63. Lolly
sixty-three
Lolly
“Thanks Corina,” I mouth as I slip out the front door. She’s staying with Mom tonight so I can help Jay finish setting up his new security system.
The drive to the tattoo shop is easy and before I know it, I’m putting my baby in park after just two songs.
The smell of astringent and leather hits as soon as I open the door. The humming of conversations and buzzing of machines barely audible over the stereo system.
What in all fuck is he listening to?
“What’s up, man?” Jay calls from the back. His oversized white tee with the sleeves cut out only further pushing the bouncer meets lumberjack look.
“Not much. Told you I’d be here,” I say with a smirk.
“Is Corina with your mom?” He asks as I round the corner of his booth.
“Yeah. She said they’ve had a great day. Mom even worked in the garden this afternoon.”
“Love to hear it.”
“Love to see it,” I reply.
I’m not particularly excited about re-wiring and mounting his new cameras since he renovated the shop, but I’d probably slap someone’s grandma if Jay really needed me to.
I take in the new design. The black and white tile flooring makes the red touches pop. “Holy shit. This piece is sick. Did you do this?” I ask as I study a painting.
The canvas is easily eight feet long, covering the once-empty wall with a centered pin-up style zombie with huge tits.
“Fuck yes, I did. I even drew the burger joint behind her,” he grins.
“The Die-ner,” is written in bold green letters across a dilapidated diner, the color so rich it looks like it would be sticky if I touched it. Unbelievable.
“This is sick, Jay. Seriously. These old cars? Are you fucking kidding me?” I stare in awe, a wicked grin on my face. “It’s almost hard to be happy for you when you’re so annoyingly talented, dude.”
“Hah. Fuck you, too.”
I lean back, making myself comfortable as Jay finishes wrapping up, helping myself to a bottle of water out of his mini fridge before unwrapping a sucker.
“Lolly,” he deadpans.
“Jay,” I echo, pulling the lollipop out of my mouth dramatically.
“What’s his name?”
I choke, the water almost spewing out of my nose. “What’s whose name?”
“You sonofabitch. You fucked someone, didn’t you? You’ve got that look. Don’t fucking lie to me man. Who is he?”
“So, what year model is the cadillac on your big titty zombie spread?”
“Nope. Nice try. Not falling for it, sweetcheeks.”
Fuck.
I glance around the shop, realizing quickly that no one gives two shits about what we’re saying. Hell, no way they can hear over the noise any damn way.
“I accidentally ran into someone I haven’t seen in a while,” I admit. “Pants stayed on though. Swear it.”
He glares at me knowingly.
“Huh-uh. Nope, there’s more,” he says before crossing his arms and glaring at me.
“It’s nothing. It was just awkward because I was picking up briefs for Mom and he happened to be working the counter.”
“You were buying diapers?” he laughs.
“Yep,” I shake my head, “I was buying fucking diapers.”
“Lolly,” he says, sternly this time. “Tell. Me.”
“It was him.”
“Him, who?”
“Him, him.”
“Him!?”
My cheeks heat as I let my gaze fall to the floor. My sudden interest in the tile pattern truly astounding.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” I fucking honestly wish I was. I wish I was full of shit because my entire world has been fucked sideways since I walked into that place. I grab the back of my neck absentmindedly.
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s him.” I’d know those eyes anywhere. I’d know him anywhere. I could sense him in a crowd and find him in a sea of people.
“Fuck,” Jay huffs as he takes a seat across from mine.
“Fuck, indeed,” I echo.
We sit in the questioning silence for a bit before Jay stands up and begins working on getting the system and tools together, leaving me with my thoughts. I pull out my phone, unable to stop myself from putting his name in the search bar.
Simon Bailey.
What have you been up to?
Where have you been?
Who are you now?
Tell me your story, green eyes. Let me re-write the ending.