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“Thank you,” she replies. “So, are we going to do the tattoo?”
“Why do you think I called?” I say, chuckling. “Out of some sick obsession with my best friend’s daughter, eh?”
Too late, I realize that was probably the most misjudged joke in history. I’m not even sure why I said it, except that maybe I think I can make light of this so I don’t have to face the cold reality of what I’m doing.
She takes a step back as if I’ve burned her. She’s about to reply, her mouth half open, when a car alarm starts screeching from outside. She seems relieved she doesn’t have to respond to this, and honestly, so am I.
It’s better to be running through the studio, out onto the street, with that lame-ass joke bouncing around my head. What the hell was I thinking, saying something like that? I don’t want to joke about this.
My thoughts screech to a stop when I see the shattered glass all over the ground, glittering in the light of the streetlamp. My car window is busted, and the door’s dented too, a cinderblock resting just beneath it.
Screech. Car tires.
I turn, Evie at my side.
“Is that… Keith?”
It is, hanging out the side of the window, the man from the phony company. He has a big, ugly grin on his face as the driver makes another pass by the studio. He has a brick in his hand. When he throws it, I jump in front of Evie.
CHAPTER
TEN
Evie
My initial reaction is shameful.
In the short moment it takes for the brick to sail through the air—less than a second—I’m grateful that this is Brian’s first instinct. I know it could simply be that he’s a good man and doesn’t want to see somebody get hurt, but there’s also this notion that won’t quit, this feeling that he’s doing it because he loves me and has a crush on me.
“Motherfucker,” Brian roars, darting his hand out.
He catches the brick midair, then steps forward and launches it overarm as the car passes. It smashes into the side of the car, causing Keith to duck back inside like a wannabe whack-a-mole. The car speeds down the street, somebody reaching out the window and flipping us the bird.
“I don’t get it,” I say when he’s gone, walking over to Brian’s car and the shattered glass. “Why would he attack your studio?”
Brian stares down at me, his jaw tight, his temples pulsing. There’s so much contained in his savage eyes. He runs his hand through his wild hair, sighing.
“I might have had something to do with that.”
“Shall I get a dustpan and brush and clean this glass up, and you can tell me then?”
I need to stop reading into everything he does, but there’s something so couple-like about how he looks at me. It’s like he’s wordlessly saying, That would be great because we’re a team. It’s a tiny thing, just a look, and it’s taking me back to my crush days. Back then, every little breath was filled with meaning, the quickest of glances, all seeming somehow important.
“This tattoo is cursed,” he says, nodding with a gruff laugh.
“I’m sure we’ll get to it eventually.”
Eventually… I hope.
I have to keep seeing him, even if it’s the last thing I should want. Once the tattoo is done, even if I get the job, I will be delayed starting while the studio is finished.
That means time without Brian.
After heading inside to get the supplies, Brian tapes up the window as I clean up the glass.
“Be careful,” he tells me.
I smile up at him. “I will. Do you think we should call the cops?”
“Not sure if that’s a good idea. Keith is involved in organized crime.”
I gasp. “What? How do you know that? Are you sure?”
“I swung by the studio earlier.”
“Why?”
He stands wide-shouldered, his expression hard as he gazes down at me. “Because he called you fat. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I swung by to teach the bastard some manners. I marked his two security men as criminals right away. The business has too many staff members, and the office is too large for a so-called startup.”
He shrugs, saying, “I called an old friend who works in the CIA now. He confirmed it. Keith’s uncle is in organized crime. My buddy’s best bet is that, since Never Say Never Art isn’t a cash business, not a money laundering operation, it’s probably an attempt to legitimize Keith or a vanity project, a gift for the spoiled nephew.”
“So let me get this straight.” I carefully lay the dustpan aside, standing. “Because he called me fat, you charged into the offices to assault him?”
Brian walks right up to me, so close I can feel the heat, my body triggering impulses straightaway. There’s no delay in the hunger, the lust, activating instantly the second he’s close enough to touch.
