Page 33 of Tony

And then I stop. Because I have a revelation.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I seriously do not understand what just happened.

But here’s what I do know: I need to get the fuck out of this town. Right now.

“Belinda.” A calmer voice now. Deeper. More authoritative. Vic. He knocks, doesn’t pound. “Open the door.” He says it quietly because he is a man who almost never needs to raise his voice to make a point.

“No,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “I… I quit. Just… go back to work and I’ll get my things and—”

“You do not quit. I don’t hire quitters, Belinda. Now open the motherfucking door. Or I will break it down and come in anyway.”

Again, all this comes out in a low, soft voice. Which is scarier than a yell, if I’m being honest. I prefer the bellow. The bellow says he’s frustrated, not angry. The whisper says he’s serious.

He rattles the knob and the whole door shakes as he makes his point.

I sigh, then reluctantly walk over to it, flip the lock, and step back.

Vic opens the door and I get a brief look of Vann peeking over his shoulder, trying to see past him. Vic steps in and closes the door behind him.

Suddenly this room is way too small. He towers over me. Like—this man is seriously big. A good foot taller than I am, for sure.

“Look,” I say.

“No. You look,” Vic says, cutting me off. “I didn’t hire you because you’re cute and fun to look at. I didn’t hire you because you have pink hair and wear flirty skirts with cowboy boots. And I most certainly didn’t hire you so Vann could weasel his way into your life and have fun flirting with you at work. I hired you because I think you have talent. I hired you because you show up every day without exception.”

I hold up a finger. “Except for that time I disappeared to Key West.”

He glares at me. I shut up. “I hired you because I think you’re going to be an amazing tattoo artist one day.”

I huff. “One day, huh?”

“Starting tonight.”

“What?”

“I need some help with my client. He’s in the army and he’s shipping out on Monday. He needs a lot of filler to get this back piece done and a new design on his shoulder. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back and he wants it done before he leaves.”

“So you want me to… what, do filler?”

He cocks his head at me. “Are you too good for filler?”

“No. I’m just confused. Why now?”

“Because Vann is stupid and young. He has a crush on you. And you, obviously, do not feel the same way. And…” Vic sighs. “I get it.”

I squint my eyes at him. “You get… what?”

“It’s a game, Belinda. I’ve played it myself a million times.”

I try to picture Vic Vaughn having a crush on a girl who doesn’t feel the same way back, and find I do not possess the kind of imagination this scenario requires.

“He’s hurt. Your ex is in town—”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him telling Vinn. Not the point. He’s jealous so he figured he’d pay you back a little.”

“First of all,” I say, holding up a finger, “he didn’t pay me back. I don’t care who he fucks.”