Page 23 of Mimic

“Morning, Indie.”

I turned my brightest smile toward Bruce. “Morning, Bruce. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am.” Bruce looked between me and Gunner before adding, “I heard what happened. Your eye doesn’t look too bad.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you force someone to hole up in their apartment for days so their clients don’t see them at their worst.”

“Indie,” Gunner warned.

Ignoring him, I continued on, “We can’t have customers knowing that people are human after all. I was all set to come up with some outlandish story about my black eye, something that made me look like a real badass. You know, maybe answer everyone’s questions with‘you should see the other guy’kind of shit. But someone made that decision for me, as if I were a child who wasn’t capable of taking care of themselves.”

“I will not fucking apologize for caring about you.”

I spun around and yelled, “I didn’t ask you to care!” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Looking over my shoulder at Bruce, I said, “I’m glad you’re back.” Then, I turned my back on Gunner and got ready for my day.

The day sucked.

It was long and filled with clients that had been moved and rescheduled. Phone calls from pissed-off customers that had to wait a few extra days.

I kept asking myself why I was still here. Why hadn’t I moved on? I didn’t have an answer. At least not one I wanted to admit. I liked it here. Diamond Creek had become the home I was looking for in the few months I had been here.

I liked Haizley and the old ladies. I liked the brothers who had come in for tattoos and piercings. I’d gotten to know a few of them, like Romeo and Ace. Winchester was cool. His brother Hudson was gorgeous, but definitely too old for me. I’d had enough of older men to last a fucking lifetime.

I was even willing to admit I had a fondness for the grumpy green giant. I hated being mad at him, but my pride wouldn’t just let him get away with being controlling. I’d been controlled enough in my life.

The reason I accepted the job was that, unlike at many studios, I was my own boss. Gunner didn’t pay my salary; I paid him a rental fee for my station. The only rules I had were the hours the studio was open. And even that could be worked out with enough notice.

I made my schedule.

No one else.

So, after a long day at work, I decided a drink was needed. I yanked open the door to the Queen’s Diamond and smiled when I saw Grace behind the bar, and Johnny in his usual spot at the end.

Planting my butt on the stool next to him, I bumped his shoulder with mine.

“Why the long face?”

“Hey, Indie,” he greeted before taking a long sip of his beer. Johnny didn’t usually drink beer when he was watching Grace, so I knew something was up. “Just a long day.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I was playing catch-up all day with angry clients Gunner had rescheduled.”

“Your eye is looking better.”

I reached up without thinking. The bruise was still there, but it had faded enough that I could hide it behind makeup.

“Hey, girl, what can I get you?”

“The usual?”

Grace winked and said, “You got it.” She disappeared to the other end of the bar before coming back a few minutes later. “One rum and Coke.”

“Thanks, babe.”

I took a sip of my drink and smiled as the bubbly soda popped on my tongue. There wasn’t a drop of rum in my glass, but no one needed to know that I didn’t drink.

When a child was plied with alcohol at a young age, one of two things happened. Either they became alcoholics, or they were turned off it completely. Thankfully, I was in the latter camp, which was a miracle considering I was pretty sure my father was a drunk.

When I first came to Diamond Creek, I came to the bar to try to meet people. I got to talking with Grace and told her I didn’t really drink, but didn’t want to have to always explain why I wasn’t drinking. She understood and told me to always order with her and ask for my usual. She would bring me a plain Coke and keep my secret.