Chapter 19
Ranger
I went back to Elle’s place after she walked to the shop and looked at her porch. It was covered with petals and a box. The box worried me until I saw who it was from. I figure a package from Jorge is pretty safe and I don’t need to open it or destroy it, but why did she leave it? Why hasn’t she been home? What the fuck do the petals mean? She’s stayed mostly hidden in her studio all day and night, rarely stepping out. I’ve seen a few food deliveries, but that’s it. No visitors, no leaving. Except when she slinks out at night, runs home, changes the lights that are on inside, and runs back. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t be close to her. Touch her. Make sure she’s okay.
I’ve stayed close, subsisting on coffee and the occasional cigarette when I’m desperate. I’ve been seeing clients during the day and splitting my nights between the asshole and Elle. We all leave next week for the Cove, and I’m so ready to be out of this town for a weekend, but at what cost? I’ll be in direct closeness with Elle while all her brothers watch over her. I heard Keith is also planning on joining us. Woo. My enthusiasm knows no bounds at that, which makes my instructions for the wedding almost comical. They are to show up and not be a grumpy asshole. I promised Tiny to give it my best try. He told me to fuck off, and we laughed. I’ve also been recruited to be the muscle for the moms. It seems that while Tiny and Davis might be great friends, their mothers are like two peas in a pod.
Elle is leaving earlier than everyone else because she’s got a thing at her art gallery. We’re all invited Friday night where I’ve been promised cheap appetizers and beer. Better than the cheap wine people usually drink at these things. If that means I have to put on a monkey suit for a few hours and act human while looking at art I don’t understand, I guess I’ll survive.
Barbie cleared my schedule for the long weekend but is keeping the shop open. She’s bringing in some guys from Baltimore we served with who opened their own shop to assist. You wouldn’t think a small tattoo shop in the middle of nowhere on a mountain range would be busy, but our talent and name precede us. The guys coming in have already filled up hours of their time with clients who live closer to Boulder Canyon than Baltimore. It’ll be exposure for us, and hopefully some new clientele as well.
Tonight Tiny and Joker are both at the shop with me. Music is filtering down from upstairs, but that’s the only sign that Elle is in residence. Tiny looks lost since Lottie is working an overnight shift at the vet clinic and Nat deserted him to stay with Trish and Harper.
“Elle know you’re here?” I ask Tiny when they get settled. Joker is here for some fresh ink.
“Nah. I tried to call her earlier, but she didn’t answer. She gets like this before an opening.”
“Like what?”
“Like nothing outside of her studio walls exists. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and freaks out until the night of.”
“Should you go check on her?”
“Why? She’ll just yell at me to go away and slam the door in my face.” He shrugs.
“And when was the last time she did that to you?”
He thinks about it before answering. “Probably ten years? I think I was home on leave once when she had an opening.”
“So ten years ago she was freaking out about a new opening when she had probably just opened her gallery and you think that’s just how she is?” I ask him, getting mad at him on Elle’s behalf.
“Well, I mean, when you say it like that it makes me look like an asshole,” he defends. “I’m not an asshole, and you know it. You’re the asshole. But if she needs something, all she has to do is ask, and she’s never asked.”
“Have you ever asked her?”
He opens his mouth to reply and snaps it closed, looking down. He shakes his head. “I am an asshole, aren’t I?”
“No, you idiot, you aren’t. You’re a brother.”
“What’s that mean?” he asks.
“It means she”s not the sole focus of your life. If Lottie were stressing out or freaking out, you’d be there for her, right?”
“Of course.”
“You’d make her talk to you, get it all out, and then you’d put a plan together to solve her issue.”
“Your point?”
“My point, Andrew, is that you can’t see those things with your sister. You love her, you want good things for her, you want to be there when she tells you she needs something. But you are not going to be proactive to her needs because she’s removed from your immediate bubble.”
“Still makes me sound like an asshole,” he grumbles.
Joker, who hasn’t had anything to say on the subject so far, raises his brow at me, a smirk on his face. “Well, Mr. Smarty-pants, why don’t you go up those stairs and see if Elle needs you…for anything.”
I shoot him a glare, but not nearly as fierce as the one Tiny gives him.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tiny stands, towering over the two of us.
“Sit down, you over protective fool,” Joker warns him. “I mean, if Ranger here knows so much about your sister, maybe he needs to step in and be her rescuer.”
“You made it sound like,” he looks around the room and lowers his voice, “sex.”
“If that’s what she needs, would it offend you to have one of your best friends be the person she gets it from?”
Again, Tiny opens his mouth and snaps it closed. I continue to glare at Joker.
“What?” He looks at me. “Isn’t it good to know that your friends don’t think you’re degenerate enough to keep away from their sisters?” He laughs.
“If I had a sister, I’d let you bang her.”
Tiny stands again, pacing back and forth. “No one should be banging my sister! She’s innocent!”
That causes Joker and I to laugh out loud. Even removing the aforementioned banging from the situation, Elle is not innocent and hasn’t been in a very long time.
“Sit down,” we both tell him, still laughing.
He does, plopping into the chair and letting out a breath. “Is she okay?” he asks me.
“How the fuck should I know?”
“She’s your tenant.”
“And? I can tell you she’s paid me six months of rent in advance. I can tell you she comes and goes as she needs and she talks to Barbie when she’s down here. That’s about it.”
Joker gives me a look. You know the one. Big hairy eyeball calling me an idiot look.
“If you hear anything?” Tiny asks, leaving off the real part of his question.
“Dude, I’m not her fucking babysitter. She’s a big girl.”
“What’s going on with the special assignment?” Joker asks, sitting in the client chair and changing the subject.
“Boring as always. No new news. Still don’t know who the woman is.”
“What woman?” Tiny asks, wanting in on the conversation.
We tell him about following Keith and his weird ass dates with the unnamed woman.
“What could that puss stain on society be doing that’s so interesting?” he asks.
“That’s just it. We don’t know, but our guts are telling us there’s something there,” I explain to Tiny.
“And we listen to our guts.”
“Plus,” Joker adds, “he’s a horrible boyfriend.”
Even Tiny smiles at that, the urge to call Joker out going unspoken.
“I mean, what did we ever do to him for him to hate us?”
“Could be that we were assholes to him the first time we met.”
“Only because he was being a fucker to Ginny,” Joker defends.
“Not saying it wasn’t warranted,” I agree. “I’m just saying, you know, maybe the asshole holds a grudge. Maybe he can’t get over the fact that we were assholes too, because we were.”
“It’s what guys do. We protect the females in our group from assholes,” Joker again defends our actions.
“I still don’t like the guy,” I say. “He’s doing something shady, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Not if I find out first.” Joker grins.
“Fuck you. What are we doing tonight?” I ask, sitting on my stool in front of Joker.
He pulls out a drawing and hands it to me.
“Is that a cello?” Tiny asks.
“Yeah,” Joker mulishly answers.
“Any particular reason you’re getting a cello?” Tiny grins, knowing full well why.
“No,” Joker answers quickly. Too quickly.
I save him by changing the subject this time. “Everyone getting ready for next week?”
Tiny immediately lights up. “I am so ready to wife that woman.”
“What about the other part?” I ask, knowing he’s been working on adoption paperwork to surprise Lottie and Nat with.
“It’s in the works. My brothers have been helping, and I talked to James Covey last week, and he’s getting all the paperwork drawn up and processed.”
“And how is the sperm donor?”
“He signed his rights away two months ago. Came to me and asked if I would take care of them.”
Joker pats him on the shoulder, a small smile on his lips. “You might be an asshole when it comes to your sister, but you’re a fucking good man.”
“I just love them. They’re my girls,” he tells us, and I hear the catch in his voice.
We don’t continue the conversation after that. I get to work on Joker. Tiny puts on some music and pours us all a drink. Coke for me, since I don’t drink while I’m inking. A single shot of whiskey for Joker—don’t want his blood too thin. Tiny settles on a beer. I get to work putting the cello on his left shoulder. We all know it represents Ginny. What Tiny doesn’t know is that over the last two years, Joker has slowly added ink to represent everyone in our ragtag family. He’s got a book for Trish, a wolf for Lottie, and now a cello for Ginny. He’s also got something that represents the male faction of our group. I wonder what he would do for Elle. A paintbrush maybe? An easel? Would he put it next to the tattoo gun on his left bicep that represents me?
Before the night is over, Davis joins us, having closed up the bar. Sarge calls to make sure we’re all behaving. Always the dad of the group. Always our Sarge. Trish and Lottie both call to check up on the guys, and slowly everyone starts to disperse—Tiny to see Lottie at the clinic, Davis home to his family. Joker leaves with a promise to keep tabs on Keith for the next day or so. By the time I lock the door behind them, it’s two in the morning.
I turn off the music and can hear Elle moving around upstairs. It sounds like she’s pacing, but I can’t be sure. I wish I knew what was going on in her head. Is she working overtime trying to finish up everything for the show? Is she in the groove and can’t step away for fear of losing her mojo? The earlier conversation replays in my mind. Maybe it’s more. Maybe she needs someone. Maybe that someone could be me…just for the night.
I take the stairs two at a time and knock on the door. Part of me prays she doesn’t answer. A larger part—a growing part—prays she does. Naked.
But when the door swings open, I am not prepared for what I find.