Page 8 of The Intimacy of Skin

I could see the exit so clearly. It mocked me, the sign above the door flickering in quick pulses. I stood, feet stuck to the ground, as a new obstacle stood before me. Brandt’s office was a few feet from the door to my escape, and his swung wide open.

With my luck, he’d see me pass by and start something with me. Right now, any conversation I had with him would be unprofessional at best.

There wasn’t much time to make a decision. I could either walk past, get bombarded with questions and demands, or risk going through the front door where customers could see and potentially bother me.

In the end, I decided to risk getting caught by a thousand customers rather than having to deal with Brandt’s bullshit. With a huff, I turned my back to the exit and strode to the front. I grumbled under my breath, spewing profanities to myself as I peeled my outer jacket off my shoulders.

My uniform was too hot with the fire swarming inside of me. I thought the closer I got to the front, the more I’d cool down. I was wrong, of course. The urgency to get out only picked up, swimming until the bones under my skin vibrated with screams.

By the time I reached the dining area, my vision was blurry, and I had no idea what was up from down. I was ready to grovel on my knees to the Devil himself. I was a flash of a person, bobbing and weaving desperately through the tables, looking for the best path to the exit.

I must’ve been to the point of hallucinating because I could have sworn I saw Pretty Boy chatting it up with a modelesque woman.

Eating.

In my restaurant.

I stopped dead in my tracks, almost bumping into a busy server. Thinking it might be the sweat in my eyes, I blinked a few times and wiped them with the back of my hand. When the room came back into view and he was still there, I realized I wasn’t quite losing it yet.

After another annoyed server huffed at me, I moved out of the way, momentarily warring with my mind and legs. I should’ve made my way towards the front door. The man made it pretty clear he didn’t want or expect to see me again.

“Fuck you for ever showing me what kindness felt like.”

His voice, crisp and shaky with fear, rang through my mind.

The snarl that crossed his lips as he spat straight poison at me.

I knew the look on his face. I had the same one many times before in my life.

It was a look of earth-shattering pain. The type you try to pretend isn’t there.

I knew it so intimately, I was helpless to the pull of my body as I walked closer to the table.

I was just out of sight, hidden from him and the woman seated in front of him. He looked better today, the waves on his head neatly tamed, though the color was still faded carelessly. I only saw his side profile, but I couldn’t see any new wounds on his face.

What surprised me the most was the genuine smile painting the same lips that had scowled at me. He held me captive under the LED lightning, the same he did on the dim street corner, or in the shitty motel lobby I’d seen him first.

The woman in front of him was laughing at something he said, her hair flying behind her shoulders as she threw her head back.

She was painfully beautiful, her lips colored a deep red that matched a few streaks in her curly, otherwise dark hair.

She wore her looks well, holding her head up high. Who was she to him?

I had no right to wonder that. The way he licked his lips after sipping on some sort of tea we offered lured me further and further. He wore a plain gray tee, his similarly colored jacket open, one side hanging off his shoulder.

Fuck, I bet his skin felt just as cool as it did the other night. It would stave the fire beneath mine. I just knew it would cool me down and force me back to Earth.

Without fully meaning to, I had inched close enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversation as they ate their food.

Food I had helped cook.

Food from a menu I’d created myself.

A shiver ran down my spine, tingling down my body as the frustration from earlier dissipated. I could hear the woman sigh after something Pretty Boy said that I couldn’t make out.

“Crew…” She slid a palm down her face, suddenly looking as done as I had been just a few seconds ago. “I know the guy who owns this place. He’s a client of mine and we have a great business relationship. I could easily get you a job here if you’d just let me.”

Crew, huh?

Pretty Boy slumped against his seat, abandoning his plate. “How many jobs have you gotten me, now? I don’t know what it’ll take for you to understand that I can’t just do what normal people do.”

“What’ll it take for you to understand that what you do is dangerous?” The woman’s voice was laced with snark.

Pretty Boy—Crew—scoffed at her. “I made four hundred bucks from one John the other night. I like what I do, and I can make bank doing it. I hope you’re not slut-shaming me, Willow.”

His joke fell flat. Willow only shook her head. “Just think about it, okay? This place isn’t all that bad. I know Matt well enough to know that much.”

I highly doubted she knew Matt very well at all, then. He was nowhere to be seen the majority of the time, allowing Brandt to run whatever fuckery he wanted to.

Against my better judgment and despite all I knew about this place, I took a few steps toward their table with an easy smile. My mouth was moving before I could stop myself, using their conversation as an in. “My apologies for eavesdropping, but did I hear you know Matt?”

At first, Crew looked at me with nothing more than annoyance. Then, after Willow grinned at me with sparkles in her eyes, I could see him stiffen in my peripheral vision.

Willow pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, sitting straighter in her seat while her gaze roamed over me. “Yes, I’ve been working with him for a couple of years now. My friend and I were just discussing the recent opening in your staffing.”

She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was making goo-goo eyes at a man with zero interest. She also had no idea we didn’t have staff openings, or that her friend was sweating bullets at my mere presence.

Still, I played along to hide my true agenda. What that was, exactly, I still didn’t know. “Oh? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you…” I paused.

“Willow.”

“Willow. Are you the one looking for a job?” I turned to Crew.

If you looked up the definition of startled in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of his face front and center.

“No. I’m quite happy with my current occupation, thank you.

” He said it like a threat, biting his words.

The sneer on his face twisted the corner of his lips. Any further, and his teeth would show.

“Oh?” Surely, I was adding fuel to a building fire. I couldn’t help myself.

Crew’s jaw ticked as he ground his molars. Willow perked up, stumbling through an explanation. “He works freelance jobs.”

That was news to me. Was sex work a side gig? “Like odd jobs here and there?”

“Yes, he’s, uh…” She glanced back at Crew. “Good with his hands.” The red strands in her hair bobbed as she nodded, congratulating herself on her answer while Crew’s mouth parted in shock.

Ah. So sex work was the freelance job. With a glance to the side, I hummed as I worked through shit in my head. Was I infatuated enough to give this a shot? I doubted he’d even take the offer if I gave it to him.

It was tempting, though, if only to say I tried.

So tempting, I pulled my phone out from my back pocket.

“Good with your hands, huh? I actually need someone to help around the place. Brandt, my direct boss, is so busy that I’m left with quite a few tasks.

I’m only one guy, y’know? It’s getting difficult to keep up. ”

Not a full lie, but close to it. I could use the help, and watching Crew’s nose scrunch up in irritation was just too good to pass up. A twitch began just under his eyelid. The scar just above his eye called to me. I wondered how he got it, like the multitude of others on his body.

“I’m not looking for a job.” The stern tone in his voice caught me off guard enough to regain my full attention.

Willow scrambled straighter in her seat, waving a dismissive hand around. “He’s stubborn and refuses to believe he needs something more… stable, you could say. Is this a position with the opportunity to grow?”

The position I’d just made on the spot that I didn’t even know the name of? “Yes, absolutely.” Another white lie. Well, at least I was on a roll.

“Starting pay?” she countered.

Well, fuck. “I’d need a trial period consisting of at least one to two shifts to show you the ropes and make sure you’ll fit in well. If it all pans out well enough, I’d be glad to match your current monthly take-home.”

Crew huffed a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t be able to match it.”

“Is that so?” I tilted my head to the side.

He nodded. “I want higher than minimum wage.”

“Done.”

“At least three bucks higher an hour.”

“Sure.”

“And flexible hours.”

“I can compromise.”

“I want a number. How much?”

I felt Willow’s gaze burning into the side of my head. I didn’t pay it any mind, watching Crew’s expressions closely. It was entrancing. “How much are you worth?”

When I was met with silence, I chuckled and turned to Willow. “I’d like to set up an official interview, but something tells me I’d only be ignored if I got contact information from Mr. Crew directly. Would you be so kind as to enter your number?”

After blinking at me slowly, seemingly comprehending what I was asking, Willow took my phone and typed a number into it. “I never did get your name,” she said just as she put the phone back into my palm.

I glanced at the new contact in my phone before pocketing it again. “ Oh, yes, I’m so sorry. It’s been so hectic, I must have left my manners in the kitchen. I’m Price Iverson, one of the managers here.”

Crew sighed from the other side. “Are we done here? I’d like to finish my meal in peace.”

With my best practiced grin, I nodded. “Of course. If either of you needs anything, I’ll text Willow. You two enjoy the rest of your night, and I hope to see you soon, Crew.”

Now I had to hope Willow convinced Crew to come in for an interview, get him to agree to a job, and convince Brandt or Matt to take him on to our staff. With a position that didn’t exist.

On my walk back to the kitchen, reality began to settle in. I easily could’ve stayed away. I could have mentioned we didn’t have any openings. There were a million ways I could have ignored both of them, but I couldn’t.

Not when those sad, frozen eyes calmed the fire inside of me. Not when I began to sway where I stood at the memory of his soft, scarred skin against my palms. Crew was complicated and unique. One small fuck-up and I knew everything would explode.

He reminded me of my passion in life. However fucked up it sounded, Crew was a new recipe I had yet to learn, and I desperately needed to know him.

Through only a few interactions and a handful of fleeting touches, I was ready to freeze underneath his intricate, ice-made design. I needed his skin against mine to calm the chaos beneath it until we made something uniquely flawed, yet perfect all the same.