Chapter 9
NINE
Irish
Dominic
Xo. She sent an “xo”. Kiss and hug. She held on to me when she was scared.
That’s practically a hug. Then she looked at me like she…
wanted to kiss me? Maybe? But why would she want that?
She asked about my past. She knows I come from nothing.
I’m definitely not her knight in shining armour type at all.
Maybe she just wanted to get to know me?
Yeah, judge the matchmaker to know if I’ll pick a reliable date next time.
Because bringing her to Maria’s was not a date. But…it kind of felt like a date.
“Potatoes?” Nadine asks, breaking up the mental ping pong debate in my head.
“Sorry?” I ask as her dark eyes squint at me quizzically.
“Can you pass the potatoes please?” Nadine shakes her head making the gold and silver charms woven in her long turquoise braids clink together. I reach across the casserole pan and gingerly lift the large potato dish, placing it between us.
“Are these your signature truffle mashed potatoes Dom?” Nadine asks excitedly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she heaps a spoonful onto her own plate, accidentally splashing her ripped Metallica t-shirt. “Oh, fuck me!” She tries to wipe off the blob, smearing it around further.
“Language, Nadine!” Vic chastises from the head of the table.
Nadine levels her with a stare. “Vic, you have a table full of tattoo artists and you expect censored language?” she directs to the head of the table, a thin black eyebrow arching upwards on her deep brown face.
Vic huffs loudly which turns into an exhausted sigh. “At least while we eat, please.” She glances at each of us around the table with a stern look that says “Not tonight, kids, Mommy’s had a long day.”
Vic and Rick host weekly dinners for the tattoo parlour employees almost every week.
Sometimes it’s only a few of us while other times—especially around the holidays—the table is crammed tight with everyone from the owners, Vic and Rick, to our maintenance guy, Tim.
Vic also says it’s a great way for me to practice my culinary skills because this group of menaces won’t sugarcoat their critiques.
Vic and Rick’s generosity and welcoming knows no bounds.
Even though I haven’t known the couple for all that long, they have been integral to where I am today.
After they opened a few years back I had come in hastily with drawings and sketches asking to become an apprentice.
Rick had given them one look and laughed so loudly I swear I saw the frames on the wall shake.
He said my drawings were shit, they were, and if what I really wanted was a job, okay, I did need a job, then I could clean up around the parlour.
The tattoo power couple had originally owned and lived in the space above the tattoo parlour but after booming successful they could afford to move on to bigger and brighter things, offering me the chance to rent it from them a year later.
I couldn’t say no even if I tried. I had finally found a family that offered me a job, a roof over my head, and an invaluable work ethic.
I quickly pull out my phone under the table and notice a missed text Celeste sent earlier today.
Hoot
Just met up with poli-sci guy for lunch, I’ll let you know how it was later lol
The text inflates and deflates me all at once, leaving me a wobbly mess staring dumbly at my phone. Nadine snatches it out of my hands before I can react and reads it aloud to the table. I shoot daggers at her with my eyes.
“Oi, who’s this poli-sci guy?!” Olly asks from the other end of the table, his Geordie accent making the syllables jump in his mouth like a tiny trampoline.
I shoot him a look and his mocking smile drops.
He ruffles his white-blonde hair and clumsily shuffles his lanky body in his chair.
He’s Rick’s apprentice and while his artwork is phenomenal, I wouldn’t dare tell him that and let it go to his head; we’d never hear the end of it.
“But who is Hoot and why are they meeting up with poli-sci guy?” Nadine asks me, handing me back my phone.
“Because I gave her his number.” I mutter without making eye contact with anyone and begin digging into my potatoes hoping that if I cram enough of them in my mouth I won’t have to have this conversation.
Rick huffs a laugh from beside his wife and begins eating, but Vic has her lethally pointed finger nails steepled in front of her and is scrutinizing me in a way that makes me want to admit to a crime I haven’t committed.
In another life, she would have been an incredible interrogator.
She always said it was the Latina in her, but I think her rough upbringing and strong survival skills made her fiercely protective and hypervigilant.
I attempt a quick glance up to see if she’s still looking only to get caught in her direct line of sight.
It’s like a trap into admission and breaks my usual schooled features into a squirming anxious mess.
“Okay, Hoot, is my friend named Celeste and I’m like her…matchmaker.” I mumble the last word as quietly as I can.
“What was that now?” Nadine taunts.
“Didn’t hear you down here!” Olly hollers. I refrain from groaning and put my fork down.
“Matchmaker,” I say clearly to the whole table.
“I’m…” I struggle to find the right words that don’t make me sound pathetic.
“If I see a guy come into Biblio & Brew that fits her type then I approach him, ask if he’s single for my friend, then describe Celeste.
” I shrug. Hearing it out loud, it is pathetic. Completely pathetic.
Vic’s eyes narrow on me. “And how would you describe her, Dominic?” she asks casually but the table falls into silence awaiting my answer. I absolutely hate this kind of attention on me right now. I fidget with my fork again before clearing my throat.
“I, um, just say, she’s about five foot four, curvy, but …
toned,” I wince at my own words. I glance around tentatively at everyone before I continue, “She has golden blonde hair that goes just past her collar bone. She’s confident.
” I look down and smile a little, remembering the first time she gave me that horrendous nickname.
“She knows what she wants and goes for it, and she’s incredibly smart, you know she’s pre-med?
” I look up to meet Vic’s eyes and clear my throat.
Vic’s gaze has softened, a hint of a smile on her lips.
She unfolds her hands from under her chin and says softly, “She sounds lovely, Dominic. She’s welcome to the shop anytime,” then she picks up her fork and spears a potato.
At Vic’s approval everyone begins diving into their meals.
For once I’m happy to have Olly’s constant chatter as he rambles off descriptions of his latest sketches.
The crew assembles to clean up, stacking dishes in the kitchen before heading into the living room.
I post up on dish duty and stand by the sink, already frothy with soap bubbles.
I scrub away at the dishes, thankful to not be the target of conversation anymore.
Just as I’m rinsing off the last plate, I hear footsteps.Vic appears in my periphery, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Her outrageously long silky black hair slides over her shoulders, exposing her sleeves of tattoos on her tanned arms, and the few tattoos she has on her neck.
“I’m almost done here,” I say just to fill the space.
Vic never feels the need to fill silence with words and for most of the time I’ve known her and Rick, I’ve adopted the same nonchalance.
However, when Vic directs it at me, I somehow go back to being an awkward talkative pre-teen.
She just has a presence to her. I respect the hell out of it. It’s also a little frightening.
“I need to be frank with you for a minute.” Vic says, crossing her arms. I snort, as if frank isn’t her usual tone, but remain quiet and let her continue.
“The way you described Celeste tonight, Dom, it didn’t sound like it was coming from a friendly place.
It sounds more like someone wanting to be matched, romantically.
Is that why you’re doing this? Because you have romantic feelings for Celeste?
” Vic asks quietly, not allowing her voice to carry to the others in the family room.
I take a glance toward the small hallway that leads to the rest of the crew, and hear a burst of laughter coming from Nadine and muffled voices chiming in.
I sigh and put the last dish away, hanging the damp dish towel atop the faucet to dry.
I turn and lean against the counter beside Vic.
“Even if there was any hint of…whatever for her, I’m not what she wants.” I turn and give Vic a tight-lipped smile.
“Why do you say that?” Vic asks, her large brown eyes scrutinizing me up close.
“Because she has this list…of attributes, qualifications, that I don’t meet. She wants a knight in shining armour, a prince charming…this perfect guy. That’s just not me,” I say, a defeated tone slipping unintentionally into my words.
“I see. Well, from my experience, don’t let your feelings go unspoken.
Plus, look at the food you make here. Any woman would be happy with a man of your stature, and a full belly of the delicious food you cook.
” Vic says in finality. She gives me a gentle pat on my shoulder.
“If your motives are purely altruistic then be my guest, help her out. But if you’re developing feelings for her then you have to let her know.
” Vic walks away to the group in the living room and I hear her join their boisterous debate on tattoo styles.