Page 12 of Ink

But he didn’t mention it. Just nodded his head.

“I brought a prospect.”

“Okay?”

We stared at one another for a tense moment. I wasn’t sure why he brought a prospect, and I should’ve asked, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Ink’s.

Something felt… different since he hired me back. It was only a few moments in which we’d interacted, and yet something phenomenal had shifted between the two of us. Maybe it was his own guilt driving him. He wasn’t kinder, but he hadn’t actively growled at me when he came over yesterday. And now, there was something softer around the edges of his eyes. Not too soft, of course, and he was still an asshole.

The longer we stared, the more my heart began beating faster and faster until I couldn’t stand the anxiety.

But still, I refused to look away.

It wasn’t until a man shuffled up behind him. “Where do you want me, Ink?”

Ink spoke first. “Can we come inside?”

I should have said no. No need to expose my mamá to them any more than need be. No need to dawdle either.

But I found myself moving aside and letting them through.

I went after them, awkward in my own home, as the prospect stopped in the living room. For the first time, I noticed he carried with him bags from the paint store.

“Um…what is that for?”

“The prospect is going to paint your walls.”

I blinked at Ink.

What the fuck?

Just then my ma came in, fussing with her hair in front of company, but pursing her lips in displeasure.

“Buenos dias,” she greeted, though she looked like she’d sucked on a lemon.

“Buenos dias, señora,” Ink greeted politely, moving to take her hand and press a kiss to her cheek. The prospect did the same.

It was very surreal.

“What’s all this?” my ma asked, staring with mistrust at the bags on the floor and the men in her living room.

“We came to fix the walls,” Ink declared.

He didn’t ask permission, either. He just… commanded, and he commanded the room with his very essence.

My ma started to bristle.

“Then they’ll be repainted. The prospects will finish in about a week, sooner if they can.”

“They?”

He looked at me, gaze piercing. “We have several prospects.”

Okay?

The prospect in question began pulling the supplies out of the bag, a small tin can of that special varnish to kill the mold on the walls and the special brush and face mask.

“Hold on,” my ma demanded. “How much is this going to cost?”

---