Page 6 of Under My Skin

Chapter Six

EVERETT

It’s late, and Hal is long gone, but I can’t bring myself to leave this half-finished apartment.

It’s getting there. They managed to put in new pipes, but the walls are still open in some areas.

I chose an untouched space between the kitchen and living room to tape a few swatches.

When he told me to pick a paint color, suddenly the only two colors I knew were white and black.

Colors on skin? Sure, I can make a medley of just about anything, but how should I know what color to pick now?

The shop downstairs had white walls when I bought the place, and we’ve just covered them with enough random art to make the room less sterile. It was an easy fix, and one I didn’t have to do single handedly.

But this? I smooth down a corner of tape that’s started to lift from one of the swatches with my thumb.

Picking a color means picking an overall feel for the place.

My eyes scan the small square papers with shades varying from dark and moody to cool and bright.

Part of me is tempted to call my mom and have her pick, but I already know how that conversation would go.

She’d ask why I haven’t visited recently.

She’d remind me how close my childhood home is to the shop.

She’d probably bring up something about my dad because she still talks about him like he’s here.

The truth is, it’s all more than I can handle.

Going into that house, with his smiling face frozen in pictures on the walls.

Driving the same street that shaped my childhood, knowing it’s the same street that should lead me to him but won’t.

Listening to her complain about him never putting things in their place when she still can’t find the mail-opener.

I can’t do it. I’ve tried, and I’m always worse off for it. They say grief gets quieter with time, but I’m still waiting. It’s been over a year, and it’s still fucking loud.

I jolt at the sound of a faint knock and look over my shoulder. Toni stands in the doorway, like taking another step might be too much of an intrusion.

“Hey, boss. There’s a new client downstairs, but we all have our hands full. Troy is talking to her now, but his next appointment is due any minute.”

“Okay. I’ll be right down.” My eyes wander back to the swatches, hoping the brief interruption will let me see them more clearly.

But as Toni’s footsteps fade, I’m left just as hopeless about the whole thing as I was a minute ago.

With a sigh, I head downstairs. I hope whoever came in isn’t expecting a tattoo tonight.

As soon as I’m back in the studio, I look Troy’s way to find him clearly flirting with a blonde sitting in our waiting area.

His unwavering eye contact and subtle smirk are enough to tell me that much.

I can only see the back of her from here, but she’s leaning toward him just enough for me to know he isn’t about to scare her away.

Regardless of how much success he’s having, when another car pulls up, I know there’s a good chance it’s his last appointment of the night. Heading to where he sits on our coffee table, I nod to the parking lot, so he knows they’re here.

Troy looks over his shoulder before smiling back at the girl in front of him. “That’s my next tattoo, but the owner of the shop will be happy to help you out.”

As I round into our waiting area, I put on my best customer service smile.

“Hey, how can I—” Laughter bursts from me, and I shake my head.

“No.” I should have recognized that unmistakable blonde ponytail, but it’s been so long.

It wasn’t until I registered those familiar blue eyes and soft smile that I knew she’d be the first customer I’d ever turn away.

Lucy’s face goes through a series of emotions, like watching a cartoon in a flip book. Her large, animated eyes widen; her smile falters and is quickly replaced by a pouty lip.

Aside from her expression, she looks good.

Her baggy jeans and oversized sweater might make some people look disheveled, but I don’t think Lucy can look out of sorts.

The bangs that shape her face are familiar but different from the bangs she had growing up.

They’re softer, and the pieces framing her face have a subtle wave to them like the rest of her hair that’s tied back.

She looks like an adult, not the girl who had her heart broken by some asshole when she was seventeen.

Despite taking all this in, I can’t stop laughing. “No,” I say again. Of all the shops for her to walk into, of course she’d walk into this one. Actually, it’s a good thing she did because I sure as hell am not tattooing her tonight, and I can’t say the same for the other shops in the area.

Her pout intensifies. “ You own this place?”

I realize I’m still shaking my head in amusement and stop it long enough to say, “Yeah, and you’re not getting a tattoo.” Without so much as another word, I turn and walk toward the back of the shop. Well, time to pick a paint color.

Her quick footsteps rush behind me, followed by a sharp, scolding whisper. “You can’t do that! I’m a paying customer!”

I appreciate her keeping her voice down, but I’d appreciate it more if she’d get out of here and go to her parents’ house. Turning back around to face her, I cross my arms and rock back on my heels. “You don’t even like tattoos.”

Her blue eyes blaze, and she clenches her fists in defiance. “Everett. You don’t even know me.”

We hold each other’s stare, and I have to admit, there’s a fire behind those eyes I’ve never seen. She’s pissed. Whether it be at me or the situation with her parents, I have no idea. But she’s definitely pissed.

“I don’t know you?” I ask with a raise of my brow.

“Lucy Blake, straight A student turned graphic designer. Has only a couple of close friends and likes to keep her circle small. Moved to Colorado for college and loved it so much she never came back. Likes: the color blue but only very particular shades, and animals, but she’s allergic to most of them.

Dislikes: any music made by a DJ, and motorcycles—especially the ones ridden by her brother and his friends.

” I pause to think. “Hmm, and what else? Oh, that’s right. Tattoos.”

When she doesn’t say anything, another chuckle leaves me.

“But you’re right. I don’t know you.” I turn to walk away again, but before I manage to get far, she’s already on my tail.

Toni lifts an amused brow as she looks up from her client, but before I can even try to explain, Lucy pulls my attention back to her.

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind. People change.”

Stopping in my tracks, I throw my head back and groan before surrendering and turning to face her again. “All right. You want a tattoo? Sit.” I gesture to my empty station, clean and prepped for tomorrow.

She balks, her eyes jumping from me to the chair like I just asked her to do something far worse.

I knew she was bluffing.

Holding my composure, I say, “This is why you came in here, right? For art that will last a lifetime?”

She scoffs the way I figured she would. She’d probably compare it to being branded like cattle .

“Sit,” I say again, and this time, she swallows hard before listening. As soon as she’s in the chair, I turn my back to her and start getting organized.

“Shouldn’t I see your other work first?” There’s a stubborn edge of defiance in her voice.

Without looking at her, I say, “You’ve seen my work.” I’ve done almost all of Simon’s tattoos, and she knows it.

“You haven’t even asked me what I want.”

I keep rummaging through my station, getting the proper cleaning supplies laid out. “Okay. What do you want?”

There’s a pause, so I finally turn to face her again, but her eyes aren’t on me. They’re fixated to the front exit like she might bolt for the door at any moment.

Frankly, she should.

Slowly dragging her eyes back to me, she says, “I want an outline of Pudge.”

“What’s a Pudge?”

She focuses back on the exit, and this time I look with her. People are busy on the street outside, but that’s nothing new for a Friday night in Copper Ridge. The winery across the street always draws a crowd on weekends.

Flicking a glance back in her direction, I slowly ask, “What are we?—”

I’m cut off by the sound of a soft meow from the front of the shop. I’m not the only one who hears it either. Troy is too busy talking some guy’s ear off while the guy writhes in pain from the linework being done on his calf, but Toni and Alex both dart their attention to the front of the shop.

Alex whips his head back in my direction. “Was that a?—”

Another meow.

That’s when I see it. She wasn’t looking at the exit at all. She was looking at the fucking cat carrier she left tucked under her seat.