Page 38 of Inked Desires
“Whatever,” I mutter into the empty room and pull the money out.
Shopping doesn’t sound so bad after all. I do need more T-shirts and underwear. And it'll give me time to come up with an apology.
I head down Main Street. There probably aren’t a lot of shops around here, but I spotted a couple of clothing stores earlier. I don’t need anything fancy. Simple clothes will do. Better to stay under the radar.
A bell rings as I push open the door. A young woman is behind the register, glued to her phone. She doesn’t even look up, and I’m fine with that.
I browse through the racks and find three black T-shirts that match my current“blend-in-and-stay-quiet” vibe. No need to try them on. They look about the right size. Even if they’re a bit big, it doesn’t matter.
I bring them to the counter and wait patiently for the blonde to notice me.
“Hi,” I say to get her attention.
She finally puts her phone down and looks up.
“You’re the new guy, right?” she asks, skipping any sort of greeting.
I just nod.
“I heard you work for Ares,” she goes on, without pause.
I just wanted to buy a few damn shirts. Why do I get the feeling this is about to go sideways?
“Yeah,” I eventually reply.
“Has he fucked you yet?”
I look up from the shirts.
“Who wants to know?”
“So, you did.” She smirks.“Careful, sweetheart. He’s not the serious type.”
A pulse starts pounding behind my eyes, and I rub my forehead with my fingers. Can this daygetany weirder?
“And how exactly do you know that?” I ask, annoyed.
She finally starts scanning the tags—but takes her time doing it.
“We’ve all been there,” she says with a smug little smile.“That’ll be fifty-eight bucks.”
I resist the urge to wipe that grin off her face. Instead, I slap down sixty dollars.
“Keep the change. And for the record—Ares and I live together,” I say, like I’m marking my damn territory.
Might as well go piss on the studio too while I’m at it. The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Ares doesn’tbelongto me. I’ve got no right to be mad.
I grab the shirts and walk out, slamming the door behind me. My urge to shop is officially dead.
When I step back into the studio, I close the door a little harder than necessary.
“What’s got your boxers in a twist?”
I jump and spin around. It’s just Kiran, arms crossed, leaning in the tattoo room doorway.
“One of Ares’s ex-skanks,” I mutter, heading for the front desk, unsure if I’m mad at myself, at Ares, or that damn salesgirl.
He chuckles. I take a deep breath and shoot him a glare.
