Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Shelly
For the first time in a very long time, I wake up with excitement thrumming through me. I’ve been going through the motions ever since the accident, putting on a mask so I don’t worry Uncle Mack too much, even though I’m sure he, and Marcella when she was alive, knew I was faking.
After my shower, since we’re going for a ride, I quickly braid my hair then turn to my closet to figure out what I’m going to wear.
Years ago, Uncle Mack had a bike, so I know I need to wear jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but outside of that, I’m clueless.
Still, in the back of my closet, I find a leather jacket that Uncle Mack bought me, so I grab that as well.
I remember him telling me that we had to dress for the slide, not the ride, the very first time I came out wearing shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops.
The memory makes me giggle as I get dressed, then lace up my combat-style boots.
It’s not a fashion statement by any means, but I’ve already dealt with road rash once in my life and those memories are in the forefront of my mind while I finish getting ready.
“Okay, now what? Do I wear my normal makeup or go a little heavier?” I ask my reflection as I stare at myself in the mirror.
Undecided, I waffle for a few minutes before I opt to wear my normal makeup.
I’m not big on glopping a lot of shit on my face, preferring to focus on my skincare versus covering my face with all the things those influencers out there seem to think you need to ‘look good’ these days.
Marcella taught me to take care of my skin, all of it, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
So, I found products that worked for me and use them religiously, along with an SPF moisturizer to protect myself against future bouts of skin cancer.
But I also regularly exfoliate all over, and then lotion and oil the rest of my body.
I won’t lie, to myself or anyone else, and say that I haven’t overindulged in eyeshadow palettes, but in my defense, I’m able to match my outfits pretty well thanks to my teeming bag.
But the rest is light and natural. I finish up with a glossy lip stain and then blow myself a kiss before I put everything away so I can head into work.
The drive is typical, several pokey people out on the road into town, but it’s a beautiful day, I have my windows down and the music up loud. When Party in the USA comes on, I sing along, off-key and quite badly, then start laughing at the absurdity of it all.
A flock of birds rise up from a grove of trees, and I grin because of their beauty while in motion. Living here is different than Frisco, that’s for sure. There are a lot of ranches and farmland, and livestock dots almost every field, causing me to say out loud, “Look, a black and white cow!”
When a memory comes to mind, I start laughing. Me, Uncle Mack, and Marcella were heading to Broken Bow, and I was maybe ten or eleven, lost in my book and the fantasy world of Percy Jackson. I suddenly looked up and was like, “Uncle Mack! Can we stop?”
Because just ahead was a farm stand and there were fancy cows all around and I could see several people at the fence petting them!
Like the awesome man he is, he pulled over and while Marcella checked out the stand, he walked me over to see the cows.
Touching their faces and hearing their low moos had me cheesing like I’d just won a million dollars.
I finally reach the alley behind the tattoo shop and park. There’s enough room for all of us to park, then be able to maneuver out if we need to leave. Customers park out front and sometimes, Main Street looks like a battlefield, but that’s the way of a small town, I guess.
Once inside, I go through my normal routine, knowing that Abyss will pick up the pastries and drinks. Still, I fill up my tumbler with ice and a diet soda before heading to my desk. I need to check the inventory and then go through the mail to make sure any bills go to Abyss for payment.
I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that when I see the tatted arm set a drink near me, I jump in shock. “Jesus, I didn’t even hear you come in!” I exclaim, looking up at him.
“My fault, I didn’t realize you were so focused you didn’t hear me moving around,” he replies, smirking at me.
“I should’ve since you’re not exactly quiet,” I state, grinning up at him. “Oh, I forwarded several invoices to you to handle. I still have the inventory to do, plus I’ve got a scheduled sobriety tattoo to do after lunch.”
“We’re still on for our ride, right?” he asks.
“Got my leather jacket in my Jeep,” I reply. At his raised brow, I explain that when I was younger, Uncle Mack had a bike, and I often rode with him. Still, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bike, so I hope muscle memory kicks in.
“Well, hopefully, we’ll be able to get out of here early,” he says. “Gonna get to it so I can make sure the paperwork is done for payroll. Seems my artists like getting paid.”
“Duh,” I tease. “Bills wait for no man, Abyss.”
“True that,” he says, tapping the top of the reception desk before he heads into the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
They’re delicious, too. His scent is alluring and captivating to me. I’m sure someone would say it’s just hormones or even pheromones talking, but truthfully, while they might be right, I think it’s just that I’m attracted to Abyss.
The guilt I expect to swamp me surprisingly doesn’t make an appearance. Maybe James did show up and give me his permission to move on. Not that I really needed it, but I suspect on some level, I did because my whole attitude has shifted where Abyss is concerned.
No longer do I feel as though I’m betraying James.
He was my first, my only, so there’s a little bit of fear where physical intimacy is concerned.
I mean, I have scars on my torso, legs, and back from the injuries I got from the wreck, plus the scar from the emergency c-section that was performed to get Amberlea out of me since I was unconscious.
Because there was concern about possible internal bleeding, it’s a vertical scar, not horizontal.
In short, I may look good fully clothed but when I’m naked, I feel like Frankenstein’s bride with the scars delineating what happened that fateful day. Still, they’re also a reminder that I survived what should’ve killed me, so there’s that to keep in mind.
Grabbing my inventory sheet, I head to the supply room and start going through everything, jotting down the items from the form, as well as the stuff I can visually see that need to be ordered.
Once I’m satisfied that I’ve got it all, I head back to my desk so I can get it input and ordered.
Thankfully, Abyss no longer has to check behind me like he did the first few times.
“There, done,” I mutter as I hit the submit button.
Now, I’ll check the kitchen to see if anything’s needed there.
If there is, Abyss will send one of the prospects to get it from Costco.
Thankfully, we have another supply closet that holds the overstock, but we go through a lot of paper towels, as well as drinks, so it’s another necessary chore.
Eventually, when my clientele picks up, he’ll have to hire someone else to handle what I do, but right now, I’m able to do it without any issues.
It doesn’t hurt that I get paid for that job as well as any tattoos I do.
My checks have been healthy, and since Uncle Mack paid for our house outright, my contribution to our household budget is more than manageable.
I grin as I go through the kitchen because my savings account, which was always healthy thanks to the settlements I received after the accident, looks even better.
It might be time to meet with someone to get some advice on how I can invest and make my money grow even more.
I’m going to ask Abyss if the guy who does the finances for the club can look my portfolio over and offer suggestions since I don’t know anyone else who might be able to help.
Once again back at my desk, I set up the Costco order for pickup then send a text to Mongrel with the information he’ll need to get it picked up.
“How do you feel about Chinese for lunch?” Abyss asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Mack said he can pick it up if we call in the order.”
“There’s always room for Chinese food,” I reply, pulling out the menu from a stack that’s in a desk drawer.
“I think you’re right. I want sesame chicken, vegetable fried rice, two egg rolls, and wonton soup. Oh, and some crab rangoons as well,” he says.
“Got it,” I murmur, my head down as I quickly write his order on the pad in front of me. “I’ll call it in then let Uncle Mack know how much it’ll be and when it’ll be ready.”
“Give them my card info for payment, Shelly,” he says, handing me a debit card.
“Um, okay. Thanks,” I reply.
He does that frequently which is why I end up taking my lunch home and eating it for dinner.
I hate to waste food if at all possible and that’s only because there was a time when I was a little kid that things were tight.
Uncle Mack had just opened his business, so it wasn’t really making any money, and Marcella worked part-time during the hours I was in school.
I’m not a huge fan of leftovers because we ate them so often, but old habits die hard.
“No problem,” he tells me as he heads back into his office.
“That’s weird,” I murmur, looking at the clock. “She confirmed her appointment with me yesterday then doesn’t show up? I hope nothing’s going on.”
I’ve already tried to call Gretchen to see where she’s at, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Every text reads delivered but hasn’t been opened or read.
I debate on whether or not to call Gina, then decide it couldn’t hurt.
It’s not about the money since the tattoo is free, it’s more concerning to me that someone who is in recovery has fallen out of contact.
When Gina picks up, I ask, “Hey, Gina, it’s Shelly from Anarchy Ink. Sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Gretchen? She missed our appointment.”
“Hey, Shelly. I talked to her last night, and she was excited about today. She even drew something that she’s hoping you can make better. Are you saying she didn’t show up?”
“Nope, and her phone’s going right to voicemail, too,” I reply. “I’m trying not to worry about her, Gina, but yeah, it’s not working so well.”
“This isn’t like her,” Gina murmurs. “Let me see what I can find out and once I know something, I’ll let you know, okay? She wouldn’t break her sobriety, she’s worked too hard in her recovery.”
“Appreciate it, Gina. I’ll let you go so you can get on that,” I tell her.
We say our goodbyes and I stand up, jolting in shock when I realize Abyss is standing there and has likely heard my conversation.
Not that it’s a state secret or anything, but maybe I need something to warn me of his presence.
Maybe I should get him a bell to wear around his neck, so I know he’s coming, I chuckle to myself.
“You had a client bail on you?” he asks.
“I don’t know for sure, I mean she confirmed her appointment yesterday for today, but now, I can’t get in touch with her and I’m trying not to worry.”
A funny look crosses his face and he says, “Get me her information, I’ll have Nerd check into it for you.”
Why on earth would he have one of his brothers check on my missing client? Instead of asking him, I pull up the client list then write down Gretchen’s contact information before handing it to him.