Rox (Nameless Order: Heart Chapter #1)

13. Roxie

Thirteen

Roxie

E ver since Duncan realized Angel was in my life, he’s changed his tune. He’s still a dickbag, because he can’t fully turn that off, but he’s trying. If I can even call it that. Everything is a backhanded compliment. His face and tone never match his words. Stanford seems to think he’s being honest. He hasn’t stopped Duncan from being a tool in a hot minute. But something about how Duncan is acting doesn’t sit right with me.

Ever since Garrett came in and made it clear I was done doing the jobs he hires out for, and Duncan is to focus on getting me in a chair, Duncan’s been…whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s nice to see your line work improving in the last little bit,” Duncan tells me as I hunch over a walk-in client.

“Thank you?” I tell him back more as a question. Unsure how to really respond because what the hell? “I appreciate the compliment, but my line work has never been the issue. I’ve been tattooing for years now. I want my own chair, and that’s why I’m here, Duncan. Working my way up the ranks, the same way you had to do.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes speak loudly, and he doesn’t like my response. He wanted me to accept his compliment without a response. I’m not going to sit back and let the man I’m working on think I don’t know what I’m doing. My legs are proof, I know. There are rules to this business. I need the apprentice hours. Hours Angel wouldn’t give me. Which is why I’m here, being stared at by this ass.

“Now, now, Girl,” don’t punch him, don’t punch him , “there’s no shame in not being the best at things. You’ve done great working with both me and who I can assume is Angel, but you haven’t been here that long. Even in a short amount of time, you’ve grown so much. I’m just saying you must have been practicing in your personal time.” Duncan is trying to be nice, but his inner asshole is still poking through.

I let out a deep breath through my nose. I don’t know what his problem is, but I do know snapping at him in front of the man I’m working on is not the correct answer.

“Holy shit, you know Angel?” The older man in the chair looks more comfortable now than he did before Duncan opened his mouth. “I have been trying to get into his chair for years.”

I can’t help the prideful smile that graces my face. In an attempt to find a creative release, I have watched Angel start the shop from nothing to the empire it is today. I’m not going to discredit where credit is due. He showed me a few things before he and my dad decided my path wasn’t good enough for me, but my passion and dedication dictated my skill.

I’m lucky because I have a natural talent. Creating art comes easily to me. Working on myself allowed me to hone my own distinct style. I’m working in this shop to make my name known. I want someone to hear my name and have the reaction this man is having to hearing Angel’s.

“Yes. I grew up watching him create amazing art and turn his shop into what he has today. I’d sit with him when I was younger so he could teach me. I took those things he taught me and started tattooing myself for practice. I didn’t want people to think I was getting preferential treatment because he’s my honorary uncle and best friend. No nepo-babies here.” The man in my chair laughs at that as I wipe the excess ink off before continuing with his piece. “So, I picked the second-best shop around and will pay my dues here and get by on my skill and talent alone.”

Duncan isn’t the only one who can toss out a few backhanded compliments. I see Duncan’s eye twitch before he leaves and heads down to his station.

“Sorry about him.”

“It’s no problem. I wasn’t worried about your work. I’ve been watching you the whole time. You’ve got a steady, firm hand. It’s clear you know what you’re doing. I understand what you mean with the nepo-baby comment.”

I look up at him as I pull the needle off his skin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to go into anything if someone in your family did it first. Even if that is something as simple as teaching. The mindset is everywhere, no matter the job.”

Unsure of what to tell him, I stuck with “I’m sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”

“Compliments are given when compliments are due.”

The rest of the appointment went off without a hitch. My client let me know he was impressed with the ink I gave him and that he’d be back another time for something else. He’s my first return client and the elation I feel is almost too much. I’m finally getting closer to the goal I’ve had for years.

It was after that appointment that Duncan tried to get me to practice on fake skin—claiming that I still needed to be taught. I wasn’t doing anything right, and it was almost as if I’d forgotten what he’s already taught me. When I wasn’t doing it the “right way” or quickly enough, he would take over. He’d explain how he would do it and that I needed to do it the same way. He would also turn it into a subtle brag against himself. Then he’d look at me and wait. Expecting some form of compliment.

The following client was a completely different experience.

“If you hold it too tight, you might distort your lines and where you want the design to lie on the body,” Duncan explains to me like I am learning to draw for the first time. “Here, give me your hand,” he says as he takes my hand from my side and places it on the client’s leg. He then places his hand over mine and presses mine into the client.

I panicked a little and pulled my hand back before he could start with the needle again, and I was stuck close to him. He shot me a glance over his shoulder, and I returned his look with an uneasy smile.

Shaking my head out of the moment from not long ago, I look up at the clock, counting the minutes until my lunch break. Not having a steady stream of clients allows me a more structured break schedule. And today, I’m excited because Angel has a free hour at the same time I do. An apology lunch, he’d called it. It’s free food and time with my best friend. Of course, I said yes. And yes, again, and again, and again, because the man was stubborn as hell and couldn’t take my answer for what it was.

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me, “Angel, I told you, I forgive you. I’m good. Everything is fine between us.”

“The fuck it is. I can say I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face, but I need to show you I am, too.”

“And somehow you don’t think that you’re doing that now? You’re fighting me over your apology. Which is dumb as fuck, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. You want food or not?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

It was as simple as that. Our banter was easy, and we never had to go into complex or complicated conversations. Of course, we had those. Everyone does at some point. But it was easy with Angel because we understand each other. This was another one of those moments. He knows, deep down, that I’m fine, and I’ve forgiven him. Just like I know, deep down, that he needs to show me he’s sorry just as much as he needed to tell me.

“Girl, you need to pay attention if you’re going to learn anything today.” Duncan’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. There he is. I knew his snappy side was still there. I’ve been cleaning my station and the front of the shop. I stopped standing behind him. It was almost like he forgot I was there. He stopped talking and focused on his work. I took it as his way of dismissing me. I wasn’t “learning” anything.

“Sorry, I’m hungry, and it’s almost my lunch break. I’m going to head out in a moment,” I explain, giving his client a saccharine smile.

Duncan smiles as he wipes his client’s arm. “That’s it, man, you’re done. Head over to the mirror and check it out.” It’s terrifying how he becomes a whole ass new person when he’s speaking to his clients. His client gets off the chair and heads over to the mirror on the wall, and Duncan turns his attention toward me. “Give me a few minutes to clean this all up, and I can take you out. I could use a meal and a break. We can try that new place that opened up next to Angel’s shop. I heard they make a mean tofu wrap.” Duncan almost seems giddy. He doesn’t look up. He just stays focused on the task. He’s really weirding me out.

Before I can tell him I have other plans, the front door chimes. I look up and see Angel strolling in like he owns the place as he makes his way over to Duncan and I. Duncan’s client comes back to the chair, and when he turns toward the massive man standing next to us, his focus shifts. I’m not gonna lie; it’s funny as hell watching grown-ass men lose their shit over Angel. To me, he’s just Angel; to these two, he’s…everything.

“An-Angel. Hi. Hi. Um, hi. Wh-what are you? Are you having lunch with me? I mean, Roxanne—us. Us. We’re going to lunch. Are you having lunch with us too?”

Is Duncan sweating? What the fuck?

Before I can say anything, Angel cuts in. “Um, no. Sorry. I was here for Roxie only. She and I have something planned.”

I swear the temperature in the room drops. Angel’s looking at me, but so is Duncan. I can’t tell if he’s pissed because he’s not going out with Angel, with me, or both. It’s also possible it’s something else entirely. Not wanting to waste any more mental capacity on him and his bullshit, I went with something else that caught my attention.

“Oh, I’m Roxanne now?”

“What do you mean?” Angel asks.

I can’t get a word in, though, because Duncan does that nervous laugh thing most people do when they’re flirting, “Oh, she’s just being silly. We come up with nicknames all day to help make the time go by. It’s fun.”

“Umm, o-kay.” I’m not dealing with this right now. I turn to Angel, “Are you ready?”

“He was being really fucking weird. Is he always like that?” Angel asks once we’re sitting down with sandwiches in front of us. I’m picking up my pickle spear and biting before responding. “Nah, he’s normally an assbag.”

Angel laughs and shakes his head, “You and the names you call people.”

“What?” I ask, feigning ignorance, “I only call it as it is.”

“I’m pretty sure that old lady who didn’t put her cart away that one time deserved to be called a Cuntasaurus Rex.”

“Um, pretty sure she did.”

We go back and forth until it’s time for us both to head back to our respective shops. When I walk through the door, I notice right away how quiet it is. I make my way through the shop and only find Stanford.

“Hey, there’s no other clients on the books for today, so I decided to close up. Duncan said you knew already. I wasn’t expecting to see you back.”

“Nope, this is news to me. I was at lunch.”

“Ah, well, surprise?” I laugh because I know it’s not his fault. “Go ahead and get out of here. See ya tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

It’s been a weird as hell day, but I’m taking it for what it is at this point. Getting out early allowed me to get a much-needed grocery shopping trip in, and because it was the middle of the day, it wasn’t busy and took no time at all. I’ve got everything in the car and am heading home before I get that feeling of being followed. Checking all my mirrors, I don’t see anything at first, but when I get past the bend, so does a van. One, I am positive, is the same as the night I was followed before.

“Well, no fucking wonder I really couldn’t see shit,” I tell myself as I notice the heavily tinted windows. Including the front window. My mind flashes to the night this happened before, and I think about calling Mimic. It’s my natural reaction, but I think about how, not too long ago, it was my reaction to call my dad.

My dad.

Thinking of him and how much it hurt that I didn’t need him anymore, I say fuck it and call no one. No, this time, I head straight to the clubhouse, and this time, when I pull onto the property, I don’t stop.