Page 25 of Rox

I look up at him as I pull the needle off his skin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to go into anything if someone in your family did it first. Even if that is something as simple as teaching. The mindset is everywhere, no matter the job.”

Unsure of what to tell him, I stuck with “I’m sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”

“Compliments are given when compliments are due.”

The rest of the appointment went off without a hitch. My client let me know he was impressed with the ink I gave him and that he’d be back another time for something else. He’s my first return client and the elation I feel is almost too much. I’m finally getting closer to the goal I’ve had for years.

It was after that appointment that Duncan tried to get me to practice on fake skin—claiming that I still needed to be taught. I wasn’t doing anything right, and it was almost as if I’d forgottenwhat he’s already taught me. When I wasn’t doing it the “right way” or quickly enough, he would take over. He’d explain how he would do it and that I needed to do it the same way. He would also turn it into a subtle brag against himself. Then he’d look at me and wait. Expecting some form of compliment.

The following client was a completely different experience.

“If you hold it too tight, you might distort your lines and where you want the design to lie on the body,” Duncan explains to me like I am learning to draw for the first time. “Here, give me your hand,” he says as he takes my hand from my side and places it on the client’s leg. He then places his hand over mine and presses mine into the client.

I panicked a little and pulled my hand back before he could start with the needle again, and I was stuck close to him. He shot me a glance over his shoulder, and I returned his look with an uneasy smile.

Shaking my head out of the moment from not long ago, I look up at the clock, counting the minutes until my lunch break. Not having a steady stream of clients allows me a more structured break schedule. And today, I’m excited because Angel has a free hour at the same time I do. An apology lunch, he’d called it. It’s free food and time with my best friend. Of course, I said yes. And yes, again, and again, and again, because the man was stubborn as hell and couldn’t take my answer for what it was.

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me, “Angel, I told you, I forgive you. I’m good. Everything is fine between us.”

“The fuck it is. I can say I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face, but I need to show you I am, too.”

“And somehow you don’t think that you’re doing that now? You’re fighting me over your apology. Which is dumb as fuck, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. You want food or not?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

It was as simple as that. Our banter was easy, and we never had to go into complex or complicated conversations. Of course, we had those. Everyone does at some point. But it was easy with Angel because we understand each other. This was another one of those moments. He knows, deep down, that I’m fine, and I’ve forgiven him. Just like I know, deep down, that he needs to show me he’s sorry just as much as he needed to tell me.

“Girl, you need to pay attention if you’re going to learn anything today.” Duncan’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. There he is. I knew his snappy side was still there. I’ve been cleaning my station and the front of the shop. I stopped standing behind him. It was almost like he forgot I was there. He stopped talking and focused on his work. I took it as his way of dismissing me. I wasn’t “learning” anything.

“Sorry, I’m hungry, and it’s almost my lunch break. I’m going to head out in a moment,” I explain, giving his client a saccharine smile.

Duncan smiles as he wipes his client’s arm. “That’s it, man, you’re done. Head over to the mirror and check it out.” It’s terrifying how he becomes a whole ass new person when he’s speaking tohisclients. His client gets off the chair and heads over to the mirror on the wall, and Duncan turns his attention toward me. “Give me a few minutes to clean this all up, and I can take you out. I could use a meal and a break. We can try that new place that opened up next to Angel’s shop. I heard they make a mean tofu wrap.” Duncan almost seems giddy. He doesn’t look up. He just stays focused on the task. He’s really weirding me out.

Before I can tell him I have other plans, the front door chimes. I look up and see Angel strolling in like he owns the place as he makes his way over to Duncan and I. Duncan’s client comes back to the chair, and when he turns toward the massive man standing next to us, his focus shifts. I’m not gonna lie; it’sfunny as hell watching grown-ass men lose their shit over Angel. To me, he’s just Angel; to these two, he’s…everything.

“An-Angel. Hi. Hi. Um, hi. Wh-what are you? Are you having lunch with me? I mean, Roxanne—us. Us. We’re going to lunch. Are you having lunch with us too?”

Is Duncan sweating? What the fuck?

Before I can say anything, Angel cuts in. “Um, no. Sorry. I was here for Roxie only. She and I have something planned.”

I swear the temperature in the room drops. Angel’s looking at me, but so is Duncan. I can’t tell if he’s pissed because he’s not going out with Angel, with me, or both. It’s also possible it’s something else entirely. Not wanting to waste any more mental capacity on him and his bullshit, I went with something else that caught my attention.

“Oh, I’m Roxanne now?”

“What do you mean?” Angel asks.

I can’t get a word in, though, because Duncan does that nervous laugh thing most people do when they’re flirting, “Oh, she’s just being silly. We come up with nicknames all day to help make the time go by. It’s fun.”

“Umm, o-kay.” I’m not dealing with this right now. I turn to Angel, “Are you ready?”

“He was being really fucking weird. Is he always like that?” Angel asks once we’re sitting down with sandwiches in front of us. I’m picking up my pickle spear and biting before responding. “Nah, he’s normally an assbag.”

Angel laughs and shakes his head, “You and the names you call people.”

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