "Kinda not worried about it."

  "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked suddenly. "We've been going to the same place for a year, and you've never talked to me before. Why now?"

  Her day had been too weird, and she just couldn't take it anymore. She'd been in town for eleven months. She knew, because her lease was coming due soon, which meant rent would go up. In all that time, she'd managed to drop out of school to work full time, just to pay her bills. She was slowly sliding downhill, and no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't winning.

  A year ago, she'd been so hopeful. She'd finish her degree, become another starving artist, but have enough skills to make a living at what she loved most. She studied advertising art as well, knowing that it would at least give her a career, and had struggled to build a portfolio good enough to get a showing in some local studio. It never happened.

  She knew she was being ungrateful, but she didn't know how to care anymore. Not today. Today had officially topped the list of worst days ever, and even the very attractive man sitting across from her made it only marginally better. Maybe worse, because she couldn't stop worrying about why he even cared.

  "Look, you were always in the middle of a sketch. I thought about it a few times, but I hate it when someone breaks my stride, ya know. I just, I dunno, I figured if you wanted to be friendly, you would have said hi to someone there."

  "What?" His words just weren't making it through her brain.

  "Yeah," he looked at the floor. "Um, I don't really just jump up and talk to people. I mean," he sighed. "I don't know what I mean. I just wanted to see what you were working on, I guess."

  "Yeah," she said, brushing it off. "I gotcha."

  That's when the door chimed. With an apologetic look, Ryan stood. "Work calls. Draw something?"

  "Like what?" she asked, not feeling anything inspirational.

  He shrugged. "Tribal flowers, or dragons, or something. I dunno. I always need girly tattoo ideas. Yeah, and drink the coffee before it gets cold," he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

  She heard him greet the potential customer, and pulled out her sketch book. Tribal flowers? She hadn't tried that before. The sharp lines contrasted with the soft idea of the flowers, and somehow fit her mood perfectly. It seemed as good of an idea as any.

  She unzipped her bag, set a tin on the table, and opened it. It wasn't high end supplies, just colored gel pens, charcoal sticks, and other basic art crap. Flipping to a clean page, she grabbed the first thing that came to her hand, a pen, and started. The rose began to bloom on the page in sharp angles of red and green, shaded liberally with black, hints of violet kissing the edge of each serrated petal. She moved on to a pansy, setting it just beside the rose on the same page.

  Everything faded to the scratch of the ball on the rough page and the ink staining the paper. Roses, pansies, petunias, zinnias, daisies, climbing vines, apple blossoms, they covered every inch. She was working on a water lily, when a man's chuckle made her look up.

  Ryan leaned against the door frame watching her. "You didn't drink the coffee."

  "Ah crap," Mack sighed. "I forgot."

  "Yeah, but that's impressive." He pointed at her page.

  "My doodles?"

  He nodded. "What was it you did before you got fired today?"

  She sighed, closing her eyes. "Call center stuff. Incoming sales."

  "Can you do that on demand?" He pointed at the page with his chin.

  "That, which that?"

  "Say I want a black dragon, with iridescent wings that breaths blue fire? Can you draw it?"

  She nodded.

  "How long?"

  "I dunno, thirty minutes, depending upon how detailed you want. I mean..." she flipped through her pages, and found a miniature dragon perched on a flower. "That was something I did at lunch."

  Ryan nodded and pushed himself away from the door, glancing at the dragon while he grabbed her cup. He didn't say anything, but she could see he was thinking about something as he dumped out her cold coffee and poured each of them another cup. With a chuckle, he added cream and sugar, then brought it back.

  "Let me see that again?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside her.

  She just passed over her sketch pad. It was nothing but childish drawings. She kept her real art in her apartment. Oil paints and canvases weren't exactly something easy to haul around, but her hand always wanted to make something, so she let it. It kept her in practice.

  He looked through the pages again, pausing at a few. When he got to the phoenix, he stopped, staring at the unfinished lines. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, and then flipped to her page of tribal flowers, smiling.

  "Thing is, Mack, I could really use an artist. The pay isn't great, the hours are kinda weird, but, it's a job." He looked up at her, smiling shyly. "Ten hour days, from two pm to midnight, Thursday, through Monday, with options to work Tuesday and Wednesday, too."

  "Full time?" She couldn't believe it. "Why?"

  "Plus overtime. Well, like I said, I don't work so good under pressure. The weekends, we get hit with the college crowd. They all have an idea, and no ability to schedule an appointment. If you can draw up their design while we're finishing someone's tat, then yeah. It'd make all of our lives a lot easier."

  "You want the crazy girl to draw tattoos?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. What a weird day. What a very weird day.

  "If you're interested. I mean, dress code is pretty casual, hours aren't so great, and I could only give you ten bucks an hour, but you'd get twenty five for every tattoo you design."

  "Serious?"

  She could draw and get paid for it? That didn't even take into consideration that the scenery was amazing - well, the hot boss.

  "Serious," he said. "If you show up at the same time on Thursday, I'll even buy you a caramel macchiato before we do paperwork."

  "So, when you said this is your shop, you weren't kidding." She didn't ask. She'd pretty much already figured that part out, but she just couldn't believe it.

  Ryan nodded. "My shop. My baby. This was kinda my dream since I was like ten years old, trying to give myself tattoos with markers and safety pins."

  She'd been walking down the street bawling her eyes out a few hours ago, and now she would not only have a job, but be working for the sexiest man alive. No, Super Hot Guy. Which ever! He was nice, beautiful, and offering her a damned job. For the first time in Mackenzie's life, it looked like something was trying to go right.

  Chapter 3

  Wednesday passed in a blur of hospital gowns, bad news, and more appointments. Yes, she had stage IIB cervical cancer. No, there wasn't any way she could have prevented it. Yes, she would need chemotherapy and radiation. No, she wouldn't have surgery for a few months. No, she would never be able to have children. Yes, Monday would be a perfect time to start the treatments. No, there wasn't anyone she wanted to have with her.

  That was the thought that hung in her mind as she made her way to the coffee shop on Thursday. One pm, same time as always, and that's when Ryan said he wanted her to show up. She pulled open the quaint door and walked in, letting her eyes adjust to the dim ambiance.

  "Hey, Mack," she heard from the corner. He sounded actually pleased to see her. "Wasn't sure if you'd really show up." He pushed at a large paper cup on his table.

  Instead of braving the line, she just ducked through the crowd and pulled up the too tall chair across from him. Ryan slipped a piece of paper between the pages and closed his bo
ok, pushing it to the side. She couldn't help but notice that he had perfectly manicured nails. His hands were flawless.

  "Carmel macchiato, same as always," he said, glancing at the cup.

  "Thanks. I didn't expect you to buy."

  He shrugged, and that boyish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Think of it as my way of being a good boss?"

  "Bribing me with coffee?"

  "Oh hell yeah. If you're that easy to bribe, I'll be happy."

  Mack smiled. Yeah, maybe things weren't that bad. She felt fine, except for the stupid fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach when he smiled like that, but anyone would feel like that sitting across from Ryan, right? She glanced over at the book, surprised to see that the leather cover was plain, and what ever had once been on the spine had long since worn away.

  "Old book?" she asked.

  His hand instinctively touched it, and pushed it just a bit further to the side. "Yeah. Um. It's kinda my hobby."

  "Thought you painted?"

  "That's more like my job." He glanced up at her quickly, looking almost embarrassed. "It's Lord Byron. The copy was printed in the 1800s. There's original lithographs, and crap."

  "As in, the poet?"

  She could barely believe what he was saying. The man who appreciated art also read poetry for entertainment? He was absolutely nothing like she'd expected.

  Ryan sighed and looked very intent on his coffee. "Yeah. I dunno, I just like how he can convey an entire image with a handful of words. It's like drawing with language. So, you still wanting that job?"

  "Yep," Mack agreed, hoping she didn't sound too chipper. "Believe it or not, it's the best offer I've had all year."

  "Well, let's go next door, and I'll show you the shop."

  He slipped down from the chair and tucked the book under his arm before grabbing his cup of coffee, waiting for her. Falling in beside him, she wove through the mass of people and into the sharp daylight outside. It was entirely possible that she looked at how his jeans molded to the shape of his ass, but since no one saw, she didn't think she needed to dwell on that.

  Ryan dug in his pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the door, holding it open for her. He followed her through, then turned the knob, locking it behind them, gesturing toward the same hall he'd led her up the night before.