62. Kaden
Kaden
I’m in my car, driving to the studio, and man, does it feel great to have it back.
When they closed down all non-essential businesses, I started to draw and sell some prints online, which was an okay income, but it wasn’t enough to keep both my overpriced, shitty apartment, and my car.
So, I sold it to my foster-brother Jesse, with the promise that I could buy it back as soon as I could afford it.
And with the studio being back to full business, I’d finally scraped up enough to get it back.
It’s a piece of junk, really. Old as time, my black Range Rover, but I like it. And it’s never failed me.
When I get to the studio, the door’s locked. I glance at my phone, realizing I was out driving a little longer than I thought. Which means Seth and Iggy are probably out having lunch, so I unlock the door, and walk inside.
There’s some shrill, cursive voice singing about being a great one streaming from the speakers at a low volume—Iggy’s damn playlist. I connect my phone to the speaker, put Creed on, and walk over to the counter, looking over the schedule. I flip the pages back and forth, feeling a little confused.
Firstly, Jude’s booked an appointment with Seth.
And, yeah, I got that he’s interested in him.
It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. But is it just me, or isn’t that a little shady?
I mean, he was my customer first. I spent months tattooing his damn back, and I hated the design.
Don’t I get any credit for that? Now he’s just switching to someone else?
It annoys me. As a matter of fact, it annoys me to no end.
And why the hell can’t he just ask Seth out, if he’s so interested in him? Why pretend he wants a tattoo, if what he really wants is Seth?
See? Shady.
And also, who does that? Isn’t that a little too close to creepy? Like, I would never hit on my hairdresser. Or my dentist. That shit’s just wrong, right?
Secondly, my schedule looks a little suspicious. I’m fully booked for the next two weeks, but then there’s a line covering all of the first week of December. We usually do that when someone’s out sick, or on vacation, but last time I checked, I’m neither.
The front door opens, and Seth enters the studio, arms thrown out wide, a big grin on his face. Iggy squeezes in behind him, and he grabs her by the arm, twirling her around and lifts her. Her feet dangling off the ground.
“What the hell?” she laughs, as he puts her down. “What’s up with you today?”
“I’m going on an adventure!” he grins, walking up to me. “Actually, we’re going on an adventure.”
“’Scuse me?”
“We, my dear dude, are going skiing!” He moves his arms back and forth, swinging his hips this way and that.
“What? No way!” Iggy says, eyes wide. “I want to go, too! Where are you going? And when? And why the hell wasn’t I invited?” she pouts.
“It’s the first week of December,” Seth says, as if that explains everything.
“Damnit!” She throws her jacket on the couch, turning to me, pouting even more. I just stand here, shocked to hell, eyebrows raised.
“She’s got finals then,” Seth says, nodding at her. “But you and I don’t, and we’re going, baby!” He grins again, and does a silly little dance, tap dancing or something and it makes me snort a laugh.
Iggy groans as she walks to the back door to hang her jacket up. I turn to Seth.
“Did you cross out my schedule?”
“I did, Kadey-babe, ‘cause we’re going skiing!”
“I’ve never been on a pair of skis before,” I say.
He waves off my worries. “They’ve got ski lessons there, but don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
He’s so happy, I can’t help but laugh. Still doing some kind of dance, he moves through the studio.
“Small problem, though,” I say, following him.
“What?”
“I don’t have that kind of money. I just got my car back, and—”
“My parents are covering it,” he says.
“What?” I gape at him before I shake my head, crossing my arms. “Hell no!”
“Hell yes!”
“No, Seth. I’m not letting your folks pay for me. I’m not a kid—”
“Shut up!” he says, pressing a finger to my lips, squishing them sideways. “It’s already taken care of.”
I bat his hand away and flip him the bird. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Seth,” I say, dragging a hand down my face.
“Look,” he says, dropping down on his chair. “I told them I’d go, but only if you came with, and since that means we need to take a few days off work, they offered to pay.” He shrugs. “Because they can afford it. So, stop sweating it. You’re ruining my mood, asshole!”
I drop my shoulders. “This ain’t right.”
“Yes, it is!”
I cross my arms, sighing. This stubborn asshole.