“So you’re purely a yoga fan, huh?” I ask, grinning.
“It’s good for the mind, body, and heart,” she says.
“And not too bad on the eyes, I guess, huh?” I say. Jodie just shrugs.
“I told you beach yoga was pretty worth it.”
“Talk to me after class, if I haven’t broken a pelvic bone.”
“Don’t worry, I think George will help you if you do,” Jodie whispers as the instructor, whose name is Darren, instructs us to quiet down.
I make a gagging sound over the now-silent group, and everyone turns to look at me. “Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “Sand in my throat.”
My fit entourage shake their heads and then return their attention to Darren, making things like downward dog and warrior two look simple. I try to not fall over in the sand from my clumsiness, and from laughter as I spot George, who looks more like he’s doing disco moves than yoga.
Jodie mostly just stares at Darren, fanning herself—from the warmth of the sun, of course.
An hour later, I’ve managed to pull a shoulder muscle, laugh out loud at one of George’s poses—which led to more glares from the “fit” crew—and sweat more than if I’d gone for a jog. When I feel like I’m going to pass out on the sand, the class finally comes to a close. Thank God. I don’t want to think about George rushing over to resuscitate me, and if the class hadn’t ended when it did, it was looking like a very real possibility.
“Namaste,” Darren mercifully says, and we chant it back. I’m thinking more like Nama-no at this point….
“Wasn’t that a blast?” Jodie asks. I raise an eyebrow.
“Glad you liked class today. It’s so good to see you back. It’s been a while,” Darren says, brushing past the ogling fit girls to talk to Jodie. I smile, give Jodie a wink, and head down to the water. I glance back every now and then to read the body language.
Oh, yeah. They’re definitely into each other.
Staring at the gentle waves, I’m thinking about how much of a hard time I’ll give Jodie when we get back to the apartment when I hear a voice behind me.
“You did great today, buttercup.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can zap him away with my mind.
I turn to face the music. Or George’s loud pants, whichever you want to label it as.
“So, can I take you for breakfast?” he asks, grinning as he stares at me.
“Can’t. Sorry. I’m working today.” And every single day for the rest of my life in order to avoid you.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe next time. Have a good day,” he says, winking and rushing off to catch up to the elderly ladies, perhaps hoping his breakfast date chances will work out with someone.
I turn to head back to Jodie, who is still flirting with Darren. After a few more minutes of making eyes, the two part ways, and I walk with Jodie back toward the apartment.
“Okay. You need to ask him out already.”
“What? No. He’s not interested in me like that.”
I eye her in disbelief. “Are you serious? He’s crazy about you. Ask him out. Then we can stop pretending to like beach yoga. We can avoid creepers like George, and I can sleep in again.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.”
I freeze in my tracks in the sand. I eye Jodie for a minute, debating what to do. Then, I think about George’s creepy wink and his “maybe next time” comment.
Oh, no, George. There’s not going to be a next time.
I grab Jodie’s hand and yank her back toward the beach yoga area, where Darren is cleaning up his mat.
“Hi, Darren? Jodie wants to know if you would like to meet her for drinks tonight, say, eight o’clock?”
I hear Jodie inhale sharply. Darren smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Great. She’ll meet you in front of Midsummer Nights. Thanks so much,” I say, pulling her after me again, not giving her time to back out.
“Are you crazy? I can’t believe you just did that,” she hisses, but she’s smiling behind her fake anger.
“Me neither. But if it means no more beach yoga, then I’m game.”
“Oh, this is exciting. I need to go get my writing done so I’m ready for tonight. He’s gorgeous. And flexible. And just so perfect.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, pulling her toward our apartment, where I fully intend on heading straight back to bed.
Beach yoga checked off the bucket list. I think I’m good with taking it off completely.
Chapter Ten
“I’m going to kill you,” I say through gritted teeth as I pull Jodie into the back room.
“For what?” she asks dreamily. She’s still floating on cloud nine from her date with Darren last night. She got in quite late. I didn’t probe her for details, but I’m thinking she and Darren may have explored their mutual flexibility.
“For that,” I say, pointing to table twelve.
George is sitting, leopard print pants and red top this time. He’s smiling happily, waiting for me to return with his drink.
“What’s George doing here?”
“Well, you see, he says he came to see me. He heard you talking to Darren this morning at beach yoga about your work schedule and how me and you worked at 2:00 p.m. So he thought he’d stop by to see why I didn’t come to yoga this morning.”
Jodie covers her mouth with her hand. “So sorry. I didn’t know he was listening. Darren and I were just chatting afterward.”
“You know, I don’t really want to be pillow talk, but some things, like my work schedule, could be discussed outside the range of creepers like George. He won’t stop winking at me.”
Jodie giggles a little. “Well, there’s only one way to fix this.”
“What?” I ask.
“You better get yourself a strong, handsome boyfriend. And fast.” She winks, and I scowl, not particularly finding my stalker situation funny.
“Relax,” she says, after laughing herself into tears. “I’ll take over. Tell him you’re busy.”
“Damn straight you will.”
Still laughing, Jodie heads out to the table as I sulk in the back, taking a few minutes to pull myself together.
Jodie comes back through the kitchen doors. “Hey, there’s someone out there who wants to see you,” she says, winking.
“Do you want me to stop liking you? Really?” I shake my head. Honestly.
“No, not George. Someone much more handsome. And he’s not wearing leopard. That I know of.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to decide if she’s telling the truth. I inhale, heading through the doors.
It’s Jesse.
“You’re a little early, aren’t you?” I look at the clock. It’s only 3:00 p.m. He’s usually not in here at this time, especially on a Friday.
“I wanted to stop by and talk business. Hope that’s okay.”
“Business?” This is more confusing than the odd wave George is giving me. I shake my head and refocus my attention on Jesse. Not that it’s a difficult task.
“I want to buy these,” he says, pulling a few pieces of paper from a folder he’s carrying. He slides them across the counter to me, and I eye the drawings with confusion. They look familiar.
They are familiar. They’re my sketches.
“What the—” I ask, beyond confused about how Jesse got my random sketches. And more than that, I’m confused about why he’s wanting to buy them.
“Jodie dropped them off with me yesterday. Said you were interested in sketching flash art for me.” Jesse looks a little confused too.
“Jodie,” I yell, and she turns sheepishly toward me from George’s table.
“Sorry, I’m really busy over here. Unless you can pick up my tables for me,” she says neutrally. George is still waving. I shrink back to the conversation with Jesse, mentally reminding myself she’s my roommate so I can’t stay too mad. She’s on strike two for today, though.
“I just assumed you knew,” Jesse says.
“Well, listen, they’re honestly really good. I always need new flash art.”
“What’s that?”
“You know, designs for when people want to look through and pick a tattoo? These are awesome. I’d love to work something out.”
“They’re not that good. Besides, you’re already great at designing.”
“But it’s always good to have a different style.”
“I don’t know. I’m not serious about it.”
“But these say otherwise.”
I sigh, looking into Jesse’s eyes. He seems serious. However, I can’t be sure, since Jodie basically put him up to this. I’m a little irritated she went through my stuff. I’m even more irritated she probably thought this would be a perfect matchmaking opportunity.
But I’m also a little thrilled at the idea of my art being a tattoo. I’ve always loved drawing and painting, though I’ve never felt like it was more than a side hobby. To think someone actually wants to buy my work. Boring, accountant Avery….
And it’s not just any someone. It’s Jesse.
“Listen, why don’t you swing by the shop later. We can talk about it, work something out. Seriously, Avery. You’re really good, and it seems like you like art. This could be a really fun opportunity. And if it doesn’t work or you don’t like it, no pressure.”
“Yeah, maybe. How about if I come by after work?”
“Sounds good. Bring Henry if you want. I’d love to see the big guy again.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Jesse leaves the art on the counter, smiles, and heads out the door. I stare down at the drawings, smiling stupidly at them. For a moment, I forget about the fact leopard print man is still staring at me, or that Jodie orchestrated this crazy plot.
I just think about the fact I’m excited for something, that I can’t wait to get home and draw some more.
I think about how, for the first time in my life, I see possibility.
***
The shop is empty when I arrive after my shift, my drawings in hand. I lead Henry in the door. The behemoth of a dog curls up in the waiting area, practically taking over the entire space.
“Hey,” Jesse says, standing at the register when I walk in. “You made it.” He leans down to pet Henry on the head. Henry lets out a sigh before falling asleep.
I smile, self-consciously running a hand through my wet hair. I grabbed a quick shower after work, but was too impatient to use the blowdryer. Now, looking at Jesse, I kind of wish I had.
“Yeah. I thought about your offer. And I want to take you up on it,” I say, trying to muster up a confidence I don’t quite feel.
I hand over the few drawings, and he smiles. “Great. I’m so glad. Why don’t you figure out a rate you want, and we’ll go from there.”
“Deal. I’ll do some research.”
“And like I said, no pressure. Just get me drawings when you feel like it.”
“No pressure. I can handle that,” I say, meaning it. It’s good to be excited about something without feeling like it’s weighing me down.
“So, what do you say we go get a bite to eat? To celebrate? I don’t have any more appointments today. I’ll close up early.”
“I’d like that. But my hair’s sort of a mess. I’m not dressed for much.”
“You look fine. Trust me.”
I blush at his words. “Hey, how about the sub shop we talked about? The one you said you used to go to with your dad.”
“I’m offering to take you out, and you want to get some subs at a tiny shack?”
I shrug. “I’m low maintenance.”
“I can handle low maintenance.” Now he’s smiling. “Let me just mark down some things in my books, and then we can go.”
I busy myself flipping through the tattoo art book on the counter, getting a feel for what kind of drawings Jesse might want.
That’s when I see it. Jesse goes behind the counter and pulls out some books. I raise an eyebrow. It can’t be.
But it looks like oh yes, it can.
I surreptitiously eye the scrawled numbers, the messy figures.
“Okay, I’m not trying to be nosy. But please tell me that’s not your ledger.”
“My what?”
“You know, your accounting ledger?”
He eyes me with a look of confusion. “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s where I track everything.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You use that thing to keep track of your records? Are you kidding?”
“Hey, I’m a tattoo guy, not a business exec. The paperwork stuff’s never been my strong suit. I’ll admit it.”
“Well, lucky for you, it’s mine. Listen, why don’t you let me help you get set up with some software? It’ll make your life so much easier.”
“I don’t want you to have to do that. You left your old job because you wanted away from it.”
“No, I left my old job because I needed a change of pace. Bookkeeping for a tattoo parlor is quite a change of pace, believe me. Besides, I’m just getting you set up. I like the challenge behind it. It’ll be good for both of us.”
Jesse eyes the book and me hesitantly. He sighs, apparently resigning himself to the fact I’m right. “But you have to let me pay you.”
“Deal. You can start by paying for my sub. I’m starving.”
Jesse scrawls down a few numbers, slides his books to the side, and turns to me, shaking his head. “First, you’re drawing flash art. Now, you’re taking over the books. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to change the sign.”
“Avery’s does have quite a ring to it,” I tease.
I shake Henry awake, and the dog stumbles to his feet with the speed of a slug. I yank on his collar and follow Jesse out the front door, smiling at our easy banter as he locks up. I inhale the salty breeze. It never gets old.
Jesse and I stroll down the backstreets, Henry at my side, passing wild teenagers on vacation and families trying to hold it together. We get stopped a few times to answer questions about Henry: How much he weighs, if he has a saddle, and how much he eats. A group of teen girls even take a selfie with him.
Once we maneuver through Henry’s newfound fans, Jesse and I don’t say a lot, just taking in the night air, the calming walk, and the peaceful company.
When we get to the sub shop, I tell Jesse to order for me since he knows what’s good. He orders three cheesesteaks—one for each of us and one for Henry, of course. He knows how to get on Henry’s good side. We take our cheesesteaks and fries to a tiny picnic table nearby, and I bite right in, not feeling self-conscious or dainty at all. I break up Henry’s sub, placing it on the ground nearby. Henry’s not feeling self-conscious either.
“It’s delicious,” I say through a full mouth, a piece of cheese falling to my plate. I laugh, reaching for a napkin.
“Told you. So, how many do you think?”
“What?” I ask, having no clue what he’s talking about.
“How many subs will I owe you to pay you back for your services?”
I grin, wiping my face with a napkin. “Oh, I’m thinking at least fifty.”
“Fifty subs for an expert accountant’s advice and new art? Sounds cheap to me.”
“Like I said. I’m low maintenance.”
“In all seriousness, thanks for the offer. The accounting side of the business drives me crazy. Believe it or not, I’ve gotten better. You should see my first-year records. Talk about a mess. You would cringe.”
“Well, I’m sure it was hard getting started. What made you want to open a tattoo parlor?”
Jesse shrugs. “I was always into art, and I liked tattoos. My dad thought I had real talent. It was really the only thing I was ever good at. I worked all through high school on learning to tattoo. I pretty much taught myself, although my dad had a friend who owned a tattoo parlor back in Ohio. He sort of helped
me improve my skills. When my dad died, I knew I wanted to move here in his memory. It was something he always talked about. He’d wanted to open his own mechanic business here. I’m no good at cars, so I knew I needed to come up with something else. This just seemed to fit.”
“Why’d you call it J & J’s?” I ask, truly intrigued.
“My dad’s name was Jason. I wanted to honor him.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It wasn’t the first year. I almost gave up. I had no clue what I was doing. I had a business loan and no customer list. I was a young kid trying to improve my tattooing, learn how to run a business, and learn how to build a reputation. It was basically a disaster. I mean, I was good at the art aspect of it. But I learned quickly that tattooing on your own and running an actual tattooing business were two very different things.”
“Did you have anyone to help? How did you manage?”
“I kept in touch with my dad’s friend back home. He came up for a whole month to help me out, which was huge. But then, I was just sort of winging it. The first whole year was me having a whole string of ‘oh shit’ moments. Eventually, though, I found a business partner.”
“What happened?”
“Things with us just didn’t work out. By that point, I’d built enough of a customer base to make a real go at it.”
Jesse fiddles with the napkin in front of him, taking a break from his cheesesteak. I sense some tension at the mention of this business partner, but decide not to probe further for more details. It must’ve been a malicious parting.
“Well, I think it’s awesome. Starting a business from the ground up is no easy feat,” I say, slipping the drooling Henry a bite of my sub since he’s finished his own. He stares at me with gracious eyes as he swallows the bite whole, drool falling to the ground.
“Yeah. But I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I risked it,” Jesse says seriously, smiling before taking another bite of his food.
“Your dad would be so proud.”
“I’d like to think so. Anyway, enough about me. What about you? What are your plans for the future?”
I take a sip of my soda while I think about the question. It’s a simple question—yet I have no idea what to say.
Inked Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 1) Page 8