Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Leo
Thank the great good lord, they’ve finally boned.
It’s plain to see. Their smiles have an added intimacy in them.
When their eyes meet, there’s that special kind of knowing in their gaze, the sort that says, "I've seen you bare-arse naked and I'm thinking about it right now and RAWRRR". And, of course, the fact that they can’t keep their hands off each other for longer than a few minutes is a massive indication, too.
Snogging and excessive cuddling at the front desk, tut tut.
Couldn’t be happier for them.
I whip out my phone and head to the EmEli WhatsApp group chat.
If nothing else, this gives me a reason to message Sadie under the guise of gossiping so I can check up on her.
She called in sick with a menstrual migraine this morning, but hopefully her meds have kicked in enough so I can cheer her up with a message.
I hate when she’s ill, for a whole parade of reasons, but mostly because I’m not 100% sure she’s being taken care of, and I want to be able to do that myself. You’d better believe I’d do a bloody great job.
From the EmEli WhatsApp group (members: Sadie Stewart, Leo Mills, Dean Gastright)
Leo Mills: Liftoff
Leo Mills: [GIF of a phallic looking rocket taking off]
Leo Mills: EmEli have ridden the bone pony together into the sunset
Leo Mills: PDAs all the way and it’s frickin’ adorable
Dean Gastright: Yep. Surgically attached.
Leo Mills: Twenty bucks says they’ll be engaged by New Year’s Day
Dean Gastright: LOL that’s months away. Not sure he’ll be able to hold that back for that long.
Leo Mills: Lol fair
Sadie Stewart: Sounds cute :) I'll take that bet, I don't think he'll last until Christmas
Leo Mills: Hey, princess, how are you feeling?
Sadie Stewart: Meh :( but at least I can see again :) hate when the aura kicks in
Dean Gastright: Hugs. Hope you feel better soon
Leo Mills: Poor sausage. Do you have everything you need?
Sadie Stewart: Well, I just took my last two painkillers, so it’s eased a lot. If this bastard migraine comes back when they run out I’m screwed lol
Leo Mills: Fuck that, I’ll go out and get them for you. Can pop by with them in a few.
Sadie Stewart: Aww, thanks, but that’s OK, I’ll ask Peter to pick them up in his lunch break :) he’ll drop them round
Leo Mills: If you’re sure. The offer’s there x
Sadie Stewart: Thanks, boss :)
If that dickhole douchecanoe sonofabitch doesn’t at the very fucking least bring her that medicine, I am going to whup his ass into next year and smile as he cries for his mama.
Emily
Having my man wrapped around me whenever he’s not busy with a client is giving me borderline illegal levels of happiness.
Seriously, if Eli’s not occupied he’s got his arms around me, his lips on my hair, my neck, my face.
I’ve never been given this much affection, and I am revelling in it. I think anyone in my shoes would.
Plus, I keep having the most delicious shag flashbacks. The memory of his skin sliding against mine, a soft grunt of pleasure he made, a gentle bite on my neck, his hair tickling my chest.... These thoughts keep coming back, and I’m amazed I can focus on anything else for longer than a few seconds.
There was a really sweet moment after lunch when I was watching Eli walk back to his studio with his latest client, admiring my boyfriend’s butt (again) far less subtly than I thought, and I looked back to see Leo watching me with a goofy, amused grin on his face.
I giggled like a total schoolgirl, and he gave me a big, growly bear hug with both arms around my shoulders, swaying me from side to side.
“Happy for you,” he mumbled to me, before his phone buzzed.
He took it out and read a message which made him frown, clench his jaw, and look like he wanted to murderize something.
“That jackoff piece of shit,” he muttered darkly, before reaching in his jeans pocket for his keys.
“I’ll be back in a few. Sadie needs some painkillers.
” And just like that, he was out the door.
Sadie’s off work with a migraine today. Guess she messaged him?
And he dropped everything and came running because she needed him.
I sigh. I wish Leo could be as happy as me and Eli.
It’s gearing up to be a very quiet afternoon for me. Eli’s halfway through his latest appointment. Dean’s probably around twenty minutes away from finishing his. The phone is quiet. We’re plenty stocked up on supplies. Not much for me to do but wait.
I check out my social media, because Leo won’t mind, especially since I’m going to check the parlour’s accounts, too.
Cool. We have a couple of new tags from happy customers on Instagram, and a few messages.
I giggle as I read some rather amorous PMs from some women about the three boys, offering all sorts of, ah, treats to them.
It’s all, Dean, you are so lush, text me, and Leo, get me pregnant, and Eli, you can have me any time you want me, just PM me where and when… Sorry, NakedYoga985, he’s taken.
There’s one from a woman from my home county asking about parking near the parlour, as she’s booked an appointment with us while she’s on holiday in Foxton next week. Small world. I send her some information about the nearest parking options, and head back to checking notifications.
Oh, joy. Some bitter comments from MelRoseDarkLight:
Don’t believe the hype, shitty service, RUDE staff, overpriced, don’t waste your time…
They photoshop their tattoos to make them look better, mine looked nowhere near as good…
Rude as shit, all of them - don’t know the meaning of good customer service. Avoid.
Wow, I wonder who that could be.
I roll my eyes and block Melissa from all of the accounts and delete her comments. Bye, honey.
The phone rings. “Wishbone Tattoos, how can I help you?” The line is silent for a couple of seconds, and then the caller hangs up.
That’s happened a couple of times today.
My guess is, someone is trying to pluck up the nerve to book an appointment, but their courage keeps failing them.
I smile to myself. They’ll get there. If I could do it, they can.
Facebook has a couple of queries and requests for contact, and by the time I’ve finished up with them, Dean is just seeing his client out.
“Show me,” I ask, always enthusiastic to see new ink. The client, a huge guy in a Budweiser t-shirt, shows me his clingfilm covered forearm, and I can make out the words Si vis pacem, para bellum in flawless black typewriter script. “Lovely, are you pleased?” I ask him.
“Yeah, very. This is my birthday present from my son. I can’t wait for him to see it.” He fistbumps Dean. “Mate, you are a legend, as ever.”
Dean returns the fist bump, waving his other hand modestly with a ‘no big deal’ look on his face.
As the client leaves, promising to be in touch, Leo comes back, looking better than when he left. Dean smiles, leaning on the counter next to me. He’s giving Leo a knowing look, for some reason.
“All OK?” I ask.
“Yeah, just needed to - ”
A car outside slows down outside the parlour, stuck in traffic.
Its windows are rolled right down, and The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News is playing at top volume.
It’s just getting to the chorus, and by the time the traffic clears enough for it to move on, the chorus is over.
I smile, because I like the song, and because it makes me think of Doc Brown and his crazy hair. I used to love Back to the Future.
Leo’s face is not smiling. It's full of horror and concern. “Dean,” he says urgently. He holds his hands up, as though trying to calm someone down. “Dean, look at me. Look at me. It’s OK,” he says quietly, a desperate edge to his voice.
I turn to face Dean, confused, but then I’m shocked by what I see: Dean, white as a sheet, shuddering from head to toe, a glazed, absent look in his eyes.
He's totally rigid with terror, his breathing becoming heavy and fast like he's starting to hyperventilate. He backs away on shaking legs, his fists clenching, before he hurls himself towards the nearest window behind him, scrabbling to open it and then trying to punch the window to break it, like he’s desperately trying to escape the room, even if it means hurting himself to get out.
The window rattles, and then, to my alarm, cracks.
“Dean!” I shout. He’s going to hurt himself. I’m panicked, unsure what’s going on. I’ve never seen Dean look so terrified out of his mind. I've never seen anyone this scared before.
Leo launches himself at him, restraining his arms as best he can; no mean feat, as Dean seems to be fighting him with the same ferocity he would for his life as he struggles frantically against him. “GET ELI!” Leo shouts at me as he tries to maintain his tackle hold.
I sprint for Eli’s studio, only to see him open his door. He must have heard some of the commotion. “It’s Dean,” I tell him in a shaking voice, “he...he’s panicking, I think, I don't know…”
Eli’s eyes clear as he obviously realises what’s happening.
He turns his head back towards his room, where he has a client waiting.
“Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment,” he says to him in a voice that brooks no argument.
He rushes past me, and I follow him, my worry supersizing when I see Leo on the floor grappling Dean, his arms and legs wrapped around him from behind to try to stop him from moving.
Dean is sweating, clawing at his throat where the scar is, and gasping and choking for air, looking like he's trying to scream. It’s one of the most distressing sights I have ever seen in my life.