Chapter Twenty-Three
Garrett
Last night after reluctantly leaving Calli inside her apartment, I ran down the two flights of stairs so fast, it’s a miracle I didn’t fall and break my neck. It’s not so much that I recognized the man Caleb Dexter met up with. The one Nero wanted all the information on.
It’s the fact he recognized me.
My first thought was to get Calli as far away from him as possible, even if it meant risking losing him. Fortunately, the car parked down the block is the one I saw him get into after I tailed Caleb to meet him.
Something fucking stupid took over, and I ran toward the car. There was no way I’d be stealthy enough to follow him on the bike, and I cursed not taking the car. Calli wouldn’t have been able to wear a seatbelt, that was not an option.
He must have seen me coming because he started up the car and peeled away.
My next thought was to run back up the stairs and kick in Caleb’s door but that would be a dumb idea. More worrying than all of that, was seeing how he looked at me. There is no doubt in my mind, he knew who I was.
This can’t wait anymore. I need to speak to Nero. Instead of going after Phoenix, I text to check in. He said he was fine and with a woman so not to bother him. Then I called Nero and said we had to talk. Nero reminded me it was him who needed to talk.
He ended the call telling me we’d meet on Saturday. Two days from now. How the fuck am I going to wait two more days? And I can’t forget he has a job for me. What the fuck is that going to entail?
After that I poured over videos of Caleb’s apartment. The other guy never came in. Even though Caleb was in all night. What the fuck does that mean? What was he doing in the building that didn’t involve him going to see that prick?
It made me even more suspicious. So much so I wished I made a copy of the information I gave to Nero. That only serves to piss me off even more. By the time I switched to tailing him, I was over the whole thing and wanted to get back to work.
His name is Ray Dutton, and he is into some shady shit, drugs mostly. What I don’t know, is why Nero cares. I could go down a rabbit hole of searching for him again but it’s almost three in the morning and I have a full day of clients. It’s best to get the story from Nero.
Reluctantly, I went back to my apartment and went to bed.
It’s almost midday when Phoenix walks through the door. Everyone looks over at him as he peels off his leather jacket and chucks it behind the counter. Lucky stares at him, before grabbing the jacket and taking it to the hooks to hang up.
No one has mentioned what happened here last night. Not the visit from the MC brothers, or Calli showing up for a tattoo. I’m not convinced I’m going to get away with the latter too much longer, but the heat is off me if the way Phoenix looks is anything to go by.
“Where were you?” Lucky’s question draws me back to the present.
Phoenix runs a hand through his hair and looks at Lucky. “I slept late.” He isn’t guilty per se, but he can’t meet her eye.
“You couldn’t call? I had to cancel a client.”
“I messaged him to say I wouldn’t be in,” Phoenix sets his phone down and walks around his chair.
“Oh, that’s great,” Lucky folds her arms. “You text him to say you wouldn’t be here, but not us?”
“I don’t answer to you, Lucky,” he finally turns to her.
If a record was playing, this is the moment the damn thing would have scratched across the vinyl. Katja lets out a little gasp and everyone else looks over at Phoenix. Fuck this.
“Lucky, I need a restock on medium and light gray wash. Go grab it.”
“Isn’t that what Shane is here for?” she doesn’t look away from Phoenix.
“Shane’s busy.”
“I am?” I hear him mutter behind me.
“Don’t dismiss me, Garrett.”
“Don’t start shit.” It’s implied I mean the both of them.
Phoenix ignores me, like he didn’t open Pandora’s box. Or put me in a shit position. Lucky doesn’t deserve to feel bad because Phoenix is being a dick.
“Me start shit?” she laughs, but there is nothing amused about it. “Since when do people get to walk in here whenever they feel like it?”
“Since I’m the owner, Lucky,” Phoenix fires back. “And as long as I’ve dealt with my shit, I don’t need to be questioned about when I show up.”
“Enough,” I tell him, walking over to Lucky. She’s about to let rip but I wrap an arm around her shoulder and steer her to the back hallway. “Katja, can you watch the desk?”
She nods and steps behind the counter.
“Stop trying to manage me, Garrett,” Lucky shrugs me off as we walk into the storeroom.
“No one is managing anyone,” I roll my shoulders and guide her further into the room. “But I’m in no mood for an argument today.”
“But he’s-”
“Light gray wash,” I tell her.
Lucky rolls her eyes and heads over to the box of inks. She roots through the boxes before finding what I don’t actually need. And I’m pretty sure she knows it. She gathers up three of each color and comes back over.
“I’m worried. Don’t look at me like that. I know what you think about me and Phoenix.”
“I don’t think anything about you and Phoenix.”
“You’re a shit liar, Garrett,” she sets down the inks on a shelf by the door. “Shane said his brother was in here last night. Do you know what he wanted?”
“No.”
“Of course, you won’t tell me. Secret brotherhood shit.”
“Lucky.”
She waves me off. “You know a lot of this is his fault. With Phoenix’s mom.”
Leaning against the wall, I watch as Lucky twists her fingers together, staring at the floor.
“He won’t let me in,” she says in a small voice.
I’m not heartless but this is the second night in a row I’ve had a heart to heart with a woman. It surprises me I’m not as irritated by that as I would have been a few months ago. Thoughts of Calli have eaten away at my restraint all day.
It’s hard to decide what played on my mind more. The fucker at her apartment, or fucking her on my tattoo bed, after putting my ink on her. I’d rage cleaned the room when I got back to the shop, having lost that bastard.
Lucky means a lot to me, and I don’t want to see her upset. Even if I knew this was always going to happen. As painful as it is going to be, I’m not about to leave her back here feeling this way.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, I doubt that,” I drawl, making her lift her gaze to me. If she did, then we’d no longer be talking about my best friend. We’d be talking about her new one.
“We work better as friends,” she sniffs and clears her throat. “It’s the way it has to be.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“God,” she kicks her booted foot out, so it taps mine. “When did you get so astute?”
“I’ve seen this coming for a long time.”
“What?”
“Realization hitting. You keep saying you’re better as friends and you both parade other people around one another, saying it’s fun and you’re not upset about it. That shit isn’t healthy. Because we can all see neither one of you has moved past the other.”
“I thought you didn’t want us together,” she brushes her hair back and holds it away from her face.
“My advice can only go so far, Lucky. I will not regurgitate it. If you’re going to say it, then you have to believe it. Or you’re going to drive yourself crazy. Him too. And I don’t have the patience for that shit.”
“There is no one like you, G,” she pushes away from the wall and grabs the inks. “Offering out advice, then kicking me when I’m down.”
“You’re not down, kiddo. Nothing can take you down.”
“I’m not so sure, Garrett,” she whispers. She blows out a breath and smiles. “But I’ll get there. And I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I can however call him out for being a dick.”
“Always have to get the last word.”
“You know it,” she winks.
This isn’t resolved, not by a long shot but I’m sure she will not start a fight. Maybe she needs girl talk or some shit. I could ask Calli.
God, I swipe a hand down my face. That is a thought I never want to have again.
By the time I get back out, Lucky is laughing with Katja and has turned up the music. Shane is chatting with a customer and the other two are getting ready for their next clients.
Lucky has been in my cabinet because there are now eight bottles of the same colored ink lined up on top of it. I don’t give her the satisfaction of looking in her direction.
I spend the afternoon working my way through two clients and making some calls to suppliers and my accountant. It’s not all about the tattooing.
We finish up eating a late dinner I ordered to try to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. The atmosphere in the shop has been off all day. Shane is clearing up and I’m uncharacteristically about to offer help when my phone buzzes.
Calli:
Whoever said it was a good idea to drink your weight in tequila is an asshole
Giving her my number last night was as much a shock to me as it was her. It’s a big step. It’s to keep a better eye on her. That’s all.
This is the first time we’ve text. I’m not sure how I feel about it. What does she mean about tequila? I’m not gonna go asking questions, like a boyfriend would. Her life, her choices.
Fuck, that’s so not true. I’ll play it off casual.
Garrett:
Feeling rough?
Calli:
That is the understatement of the century
Calli:
My boss can’t say a word about it, she is worse off than me and considering it’s a struggle to smell caffeine without puking, that says a lot
Garrett:
Told you, caffeine is bad for you
Calli:
Nobody likes a smart ass
Garrett:
Unless they’re right
She sends back the laughing emoji, and I can’t help but grin. When nothing else comes through, I pocket the phone. Sumner is the only one watching me and he arches a brow, to which I flip him off. There is no getting away from the bastard when he comes over and pulls up a chair.
“I get the feelin’ you don’t wanna talk about this in front of everyone.”
“Talk about what?”
“Your client last night.”
There is a snarky comment on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it in and stare at him. Usually that works, it makes people uncomfortable enough to let it go. Not this Irish bastard.
“Ah, I know you’re not one to talk about your shite, but I feel the need to tell ya, she’s a decent lass. I’m a perceptive feller and I can tell she has a past.”
“It’s none of your business.”
He grins. “It’s got that far, ay?”
“Do you have nothing else to do right now? Like fuck off?”
He laughs. “Just sayin’ watch out for her.”
It’s coming from the right place, and he is right. Calli is a good person, and she has a shitty past. They’re all closer to her than I realized. This could be a problem down the road, when I inevitably have to distance myself. If I have to. My brain is scrambled to shit about her right now.
Instead of being a surly asshole, I nod. Then smirk because I can’t let him think I’m getting soft now, can I? I’ve already had a heart to heart with Lucky. Now this?
And I still need to find out what is up with Nero and the scum he had me following. And what he wanted from Phoenix. By the way he is hunched over his phone right now, not looking at anyone else, that will not go fucking well.
“I need a drink,” I mutter.
Sumner gets to his feet and slaps me on the back. “Women will do that to ya,” he says and saunters back to his station.
Not everything is right with us today, but we’re good at putting shit behind us and doing what has to be done.
Garrett:
How is the tattoo?
Calli:
Hey. The redness has gone down and it’s not aching anymore
Garrett:
You’re doing what I told you?
Calli:
You could always come and see for yourself
That was the last text I got from her last night after I locked up and went to my apartment. I’m sure she’ll be pissed about my not replying. Then again, women think differently than men.
Worse, everyone thinks differently than me, that is just a fact. I feel bad about not answering, either making plans or telling her no.
Which is why I stand outside her apartment this morning, wondering if she is gonna be mad at me or glad to see me. Either is fine. For me anyway.
What I don’t expect is the disheveled looking woman who opens the door.
Calli stares at me like I’m an apparition, brushing her hair behind her ears. I mean, when I say disheveled, I mean she’s wearing faded pink shorts and a baggy T-shirt, her hair is pulled up in a very messy bun with fly aways around her face. Clearly she consumed too much alcohol.
Damn how much did she have yesterday? It explains why she was bold enough to invite me over. Maybe she forgot. From the way she is staring at me, I’d say she did.
Despite all of that, she’s still hot. I hold up the grocery bag.
“You gonna just stand there? Or can I come in?”
“Are you real?” she cocks her head.
“Last I checked.” Shaking my head, I put a hand on her shoulder and spin her around, stepping into the apartment.
“How did you get in the building?”
I smirk at her confusion. “A woman downstairs let me in.”
“Bet she did,” she mumbles. “Probably stunned by all the hotness. Didn’t even stop to think you could be an axe murderer.”
Calli heads back to the couch and lifts a blanket, dropping and covering herself with a groan. The blinds are drawn over the window and the TV is on in the corner, but the sound is off.
“All the hotness?”
“You know you’re hot. Why are you here?” She peers over the back of the sofa.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t be looking after yourself.”
“I can take care myself,” she half-heartedly argues. “It’s a hangover. I’ve had them before.”
The evidence of her looking after herself makes her scrunch up her nose. There are three glasses on the table, as well as a mug, which I guess is coffee. There are junk food wrappers too. With a shake of my head, I take out the groceries.
“We need a serious talk about nutrition.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she grumbles.
“Yeah well, tell me that after you’ve eaten what I’m about to cook.”
“You’re making me food?”
Instead of answering, I search through the cupboards for what I need. Calli is quiet for a while, then climbs off the couch, wraps the blanket around her shoulders and comes to stand by the counter as I chop up an avocado and set a frying pan on the stove. She eyes the eggs, and sausage, her nose wrinkling at the kale.
“That is too much green stuff.”
“You have the diet of a toddler. You’re going to end up with high cholesterol and be at risk of heart disease if you don’t start eating better.”
Calli pouts but takes a seat as I carry on making her a hangover cure I swear by. Once the sausage is frying and the eggs are poaching, I take out two bottles of water and a green smoothie.
“More green stuff?” she pulls a face.
“Drink up. Trust me, it helps.” I pour it out and hand over a glass.
Calli sniffs it. “What’s in it?”
“Things that will make you feel better. Drink it all. Have you taken painkillers?”
“Are you going to tell me they’re bad for me too?” she sasses.
“Taking them with junk food and coffee won’t help.”
“You’re so bossy.”
This time I don’t answer, hiding my smile as she takes a tentative sip. When she doesn’t pull a face, I take it as a win and set out two plates. It doesn’t take long for the food to cook. I plate up and head to the small dining table by the window.
Calli follows, still wrapped in the blanket. We take a seat opposite one another. If I had to put a name on it, I’d say her attitude is begrudging as she eats. It morphs to surprise, then enjoyment. She doesn’t want to say anything, that is written all over her face too.
All I care about is she is eating and is less pale.
“I never would have expected the Nurse Nightingale act from you.”
“You call this an act?” I arch a brow.
She squeezes her eyes shut for a second. “Sorry. Apparently I left my manners at the bottom of the toilet last night. Thank you. This is helping.”
I give her my best ‘I told you so’ look. She hides a smile by looking down at what is left of her food. My curiosity gets the better of me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since she sent her texts.
“What brought this on? It wasn’t about everything we’ve done, or talked about, is it?”
For a moment she looks like she doesn’t understand the question. Then it dawns on her. Us talking about her issues with her asshole of a mother and ex-husband. And me admitting I am attached to a motorcycle club.
“No, nothing like that,” she picks up a piece of avocado with her fingers and pops it into her mouth. “Sin has been away for a week and wanted to catch up.”
I have never been interested in hearing anything about girl talk. Something about the way she is avoiding looking at me right now piques my interest.
If the way her friend reacted to me at the coffee house the other day is anything to go by, I can guess what they were talking about.
I’m a private guy and hate people getting into my business. Having them talking about me should rile me up. In the past, and with anyone else, I would have been irritated and argued about keeping my shit out of their mouths.
Strangely, knowing Calli is talking about me to her friends isn’t bothering me so much. Huh…
“I never got a chance to thank you,” she says in a quiet voice.
“For what?”
“The other night. For listening and not judging.”
“There is nothing to judge you about, Calli.”
“It’s still appreciated,” she lifts her eyes to meet mine.
The uncertainty shouldn’t kill me, but it does. It also makes me completely unable to come up with a response. No one has thanked me for something like this before, at least anyone who isn’t one of the four people I work with.
We’re both uncomfortable now and I kind of hate it. Calli gets up to clear the dishes. Making myself useful I clean up the mess on the coffee table and meet her back in the kitchen.
“How is the tattoo today?” I ask.
“It’s good, a little itchy,” she makes a face.
“That’s normal. Can I see?” Calli sucks in her bottom lip. “Purely professional,” I add.
She hums but sets down the dish towel and lifts her T-shirt. I’m not expecting her to remove it, but she does. She’s wearing a soft cotton bra which isn’t tight on her sternum. It’s healing fine, not at the scabbing stage yet.
I take my time assessing the tattoo. I’m never disappointed in the work I do, and this tattoo is no exception. It had to be my best work, considering who I was putting it on. She trusted me, that meant I couldn’t fuck it up.
“Have you moisturized today?”
Her expression turns guilty. She says she’ll do it and disappears to the bathroom. It takes five seconds for me to follow. Calli hasn’t closed the door, so I take that as an invitation. She has pulled the bra off and when she sees me in the reflection, she holds it up to cover herself.
“Need a hand?”
“I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind.”
“All I asked was if you need help with the tattoo, Calli. Where did your mind go?”
“You’re such an ass,” she mutters.
“Here,” I walk over and pick up the tube.
My brows lift in questions, as I pop open the lid. Slowly, she lowers the bra and stands topless looking up at me. It’s hard as fuck, but I concentrate on taking care of the tattoo. I will not push her up against the wall and strip those shorts off her.
I’ve never fucked a woman in the tattoo shop, certainly not when they have a fresh tattoo I should have been covering. Definitely not smearing her cum over her tits so I could lick it off.
Recording that shit would have got me a code violation if anyone saw it. It’s one thing watching Calli pleasuring herself while thinking about me, it’s different watching myself do it to her. Who’d have guessed I’d be camera shy.
“What are you smirking at?” Calli asks.
“Nothing,” I finish up and put the lid back on. “Get dressed.”
“Huh?”
“Dressed, you need air. It will clear your head.”
“Why are you so determined to make my hangover experience miserable?”
I move behind her and slap her ass. “Dressed. Please,” I add. She’s about to say something but her lips clamp shut. Maybe she liked that. I fold my arms and give her a look, which usually has people shaking in their boots.
She salutes me. “Yes sir.”
Jesus. She saunters off, nice and slow, her top still off and her hips swaying. I’ll never let her see me smile, waiting until she’s gone down the hallway to her bedroom.