Page 23 of Tony

It was fine. I walked off my rage for about a mile, then I called an Uber.

Vann was already at work when I arrived. In fact, he was in his studio and the buzzing of the tattoo machine was filtering down the hallway to the front seating area.

I did not go back there. I did not say one word to him. I just sat at the counter, greeted the people who came in—mostly to look at the ink displayed on the walls—and minded my business.

Fuming. Raging. Filled with heat and anger.

Eventually the other brothers arrived. Vic first. He’s the oldest. Huge dude, tatted up from top to bottom. He grunted at me amicably when he came up to the front to check his schedule, nodded his head at the people in the waiting room, and then disappeared inside his studio.

Vonn and Vinn, the twins, showed up next. They did the same—but they always talk to me. So I pretended I wasn’t about to murder their baby brother and smiled as they joked and clowned about tramp stamps with the sorority girls in the waiting room.

But eventually all the brothers were busy and I was left with my thoughts as everyone with appointments went back to get their work done and the lookie-loos wandered outside.

I asked Vann to drop me off. I can’t be mad that he did that.

But I am.

He is all I think about.

I barely pay any attention to the customers who come and go. Or the schedule. So it’s not until nearly dinnertime when I realize Vann didn’t actually have an appointment this afternoon. In fact, he doesn’t have an appointment until eight o’clock tonight.

So who the hell has he been working on all this time?

I’m not going to look. It’s none of my business. I do not care.

I don’t need Vann. Best friends are totally overrated.

Totally. Overrated.

Except when they’re your only friends.

I need more friends. That’s my mission this week. Get more friends. I’m gonna put myself out there and find a new BFF. I need to replace Tara. Vann is not going to be my default best friend. It’s not going to happen. No way.

I’m mad at him. We’re over. He can take his all-American good looks and that stupid perpetual charming grin and shove them all up his ass for all I care.

Done. That’s what we are.

Over.

A little after six I weaken. It’s pure and simple curiosity. I slip off my stool and walk down the hallway. But it’s not for Vann. It’s only to get everyone’s dinner order.

Because that’s my job.

Vic declines dinner. He has a case of protein bars in the break room and his current client has a huge back piece he’s trying to finish, so he’s not taking a dinner break. Vonn and Vinn want Anna Ameci’s, because of course they do. My day would not be complete if I didn’t have to run into bitchy Soshee Ameci at least once.

And Vann…

I stop in the doorway to his studio, confused. He’s hunched over the back counter, a spotlight shining down on the space in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t turn around. Just keeps buzzing the machine.

“Are you tattooing yourself?”

He pauses the machine and growls, “What the fuck do you want?”

“It’s dinner time. What do you want to eat? Your brothers want Anna Ameci’s, so I’m gonna call the order in.”