Chapter 5
“Son of a monkey-cock sucking fluncha-munch!”
“Colorful,” Charlie said as we stepped into Leather and Ink.
“Where’s the angry pirate?” I looked around the boutique, my eyes skimming over the racks of clothes in an attempt to find the owner of the vocal, creative cursing.
“I think it’s coming from the dressing room.”
We headed toward the back of the boutique and sure enough, the grumbling and growling grew louder.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Fuck,” the woman muttered and then she raised her voice to a louder caliber. “Be out in a sec!”
Charlie and I exchanged a look and she raised her brows.
A moment later, the black curtain of the dressing room whooshed open and a tall, angry blonde stood with an assortment of clothes hanging over her arm.
She flashed a smile. “How are you ladies doing today?”
“Uh, good,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Okay?” The blonde sailed past us and began hanging the clothes up on the racks.
“We heard you cussing like a drunken pirate who had his peg leg stolen,” Charlie said.
“Oh.” The blonde shot us a sheepish look. “Sorry about that. I was kind of stuck in a pair of pants. They didn’t fit and my sister went next door to the sandwich shop to grab us food so I had no help to get out of them. I can’t even begin to tell you about the wiggle I just did to get them off.”
“Do you own the boutique?” Charlie asked.
The woman shook her head. “No. My name’s Willa. I used to work here, but now I just fill in from time to time when Laura—the actual owner—has an appointment or errands or something.”
“Ah,” Charlie said, looking around.
“How’d you find us?” she asked. “Social media? The internet?”
“Word of mouth, actually,” Charlie said as she picked up a black leather halter top. “I just got a tattoo at Three Kings and Brielle said we had to check this place out.”
“Brielle!” Willa exclaimed. “I love Brielle! Who did your tattoo? Virgil?”
Charlie shook her head. “Roman.”
“Oh. Roman.” She grinned. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
“So hot,” Charlie agreed.
“Can I help you find anything in particular?” Willa asked.
“More clothes that will show off my shoulder tattoo,” Charlie said.
“Well you’ve already found that halter, which is one of our most popular items, but come this way.” Willa waved Charlie over, but I stayed put and perused at my own speed.
The front door to the boutique opened and a redheaded teenager walked in.
“Congratulations,” the teenager said as she approached the counter. “The most disgusting calzone award now belongs to you.”
“I’m with a customer,” Willa called back. “Maybe try and rein it in?”
“No offense,” Charlie drawled, “but we heard you say son of a monkey-cock. I’m so stealing that, by the way.”
Willa laughed.
“The pants?” the teenager asked.
“Yep,” Willa said.
“I told you to wait to try them on.”
“Waverly,” Willa said. “I’d like you to meet—oh sorry, I didn’t get your names.”
“I’m Charlie.” Charlie waved.
“I’m Hayden,” I added.
“The redhead is my sister, Waverly. If you think I have a potty mouth, Waverly outperforms me ten to one.”
“Thank you,” Waverly said, her blue eyes shining with amusement.
“You guys okay to look around while I eat?” Willa asked. “I’m starving.”
“Have at it,” Charlie said.
“Uh, Willa? You might want to eat it in your car,” Waverly said, her nose wrinkling.
Willa sighed. “It’s gonna stink up the place, isn’t it?”
“And make me vomit.” Waverly made a face and pinched her nose. “A calzone with meatballs, anchovies, and banana peppers? I understand pregnancy cravings, but dear Lord. Don’t take us down with you.”
“You’re pregnant?” Charlie asked Willa. “Oh, the pants situation makes a little more sense now.”
“Second trimester. Where all of a sudden, my pants no longer fit. Like, even getting them up my thighs is an ordeal. I’ve succumbed to wearing yoga pants or my husband’s sweats. Sadly, they fit me now.”
“That sounds not at all fun,” Waverly said.
“Right?” Charlie agreed.
“You guys okay if I eat real fast?” Willa asked. “I’m not being super professional, but if I don’t eat I’m gonna get mean.”
“Eat,” I urged.
“I’ll ring them up,” Waverly said. “I got it.”
“Thanks. Give me ten minutes. Fifteen tops,” Willa said as she grabbed the bag with the calzone and left.
Waverly’s phone chimed in her back pocket, and she fished it out of her pants. She looked at the screen and then hastily typed a reply.
“What do you think of this?” Charlie asked as she held up a strapless leather dress. “Think this’ll look good on me?”
“Everything looks good on you,” I said with a smile. “And it’ll definitely show off your tattoo.”
“Tattoo?” Waverly asked, looking up from her phone. “You got a tattoo?”
“Yeah.” Charlie nodded. “A few days ago.”
“Cool! Can I see it?” Waverly asked. “I want a tattoo, but Willa won’t let me get one until I’m eighteen.”
“You’re not eighteen?” Charlie asked. “I could’ve sworn you were at least eighteen.”
“You’re my new best friend.” Waverly grinned. “If I thought I could get a fake ID and go get a tattoo, I’d totally do it. But I’d only get my tattoo at Three Kings because they’re the best. And they all know I’m only fifteen. So, they won’t ink me.” She rolled her eyes.
“What kind of tattoo would you get?” I asked Waverly as Charlie headed to the dressing room with a few hangers of clothes.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I talked to Roman about designing something for me and Willa to get together. Sisterly bonding and all that.”
My phone trumpeted from the bottom of my purse. I fished around and found it. The name flashing across the screen caused anxiety to churn in my stomach.
“Charlie! I’ve got to step outside and take this call,” I said.
“Okay! I won’t make a decision without you!” she yelled back.
I walked toward the front door of the boutique, my phone already to my ear. “Hello, Oliver.”
“I didn’t think I’d get you,” he said after a brief pause. “Usually when I call you let it go to voicemail. I leave a voicemail and then you call me back after the board meeting.”
A blast of cold air hit my cheeks and I huddled in on myself. “Usually that’s the way of it, yeah.”
“But you answered this time.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Momentary insanity.”
The old man chuckled. “Will you have another lapse in sanity and come to the next board meeting in a few weeks?”
“Doubtful,” I said. “I’m not on the board.”
“Not yet. But your father would want?—”
“Thanks for calling, Oliver. I’ll read the minutes when they’re available.”
I hung up and closed my eyes.
My throat tightened; my eyes filled with tears. I hastily turned my head and swiped at my cheeks. When I felt in control again, I turned toward the boutique. A silent gasp caught in my throat as I saw a man with pale skin pointing a gun at me.
He reeked of sweat and onions. “Give me your fucking purse!”
My limbs were frozen with terror.
“Do you want me to shoot you, bitch? Hand over the fucking purse!”
He lifted his aim to my head as I held out my purse with wobblily arms.
A gunshot sounded and my would-be attacker screamed as he pitched forward and slightly away from me, grabbing his shoulder and momentarily lowering the gun away from my face. In a rage, he swung his arm back toward me, pointing the pistol at my forehead. Before I could process what was happening, there was another gun shot. It went through his neck and he dropped to the ground, gurgling and gasping for air. In a few short seconds, he fell silent.
I looked in the direction of my savior. Willa was poised with both hands wrapped around her pistol. She lowered it slowly and looked at me. “Are you okay?”
My head was full of static as I glanced at the prostrate dead body on the ground, blood leaking from his wounds as he lay there.
The front door of the boutique blew open and Waverly and Charlie ran outside.
“What the fuck!” Waverly yelled.
Charlie was wearing a strapless leather dress and goosebumps erupted across her shoulders and chest. “Oh my God!”
“Hayden,” Willa barked. “Are you okay?”
My gaze found hers. Bile churned in my belly. “No. I’m not okay,” I said, right before I turned my head and puked.