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Only to be shot down with a smirk and a drawling quip about him apparently having a twin out there, somewhere.
Which I suppose was just as well.MyIsaac was a sweet, sheltered kid who blushed too easily and was easy to drag around on my weird adventures. Whoever I’d seen at the convention was just someone who reminded me too much of him, I guess.
“I saw someone who reminded me of a friend of mine,” I say, bringing him up for the first time.
“Oh?” Sera is interested. I can hear it in her voice and she glances up from the shelf she’s organizing.
“There was a kid who lived here for a little while, back when I waswayyounger. Twelve or thirteen, I think? His name was Isaac, and I guess his parents moved around a lot. Anyway, he was super quiet and shy and didn’t have many friends in school.” I blink, remembering the way I’d poked him with a pencil until finally, he’d whirled around with wide eyes and red cheeks. It’s not my proudest moment, but it got him to talk enough to tell me his name and also let me know that doing that was annoying.
From then on, I’d never left him alone.
“He left when we were fourteen,” I say, remembering that clearly enough. Only because he was supposed to come to my birthday party, and hadn’t. Later, when I’d gone to his house to see why he’d ditched my party, I’d found it deserted.
And I’d never gotten to see or hear from him again.
My heart sinks, and I sigh. It would’ve been so nice if the man in California was Isaac. Imissmy friend, and sometimes I worry that something crappy happened to him. After all, his parents sucked. And my own parents didn’t trust me at his house. Instead, they always insisted he came to our place and made sure to give him anything he needed, wanted, or asked for.
As if he were broken, and my parents were doing their best to mend his broken pieces. Which, looking back on how great they were, was probably the case.
“Anyway, it wasn’t him.” I grab the remote, regretting bringing him up, and turn on the television that sits on the counter behind the register. I doubt there’s anything on, but at least I can drown out this awkward, regretful conversation with something like the news, the weather, or some cooking show.
The news is what pops up first, and I lay the remote down on the counter with a sigh as the male anchor’s voice drifts through the small, cozy shop.
“With a shockingly large purchase, Chancellor Enterprises now owns the last few shares of the Blake Company,” the anchor says, glancing down at the iPad he holds. “And from what we’ve heard, Chancellor intends on reinvigorating the South Side mall. Which I know should excite some others around my age who remember that mall as something really special to Solen City.” He shares a laugh with his slightly younger female companion, who faces the camera and sobers.
“In other national news, a body has been discovered just north of San Diego.”
“Yeah, I don’t like that,” I mutter, not havinganyinclination to hear about dead bodies in San Diego. I’d rather hear about anything else, actually.
“The identity of the body is still unknown, and whoever it was has been dead for at least a few months, sources say. It’s also missing crucial pieces for identification.”
“Yikes.” The man grits his teeth and glances at his companion. “I definitely don’t envy the San Diego police–”
Before they can go further or hint at whatidentifying piecesof the body are missing, I flip the channel until an older but reliable cooking show lights up the screen and fills the shop with harmless recipe information.
Behind me, Sera leans her arms on the counter and sighs. “I think you should do something for yourself,” she tells me frankly.
“I do things for myself every day,” I remind her. “They’re called coffee adventures.”
“Walking from here to the shop next door is not anadventure,” Sera replies stubbornly. “Weren’t you going to get a new tattoo this year? Don’t I remember hearing that?”
Well, yeah. Iwas. Until San Diego.
Still, hearing the words makes my palms itch. I want another one, though I’m not sure what I’d even get. At this rate, it would be an impulse tattoo. And that could definitely go one of two ways.
“Tattoo Mike’s closed down,” I point out, citing my favorite shop that had moved to another city when its owner did. “I don’t even know where togo. I mean, there’s that new place, but…” I frown, trailing off. I don’t know anyone that’s gone toInkubussince it opened a month ago. But I guess that doesn’t honestly mean anything, especially if they’re good. There’s a solid chance that the artists there are just from other places and haven’t had time to build up any kind of clientele here yet to recommend them. Especially since, from what I’ve heard, the shop issmall.
“Call them. At least check them out,” Sera encourages. “Come on, Ari. You need to dosomethingfor yourself before you dig yourself deeper into this rut that you’re in.”
I frown but pull out my phone theatrically to make a scene. “I’ll call them now, okay?” I tell her, half-expecting her to tell me to do soafter work.
She doesn’t. Sera smiles triumphantly and points to the back room where more books are stacked, and a table sits against the window. “Go back there so that if a customer comes in, you won’t be talking over them,” she requests, and I do so even though it’s not likely anyone is going to walk through the front doors.
I could be wrong. But I highly doubt it.
Once I’m seated at the wooden table on a chair with cushions made by hand. I go through my phone until I find the listing forInkubus. Their website is minimalistic, and I scroll through some of the gallery, which is impressive, before clicking the contact button and putting the phone to my ear with a sigh.
I shouldn’t do this. It’s impulsive. It’s a lot right now.
