Page 25 of Sugar Rush
“You ought to show your boss today when you go in,” Chester suggested. “Probably get you a little closer to a promotion.”
He was one of the most genuinely nice guys in the world and had always been really supportive of me, but the ultimate midwestern dad who wouldn’t even curse or watch a TV show with drugs in it wasn’t too knowledgeable about the tattoo industry or the various tiers therein. But there wasn’t any point in correcting him.
“Yeah, I’ll show her.”
When I pulled a can of soda out of the fridge, Jordy eyed it in my hand.
“Is that the last diet Dr. Pepper?” He asked. Giving him a wry look, I set it on the bar and pushed it over to him. Looking just a little too pleased with himself, he popped it open and took a sip, his blue eyes locked onto mine. It felt like a taunt, like he was reminding me that it was a waste of my time and energy to try and deny him of anything he wanted.
Chester watched the little exchange between us with a slight chuckle, shaking his head, before stating that he’d make sure to buy more at the store later when he and my mom went out shopping.
When I sat down at the table instead of the bar with them, my mom moved over to sit next to me and asked to see a picture of the tattoo I wasbecoming famous for. When I showed her, she raved about how cute it was and how talented I was and how she was so glad she never scolded me about doodling all the time as a kid.
Jordy didn’t speak to me again, and ended up retreating back upstairs, with the soda I’d wanted, before I headed out. Whatever. I’d just get something on the way to work.
THE NEXT FEWdays felt like a blur. The post kept gaining more and more traction, getting crossposted to other sites and talked about by tattoo accounts. I took advantage the best way I knew how, by posting a lot more than usual while eyes were on me, and making sure to show off all my best work. It felt like half my energy was going to that, and the other half was expended in the effort of avoiding Jordy like the plague.
“Well, you could at leasttryto look happy about all the new customers,” Barbie remarked, putting a hand on her hip as the customer I’d finished tattooing sailed out of the front door. Another satisfied and happy client.
“I am,” I answered instantly. We’d already gotten a handful of people into the shop that had brought up the post and wanted to be tattooed by me specifically. It was a little overwhelming, but all the extra money was awesome. And Barbie was thrilled about all the exposure.
“You don’t look happy,” she said. “You look like whatever’s been eating your ass for weeks is still eating it.”
Disdain for her odd metaphor aside, I sighed. “You’re still on about that?”
Giving me a very light smack to the back of my head, she waggled her finger in my face. “Yes, I’m still on about that.”
“Fine. I’m on drugs. You caught me.”
“Nope,” she answered, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been daydreaming.”
Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. “Spacing out is not daydreaming.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to. It’s not drugs that have you distracted like that. It’s just like I thought before.”
“And what did you think before?” She’d accused me of so many things I couldn’t even remember.
“You’re stuck on some omega. Don’t deny it,” she interrupted me, before I could protest. “I know that look. I’vebeenthat look,” she added. “I remember what I felt like when I first met my wife.”
“Whatever.”
“So tell me about it,” she invited, propping her butt up onto the sales counter. “Things are moving too fast for you?” She guessed. “Or maybe not fast enough?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, at least tell me about the omega. Is he cute? You like guys, right?”
I sighed, leaning my head back into the chair I’d plopped down into, but didn’t answer.
“You’ll feel better if you talk about it, Kieran. I’m serious.”
“I don’t want to,” I repeated. She gave me a dry look, letting out a slow breath.
“Alright. Tell me about him or you’re fired.”
“Seriously?” I asked, eyes wide.
“Completely. And you won’t be eligible for unemployment either.”
