4. FOUR
FOUR
CORY
What the hell had I been thinking, going on the date with him? Going on a date at all, really, but especially with him. I should’ve gotten right back into my car the second I realized he was my blind date.
I stormed into my house and headed straight for the fridge. I was starving, but as I opened the door, the light of the fridge illuminated exactly what I already knew. There was no food. Again.
Grabbing one of the beers from the door, because beer had calories and carbs and could totally count as dinner, I headed to the living room and flopped down on the sofa. Siren jumped up next to me and gave my face a few licks before sitting down on the couch.
I scratched the dog behind her ear. “We don’t need a guy. We’re perfectly happy just the two of us, right?”
Siren just looked at me, and licked her snout, tail wagging happily behind her.
I let my head fall back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “He was really hot, though. ”
Why hadn’t he gotten uglier? Wasn’t that a law with relationships and one night stands? You’re supposed to date or hookup with someone, and then stalk their Instagram years later and be able to say, “Damn, I had him in his prime!”.
I wasn’t certain I’d had Garrett in his prime. He was hot at the wedding, but fuck me if he didn’t age like a fine wine. If two years did that to him, what would five or ten do? That thought wasn’t safe to think about.
“Ugh! But his eyes, Siren.” I turned my head to look at Siren who was now laying down. “You should’ve seen his eyes.”
She rolled onto her back with her legs up in the air.
Yeah, honestly same here.
I took a few long pulls of beer and stood up. “You need to go outside?”
The dog half fell and half leaped off the couch and ran to the back door, waiting with prancing feet until I opened the door for her.
“Be quick about it and no barking. I don’t feel like talking to neighbors.”
Midway back to the kitchen, my phone rang, and I answered without really looking. There was only one person it would be.
“Kins—”
“Are you okay?” she cut me off.
My brows pinched together, and I looked around my house. “Yeah, of course I am. Why?”
“Okay good! I was just checking.” Relief replaced the concern in her tone .
“Are you going to tell me why you’re asking?”
“Well, it’s just that Garrett texted Hayes asking for your address, and I wasn’t sure—”
It was my turn to interrupt her. “Wait, what? He texted Hayes? Why would he—”
I trailed off at the sound of a knock at the front door. Kinsley’s voice filtered through the phone, but I wasn’t really hearing her.
Placing my beer on the half wall between the living room and kitchen, I crept quietly to the door and peeked through the peephole. My Jeep sat alone in my driveway, and the streetlamp a couple of mailboxes down cast a golden glow over an empty road. It’s possible I imagined the knock, but Garrett asked for my address.
I opened the door and peered out, but he wasn’t there. No one was.
There was, however, some thing .
Right on top of the doormat that read, “Are you lost?”—a Christmas gift from Glen—sat a white takeout box with a napkin on it.
“Cory? Cory, are you there? What’s happening?”
I glanced around the night, but the only cars on the street belonged to my neighbors.
Hesitating a moment to see if I could figure out where he went, I grabbed the container before quickly closing and locking the door behind me.
“Yeah. Sorry, I’m here.”
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter? ”
With the styrofoam container in hand, I walked to the kitchen and opened it. My chicken parmesan from the restaurant stared back up at me. I flipped the lid over the food and turned my attention to the napkin.
There was writing.
Cory,
Sorry, this is probably creepy. I assume you’re hungry since you left without eating.
I’d really like another shot at a date.
I’ll come up with a different line next time.
- Garrett
At the bottom of the napkin note was his phone number.
“It’s him,” I muttered, flipping the napkin over like there might be more to it than what was written, and then opened the box again. The food did look really good, and it would be a shame to waste it. I really didn’t like wasting things.
“Garrett? What do you mean? What happened?”
“Nothing happened . He’s just—” I groaned, before continuing. “He’s the guy.”
“What guy? Cory, you’re not making any sense.”
“He’s the guy. The mystery man from your wedding.” I grabbed a fork from the drawer and took a bite of food.
“Garrett’s the guy? Are you kidding me?” Her giddiness carried through the phone .
“Nope.” I stuffed more food in my mouth. It really was delicious. It probably would’ve been better hot and with an admittedly sexy man to look at, but it was still pretty good.
“You sound very not-happy. Was he an ass or something?”
“No, he was quite the opposite.”
“Well, then, what’s the problem?” she asked.
I sighed and shoved the food around the box with my fork. “It was a one-night stand, Kins. I can’t do more right now, and he seems like the more type.”
Silence met my words for a long moment before she spoke. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, babes, I do. But why can’t you let yourself have more ?”
“I just can’t right now, okay? Maybe after the shop has been up and running for a while, but not right now.” I threw the box and the napkin with Garrett’s number in the trash, and folded one of my arms over my stomach. “Listen, I think I’m just going to go to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
Her voice was quieter when she spoke, but I knew she wasn’t judging me. She just wanted me to have someone, and I loved her for it, even as it annoyed me in the moment.
“Okay. I love you.”
I smiled. “I love you too.”
Once I hung up the phone, I let Siren inside and headed upstairs to get ready for bed.
I meant what I said at the restaurant. I couldn’t do this, whatever this was, or whatever he was trying to make it be. DelINKquent Tattoos was set to open Fourth of July weekend, and that deadline was quickly approaching. There just wasn’t time for a relationship, and Garrett was absolutely the relationship type. He didn’t deserve to be strung along while I put him on the back burner to my career, because that’s what I’d do.
It wasn’t just that I’d dedicated the past nine years of my life to tattooing, which in and of itself was reason enough. It was that I had something to prove to a world that still discriminated against people with tattoos, to my mother who couldn’t look her only daughter in the eyes because of said tattoos, and most importantly to myself. I wanted to be something more than just “some pretty girl with a tattoo gun.” I wanted to be respected, and I could not, would not, let anything get in the way of that.
As tempting as Garrett and his jacked Prince Charming-looking self was, I couldn’t let myself fall for him. And I could too. It’d be so easy. Which is exactly why I bolted from the restaurant when he said those incredibly sweet words. Words that admittedly kept repeating themselves in my head like a broken record.
Your dreams are just as beautiful as anyone else’s.
No one, not even Kinsley, had called my dreams beautiful. Cool, sure, and “totally you,” but never beautiful.
I finished brushing my teeth and was making my way to the bed, where Siren was already curled up and waiting for me when I stopped. Flexing my toes against the hardwood, I tapped my fingers against my side and looked toward the stairs. Before I could think twice about what I was doing, I ran down the stairs to the kitchen and pulled Garrett’s napkin out of the trash, shoving it in the junk drawer next to the fridge .
I wasn’t going to text him.
It was just evidence to prove to Hayes why he shouldn’t give random men a single woman’s address.
That was all.
***
My days developed a routine. I woke up, went to my shop with Siren, and did whatever I could accomplish before eleven. Then I’d drop her back off at home and go to Black Stem Studio where I tattooed whatever clients I had scheduled, and maybe a walk-in or two. They were long days, but it had to be done. Things were coming along nicely, but with the shop opening in just under a month, there was still so much to do.
The front desk had been installed, the tattoo chairs had been delivered earlier in the week, and the window decal with the shop name was currently being commissioned. Of course, those were only cosmetics. All of the business and logistical things were also slowly getting done, but with much less enthusiasm.
Every day more pieces came together, and every day I got a little more excited.
But the excitement quickly left my body that day, as I pulled into the parking lot behind the shop and saw my mother’s Mercedes double-parked.
Annette’s slim form stood rigidly and very much out of place at the back of her car. An expensive looking sun hat sat on her perfectly maintained, honey gold hair, shielding most of her expression, as did the ridiculously large sunglasses. But despite all of that, I could tell my mother was not pleased.
How Annette knew about the building, I didn’t know. I sure as shit didn’t tell her, but I wasn’t surprised. Annette had a way of finding things out. She probably paid a P.I. to tail me.
Jokes on that guy because my life was boring as hell.
I parked my car, and hopped out, holding the door open for Siren to jump out. She stayed by my side as I walked to where my mother hadn’t moved an inch. She just stared at the building and the unlit neon sign that read “Tattoos.”
“Mother.” There was no use for pleasantries when they never seemed to make it past our greetings. My greetings, really, as my mother never bothered with them. “What do you want?”
Always one for dramatics, Annette removed her sunglasses, folding the arms in and tucking them into her bag, as if that motion itself was part of the conversation. Finally my mother looked at me. “What is this?”
“I always assumed your fancy private school education taught you how to read. The sign says it’s a tattoo shop.”
Annette’s tone was clipped and icy. “I don’t care what contracts you signed, or how much you paid, you will get rid of this building. No daughter of mine will own a tattoo shop.” The last words left her as if they were acid flaying the skin from her lips.
This wasn’t the first time she’d voice her opinion of me pursuing tattooing as a career in the nine years I’d been doing it. When I first went to apprentice for Glen, she’d threatened him and told him to fire me. Lucky for me, Glen wasn’t easily affected by her tantrums.
But it was getting old. Every time I added another tattoo to my body, or made an advancement career wise, it was the same riot act.
I simply shrugged. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you made it clear years ago that I am no daughter of yours because I do own it. And I won’t be breaking any contracts.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits before softening with the detached nonchalance I was accustomed to. “Well, in that, Cordelia, you are certainly right. You are not my daughter.”
Her words were meant to hurt. To sting. Burn. Cut. Unfortunately, you can’t hurt something that isn’t there, and I had long since removed the pieces of myself that I used to leave lying around for my mother’s torment.
I pet Siren on the head. “Good, I’m glad we agree.” I turned, and started walking toward my shop. I stopped when I got to the back door and called over my shoulder, not glancing back at where I knew she still stood, “And you should leave before I have you arrested for trespassing.”
The door slammed shut behind me.
And, yeah, okay, that was really satisfying.