Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Sawyer – Two Months Later
I never thought I’d say it, but I miss Pickles Tap Room.
I got my job at The Watch Shop a little over a month ago now, and every second working here has been a struggle. Although Josh was a dick and handling drunk college kids every night wasn’t ideal, I learned how to handle them. Plus, the tips were good.
Handling finance bros is in an entirely different category. The number of assholes I have to deal with daily is astronomical.
For someone who isn’t generally a patient person, I feel like I’m going to explode ninety-nine percent of the time. But thus far, I’ve stuck to the script. I’ve been polite and cordial and shoved my annoyance as far down as I can. Until now.
“Excuse me?” a voice says.
I look up from behind the counter at the thirty-something-year-old man who’s looking at me like I’m a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Nevertheless, I force a smile.
Always service with a smile… even when I want to scream.
“Hello, sir.” I give him my full attention. “How can I help you?”
“I need a refund.” He grunts, shoving a watch onto the counter with no box or receipt.
“Okay, let’s see what we can do.” I nod at him. “Do you have a receipt?”
“No, I don’t have a receipt. I just need a refund, and I’m in a bit of a rush, so could you hurry it up?”
I roll my eyes. Of course, he’s in a rush. When are they not in a rush?
“Okay, well, if you don’t have a receipt, then I’ll need to see if I can find the order in our system. Do you have an email with us?” I ask.
He rattles off an email to me, and I look it up in the system, luckily finding his order right away.
“And what was the reason for the return, sir?” I ask, scrunching my eyes as I notice the date of the order on the screen.
“The watch is cracked,” he says, picking it up and showing me the face of the watch.
Cracked is an understatement. The watch is completely shattered, the glass practically falling out of it. It’s beyond obvious the watch wasn’t sold to him like this. He’s had it for three months now, I’m sure the cracked face was of his own doing, not that he’d ever admit to it.
“Okay, well, unfortunately, you are past the return date of the watch, and we do have a strict return policy of thirty days, which was stated on your receipt.”
“I don’t understand what the issue is.” He grunts at me again. “The watch is cracked, I don’t have any sort of receipt with your bullshit policy, and I want a refund.”
“I understand that you want a refund, but the store isn’t able to offer you one at this time since you bought the watch three months ago and our return policy is only valid for thirty days.” I grind my teeth. “Plus, we never would’ve sold you a watch shattered how it is, which leads me to believe you’ve cracked it in the time you’ve had it.”
“Are you accusing me of lying?” His eyes bulge at me.
“Listen, I’m just informing you that we can’t give you a refund.”
“That’s unacceptable,” he shouts.
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you any more than I have.” I roll my eyes.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, little girl?” He scoffs. “You may not be sorry now, but you will be in a second. Where’s your manager?” He looks around the store. “This is why they shouldn’t hire stupid women at places of importance.”
“Oh, fuck that.” I laugh hollowly. “I’m the stupid one? You’re trying to come in here months after this watch can be returned and convince me you just bought it shattered like that.” I raise a brow at him. “Plus, this isn’t a place of importance, it’s a fucking watch store. I told you I can’t help you anymore, so you can fuck right off.”
“Sawyer,” my manager scolds in a hushed tone as he walks up behind me, clearly overhearing the last part of my rant. “I’m so sorry, sir. Give me one moment to deal with her, and I’ll be right with you.” He apologizes to the asshole.
“Deal with me?” I mumble as he pulls me aside.
“Listen, Sawyer, I understand that working in customer service can be difficult for some people, but what just happened was unacceptable.” He shakes his head at me. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to curse at a customer. Unfortunately, I cannot keep you on staff with behavior like this.”
“So, I’m fired because that guy was a dick?” I raise a brow at him.
He looks over to the other customer in the store, an older woman who stood a few feet away from us to make sure she’s not listening, but she clearly is.
“I’m really sorry.” He shrugs.
“This is just perfect.” I sigh, frustration seeping in. I walk back behind the counter, grab my purse from underneath it, and turn to face the man again. “Congratulations, misogynistic asshole.” I scoff, walking out from behind the counter and toward the door.
I walk outside and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. I wish I could say I felt bad about being rude to the customer, but I don’t in the slightest.
He deserved it.
But losing another job sucks. Mainly because now I have to job hunt.
Again.
A problem for tomorrow, I guess.
“What a dick.”
A voice startles me, and I turn to see the woman who was inside the shop. I look at her, surprised for only a second before a laugh bubbles out of me. “That’s an understatement,” I say, and she smiles.
“I’m Darla,” she says, offering me her hand.
She looks to be in her sixties, but she could be younger, it’s hard to tell. She has strawberry-blond hair that’s starting to gray and full sleeves of tattoos on display. She even sports a small stud in her nose.
I immediately start admiring the artwork on her arms. I have a good amount of tattoos myself, although where mine are sporadic, hers look planned, all of them fitting together.
Every tattoo I’ve gotten has been a spur-of-the-moment decision, which is pretty unsurprising for me. Once I see something that I like or that I think looks cool, I just go with it.
I like all my tattoos, so it’s worked out.
“Sawyer.” I reach out, shaking her hand. “I love your ink,” I tell her, still admiring the work.
“Thanks.” She smiles, looking at her arms. “Do you have any?”
“Yeah.” I pull up the sleeve of my black long-sleeve to show the tattoos scattered across my skin. “Management here made me cover them all when I was working,” I explain.
“Well, I guess that’s a perk of not working there anymore.” She raises a brow.
“I guess you’re right.” I laugh under my breath.
“Well, listen. I am sorry about your job. You clearly didn’t deserve to be fired back there. I’d love to buy you a coffee if you’ll let me.” She nods toward the coffee shop next door.
“Oh, well thank you, but you don’t have to do that.” I brush her off.
“I want to.” She smiles. “It’s just a coffee.” She presses.
“Sure, I guess,” I say skeptically.
I’m not sure what to make of Darla. She seems like a nice woman, maybe a bit pushy, but kind. I don’t know why I have a good gut feeling about her, but I do. It’s the only reason I agree to follow her into the coffee shop, letting her buy me an iced latte.
I sit down at the small table, taking the chair across from her.
“Thank you for the coffee.” I hold out my cup, and she clinks it against mine.
“Of course. It’s my pleasure.” She nods. “So have you always lived in Seattle?”
“No, I grew up in a small town a few hours from here,” I say, being purposefully vague. “I just moved here a few months ago.”
“How do you like it?” she asks.
“It’s pretty nice. I think I’ll stick around for a while,” I joke.
“Well, that’s good to hear because I have to admit, I do have some ulterior motives.”
“Okay…” I raise a brow at her. “That sounds slightly suspicious.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not some sort of creep.” She laughs. “But I have an offer for you.”
“What kind of offer?” I ask skeptically.
“I’m a receptionist at Blackheart Ink. It’s the shop where I got all of my tattoos, and it’s just about ten minutes from here,” she says.
“I’ve never heard of it, but they clearly do good work.” I nod toward her arms.
“That they do,” she agrees. “Anyway, I’m retiring and looking for my replacement. It’s good pay and easy work if you’re interested.”
“You had me at good pay,” I reply with no hesitation, and she laughs.
I’m normally not a lucky person. In fact, on most days, luck seems to be working against me more than anything. So having a new job fall into my lap seconds after being fired should make me weary, but I’ve also learned over the years to never look a gift horse in the mouth.
When someone’s offering you a solution to a problem, you take it and figure out the rest later. So, that’s exactly what I do, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t question it.
“Why me?” I ask her.
“I don’t really know,” she says honestly. “There’s just something about you, Sawyer. You seem like a fighter. Strong-willed, and I like that. They certainly need that,” she says.
“Who’s they?”
“Just the shop in general.” She waves me off, but it feels like a lie. “Give me your info, and I’ll set up a time for you to come in. I promise you’ll fit right in there. And no more hiding your ink,” she jokes.
“Well, that’s a perk.” I laugh. “Okay, let’s do it.” I nod.
I give Darla all my information, and she texts me directions to the shop. I promise her to come in the next morning around ten a.m. to see the shop and potentially start training. By the time I get home and shower off the day, I feel better than I have in a long time.
I’ve hated most jobs that I’ve had since I started working at twelve years old, but the idea of being a receptionist at what seems like a sick tattoo shop intrigues me. I basically get to hang out making appointments and organizing all day while admiring cool artwork. I mean, could that be any more perfect for me?
Plus, Darla said that the owner, her boss, is an amazing guy and barely a boss at all. The idea of not having an asshole for a boss for once lifts a huge weight off my chest.
Now I just have to hope it’s not all too good to be true.
Blackheart Ink is as cool of a shop as Darla described it.
The lobby is small but spacious in the way everything is laid out. The walls are a cream color with artwork covering nearly every inch, and the floors are brown wood.
The large reception desk sits to the right of the front door, and there are two black leather couches with a coffee table in the center to the left.
The place has two hallways, one to the left, which Darla already showed me leads to the stockroom, and one down the center that leads back to what looks like multiple rooms for the artists.
I got here about half an hour ago, and Darla has been showing me the ropes ever since. The job itself seems pretty simple, just how she described it.
There are four tattoo artists and two piercers that work here. They don’t all work every day, and each of them needs to have time for their regulars, scheduled appointments, and walk-ins when they do. Basically, I’m in charge of keeping everything organized and managing all their schedules.
That’s the main part of the job, at least. Then, there’s the answering phones part, which is easy enough. Annoying, but easy.
Other than that, the job consists of other small things like cleaning, inventory, and helping the artists with anything else they need.
“Okay, are you ready for the rest of the tour?” Darla asks as she finishes showing me where everything is behind the desk.
“Absolutely.” I nod eagerly.
“King, the owner, who is also a tattoo artist, isn’t here until twelve today, but Kade, Asher, Sky, and Trix are all here now,” she explains. “Sky is our newest employee and has only been here for a few months. Kade and Asher tattoo, while Trix is one of our piercers. All three have been here for years now. Gabe, who has been here a little longer than Sky, also does piercings.”
I nod along, taking in all the information, and make sure to watch closely as she points out whose room is which. The first door on the left belongs to the owner, who I’m yet to meet, but Darla said he put her in charge of finding her replacement, so I guess it makes sense.
The door across from his belongs to Trix. Her door is open, but she’s with a client.
Trix looks to be around the same age, or maybe a little bit older than me. She has long, light pink hair, and her pale skin is covered in ink. She also has a shit ton of piercings in her ears, a nose stud, and a pierced eyebrow. She doesn’t look up as we move to the next door.
The room next to Trix is Asher’s, who’s one of the artists, and across from him is Sky’s room. Both of them have their doors closed since they’re both in appointments. The next door on the right belongs to Gabe, who Darla has already said isn’t working today.
The last door on the left belongs to Kade, another artist who Darla said has been here the longest besides her. His door is wide open, and he’s sitting on a stool in front of his desktop.
“Hey, Darla.” He looks at her with a smile as we walk into the doorway. “What’s up?” he asks, swiveling the stool to face us.
“Just wanted to introduce you to Sawyer.” She nods toward me. “She’s going to be replacing me when I retire at the end of the month.”
“Oh, wow, I didn’t know you found anyone yet,” he says before directing his attention toward me. “I’m Kade.” He stands, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I shake his hand.
“I found Sawyer yesterday actually, at a watch shop of all places.” Darla laughs. “Let’s just say, from the second I walked in, I knew she’d be great for the job.” She winks at me, refraining from saying that what she walked into was me getting fired.
“Well, that’s lucky. I’m sure you’ll love it here,” he says to me, then turns to Darla. “I still can’t imagine you not being here every day. Lo is especially going to miss you.”
“Oh, please. You know I’ll come visit,” she says. “Plus, I already know Logan will love Sawyer. Tell her to come by sometime this week so I can introduce them, okay?”
“I’ll tell her.” He smiles.
“Good. I’ll send your appointment back when he gets here,” Darla tells him, and he nods before we walk out of the room.
“Nice meeting you,” I call back to him before following her again.
She leads me to the very last room on the right, which is the break room for all the staff. Inside are multiple couches, a coffee table, and a small dining table with chairs filling the room. There’s a fridge stocked with food and a microwave on the counter. There’s also a TV hanging on the wall across from the couch.
After finishing the tour, I follow Darla back to the front desk and continue to shadow her for the next hour and a half. I learn how to use the computer software for appointments, how to communicate with clients, pricing, and more.
Trix and Sky both pop out of their rooms during that time to officially introduce themselves. Both of them are also incredibly nice, and people who I could see myself hanging out with.
The entire time as I work alongside Darla, I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way I got this lucky by having this perfect job just handed to me. The work isn’t bad, the employees are by far the kindest people I’ve ever worked with, and even the clients have all been great.
It almost feels too perfect to be true.
Until I realize that it is.