Train Wreck

by T Gephart

  “Fuck, you’re moody.” Dallas took a step back not dumb enough to challenge me. He might be a decent fighter but I easily had thirty pounds on him and he didn’t want to find out what those extra pounds felt like if I got angry. “Fine, fine, I won’t do anything.” He backed off, hands in the air. “But if she makes the first move, I’m letting you know I’m going there.”

  “She’s not dumb enough to make a move on you.” Or at least I hoped she wasn’t. “And even if she were to develop some kind of illness—where all her brain cells literally fell out her ear—you’re still going to keep your hands to yourself and your dick in your pants.” And I wasn’t kidding around. “Do I need to remind you why we no longer have someone answering our phones?”

  My strict no-sex-between-employees policy was less about Eve and more about our ex-piercer/front desk person, Tess. Tess wasn’t the kind of gorgeous Eve was, but she knew how to turn heads. Which she did with Dallas, and I caught them banging in his room one afternoon.

  So, I sat them both down and tried to talk to them like adults, which considering Dallas was involved was probably my first mistake. I’d told them I didn’t have a problem with them dating except they needed to do that shit on their own time and their own fucking space—the health violation alone enough to shut me down. And it was all happy families until Dallas decided he was more a buffet kind of guy, and Tess found him balls deep in some other girl. Naturally Tess was pissed, and not only shattered the front window of my shop in an epic battle of crowbar versus glass, but also took off with hundreds of dollars worth of stock. There was still a warrant out for her arrest, but I was almost positive she’d skipped town.

  And there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d make that mistake again.

  “She was crazy, J.” Dallas pulled his usual it-wasn’t-my-fault routine. “That had nothing to do with me. Besides, it was probably more your fault than mine.”

  “Oh yeah? How do you figure?” I had no idea how in the hell any of it could have been turned back on me.

  “She came here with a sob story, about needing a chance and all that, and like usual you were a sucker. For all we know she was just looking for an excuse to blow town and take your shit, you need to be more selective on who you let through the door.” Smug ass bastard dished out excuses like he did smiles. I swear, how he hadn’t landed in any serious trouble up to this point was a damn mystery.

  “She was very freaking sane until you two started seeing each other.” I eyed him hard, reminding him that her affliction happened very quickly after his indiscretion. “And more importantly she was a good worker. And I’m not a fucking sucker, it’s called compassion, maybe you could try it sometime.” I didn’t like the implication that it had somehow been my doing.

  Sure she had been down on her luck when she walked in the door but she was more than qualified, and if I could help her get back on her feet then what was the harm in that. And we hadn’t had any issues until Dallas had gotten involved.

  “It’s my name on the door and I’ll hire whoever I want.” Friend or not, I wasn’t going to take his shit especially not when it called my business into question. “And I am not looking for a repeat, we clear?”

  “Yes, yes. Whatever, man.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, the argument done.

  “Okay then, looks like it’s settled. She starts tomorrow and your next appointment should be here soon.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Anything else you want to chat about? I’ve got to get a transfer ready for my next client.”

  “Nope, you made yourself clear.” Dallas laughed, saluting me and walked out the door.

  He might have said I’d been clear but there was never any way to know with him. And had he not been a damn fine artist and a really good friend, I would have shown him the door a long time ago. Besides, other than Tess, it had never affected the business before and I was sure he’d learned his lesson.

  At least, I’d hoped he had.

  I spent the better part of the night wondering whether I’d made a huge mistake hiring Eve. I was a fairly good judge of character and usually went with my gut, but this had bad idea written all over it.

  Firstly, she had a fucking college degree from a fancy school, so kicking it down to be my phone answerer was fucking ridiculous. Besides, I still wasn’t sure what the hell I could teach her that they apparently hadn’t.

  Also, I got the feeling—and maybe I was back to being a judgmental ass—she hadn’t had a lot of people tell her what to do. She was going from working at a gallery and painting, to answering phones and setting appointments. How it wasn’t going to be mind numbingly boring and repetitive for her was beyond me.

  Plus, there was the issue of where her head was at. Yesterday after I’d closed the shop for the day, I’d opened my computer. Curiosity got the better of me and I’d Googled her as she’d suggested.

  Her description of how it had all gone down had not been an exaggeration.

  Wow.

  Article after article calling her out for her lack of talent, vision and emotion. One dude from Time Out had likened her exhibit to a McDonald’s cheeseburger and I quote, “Leads you to believe you are getting something substantial when in reality you are getting second rate meat and the chance of irritation of the bowel.”

  You didn’t have to read too far between the lines to see it was universally regarded as shit. Which was also puzzling, because wouldn’t you have to be halfway decent to get a degree from Yale in the first place? Surely they weren’t handing out those things to the highest bidder regardless of talent? And if they were, there was something incredibly wrong with that.

  So, was she talented but stumbled, losing her way and churning out shit? Or was she always shit, delusional and she’d hoped I was going to wave my magical marker and transform it and her into something less shit? The exhibition pieces online did not look promising. And truth be told I was too tired to look any deeper and attempt to find anything else.

  Still, I’d made my decision and I was going to see this thing through.

  Four weeks.

  That’s how long she’d been instructed to take leave in the hopes that all the noise blew over. It sounded a little extreme if you asked me, like surely after you got a bad review, you moved on. But apparently that wasn’t the way it worked in her world. And in those four weeks she needed to cleanse her aura or whatever the hell she was supposed to do so when she went back to the gallery she no longer wore the stain of bad. It was also the length of time I’d committed to having her looking over my shoulder, trying to inspire her or something.

  Fuck.

  I really had not thought this through.

  Maybe Dallas was right, I was a sucker for a sob story.

  “Hey!” Eve walked in ten minutes earlier than I’d asked her to, holding a tray of takeaway coffees. “I didn’t know what everyone wanted, so I guessed.” Her smile bright as she strode her way into the store.

  Unlike yesterday, she wasn’t wearing heels or the tight dress. Instead she’d shown up in a pair of jeans and flats, and a T-shirt that hugged her breasts like it was its job. Even dressed down she was still knockout material.

  “Oh, I hope this is okay?” She caught me not so subtly checking her out. “I thought casual would be more appropriate. Sorry, I should have asked.”

  “It’s perfect,” I coughed out, reminding me to look at her eyes and not at her tits. “You look great.” Lame. “Part of the team.” Even lamer. “Wear whatever is comfortable, things are pretty relaxed around here.” My mouth did its best to salvage the situation.

  “Great.” She moved over to the front counter and lowered the tray of coffees. “They’re black, but I got sugar and cream in case anyone wanted it.”

  “Black is fine. Thanks.” I pulled out a cup from the holder and took a sip. Mmmm delicious and I wasn’t talking about what was in the cup. I swallowed the words along with coffee. “So, let’s get started.”

  “Dallas not here yet?” She looked around, the two o
f us the only ones in the shop.

  “He comes in a little later, mornings aren’t really his thing.” And for the first time in a long time I was grateful he wasn’t here. “He does a couple of late nights for me so it evens out.”

  “Oh, okay.” She smiled, pulling out a coffee for herself. “I need stuff in mine.” She screwed up her nose a little before adding cream and sugar.

  “Better,” she moaned, moving the cup away from her lips. They were red and plump, and I’d bet they’d taste just as sweet as they looked.

  Great. She’d been in the place two minutes and I’d already stared at her and imagined what her lips would taste like. So much for keeping it professional.

  “Alrighty.” I moved behind the counter and pulled out the appointment book. “It’s a little old school, but I don’t lose anything if the computer crashes.” I tapped the book. “We just put the name, phone number and what tattoo they’re getting as a quick reference. I have a spreadsheet, as does Dallas, of all their particulars, but this way you can see at a glance when we have a free slot.”

  “So, do I just book someone in?” She moved from where she was standing to behind the counter with me.

  “Just thirty to forty-five minute consults, we book the ink session after meeting with them and have the sketch worked out.” I nodded, trying not to notice how amazing she smelled. The mix of sweet shampoo and coffee was difficult to ignore. “But as you can see,” and as I told her yesterday, “we’re booked solid until December.”

  “Wow, six months? And people still wait?” She flicked through the filled pages, all the appointments taken.

  “Yeah, they do.”

  “They must really want you.” She smiled, the admiration seeming genuine. “Must feel pretty amazing to have so many people chasing you.”

  “I think it’s my work they want,” I coughed out, “but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Thank Christ, Dallas wasn’t here because I would never hear the end of it. Even I could see that what I was doing was dangerously close to flirting.

  “So, if the appointments are mostly booked, what do I tell them?” She looked at the flashing light on the phone indicating the dozens of unanswered messages.

  “Ah well, part of this job is sort of being diplomatic.” I wheeled over a desk chair and offered it to her. “So you let them know that their business is important to us and we take our time with each client.” She listened intently as she took a seat. “We know that their time is valuable but most importantly that their bodies are. I’m not going to rush something just so I can fit an extra person in. Usually what I put on someone’s skin is staying there for a really long time, it’s important that it’s done right.”

  Yeah, it sounded like a line, but to me it was personal. All of it was personal. And people trusting me was not something I took lightly, which is why I would rather lose the extra cash and give the person in my chair something we could both be proud of.

  Eve’s eyes beamed with respect I wasn’t sure I’d earned yet. “Wow, that’s really admirable.”

  There was something about her that I found hard to ignore, and that was going to be a huge problem.

  Keep it professional, asshole.

  “Did I miss a staff meeting?” Dallas smirked, strolling in two hours earlier than he usually did. “What are we talking about? You need any help setting up?”

  It was a miracle. And unless the man in front of me was an imposter, Dallas Rodgers was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed before nine a.m. and ready to work. Wonders would never cease.

  “A little early isn’t it?” I made an exaggerated display of checking my watch. “You get lost on your way home?”

  It was a Saturday morning, which meant a late Friday night for Dallas. While we weren’t strictly nine-to-five, I preferred the mornings while Dallas did the Thursday and Friday night closes. Which meant the earliest he’d surface on a Saturday would be noon.

  “Very funny.” He looked over at Eve and the coffee still siting on the counter unclaimed. “Is this for me?” The charm thick in his throat.

  “Yes, it’s black, but I brought—”

  “I like it black.” He didn’t let her finish, taking a big mouthful and licking his lips. “Delicious.” And then came the moan. “Mmmmmm.”

  “Knock it off, Dallas.” I gave him a pointed look. “And since you’re here so early, I can put you to good use. Mindy has been begging for an appointment if either of us got a cancel. I’ll let her know you’re free this morning.”

  His face paled, the very name enough to smack the smirk right from his mouth. She was the one woman Dallas was terrified of.

  “Anyone but her.” He shook his head backing away slowly. “I’ll do anything else. Anything.”

  “Oooooooo.” Eve’s eyes danced with excitement. “Who’s Mindy?” Dallas’s reaction obviously piquing her interest.

  “Mindy Coles has been getting inked from the minute I first opened the door.” I didn’t hesitate to fill her in despite Dallas continuing to shake his head. “She is addicted to the process rather than the actual art, likes the feel of the needle on her skin. And all of that is fine, except she’s taken a shine to Dallas. It seems the only thing she likes better than the buzz of the machine is touching his—”

  “You’d think cock, right?” Dallas interrupted, unable to stay silent. “Ass even? Which I know isn’t right for me to be okay with, buuuuut I would be totally okay with it.” He didn’t even try to hide how much of a sick puppy he was, the idea of a strange woman grabbing his junk not an issue for him.

  “But she touches my fucking hair.” His eyes widened pointing to the side that had been buzz cut. “She rubs it like it’s a freaking pet or something.”

  Eve coughed out a laugh, “Your hair?” Not what she was probably expecting to hear.

  “Just the one side.” He screwed up his face in confusion. “I even grew it out thinking it was the sensation of the clipped hair. Nope, she just continued, giving me hand action like she was buffing a bowling ball.”

  “She’s specific about which head she is buffing too,” I added, a little more thrilled than I should be that I wasn’t the target of Mindy’s fetish. “While she’s happy to let me tattoo her, mine—doesn’t cut it.”

  “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” Eve threw her head back as an adorable laugh bubbled up her throat. “Why don’t you tell her to stop?”

  Which is exactly the same question I asked when Dallas skulked into my room with a weird look on his face after his first encounter.

  “She gives me an extra big tip.”

  “Because he’s a whore.” Dallas and I both responded at the same time.

  “I might not be kosher with it while it’s happening, but the fifty she slips into my pocket kind of makes it worth it.” He shrugged not even trying to hide the lack of disgust most people would feel.

  “You let her do it for a fifty?” Eve chewed on her lip, her eyes going wide.

  “I don’t even feel bad taking the money.” Dallas laughed before dropping his voice. “But sometimes when I’m on a date and the chick I’m with touches that spot, it weirds me out.”

  Eve laughed, the sound echoing around the empty shop. “Sorry to say, but you sort of bring that on yourself. Is Mindy’s number in the book or do you have it on file?” She looked at me picking up the phone. “I’d be more than happy to place the call for you.”

  “God, you’re just as bad as him.” Dallas pointed accusingly. “I’m in my room.” He turned, disappearing down the hall, taking his coffee with him. “Do not call her.” The last words we heard before he shut his door.

  “So, that was fun.” Eve turned back to the appointment book. “Anyone else I should know about?” Her brow rose, shooting me a devious smile.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. She’d been in the shop less than an hour and whatever doubts I had about hiring her were starting to ease. Still didn’t know what I was going to teach her, or what purpose it would serve
, but I was really liking the idea.

  “I think you’ll do great here.”

  Eve

  LIKE ANYONE, I HAD THINGS I WISHED I hadn’t done.

  Eating four Levain’s Bakery chocolate chip and walnut cookies in one sitting wasn’t my smartest choice. Buying a car when I lived in the Upper East Side and spent most of my time in the city was also questionable. As was lining Oliver’s Calvin Klein’s with Icy Hot before I’d packed them neatly into a box. No, I take that back, I enjoyed that.

  But the one thing I knew I would never regret was being an artist.

  I accepted the sideways glances and the mocking, “that’s not a real job, is it?” Or that most people assumed it was somehow easier than regular paid employment. Ignoramuses—the lot of them. But for me there really wasn’t another choice. It was the only thing I had ever wanted to do.

  My parents had been supportive, but made sure I understood it was a difficult hill to climb. They sent me to the best schools and paid for trips to Paris and Rome. But they didn’t hide the fact they assumed I would more than likely end up a curator or something similar. Because they loved me, and would do anything they could to stop the very thing that happened, from happening.

  But I was stronger than that, or at least I thought I was. And couldn’t allow someone else or their opinion to completely destroy me as a person. Not without a fight at least, even if it meant swallowing my pride a little and asking for help. Thankfully, the help was incredibly attractive. I couldn’t believe my luck. Or maybe it was a curse, I hadn’t yet decided.

  “So, here is where we keep additional supplies.” Josh led me to a small storage closet at the end of the hall. “It could probably use some attention.” He chuckled as my eyes traveled over the haphazardly stocked shelves.

  It looked like the closet had vomited supplies, with no way of being able to find anything in that mess, it was going to need more than just some attention.