Strange.
“How long would it take to cover the window?” I ask Matt. I glance over at Sean and Declan. “The door can stay.”
It wouldn’t be horrible to have a way to get back and forth between the two shops. Easier than going outside and back in if there’s an issue with the building or whatever.
It takes me a few seconds to realize Matt’s suspiciously quiet on the other end of the line.
“Matt?”
He lets loose a long sigh. “It’s not a quick job, Elsie. Not one that can be done in three days, anyway. If we do it now, you’ll have to push back your grand opening.”
The wordspush back your grand openingrattle around in my head like angry prisoners rattling the bars of their cell. We can’t delay the grand opening. The town and the Chamber of Commerce have been promoting it for weeks. Hell, our picture was on the front page of the newspaper not long ago.
New businesses don’t open all that often in Port Myles, let alone two of them at the same time, let alone right next door to each other. This opening is a Big Deal around here. I’ve also been pushing it onsocial media and even went old school and handed out flyers around town.
Heavy hands settle on my shoulders and I look up, startled to find Declan so close. For as little as we know each other, he’s somehow managed to get his hands on me during nearly every encounter since our first meeting. I hate to admit, even to myself, that I don’t actually mind it. I hope he can’t hear my heart pounding, my body’s traitorous response to him touching me, even in a spot as innocuous as my shoulders.
“Breathe,” he tells me, and I’m mesmerized by the way his lips form the word.
“It’ll be fine,” Sean says, his tone laced with forced cheeriness. “Honestly, it’s kind of a cool concept. Our customers will have something beautiful to look at to distract them from the pain.”
Matt catcalls from the phone.
“You’re married, man,” Declan snaps. His hands tighten slightly on my shoulders and I can practically feel the tension radiating off him.
“Christ, I meant the flowers,” Sean says quickly. He looks at me, eyes wide. “Elsie, I swear I meant the flowers.”
“I know what you meant,” I assure him. I glance down at the tattooed fingers curling over my shoulders and then back up at Declan, my eyebrows raised. He sighs, likeI’mthe one being difficult, but he drops his hands and takes half a step back.
“So what’s the plan?” Matt asks. “Are we pushing off the opening and fixing that wall up or leaving it as is for now? Keep in mind that if we put it off, when it comes time to work on it, you may have to shut down your shops for a bit,” he warns. “Between getting the window out, closing the hole in the wall, drywalling, painting and letting things air out, it’ll be at least a week.”
I look at Sean, who appears to be waiting for me to make the decision. I wrack my brain for another solution but come up empty. The whole town has been looking forward to our businesses opening. We’ve been promoting our opening day for nearly two months. Pushing it back could mean losing customers, not to mention there could be people who miss the change in dates and show up anyway, only to find that we’re not open.Thatcertainly wouldn’t be a good look.
I glance past the guys, through the window behind them. Their shop looks just about ready to open, aside from the boxes scattered throughout the space that they were unpacking when I arrived. There’s a front desk, three tattoo chairs in a row along the far wall, and I can’t see it from this angle, but I know there’s a chair in the back corner of where they plan to do piercings. Sean showed me his plans for the space before construction began.
The vibes of the two shops couldn’t be more different. Where mine is light, bright and will soon be bursting with color, theirs is darker and moodier. The walls are a deep blue and the floor looks to be some kind of distressed wood. Framed images of tattoo designs hang on the walls, interspersed with heavily tattooed and pierced versions of popular cartoon characters. I can only see one wall and part of a second from this angle, but I spot a tatted Homer Simpson, Kim Possible, Johnny Bravo and what Ithinkis Linda Belcher, but I can’t be positive from here.
I try not to think about what my customers will see when they glance through this same window in a few days. I’m not a prude, or uptight, or a tattoo hater in general. Tattoos are fine. Piercings? Also fine. Heck, I’ve imagined Declan’s tattooed hands doing someverydelicious things to me, against my better judgment.
Tattoos aren’t the problem here.
I just, you know… didn’t expect to be watching them get inked onto people’s bodies all day while I work.
But it’s absolutely fine. Everything is going to be fine. Maybe I can, like, position somereallybig arrangements to cover the window. The customers might not even notice.
(They’re definitely going to notice.)
But giant window be damned, we’re opening in four days.
“We told people we would be opening on June tenth,” I finally say. “Let’s do this.”
“Yeah?” Sean asks, grinning. His shoulders slump like they’d been tensed waiting for my decision.
“Absolutely,” I confirm. “We’ll worry about the window another time. I’ll look around for some curtains or something. We’ve worked too hard for this day. It’s happening.”
“Yeah, buddy!” Matt calls from the phone that’s still clutched in my hand. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding, Elsie. Can I bring you lunch this weekend to make up for it?”
Declan crosses his arms again, glowering at the phone in my hand. He says nothing, but I canfeelhis irritation, like a fourth person just entered the room and elbowed us out of the way to make room.
