22 Rich
Sex and sleep remedy some of the pain after court, and Kim doesn’t have a lot to say about it the rest of the night. David did his job, and she didn’t have to defend herself against anything. He was right; the judge didn’t see a reason to try this case when it was already deemed self defense.
One day bleeds into the next, and the time passes with a structured ease.
I'm used to enjoying the days all alone. Having someone here during the holidays is nice, even if I don’t do anything for Thanksgiving coming up, and I already have a few ideas for Christmas next month.
Kim’s still here, content in my bed, with her cat leaving hair everywhere.
The stubborn little thing is starting to grow on me.
David told her the day after court that the protection order is in place.
She wouldn’t have to worry about harassment if she went home.
Anything that showed up she could file against them, and the Biggins’ would be the ones in trouble.
It’s sad that his parents' pain turned to hatred for Kim, but she didn’t do anything wrong.
She was a victim, and she saved herself in the end.
I doubt they will ever look at it like that, though.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see a call from Jude.
Today Kimber is off from her job at the sex shop, and I heard her muttering yesterday about some call with Callie.
I guess Callie manages the waitresses for S they’re friends. Close enough anyways that I guess they talked about me. “And?”
“I’ve never seen you apply to be a member of anything,” Jude says knowingly. “That’s why you usually come up here. Now you’ve taken on a membership at Sins?”
“It’s not a crime.”
“No,” he replies knowingly, “but I’m guessing it has to do with her.”
“Leave her out of it,” I sigh.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he says, and I go back to working.
My sketch book is open on the desk behind me, and now that the molds are set I’ll be packing up the order I have for a store down in Santa Fe.
I’ll be traveling this weekend, and since Kimber's been a little stuck in her head the last few days I thought about bringing her with me. “I think Brynne’s good for you.”
“It’s so nice that you know her name,” I snarl. “Next time, clue me in if you know something about my date. And don’t fuck with Brynne’s head if we come back.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Jude says, and he sounds so sarcastic I almost throw the phone. “I just wanted to know that she would be a good person for you. I heard through the grapevine that there’s no case against her anymore.”
“Would you please stop digging?” I groan. “Kim’s a good person. And call her Kim when you see us. She doesn’t like to go by Brynne.”
“Whatever the lady wants,” he says knowingly. “So we’ll see you soon? For more than a drop-off this time. Before the snow hits I have a haul coming from out of state and I think you’ll like the additions.”
“What are you getting from out of state?”
“We’re expanding,” he says, and I’d almost say he sounds giddy if I didn’t know Jude. “We hired a contracting company for some new cabins, and I’ll be implementing a bigger indoor area. We’re thinking about adding a bridge to the other side of the property to offer more to customers.”
“That’s a lot of expansion,” I say, surprised.
“Mhmm. And I need a store. Not the stuff that’s in-room but a whole-ass place for people to shop. Custom and branded if I can.”
Smirking, I roll my eyes. “So you want more products?”
“Yes. A shit ton more. The expansion goes into next year so we have time, and I’m sure you’ll need to adjust your supply and demand.
I know Sins is your primary buyer, but I don’t want anything they have that you’ve custom made for them.
If possible we’d like our own stuff. We’re going to be implementing more boudoir photography, and that means the participants get their own products.
It’ll be for the room cards and the website. ”
Glancing at the mess around me, I can’t imagine how I’ll handle doubling what I make for Jude.
Right now it’s manageable, and more than a year gives me time to work with him and adjust my process, but he’s right.
I’ve always worked alone. There are very few things I send out and it's only to accommodate bulk orders on select items. Bringing on more work like that would be very difficult.
The door opens, and I glance up to find Kim.
She’s wearing my shirt and nothing else, the black fabric hanging loosely around her frame.
There’s a mug in each hand, and she eyes the room curiously.
She hasn’t actually come in to see my office with how busy we’ve been.
She occasionally helps me move things out, but she hasn’t spent much time here.
“I’ll have to see what I can do,” I say to Jude. “See what’s feasible for the business.”
“I don’t need an answer right now, but by the end of the year would be cool,” Jude says smoothly, and Kimber cocks her head when she hears his voice. “Gives us time to work on the branding I want.”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking the mug she hands me, “I’ll let you know.”
The call hangs up, and I watch Kim looking at the mess around the room. My house is clean and neat, everything having a place. But here it’s all business, and unfortunately, my business is a disaster when it comes to the office space.
She shoots me a look. “Do you clean in here?”
I lift my lips into a half grin, taking a sip of the coffee she brought before I respond. It’s perfect. “I pick up. Organization isn’t really my thing, but I’m making dildos at the moment.”
She snorts, choking on her coffee, and coughs a few times as she tries to collect herself. “That’s not something you hear every day.”
“Kim,” I say, grinning when her eyes meet mine, “you realize most of the stuff I supply the store with I handmake?”
She nods, looking around. Anything that involves batteries is outside my wheelhouse, and too time consuming to hand craft so I order those in bulk and customize as needed. Dildos and butt plugs are easy to cast, and so are the nipple clamps she’s now eyeing.
“So my necklace,” she says carefully, fingering the ornate design, “You didn’t make it?”
“The watch was already set up and connected to the tracker,” I explain. “I just incorporated it into the jewelry, but the initial operating system isn’t something I made. I just customized it.”
She nods, looking around. “The lingerie?”
“I design it and usually sew the prototypes,” I continue, nodding to the mannequin.
There’s a lot of purple and black fabric pinned there at the moment that’s going to be hacked up.
“Once I approve of it and it’s okayed, I send it out to a seamstress that has a small team who bulk sews them for me.
That’s why I only restock those quarterly. ”
Kim’s eyes go round, and she keeps looking at things. We don’t specifically talk about finances and income, and so far we’ve just coexisted well enough without worrying about bills, but I think she’s starting to see how much money I have to play with because of this business. “And… the jewelry?”
“All the jewels are genuine unless otherwise listed,” I reply, leading her across the room.
There’s another door that leads to my repair suite, and since it’s all in-house, I only have so many tools readily at my disposal.
“I can set the necklaces and rings to make custom sets. I’ll resize the rings too.
This is what I initially started doing and it helped build up my business.
I’ve always had a fun time designing things.
But doing things like this is more inventive than basic jewelry or sewing clothes. ”
Kim nods along, still looking around. “You have a bit of everything. But oh my god you need a better system. Don’t you have a catalogue of everything online to help yourself?”
I shrug. “Sure. But it’s not updated.”
Groaning, she holds out her hand. “Give it to me. You’re worse than Bobby was.”
Leading her back across the basement I find the tablet I use for inventory, and her eyebrow twitches as she takes it and checks what I’m doing. “You organize like a man.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
She casts her eyes critically around the basement again. “Yes. Give me an hour and I can resituate this for you. How do you do this much business while also not understanding what the hell you have?”
“It’s worked so far.”
Kim pauses, turning to push over a pile. I would complain, expect it shows a whole stack of fabric I’ve been looking for. “Hey! I meant to send that off!”
“This,” she says, shaking her head. “This is why organizing like a man can be bad. Do you want me to help with this? I can put organizers in here and you’ll probably find stuff you lost during the summer.”
I move the fabric pile, eyeing her. “I don’t want you to feel like you are working for me.”
“Eh, it’s not work. I like organizing. It’s soothing.” She pivots around the room, looking at everything. “You’ll probably be a little less grumpy if you aren’t spending all your time looking for things.”
I scoff. “I’m not grumpy.”
“Mhmm.” She pauses, moving towards my work bench. “What’s this?”
Following her gaze, I cringe and walk over with her, not catching the notebook before she picks it up. “It’s nothing.”
She ignores me, setting the tablet by her coffee before she starts flipping through the sketchbook pages.
There’s tons of designs in there, and not everything is clothing.
Some of it is sketches of jewelry, the design drawn on a figure then written out to indicate the setting and size of the different stones.
Her eyes glance up at me again. “Are some of these me?”
For a second I think about lying, but there’s really no point. I’m not ashamed of what I draw, and if Kimber’s my muse, then I don’t see any harm in telling her. “That one is. This one too.”
We keep flipping through the book and I point out the drawings that are her.
Some are more obvious with her bright blue eyes and red hair, others focus on her neck or hands where I’ve detailed out the jewelry or clothing designs.
She pauses on one picture that’s all lingerie, with these draping armbands that women seem to love around this time of year.
I haven’t totally gotten the appeal, but they sell like crazy.
“My scars?” she asks, turning her eyes back to me. They are part of the sketch, one I went through and detailed out. Hesitating, I almost don’t turn the page.
It’s a different outfit, same sort of vibe.
She’s in that purple nightgown I loved from the cabin, and instead of focusing on the sexual parts of the outfit I’ve focused on her.
I’ve drawn the faint scars on her wrists, the little scrunch of her notes and the tiniest bit of regrowth at her roots before she retouched her color.
It’s all the little details I’ve noticed about her.
“You drew me,” she says, eyes moving to mine. “But-”
“I draw what I find beautiful,” I say, brushing back her hair. “And to me, Kim, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”