4. Harrison
FOUR
Harrison
“Hey, boss, any other clients today?”
Shane poked his head of spiky blond hair into my closet of an office, the only contents of which were an ancient desktop that took twenty minutes to power on and a couple of chairs.
“Done for the day.”
Shane whistled. “Wow. It’s only seven on a Friday.” He held up his hands when his eyes met my glare. “I’m just saying,” he said defensively. “It’s a bit slow this weekend.”
“I don’t see you flush with business either,” I grumbled, even though I knew the shop was partially to blame for that.
While the artists at my shop were responsible for taking their own bookings, the shop’s website typically drove at least thirty percent of their traffic. The website that was currently down because of an error I’d made trying to set up new links. I had been on the phone with tech support for an hour yesterday trying to fix it. My technological ineptitude knew no bounds.
I followed Shane out of the office and into the main—and only—room of the shop. It was just a giant square, with each artist having their own station in a corner of the room and a small desk and waiting area at the front. Aside from that, we had a small piercing room in the back. The other artists had already gone home for the evening, and I was about to pack up.
“This is the deadest we’ve seen it in months,” Shane mused, tossing a few papers into a brown leather backpack.
“Why do you keep feeling the need to point out the obvious?” I asked.
Shane had been here the longest, so I knew he wouldn’t take my brusqueness personally. We’d apprenticed together at the same shop south of the city for a few years, back when I’d first moved here. Oliver and I had always known college wasn’t in the cards for either of us, and moving to Denver was something we’d talked about all through high school. I, for one, couldn’t get away from the town we’d grown up in fast enough.
It was bad enough that my peers already thought I was too shy and too poor; as time went on and I found my passion for drawing, I also became the “weird art kid.” Despite my size—and despite Oliver always begging me to try out for whatever sport he was playing—I’d preferred spending my free time in the cramped studio, sketching in silence alongside the school’s ancient art teacher, Mr. Coleman. It hadn’t done much for my popularity, but aside from a few snide remarks, most people left me alone.
That was probably because of the time Kyle Rogers, football star and all-around asshole, cornered me in the hallway with one of his lackeys. They’d ripped up one of my portraits, so I hit him right in the face. When they’d started to fight back, Oliver jumped in, and we started wailing on them both before some teachers broke up the fight. I got suspended for a week, but it had been worth it to see Kyle’s crooked nose for the rest of high school.
Tattooing was art in its most badass form. Who was going to fuck with someone covered in ink from head to toe? Maybe it wasn’t the most noble reason to enter the profession, but eighteen-year-old me had longed for a way to pursue my art in a way that ensured I wouldn’t be messed with. And by now, I’d grown to love the form of expression. Saving up for and starting my own shop was my biggest accomplishment to date.
“I’m just saying, a year ago, we were booked months in advance, and now we’re desperate for a walk in.”
“The climate was different a year ago,” I insisted, but I wasn’t even sure if my statement was accurate. Business wasn’t my expertise, but I had still managed to do well for myself. I had always been financially responsible, at least. Growing up the way I did had given me no choice.
“I just got drinks with Jack from the old shop last week. He said they’re booked solid,” Shane said.
“Jack does sloppy work,” I grunted.
“Hey, watch it.” Shane rolled up his sleeve, showing off a bulky gray skull piece. “I got this piece from him last year.”
I just shrugged. “You should have asked me to do it.”
Shane winced and examined his arm. “You’re probably right.” He rolled his sleeve down before slipping one of his arms through his backpack and shouldering it on. “But isn’t that even more reason why we should be getting more business than him? No one does cleaner line work than you, and my shading is impeccable.”
“It’s just an off month,” I said.
“It’s been an off few months,” Shane mumbled under his breath.
“Is that helping?” I barked.
Shane snorted with laughter. “You know, I think it’s the charming owner that has people beating down the doors to get in.”
“Piss off.” I halfheartedly waved my hand to brush his comments away. Business had been undeniably slow and I wasn’t sure what to do about it, hence the reworking of the website. Web design and running a business weren’t my God-given talents, but no one could ever say that I didn’t work my ass off to make up for that. I grabbed the disinfectant cleaner from the back cabinet and started to wipe down my area.
The chime of a bell sounded through the shop, signaling someone walking in.
Shane perked up first and spun around on his feet. “Why, hello there. What can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for Harrison.”
My head whipped up at the sound of that familiar soft voice.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too,” Lila greeted me. She wore a confident smile, but I could practically see her shaking in her perfectly white tennis shoes. And... overalls ? What kind of grown ass adult wore overalls?
“Oliver told you I was coming by, right?” Her voice faltered this time.
Fucking Oliver. I should have predicted he’d do something like this.
Shane looked between the two of us with a spark of interest.
“And who would you be?” he asked, returning his attention to Lila.
“I’m Lila.” She offered him an outstretched hand and Shane shook it enthusiastically.
“And you’re here to see Harrison?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.
“She’s Oliver’s friend.” My comment was meant to be dismissive, but Shane just looked all the more interested.
“Oliver’s girlfriend?”
“Just friend,” she quickly corrected.
“So, you’re saying you’re single?” Shane leaned against the glass desk and placed his chin in his hand.
“Um, well...” Lila glanced nervously back and forth between Shane and me. It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. She was so desperate for a boyfriend that she’d go on a hundred online dates a month, but the second someone covered in tattoos showed interest she practically clutched her pearls.
“I’m sorry, when did this become a singles mixer?” I demanded, glaring at both of them. “Oliver didn’t say shit to me. What are you doing here?” I asked, although I already had a hunch. Oliver was hellbent on getting me help, whether I wanted it or not.
She cringed. “Oliver really didn’t mention it to you?”
After a few moments of letting her sit in her discomfort, I finally blew out a breath and slumped on the front counter next to Shane. The glass needed to be wiped down, anyway.
“Did he tell you I need help?”
“He told me you asked for help.”
“Does that sound like me?” I arched a brow and her cheeks reddened before she dropped her gaze to her feet.
“He told me you knew I’d be stopping by today.”
“Oliver can’t keep his damned nose out of my business.” I glanced at Shane who raised an eyebrow.
Lila chewed on her bottom lip. The black clock that hung in the entryway ticked loudly, as if signaling each passing awkward second.
“Sorry, I-I can go—” She finally stuttered.
“Wait!” Shane said. “What are you here to help with?”
“Shane, drop it.” I shot him a look that implied he should mind his own goddamn business.
“Um, well. Oliver mentioned your website was down. I was going to take a look at it.”
“What are your credentials?” Shane asked, his tone more curious than condescending.
“Um, I own a company with my friend. ConnectHer? It’s an app that lets women create meetups and networking events.”
Shane pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s badass.”
The air felt thick with her here; I felt exposed for reasons I didn’t care to dive into. Admitting I needed her help was like rolling onto my stomach and waving a flag that said, “I’m vulnerable, fuck with me however you like.”
“Right. Sorry for the mix-up, but we’re good here,” I said, gesturing to the door behind her. “You can blame Oliver for wasting your time.”
“You should let her help, boss.”
“We’re fine.”
“We are not fine.” Shane turned toward Lila, like the two were already in some secret club formed only to undermine me. “If I have to watch him peering over that ancient computer in the back, mumbling to himself for one more day, I’m going to lose my mind,” he said with a smile.
“I’ve almost got it,” I bit out.
“She’s already here,” Shane protested. “Stop being so fucking stubborn and let her look.”
Lila shifted from foot to foot, looking like she wished she could teleport straight out of here.
“I already looked at your website. It’ll probably only take a minute,” she said. “Sometimes, when you make changes to a page or update the source, the link can break. Anyway, I’m not sure if that’s exactly what’s going on, but maybe, if I could just take a look, I’d know for sure.”
She was rambling, nervous energy radiating off her. While the entire purpose of my harsh demeanor was to make people nervous, I did feel a small sense of obligation to Oliver to at least attempt to put Lila at ease.
“Fine,” I said, inhaling slowly through my nose. Stubbornness had no place when it came to ensuring my business ran successfully. Even an asshole like me could see that Lila offering to help was more than generous. It was far beyond anything I deserved after the callous way I continued to treat her. “Sorry. Yeah. That would actually be great.”
Lila's lips parted in clear shock. This was the gentlest tone I'd ever used with her, and guilt surged through me at the realization. Pushing people away had become second nature, even when I took it too far. Lila was just collateral damage in the endless internal war I waged with myself.
“It would?” she finally choked out.
She looked so small and unsure of herself, standing there in her overalls and pink shirt... a far cry from the confident, talkative woman she usually was. I had done that. I had bullied her into feeling self-conscious in my space, in my presence. And nothing disgusted me more than a bully.
My shoulders deflated at the thought, and I forced myself to let go of some of the tension I always held.
“The computer is in the back.”