Page 42 of Four Tattoos

Zipper, who’s closest to having a view of the front of the store, steps out of the stall to take a look. “It’s Mrs. Marcos. I’ll get it.” He looks back at me, scanning my body, presumably checking that I’m decent, before he heads up to answer the door.

Just as I’m remembering who Mrs. Marcos is, and that she owns a business next door, I remember that I came here on business. I was here to make a delivery, and I got very, very distracted. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but I know a quickie isn’t that quick when it’s times four. “I need to go!”

“It’s okay,” Hutch says. “Mrs. Marcos probably just needs help with her mailbox or lifting something. She won’t come in.”

“No, I need to get back to the coffee shop! I’m supposed to be working.”

“Oh, shit!” Apparently Hutch forgot, too. “I’m sorry. You won’t get in trouble will you? You shouldn’t when it’s a family business.” He sounds ready to come to my defense for a battle he’s imagining in his head.

“It’s okay,” I say as I look around for my purse. “I’ll tell them there was a lot of traffic.” It’s not an excuse I’d usually be able to get away with on the island, but summer brings a lot of vacationers, so it’s somewhat plausible.

Mace pulls me in for a quick kiss, then Christian, and Hutch walks me to the front, where there’s no sight of Zipper or Mrs. Marcos. He opens the door for me, and escorts me to my car. “Drive safely,” he says, wrapping me in his arms again and giving me a series of small kisses, first on my lips, then a final one on my forehead. “I’ll text you later.”

“Later,” I repeat softly. “Bye.” And then I rush out of the lot, preparing excuses for my brother as I go.

31

ZIPPER

Hutch is standing on the sidewalk watching Rose drive away when I return from the flooring store, where Mrs. Marcos had a jammed drawer. Her husband is sick and stayed home today, so she didn’t have anyone there to help her.

“Snap out of it,” I tell Hutch when he doesn’t even hear me approach.

His head jerks in my direction, but I’m already on my way back inside our shop. “What’re you talking about?” he asks, following me in.

I turn and give him a long look, wondering if this is the right time to bring this up. I decide there won’t be a right time, so I may as well just get it out there. “I don’t want to have to say this, but this needs to end.”

Hutch frowns, his eyes narrowed at me. “What needs to end?”

Mace and Christian apparently pick up on his confrontational tone, because they come up to see what’s going on. Good. It’s best they all hear this.

“Things are getting too serious with Rose,” I say, “and you were standing out there looking like a pitiful puppy whose owner left on vacation.” I notice his hands curl into fists, but I keep going. “The girl’s got you wrapped around her finger tight as a boa constrictor.”

He works his jaw before firing back. “Don’t stand there and act like you’re not into her, too. More than that, you care for her.”

“I do care for her,” I say, “and I’ll admit she’s incredibly hard to resist, but I’ve been keeping perspective on the situation, and you haven’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hutch snarls.

“Face the facts. We’re just her dirty secret. She hasn’t told anyone she’s seeing us, and she doesn’t intend for anything to come of this, but you’re carrying on like you want to marry her—offering to help her move, offering her money for her apartment. You’ve got it bad, and nothing good’s going to come of it.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I keep going, getting out everything that’s been on my mind. “She’s going to find a suitable, respectable guy someday soon, one she’s not embarrassed to tell her brother about, and when that happens, she won’t be coming around here anymore.”

Hutch sinks down on the couch, his eyes wide but his face grim. The curtain’s been parted, and he’s finally seeing the light.

“Fuck, dude, that’s harsh,” Mace says, looking between the two of us.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me one thing I’ve said that isn’t true,” I challenge. Part of me wants one of them to have a good argument, but they don’t. None of them do.

32

ROSE

Nancy spots me the moment I get back to the coffee shop.

“Oh my gosh, Rose, where have you been? Your brother was about to go out looking for you!”

“Really? Was I gone that long? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

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