Page 24 of Broken

The saying ‘pick your battles’ comes to mind, but this is bullshit. I allow one cat here, what happens next? A fucking petting zoo? Lucky is one step away from getting on her knees to beg.

“That room better be sterile after,” I say to Shane. “Get it done fast.”

They all chatter excitedly as I head behind the counter and turn my back. I have nothing further to say that doesn’t include expletives. Phoenix follows, leaning against the glass top counter, while Shane, Lucky, and the fucking cat head to the back.

“Not a fucking word.”

“I commend you, G. That’s progress.”

“You’re fired.”

“Can’t fire your business partner.”

“Wanna bet?”

I flick through the appointments book. “Don’t you need the back room today?” I ask after seeing who his client is.

“Harris doesn’t care about being out in the shop.”

That’s beside the point, I want to argue but keep my mouth shut. Archer Harris is in a world-famous band. He comes in when he can to get work done on his sleeve. He’s right, he rarely takes him out back.

I’ve got a new client today who wants a black and gray geometric body suit covering his whole back, chest, and arms. He’s not due in for another two hours.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I tell Phoenix. I can do with taking some time to think. “Make sure that fucking cat is gone by the time I get back,” I scowl as I head for the door.

“You love pussy!” Phoenix shouts after me.

“Not the four-legged kind,” I fire back as I step outside. He’s laughing as the door shuts.

As I cross the street, a woman from the florist opposite the shop waves to me. She’s about to head over, but I give her a quick chin tip and hurry on.

I fucked her about six months ago, which was a mistake. I’m not interested in doing it again.

There is nowhere I need to be right now. It wasn’t in my plans to go wandering the streets of Baltimore, but I gotta admit, it’s nice out.

As I approach the bookstore on the corner, I slow down and glance at the display in the window. It’s one of those places that goliteralwhen dressing their window. Occasionally, I notice but usually I’m on my bike when I pass, so don’t always see it.

Katja talks about it all the time. She’s a big reader and comes here a lot during her breaks.

The window dressing only started a few months ago, even though the store has been here for years. It’s nautical themed this month. Half a rowboat with oars balancing on the sides sticks out from the left side of the window. Blue and green blankets make up the sea with white stuffing to create waves. Someone has painted a backdrop with a lighthouse too.

There are life preservers and fishing nets hanging from the ceiling, with fake fish caught in them, together with several books.Moby Dick, The Odyssey, The Life of Pi,and some others I’ve never heard of. They haven’t forgotten the kids either, withThe Little MermaidandBoo, A Fishy Mystery, between the sheets.

A grin stretches my lips when I seeJawspeeking out of the blanket waves. Creativity in all its forms fascinates me, and I appreciate the effort that went into this.

Heading around the corner, I’m in a better mood. Maybe I should do what Phoenix says and start being less of a grumpy bastard. Treating them all to lunch is one way of doing it.

Across the street there is a coffee house, I can grab some food there. I’m about to cross, my mind going back to the damn cat in my shop, when someone shouts.

“Watch out!”

I’m half off the sidewalk into the road when I see a bicycle, its rider trying to swerve around me. There is no avoiding a collision. A car is turning onto the road. If the bike goes in that direction, it will be right into the path of the car.

I don’t think, I act. Knowing full well this is going to hurt, I brace myself for the impact.

Grabbing the bar between the handlebars, I drag it back in my direction and take a few steps backward, holding onto the bike to stop it. The horn blares and the driver yells out of the window, but the car doesn’t stop.

The woman drops her feet to the ground to keep the bike steady, shrieking as her forward momentum has her chest hitting the handlebars. Just when I think we’re going to be okay, I lose my footing, hitting the edge of the sidewalk with the back of my heel and I go down. The bike, and its rider, coming with me, because I haven’t let go of the fucking thing.

---