FORTY
CHAPTER
Gloria Ng’s nail salon was empty. A FOR LEASE sign hung askew in the window, the name and number of a realtor’s office beneath it.
I cupped my hands to the glass, peering inside. Nothing but vinyl flooring and drywall. Exposed pipes where the pedicure tubs had been. Six hundred square feet sharing an interior wall with Vegas Ink.
I could knock that wall down myself.
A slow grin spread over my face, tempered by a pang of ball-clenching fear. This was it. The solution to my problem of Vegas’s market being too shitty and VI being too small.
But if I bought both… If I renovated and redecorated…
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
Nah, I’m good, thanks, Jonah answered.
A small laugh erupted out of me. It morphed into an all-out gut-buster, and I leaned against the window, laughing like an idiot. Mostly because I could.
In the two weeks since the installation was moved out of Vegas, I could finally think of my brother without a sledgehammer of pain whacking me in the chest. It still hurt.
It would always hurt. But I’d purged the poisonous grief and what remained was cleaner.
The pain had a peace in it. I could think about Jonah now.
I had all of him back—his voice, his laugh, his stupid jokes, and the way he’d turned globs of colorless glass into fucking masterpieces.
Jonah gave me the money to build a future. He gave me his blessing to build it with Kacey. He took the shapeless glass of my life and blew potential into it. Hope. Now it was my turn to finish the job.
Kacey was selling her house in New Orleans, saying goodbye to friends and coming back to Vegas to be with me. The Sony contract was signed. She’d make more money in a month than I’d see in a year. Money wasn’t the point. I couldn’t slack off. I had to do right by her by doing right by me.
God, Jonah…This is it, right? Am I standing right in front of it, peering in?
In my mind’s eyes, Jonah perfectly raised one eyebrow—his signature move.
Signs point to yes.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I went into Gus’s office and offered to relieve him of his job. An hour later, we emerged shaking hands, Gus with visions of Belize’s beaches dancing in his eyes. He introduced me to the crew as the de facto owner of Vegas Ink.
The others stared for a minute, then Edgar burst out laughing. “Yeah, right. Good one, boss.”
Vivian, standing closer, peered at both of us. “No, they’re serious. You’re serious? Oh my God.” She threw her arms around me. “For real? When? How?” She stopped jumping up and down and smoothed down my shirt. “Sorry, boss. I mean, you are my boss now, right? I still work here?”
“You still work here, Viv. I’d be crazy to lose any of you.”
I met Zelda’s eye. She gave me a nod, her smile cool and knowing.
Edgar slapped my back and said, “Congrats, boss man. You pulled a fast one on us. How long has this been in the works?”
“Roughly an hour,” I said. “I’m going to buy the vacant place next door, knock down a few walls and renovate. We can do a big re-opening to get new business and get old clients excited about the new look.”
“Genius,” Vivian said. “We gotta celebrate. I’m going out for champagne. That cool, Gus?”
He held up his hands. “Hell, I’ll buy.”
“Boss man,” Zelda said, moving to stand next to me. We both leaned against Viv’s desk, both crossed our arms. “How’s that sound?”
“Doesn’t suck.”
She quirked a smile. “Good for you. I’m glad I’m not a betting gal. I’d have put money on you moving to New Orleans.”
“Kacey’s moving here. She’s readying her house to sell.”
“Smart girl,” Zelda said. “You deserve it, you know. Her. This place. All of it. You worked your ass off long enough.”
“And what about you? You staying? I’ll make you Employee of the Month for texting Kacey for me that night at dinner.”
Zelda tucked a lock of her long black hair behind her ear. “Tempting, but no. I’m heading to New York City next week.”
“Next week?”
“Already told Gus. I’d have given you better notice if I’d known you were such a business tycoon.”
“Well, shit, Zelda. I’d rather not start my business without one of the best artists in the chairs.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Your Inked spread is going to make you famous. You need a huge re-opening though.” She tapped her fingers to her chin, brow furrowed.
“If only you could get a certain singer/songwriter currently tearing up the indie charts right now to do a show for your grand opening…”
“If only,” I said. I nudged her elbow. “I’m going to miss you, Z.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zelda said, suddenly pushing off the desk toward her station. “Don’t go soft on me, Fletcher. Goodbyes are hard enough.”