“Why?” I snapped. “Why can’t I?”
He growled and gestured at me with the straight razor, and I took a big step back. “Because!” His face flushed red. “Because it isn’t right.”
Jester stared warily at Barber, and I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want him taking this out on my beard line, either.
“You always said I couldn’t work for PD, since mydaddidn’t want me involved with club business. Well, I’m not working for PD. Your argument is dead in the water.”
Jester grunted and nodded, and Barber glared at him. “You stay out of this.”
Jester pulled a cigarette out from under his cape and lit up, and Barber must be really distracted because normally he chased people outside to smoke, since Quain, whose shop was next door, would lose his mind if the smell got into his place.
“This guy has nothing to do with the Kings or you! Therefore, I can do whatever I want!”
Barber shoved the empty chair nearby and made it spin. His jaw tensed and the way he grimaced at me hurt my feelings. Barber was a lot of things, and sometimes people thought he was stupid, but he wasn’t. He was really fucking smart. But I could tell right now he thoughtIwas a moron.
Hell, I hated that I cared so much about his opinion, especially when he was trying to talk me out of following my dreams.
“This is bullshit.” Barber slapped the chair and stopped it. “I need you here. You can’t just walk away from me.” He cleared his throat and wobbled the chair back and forth. “From my business, I mean. We’re family.”
Pure rage tore through me. “Is this how you treat family? Do you hold family back? Ignore what they need? Did you convince PD to say no to me working at his tattoo parlor so you could have me here working for less than someone else would?”
He huffed out an incensed sound and the fist holding the straight razor thudded over his heart. “I pay double what anyone else does!”
“Wonder if Quain would agree. Is he over in his shop? And would you stop swinging around that blade? I’m not calling an ambulance if you nick a jugular!”
Barber pointed the straight razor at me again. “You leave Quain out of this.”
Jester blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, and the pungent burn of tobacco mixed with the pine made me weirdly homesick. Barber smelled that way a lot. This had been home after school for years of my life.
I’d lived a thousand lives here.
Barber had convinced me not to drop out of high school when I’d been restless and bored, and he had done a lot of other good things for me. He usually wanted what was best for me. But he didn’t knoweverything.
Didn’t he understand this was already hard for me? It was terrifying. The end of an era. But I had to keep taking steps forward or I would be stuck here forever.
The belljingledand a man in a sharp black suit wandered into the shop, lowering an umbrella that dripped onto thefloor. Behind him thunder cracked. I hadn’t noticed the storm breaking because I’d been so distracted by Barber and his stupid crap.
The man stared at Jester smoking and a furrow dipped between his eyebrows. “Is there any way I could get a trim? I have a job interview in a half hour.”
“We’re busy,” Barber bellowed at him.
Someone pounded the wall on the other side of the mirror.
The stranger cringed and bolted out the door, getting soaked by the downpour before he could get his umbrella opened again. That wouldn’t be good for his job interview.
“No, we’re not busy. There’s nothing else to say. I’m allowed to quit! You just want to keep me trapped here.” I cupped the back of my neck with both hands to stop myself from hunching. I knew that was a bad habit I had, and damned if I would look weak during this debate.
Hurt crossed Barber’s face, a flash that was there and gone, replaced in seconds by an angry scowl. “I thought you enjoyed working here.”
“I am made for art, not whatever this is.”
“This is art!” He gestured around the shop, eyes wider than usual. He was starting to look deranged. Jester stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and tossed the butt in the sink. Barber should be losing his mind on him, but he was too busy glaring at me. “It’s as much art as anything PD does. If I do a bad job, people are upset for weeks. Or they shave it off, I guess.” He pouted. “But there are consequences. I’m damned good at my job.”
Jester chuckled.
I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps to you, it is, but I sweep the floors. Stock. Ring people out. Make sure you don’t get into trouble with the IRS and pay your taxes. I’m not doing anythingrealhere.”
“Out.” Barber waved at the door and his bottom lip was in danger of tripping him if it stuck out any farther. “Get out if you feel that way. Go.” He stomped over to the door and pointed outside. It was raining so hard the fat drops were pooling in puddles on the sidewalk. “Quain says I shouldn’t have negativity in my life.”
