Chapter One Like a Fisting Tattoo? #2
Owen rolls his eyes, grateful that he seems to have pushed through the pain, turning his attention back to his phone just
in time to catch the next barrage of text messages.
Kaitlyn: Owen
Kaitlyn: Owen Jimothy Henson
Kaitlyn: Owennnnnnnnn
Kaitlyn: I know you’re getting these
Kaitlyn: I keep telling my phone to notify you anyway
Kaitlyn: what kind of sick fuck keeps their phone on dnd???
Kaitlyn: What if there was an emergency???? What if I was dying???
Kaitlyn: Owennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn it’s an emergency!!!!!!
Kaitlyn: SOS
The last time she sent an SOS message was because Arsicault ran out of their chocolate almond croissants early.
“Are you done?” Owen asks.
“Uh . . . yeah . . .” Trevor’s mood switches in an instant. “You, uh . . . mentioned numbing cream earlier. I was wondering
if that was still, you know—”
“It’s too late for that,” Owen tells him bluntly, prepared to give a further explanation when the shop’s phone starts to ring.
“Incoming call from—” The robotic voice of the landline cuts through the mostly empty shop, reading out a number that Owen
knows all too well. He crosses the floor in a few quick strides, snatching up the receiver.
“What do you want, Kaitlyn?” Owen doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance.
“Wow, not even a hello?” she scoffs. “Or a ‘Thank you for calling Sunset Tattoo Owen can’t fault her.
“I’m coming,” he says.
“Okay. Favor number two—”
“Two favors? You’re pushing it.” He tries his best to make a joke. He’s never really been all that good at differentiating
his tone between serious and sarcastic. Thankfully, Kaitlyn always seems to know for him.
“Hardy-har. Tomorrow, Abby can handle picking up dinner, but I was thinking that we need some desserts.”
“And you just assume that I’m prepared to spend all tomorrow baking?”
“Like you mind,” Kaitlyn scoffs. “Besides, I checked the freezer, and you’ve already got cookie dough stockpiled.”
“Who is coming?”
“Abigail and me, obviously. Kevin’s coming up from San Jose. And Hailey and Ravi will be there, but they’re dropping Pari
off with Ravi’s mom, so it’s a kid-free zone.”
“As if you’ve never been drunk in front of her before.”
“That happened once!” Kaitlyn reminds him. “And she was fine. I’m still convinced it made me a better babysitter.”
“I looked after her for the rest of the night while you were passed out on the couch!”
“Of course you’re taking credit for a woman’s work.” Kaitlyn tsk-tsks him. “Typical man. Besides, there will be no drinking
for me tomorrow.”
“Getting ahead of your resolutions?”
“Something like that!” Kaitlyn replies without elaborating.
“Okay, well.” Owen ignores her. “That shouldn’t be a problem, you’re not a picky bunch.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Kaitlyn’s voice floods with relief.
“Okay, well, if that’s everything,” Owen starts to say, “I’ve got a client—”
Then Kaitlyn cuts in. “Jacobiscomingtoo.”
The words come out so quickly that Owen can’t be sure of what she’s said at first. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want to understand what she’s telling him.
Because he can’t have heard her right. Right?
“Owen?” Kaitlyn’s voice is distant in his ear, like he’s underwater. He stands there for what feels like an impossibly long
time, staring at the walls of Sunset Tattoo & Piercing, remembering how big everything looked when he first walked in to apply
so many years ago, his portfolio held in a vise grip as he considered turning around and making a run for it.
“Yeah?”
“You heard me, right?” she asks.
“I did.” Owen swallows. “I . . . You said he was going to stay in Dover.”
They’d had the conversation two weeks ago, after Owen shuffled into the kitchen midafternoon, still half asleep after an appointment
that ran way longer than he expected the night before. It’d taken him a moment to gather who on earth she was talking to on the phone,
but Kaitlyn’s eagerness to wrap up the conversation once Owen entered the room had been a pretty big sign.
“Yeah, that’s what he told me too,” Kaitlyn continues as Owen snaps himself back to reality. “But he and his team pushed through
their last round of whatever . . . You know I don’t know what that man’s doing. Marine biologists are weird. Anyway, his schedule
cleared up, and he’s catching a red-eye into the country.”
“Oh . . . huh.”
“Yeah . . .”
Owen gnaws on the inside of his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Trevor waving at him from across the shop, pointing
at his watch-less wrist when he finally catches Owen’s attention.
“I wanted to tell you before he shows up tomorrow.”
“Not really giving me much notice, huh?”
Tomorrow.
“Sorry . . .”