“This was as far as my ride was going.” He looked at me like he didn’t believe me and shook his head.
“So, what now?” he asked. “Are you going back?”
“I don’t know. It rains a lot in Seattle,” I said, slumping dramatically.
“Does your family know where you are?” he asked. I nodded, not wanting to trust myself to lie very well about that particular fact. They didn’t know, and that was because I hadn’t told them. Somehow it didn’t matter because he seemed to see right through me. “I don’t know, Jenny,” he said.
“My ex used to beat the shit out of me, and this was the only way I could think of to get away from him, is that better?” I snapped.
“If you’re running from something, I can help you,” he said.
“I’m not running,” I said, only half lying. “I just spent the last month with a bunch of basket cases in the middle of the desert because my family sent me there.”
“You don’t want to go back?” he asked.
“Not right now,” I said honestly. “I’m not ready to see them again just yet.” My pizza had grown cold on the plate, and he’d put his down a little while ago.
“Why’d they send you to rehab?” he asked.
“One confession at a time,” I said, placing my plate next to his on the coffee table. “Now you know where I came from. One more favor gets you one more secret.”
“What do you want?”
“Just this,” I said, patting the couch. “Don’t kick me out.”
“You want somewhere to crash?”
“Only until I have enough to rent out someone’s spare bedroom. You won’t even know I’m here,” I said, hoping he was serious about taking in strays. That was what I was at this point. I didn’t really belong anywhere. I was miles from home, and I was relying on the kindness of strangers to feed me and not call Animal Control to pick me up.
“You don’t have a job?” he asked. I shook my head. “Come to the shop with me tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
7
Asher
What do you need, Jenny? Need a place to stay? Here, take my couch. What else? A job? Here, come run my business for me.
Jesus. What was next? What else do you need, Jenny? A sperm donor? A green card? A kidney? What do you need, Jenny? Let me help you. Let me do it for you.
It didn’t feel like she was using me, or that it was the wrong thing to do, but when would it end? What would I say no to? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want her to test me by asking for something outrageous and me telling her yes.
I had to tell her I had made a mistake. She had to know that when I said we’d talk that I didn’t mean we’d talk about a job at my shop, working for me in a position I was willing to bet anything she had never held before.
At the time, sitting with her, listening to how she was in rehab and had to take pills, maybe I had, but that was a mistake. I shouldn’t have made her believe that. I don’t know why I said it. I just did. It just came out, and once I’d said it, there was no way I could just take it back. I’d already hired one person like that, and that person had been Ryan. How great had that panned out?
I’d just tell her something else like I had been talking about setting her up with a hostess job or something, or I had a buddy who was a medical weed guy and needed someone to do customer service for him. There was always a Cheesecake Factory somewhere looking for a new server. If she was desperate, then she wouldn’t be picky.
I didn’t need to hire someone else who would be deadweight at the shop. Ryan wasn’t coming back. I hadn’t seen him since the night before when I’d kicked him out. He hadn’t shown at work, and the part of me that still wanted to kill him wanted him to show so I could. If not, then at least fire him to his face. Maybe Jenny would want me to hold him still so she could kick him in the nuts or something. I totally would if she asked.
I still couldn’t believe it.
You think you know a person, but then they do some shit and then it’s like you never once cut class back in Florida with them when you were a kid. It’s like you were never at their house as often as they were at yours.
Was I wrong to think he wouldn’t do something like that after he had found out what used to happen to my mom back in the day? His breath had been humming, though; booze and maybe some other stuff.
That might have been the case, but that didn’t make it okay. The way he was talking to me? No. He wasn’t blacked out. He knew exactly what he was saying and what he was doing. He was really going to…
I couldn’t think about that anymore. I had to help Jenny. He’d show up when he showed up, Jenny was already here, and she needed help. I owed her that much. I didn’t mind having her in my apartment, oddly.
She was a cute girl. That was one thing, but she also seemed pretty cool. She hadn’t cleared me out like Jun was afraid that she would, and she was… she was great. She was fine. She hadn’t given me anything to complain about.
Since we were living together, it was just a matter of time before I saw her naked again. Her naked body was a sight to be seen. She hadn’t hung out long enough for me to get a nice long look, but I saw it. Pinky-brown nipples, pale skin, not pale sickly, but pale sexy. Long legs, smooth. From experience, I was going to guess her tits were a B cup. Not big, but cute. Perky. Natural. Nice little ass too.
After we’d talked, she’d told me to go back to work, that she was fine. I had asked her what she was going to do, and she said laundry. Sure, I didn’t have anyone else I was tattooing that day, but I guess I did have work to do. Ryan’s job was no longer his, and that position needed to be filled as fast as fucking possible. I didn’t want to just leave her, though.
Did she want to talk about it… any of it, not just what had happened with Ryan because she had a surprising amount of baggage. Fucking rehab? What the hell was wrong with her? Had she been serious about her ex lighting her up? I hoped like shit that she wasn’t. She looked normal. Healthy. She mentioned pills; what was she taking them for?
One confession at a time. She’d tell me, I guess. When she was ready, or by accident if she left her pill bottle out in the bathroom or whatever. We were living together. How long could she keep it a secret?
I had Jenny, and that was a situation, but in the real world, I still had a shop to run.
After polling the guys at the shop, Craigslist was apparently the fastest way to get replies to your job opening. I didn’t want to get my next shop manager the same place people got nasty, anonymous hookups, but my options were limited. A seventeen-year-old whose only experience was student council treasurer would be a better pick than Ryan at this point.
I was not asking for much. Literally, just someone who could place orders, track inventory and talk politely with clients when they came in looking to get something done. That was it. You didn’t need a degree to do that. You didn’t even need a GED to do that. All you needed was some common sense and the ability to show up on time.
I realized while putting the listing up that this meant I would have to have interviews. God. All I had wanted with the shop was never having to work for someone else again. There is so much side shit that you need to do that nobody tells you.
That was part of the reason why I needed a manager. If I was left with all that stuff to do, I would fuck up. I didn’t open a shop because I was good at the ins and outs of running a business; I did it because I was good at tattooing.
I had stumbled into it, more or less and it had stuck. One minute I was trying to lie my way into getting a tattoo when I was fifteen, next I’d run into the guy who’d refused to give it to me in California two years later, and he’d offered me an apprenticeship. I was proud of my shop, and my work. I just knew what I was good at and did that, letting people who were good at the other stuff do their thing. Just another reason to get all this shit sorted out faster.
I got back to the apartment for the second time that day. The sun was still up, but it was sort of late in the evening. I hadn’t bough
t anything on the way home because the pizza we’d had earlier was still almost completely untouched in the fridge. I unlocked the door and walked in, hoping I’d see Jenny on the couch. The brief dread that Ryan would be in there shot through me but then I remembered that I’d taken his keys from him. She wasn’t on the couch. The house was completely silent.
“Jenny?” I called. Was she still here? Had she found Ryan’s keys and escaped? Had she let him in thinking he was me and this time I hadn’t been around to stop him?
I walked past the living room seeing her makeshift bed. The blanket I’d given her was folded neatly on one side of the sofa.
“Jenny?” I called again. I tried the kitchen. Nothing. She wasn’t in there either. I left, crossing the entryway to the dining room.
There she was. The area of the apartment that was built with the intention of it being used as a dining room which I used as a sort of ghetto home office where I could draw and do stuff for the shop. You had to draw when you were a tattoo artist. It was like how you had to be able to count to be an accountant.
I’d been drawing before I could do anything else. It was probably the only thing besides some sports that I had been halfway good at in school. I used to get a lot of ‘if he only applied himself’ comments from teachers. If I had only applied myself to what? I’d be an accountant now instead of a tattoo artist. Thank fuck for that failing GPA then.
In Jenny’s hands was an open ring binder of paper. Sketches. My sketches. I didn’t like to throw them away. I probably had everything I’d ever drawn since I’d come to LA in my apartment or office somewhere. I sort of chafed seeing her looking at my stuff, but I hadn’t asked her not to. I hadn’t told her not to do anything, really. What would it take? What would I say no to?
“See anything you like?” I asked her. She looked up, jumping a little like she hadn’t expected me. She closed the binder, lowering it to her lap. She was sitting in the chair Indian style, still in those little shorts so I could see her smooth, white inner thighs.
“Sorry, I was just looking. You did all of these?” she asked.
“You touch people’s shit without permission?” I asked.
“I thought that was just for your office at the shop,” she said. “Is there something in here you’re trying to hide?”
“No. I just thought my things were safe in my own home.”
“You got back too early. Fifteen minutes later and everything would have been back in its place like nothing happened,” she said. I thought about that. She was living here now, so I felt like we needed to set some ground rules. I’d never lived with a woman in my life—my mother, when I was a kid, didn’t count. I wasn’t mad. I just wasn’t sure what to do now with this new person in my space. This specific new person. Jenny.
I needed to figure out how to stop wanting to fuck her because I was sure that would be crossing some sort of line. I was no expert, but I was going to say that after her encounter with Ryan, she wasn’t really in the market for dick. Also, I was letting her stay at my house; maybe she’d feel I was trying to take advantage of her. Right now, I needed to be the least creepy I’d ever been in my life.
“Can’t keep your hands to yourself? Jun at the shop suggested I keep you tied to the bed. Will that help keep you under control?” I asked. She smiled.
“It would, but I don’t think we’re at that point in our relationship yet. How about just taking me when you leave?” she asked. I swear to god I hadn’t been trying to flirt with her. She had run with that one on her own.
“I think this place is pretty comfortable. You don’t like it?”
“I do, but I can’t find a job sitting here alone.”
“You can use my computer to look for stuff online. Tomorrow, I’m leaving around nine. If you want, you can go drop your resume off different places.”
“Why are you leaving so early? I thought the shop opens up at noon.”
“I have to have interviews for a new shop manager,” I told her.
“Ryan’s out?”
“He’s out,” I said, looking into her eyes. He’s out, and the only way he’s getting close to you again is over my dead body.
“When are we going to talk?” she asked. Oh, shit. Here we go.
“Tomorrow. We can talk when I get back from work.”
“I’m not coming with you?” she asked. I looked at her and that face. That expectation and innocence I saw there… it fucked me up. It kicked in that protector thing again. She wasn’t in danger, she was sitting in front of me, comfortable and safe, but I didn’t want to say anything just then that would disappoint her.
“What would you do all day?”
“I can’t just loaf around here. I want something to do. I want to look for a job.” She didn’t have to call it loafing. It was… I don’t know, relaxing. Didn’t she need some time to recover after Ryan? I didn’t want her running around LA alone. I’d bring her to the shop, but what if Ryan showed up? This felt like the safest place for her. I’d always know where she was, and I had the only keys.
I didn’t want to tie her to the bed like Jun had suggested, but I’d feel a lot better knowing she was somewhere safe.
“We can talk tomorrow night.”
“Don’t you need someone to manage your shop?” she asked. I did, but if I gave her the job, it would have been because I was guilty and felt like I needed to give her something.
“I do. Do you know somebody?”
“I was hoping I could give it a try.”
“If you want the job, you’ll have to go through an interview like everyone else,” I told her. She nodded.
“I can do that.”
“You have a resume?”
“I can have it ready tomorrow,” she assured me. There it was, another thing I was going to say yes to. I sighed.
“We leave at nine. Don’t be late.”
Craigslist was the fastest way to get replies. The fastest, definitely not the best. Out of the five people who’d shown up, four had thought that their only qualification had to be that they were tattooed. The fifth had called the shop the wrong name and straight up asked whether the job meant he could get free tattoos.
The next time this happened, I was putting a sign in the window. The best part was how none of them had had jobs related to customer service or management. Since Jenny had come with me, I figured it was okay if she went last. By the time it was her turn I was ready to tap out. I had gotten up way too early to have my time wasted like this.
I waited till she had walked in and sat down before saying anything to her. She was in jeans, which you weren’t supposed to wear to interviews, but I guess this was a pretty relaxed work environment. She smiled at me sitting in the seat across my desk, giggling.
“What’s so funny?” I asked her.
“I’m gonna guess the interviews haven’t been great?” I leaned back in my seat, sighing. She guessed right.
“Everyone comes to LA to do something, but usually that thing isn’t tattoo shop management.”
“Not even one worthy candidate?” she asked. I shook my head.
“Are you gonna turn it around for me?” I asked. I didn’t want to sound desperate, but I sort of was. If I didn’t find anyone today, then that was fine, I didn’t fucking find anyone, but that would just be more time that we were managerless.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” she asked, pushing her resume across the desk. There was a cover letter attached, I realized, sort of impressed. No one else had bothered with one. I tried to read it without my glasses on, failed and put them on.
Jennifer Davis, I read at the top of her resume. She’d been to college, University of Washington, where she majored in Zoology, which sounded impressive, but already she was overqualified—in the wrong thing. Work experience. Assistant librarian, head barista at a coffee place, three months at a call center. I stopped at the second to last thing on the list.
“Jenny,” I said, looking up at her.
“Yes?”
> “What the hell, you were holding out on me.”
“How?”
“You managed a vet’s office for a year and a half.”
“I did,” she said.
“That means you can deal with biohazardous waste disposal,” I said, smiling.
“Do you have a lot of that here?”
“Used needles, bloody paper towel, gauze, Q-Tips,” I listed, looking back down at her resume. “Are you squeamish?”
“No. Are you offering me the job?”
I was. I hadn’t picked her resume up thinking I’d read anything there that made me think she could actually do the job. There was no way she was beautiful and capable. God bless her for giving me a reason to hire her besides the fact that I wanted to keep her around.
“If you want it,” I said carefully. She sounded more surprised than pleased, and I didn’t want to sound as pleased as I was.
“It would be temporary, just as long as I’m here before going back to Seattle,” she reminded me. I nodded. I didn’t want to do this again, but if she took the job now, the month or whatever amount of time that she’d stay would be enough time to line someone up who could stay long-term.
“And Ryan?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of Ryan.”
8
Felicity
Asher’s apartment had a beautiful kitchen. It was spacious and modern, all stainless steel, dark countertops, and really fancy looking appliances. I had woken up with the idea that maybe I’d make him breakfast to say thank you and make myself useful as roommate/squatter in his house but quickly abandoned it remembering how he’d been about me touching his artwork. I was a little bit scared of him. Not like I was scared he’d hurt me, but that I didn’t know what to expect from him and I owed him way too much to make him mad.
Asher (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 6) Page 6