Page 50 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

The voice filters through layers of fog until I recognize it. It’s one of my two roommates, Trinity, and she sounds mad.

“Grey! It’s your turn to clean the apartment. Don’t tell me you died before cleaning!”

“If you died,” Tav, roommate number two, chimes in, “I’ll kill you dead.”

The two Ts.

I’m struck by a ridiculous urge to laugh. It comes out like a groan because dammit, my head is pounding. Turns out if I died, someone would notice, if only because I failed to complete my chores.

I turn on my side and fall off the bed.

Okay, so this is how this day is going to go.Gotcha.“Stop shouting,” I whisper. If I yell, my head will burst. “I’ll clean.”

Not anytime soon, though, and as I slowly lift myself to a sitting position, I see the light outside the window and realize I need to hustle.

I have to get to work.

Fuck, I don’t remember returning home. Don’t remember much after the seedy bar. I guess I walked. Managed to unlock the door and fall into bed.

I’d pat myself on the back but I ache all over. It’s as if someone punched me in the stomach.

Bruised heart,I think,that’s all. You’ll get over it.

It’s not every day you see the man you’re fucking go after the woman you fancied. A bruised pride, more like. Nothing life-threatening.

“Grey? Did he say something?” Trin asks.

“If he’s alive, he’ll come out sooner or later.” Tav snickers.

“Don’t be like that. What if he’s sick?”

“Look, Trin, if you wanna play the part of Florence Nightingale, go ahead. I have to get to work. Hey, Grey!” He knocks on my door. “Tap twice on something if you need help.”

I’m still trying to get up, and by the time I open the door and step outside the room, they’re both gone.

And I’m fucking late for work.

Fuck my life.

* * *

By the time I reach Ink and Shadows, I’ve decided that there’s no point in bitching and moaning—and spending all my money on booze. Nobody’s gonna clean up after me. This is my one chance. I can’t blow it. I need to get my act together.

So what if Ronin is done with me?Boohoo, poor baby. Get over it, Grey. Done and over with.

But luck isn’t on my side. Who’s the one person you’d rather not meet as you stumble into work late, bleary-eyed and your breath stinking of sour alcohol?

Your boss, right?

And we have a winner.

“Late night out?” Cole drawls, hip propped against the reception desk, sipping coffee from a chipped mug with the shop logo.

The reception deskI’m supposed to man, aside from cleaning and setting up the equipment. I’m supposed to start helping with the designs soon as well and practice with the tattoo gun. I already have experience with that, but Cole wanted to check out my work first, and what he needed was a help.

Fair enough.

And now he’s looking at me like I’m a bug under a microscope.

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