6. CHAPTER 6 #3
“Now, if you had another station set up, I could have it cleaned and prepped for your next client. Do you think you can still do your job three yards to the left?”
Tek opens his mouth but I push off the desk and hold my hand up as I walk past him to the front of the shop.
“I’m not going anywhere so you can save your breath telling me to fuck off,” I let him know as I watch the lights inside Watersons’ flicker on. “What did Shawn do here all week anyway if this is all the work she had to do?”
Tek mumbles his answer.
I look back at him. “Huh?”
He tosses the roll of plastic film into the metal draw of his trolley, and all but slams it shut. “I said, she fucked your brother in the break room, mostly.”
I snicker, “Calm your farm, old man,” and lean sideways against the front door so I can keep an eye on Watersons’ and Tek. “Are you jealous?”
“No I’m not fucking jealous. I have some actual decorum.”
“Ooo, fancy,” I tease, but when his eyes meet mine I can see he’s not playing around. “Wait. You’re actually serious? That’s like ten feet away.” I gesture to the back room.
“Couldn’t even take it to the car.”
“Oh really?” I laugh. “Is that why you have a decked out van in the lot?”
Tek shrugs and moves a few more items into place.
“I can’t tell what you mean by that.”
“And you never will.”
“Did people care?”
“I don’t think many of them knew. People like zoning out. Most have headphones or ear buds. I didn’t like it, but you know what your brother’s like.”
“Not when it comes to his sexual exploits, I don’t.”
Glancing back across the street, I see the ‘open’ sign on in Watersons’ window.
I run my hand over my back pocket, feeling for my phone. “Hey, I’ll be back in five.”
“No you won’t.”
“Yes I will.” I unlock the shop's front door and turn the closed sign over. “You wouldn’t stop me from taking a piss, would you?”
“The bathroom’s not out there.”
“I said, I’ll be back,” I call out and jog across the street.
The same old guy is behind the counter and he gives me a sly grin as he looks at me from over the top of his newspaper. “Are you hungover, Son? Cause we ain’t got no food in here.”
“I’ve never felt better. You got any slippers?”
He turns the page and shakes the paper so the pages are sitting straight again. “Second aisle. Next to the dressing gowns and hot water bottles. But if you’re looking for style, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
The selection is bigger than I expected, and I end up settling on a pair of grey speckled grandpa slides with the toes in. Then I’m half way to the register before I backtrack and pick up the same style in navy for myself.
I quickly pay and say goodbye to the closest thing I have to a new friend.
Perhaps a little too pleased with myself, I push back through the door to Teken Ink in a rush, and find a woman talking to Tek.
Swallowing my excitement back down, I wrap my lips around my teeth and quietly walk towards the reception desk with my shopping bag in hand.
“I heard what happened,” I hear her say as she steps even closer to Tek. “I can’t believe they did that to you.”
“It is what it is,” he responds, just as dryly as he would if he were talking to me.
“That's why I thought I’d come and offer my services before you put an ad on Craigslist.” I watch her sidle closer until she playfully nudges his arm with her shoulder. “You at least owe me an interview.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” he says, but there’s a smile in his voice.
Her hand lands on his forearm. “You know I’m a perfect fit.”
“We’re good.” Tek pulls his arm away and walks towards the desk. It’s then that she looks at me properly for the first time.
“Who’s this?” she asks, following Tek.
“You mean you can’t tell?”
“Should I be able to?”
From behind the counter, I lean forward on it and closer to her. “You could just introduce yourself to me.”
Her mouth quirks and she holds out her hand. “Brooklyn.”
I shake it. “Carey.”
“I’m no closer to knowing who you are from that,” she says with a smile, and fuck me, it’s weapon-grade.
The kind that has men falling to their knees.
She’s in leggings that should be illegal with scrunch socks and a crop puffer jacket, and even I’m questioning why Tek doesn’t just give her the damn job.
“It’s in the jaw… And the nose,” Tek tells her as he grabs my chin and twists my head to the side.
I track her eyes, but they aren’t looking at me, they’re glued to Tek’s bicep. “I don’t see it.”
“Imagine dark eyes and long black hair.”
She blinks, figuring it out from the clues, then actually studies my face. “You mean your family isn’t the only weird one to have children a lifetime apart?” She brushes Tek’s hand away then leans closer. “You’re just a baby.”
“Thanks,” I say like it’s a question.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Shit.” She slaps her hands on her hips. “Has he got you working here?”
“I’ve got myself working here.”
Her head falls to the side and she looks up at Tek through her eyelashes. “Wouldn’t it be easier to have someone who actually knows the shop?”
Well that was condescending.
I stand up straight and pick up a pen, squeezing it in my hand.
Tek doesn’t look at her, he just moves behind the computer. “Didn’t you just start working at the spa in Daintree?”
Brooklyn shrugs, not losing an ounce of her momentum. “I did. But it’s only part time, so I’m still free half the week. Don’t pretend you don’t miss me.”
I watch a muscle by Tek's ear twitch as he clenches his jaw.
I grip the pen tighter and dig the tip into the top of my thigh.
“Look, I can do Saturday’s at least. Shawn’s obviously not coming back. I already know the system and how the shop runs. And I can help make the place a little less depressing.”
“Whats wrong with white tiles and grey walls?” I ask.
Tek’s jaw relaxes and he turns his head away, but not quick enough to hide his smirk from me.
“So what d’you say?”
Tek finally looks at Brooklyn with enough aggression in his gaze that she listens. “I told you, we’re fine. And Carey works Saturday's.”
Her smile flickers but doesn’t fall.
Tek’s eyes slide to me, as if I’m supposed to offer up some final argument. But I don’t say a word. I need to hear him say again that he chooses me over her.
“The position’s filled, Brooklyn.”
This time the gorgeous smile slides right off her face. She’s still stunning, but the rejection gets the better of her. “Are you gonna cancel my booking?”
Tek could choose the route of being a prick about it considering her inability to take a hint, but his face softens like he’s been down this exact road more than once before. “No. I’d never do that. I’ll always finish every piece I start. Even if it takes seven years to do it.”
“You’re not just saying that, right? You’d tell me if you’d changed your mind?”
“You’re booked in the second week of January. So I’ll see you then.”
Her mouth does this little twitch, like she wants to say something snide but forces it down with a smile that’s too wide to be real. “Not if I don't see you before."
Tek says nothing to that, just nods.
Brooklyn turns her attention to me, sizing me up like maybe she can spot the flaw in my design that would make Tek pick her instead. I just hold her gaze, unblinking, until she looks away.
“Well, welcome to the family, I guess,” she says to me, voice syrupy as she pulls her jacket tighter and retreats to the door.
I watch her go, half expecting Tek to change his mind and run after her like every other man on earth probably would.
He doesn’t. He pulls the stool over and sits down behind the computer, clicks through a few screens, then looks at me, unimpressed. “What?”
I toss my shopping bag onto the desk. “I got you slippers.”
He blinks. “Why?”
“Because you threw yours out.”
He doesn’t reach for the bag. “Not necessary.”
“I’ll return them, then.” I snatch the bag back and start walking towards the door, but I’m only halfway there when I hear his voice.
“Let me see.”
I pause, fighting a grin. “So now you’re interested?”
“Just show me the damn slippers, Carey.”
I take out the pair I picked and set them in front of him.
“You got the right size.” He sounds almost offended.
“Yeah, I know what big feet look like.”
Tek’s mouth twitches at the edge, and for a second it looks like he might even smile. “They’re ugly.”
“Grandma would love them,” I tease, taking the other pair out. “Mine too.”
I pull off the tags and toss them in the trash on my way to the back door. I kick off my Vans then drop the slippers onto the tiles and slide my feet into them.
“Put yours on.”
“I will in a minute.”
“Do it now, old man.”
He spins to me. “Are you five?”
“Are you eighty?”
Without looking away from me, Tek reaches back to the desk, picks up the slippers and drops them at his feet. “You happy, kid?”
“Very.”