Chapter 26
TRIPP
I don’t think I’ve slept in days.
My eyes are heavy. My focus is all over the place. I’m surprised that I made it to the shop without having to pull over.
Cracking open the can of an energy drink, I suck down at least half of it before dropping into the chair at my station.
It won’t help with the jitters I’ve already been fighting off or the need to look over my shoulder every three seconds – for what, I don’t know – but it might help me stay awake, at least.
The pens in their holder clatter as the entire thing falls over when I reach for one near the center, and I scoop them all back into place before reaching for my flash book to finish a piece I started last week.
My eyes fix themselves to a guy standing outside the shop’s front window. He’s got his hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat that’s way too heavy to be wearing in the Florida heat, and there’s a bag slung over one shoulder that looks like it might fall apart at any second.
“Holy shit,” I say, setting down my pen to make my way out the front door.
When I round the corner, he smiles at me, but he looks like hell. His cheeks and the tip of his nose have been sunburned one too many times. The bags under his eyes tell me that he probably hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.
“Where the fuck have you been, man?” I ask him, reaching for the bag on his shoulder as I pull the door open for him. “We haven’t seen you in months.”
“I just need a bottle of water, please,” he tells me, and I roll my eyes at him in response.
He knows that’s not how it works around here.
I guide him into the back office and he settles onto the couch while I grab him a few bottles of water and one of the toiletry bags that we keep on hand.
It’s not much, just some stuff to use for brushing his teeth and getting as cleaned up as he can, but it’s enough to hopefully keep him from getting sick.
“You still like burgers?” I ask him as I pull my phone from my pocket.
He nods as he pulls off his heavy coat, folding it over on itself to create a makeshift pillow.
CJ is an older guy, has to be in his mid-to-late seventies, but years of sun damage make him look a lot older than that. He’d been coming to the shop every week for three years straight; when he suddenly stopped, we’d all kind of assumed the worst.
Everyone here got really quiet for a while, but none of us would admit out loud to the others that we were quietly grieving the loss of our friend.
I didn’t think I’d be so relieved to see him again.
“Get some sleep and lunch’ll be waiting for you when you wake up, okay?” I tell him, offering a friendly pat to his arm as he lays down.
When I step out of the office, leaving the door cracked, the sound of of Connor’s bike engine filters into the building as he slows to a stop out back.
I try to ignore the fact that I can feel my heart beating just a little bit harder in my chest at the sound, blowing out a breath with a shake of my head.
Moving my focus to the front of the shop while I work on the food order, I silently plead for someone to come in for a walk-in while Connor unloads at his station.
Anyone. Anything.
“Hey,” he calls out.
“Hey,” I say with a hard knot forming in my stomach, keeping my eyes on my phone’s screen. “CJ’s in the office. I’m putting in a food order, if you want anything.”
“What the hell?” He asks, the relief in his voice palpable from here. “Where was he?”
“He didn’t say.” I can feel his body closing in on mine, even while I try to keep my back turned toward him. “I’m hoping he got a bed somewhere for a while.”
He shifts, the movement bringing his body closer to mine. I pull my sketchbook closer to me as I set my phone onto the desk, hurriedly flipping through page after page filled with doodles and sketches in search of a clean one.
Again, he shifts closer, this time dropping his hand onto the back of my neck, and I lurch.
“Tripp,” he says, “I know that what happened that night was a power play for you, and I know I fell right into it, but we had sex. You wiped my cum off of your stomach, for God’s sake.
” He pauses, shaking his head. “You kissed me like it meant something to you. So I think, after all of that, you can probably manage to look at me.”
“No, I can’t, because when I look at you, I still want to knock your teeth out of your skull,” I argue.
Reaching to the corner of my desk, I pull a few different pens from the too-full holder waiting there. A heavy breath forces itself from my lungs.
“But Jules and I floated the idea of ‘sharing each other’ with you, and I—” My hand reaches into the air in front of me, grabbing at nothing until my fist tightens. “I just can’t talk to you right now.”
A foot comes up to the seat of my chair, forcing it to spin, and forcing me to face him as a result.
He has a hand braced against his hip and there’s a challenging arch in his brow.
“I’m not a unicorn,” he tells me. “I’m not some toy for you to pull out and play with when your bed goes stale.
I’ve tried that before, and the only thing it got me was hurt.
So if you want to ‘share me,’ or however it is that you want to word it, you can accept that I acknowledged I screwed up, and you can make yourself forgive me like you did for Jules.
“You said you know I’m sorry,” he continues, ticking items off on his fingers like he’s making a list. “So punch me out and get it over with, accept my apology so we can move forward, or tell me we’re done here so I can move on with my life and stop wondering if you’ll forgive me, even when your tongue is in my throat. ”
Pivoting my chair, I bring my attention back to the paper in front of me, reaching for a pen with my foot tapping against the tile beneath me.
There’s an unfamiliar tightness in my chest, and it only gets stronger when, after a few beats of silence, Connor huffs and turns to move toward his station. My eyes flit between the front door, the cracked-open door of the office, and the back exit before I pull in a sharp breath.
“You’re right,” I admit quietly, almost through my teeth.
“I wanted to hurt you, but— fuck — you apologized again, and it pissed me off because I already accepted the first apology, you absolute fucking dumbass.” Tossing the pen in my hand to the other side of my desk in defeat, I lean back in my chair with a heavy sigh.
“I don’t know why I’m still pissed at you when I— I just am. ”
When I look in his direction again, I don’t miss the smirk on his face or the way that he wets his lower lip as he drops into his own chair.
“Now that’s something I can work with,” he tells me.
The shop has been quiet all day. I hate quiet days. The more of them that I have, the more I wonder if Julia’s been right about selling the place and washing my hands of it. I could find work in some other studio under someone else’s name and take stress off of my shoulders and hers.
I’ve kept the shop for myself.
But as I walk my third – and final – client of the day to the door, my eyes move across the shop to where Connor is pushing a needle through the belly button of some giggling teenage girl, and I can’t help but wonder if…
No, I tell myself, that’s stupid.
Especially now.
As CJ finally makes his way out of the office to say his goodbyes, we load him down with some last minute things that he might need, all the while inundated with his relentless and unnecessary thank yous.
“You meet me back here in the morning, and I’ll have some fresh clothes and breakfast for you, alright, man?” I tell the old man, clapping him on the back.
“You’re nice boys,” he says with a nod. “Good boys.”
“No we’re not,” I laugh, “we just like you.”
I walk him out of the shop with the rest of his food and the ten-dollar bill that Connor had in his wallet, and I watch to make sure that he gets across the street okay.
With CJ out of sight and off to wherever it is that keeps him safe at night, I pull the heavy metal shutters on the windows. The door is next, once I step back into the shop, and I move to the register counter to tidy up the flash books after that.
Small tasks that will keep my hands and my eyes busy and off of the only other person left in the shop with me.
The sound of him at his station, humming quietly along with the playlist still flowing from our shared bluetooth speaker crosses the shop to reach my ears. His favorite song is playing; the only one he ever hums to. The one that he always perks his head up toward every time it comes on.
With a shake of my head, I slide behind the pony wall that separates my station from the one next to it.
Allowing myself a look in Connor’s direction for less time than it takes me to blink, I get stuck there.
He’s staring at me; and the corner of his mouth quirks up as soon as our eyes meet.
I try to look away from him, if only to quiet the tugging in my chest and my stomach, but I can’t.
As if some other force can feel the tension in my body, my phone vibrates against the desk top, stealing my attention as my eyes snap to Nia’s name on its screen. I clear my throat with a shake of my head before pulling the phone to my ear.
“What do you want?” I growl, throwing a healthy dose of playful anger into my voice.
Katie squeals loud giggles through the receiver, and when she finally stops laughing to speak, it sounds like she’s got a mouth full of food.
“What does the beach look like?” She asks. “Can you send me more candy?”
“It’s sunny and sandy, and you have to ask your parents,” I tell her.
I’ll leave it a surprise that I’ve already packed up more flip-flop and palm tree shaped novelty candies, colored pencils, and temporary tattoos with the hair products that Julia’s shipping out to Brody and Nia at the end of this week.
Connor’s face scrunches and he mouths ‘Katie?’