Page 7 of Huge Dynamite
“No.” Shaking my head, I smile for the first time all night. “Well, yes, actually, but I can handle it, thanks.”
“Holly,” Robert snaps.
The crisp night air energizes me, and as I focus on the man, I tune out Robert. “I want to ask you about your tattoos. How did you decide what to get tattooed on you? How did you know you wouldn’t get tired of it?”
“Didn’t.” Taking a long sip of coffee, he lowers his hand and rests it by his side.
“What do you mean?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Robert rolling his eyes, but I don’t give a fuck. I walk up closer to the man. “What do you mean?” I repeat my question. “You didn’t know if you’d get tired of it?”
“No, I didn’t choose it. A tattoo chooses you.”
“Really?”
“Holly,” Robert barks. “You’re a surgeon. You going to buy into this crap?”
Turning to Robert, I glare at him. “Last I checked, this conversation didn’t include you.”
“Holly, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Hey.” My new tattooed friend walks up to Robert. He’s considerably shorter than Robert, but he doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. They stand toe-to-toe. “The lady and I are having a conversation. Last I checked, this is a free country, and she’s free to talk to whoever she wants.”
“It’s ‘whomever’ she wants. But why would I think you would know that?”
“Robert.” Shaking my head, my cheeks flood with color. I feel awful for dragging the poor man into this. Turning to the man, I apologize. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t get out much.”
Using his thumb, he points at Robert. “This guy your man?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I smile and cock an eyebrow at Robert. “Actually, he was just leaving. Weren’t you, Robert?”
“No, actually, Holly, I thought we were heading in for coffee.”
“I think I’m going to stay here and talk to…” Leaning toward my tattooed friend, I nod to prompt him.
“Paul.”
Turning to Robert, I smile. “I’m staying here and talking to my new friend, Paul.”
“What about the coffee?” Robert sounds dejected.
“You can have the rest of this if you want.” Paul holds out his cup to me. Without thinking, I grab the cup and take a long sip. The coffee is milky and sweet and freaking delicious.
“Hol-ly,” Robert barks. “I don’t think I have ever been so disgusted—”
“Oh, cram it, Robert.” Holding the cup back out to Paul, I smile at him. “Thanks. It’s really good. I always drink black coffee. I think I may be ordering this from now on.” What the hell am I doing? I have never shared a drink with anyone before, let alone a complete stranger. Is this what the beginning of a nervous breakdown feels like?
“Just tell them you want a ‘New York Coffee Regular’,” Paul explains. “They’ll know what you want. Glad you like it. Keep it.”
Nodding my thanks, I turn away from the two men and start walking out toward the parking lot. I’ve got my phone and wallet on me, and the valet guys will have my keys…
“Holly?” Robert calls after me. “Holly? Where are you going? Your shift’s not over!”
“Seeing if there’s a tattoo that calls to me!”
“What?”
Giggling, I yell to Robert without turning back, “I’m taking a personal day!” Giving him a tiny wave over my shoulder, I have to force myself to slow down so I don’t full-out sprint to my car. On second thought, why the hell shouldn’t I run? My walk turns into a slow jog, and then suddenly, I’m racing toward the valet booth. Not waiting for the guys to get them for me, I step up into the booth and grab my keys.
“Dr. Boling?” One of the valets comes running toward me from the other end of the parking lot, but I can’t stop. “Is everything okay?” he asks as he nears.
