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What was I supposed to tell them? That I didn’t really think we were a team, let alone a family? That in the deepest part of my chest I knew that this parlour meant more to me than to them? That I feared one day they’d leave for better things and I’d have nowhere to go?
Yes, they were co-owners of Dublin Ink, but in my view it was only my ass on the line, my soul on the line.
I was bailed out by the ringing of the little brass bell above the front door.
“See?” I said, doing that thing people do where they force up the corners of their mouths. “Nothing to worry about, just like I said. Here’s a brand-new customer right here.”
Before I could put my arm around the man’s trench coat-covered shoulders, he raised an envelope sharply between us.
“From the bank,” he announced curtly. “Final notice.”
I stood frozen with the envelope held limply as the little man turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
Slowly I turned toward Rian and Mason. Rian had his arms crossed. Mason was already holding the phone out for me.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll call him back.”
Not that I believed a few pennies from the government was going to make a difference. Not now that we were welcoming a devil into our little hell.
