Page 75 of Wicked Design
What should have been from the beginning with jerks like him. Van Gogh grabbed Zeke’s arm and dragged him past the counter to his paintings for sale. “By the way, I’m a traditional artist. My medium is oil. These are my latest works.”
“So?”
“Look. At. Them.” Van Gogh crowded him. “Buy some. Introduce me to your VIP friends who know art and can help my career. Got it?”
Zeke blinked. “Are you high?”
That answer told Van Gogh everything he needed to know and should have realized from the start. He’d never mattered to Zeke or the others, not even for a second. He hauled him to the front door and opened it. “Get your tats somewhere else. I’m busy. Don’t ever come back to this place. Don’t call. If you dare talk to Jasmina again as you did, or anyone else here like that, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“You fucking think I’d come back to this dump after you—”
Van Gogh shoved him out and closed the door.
A biker and middle-aged man waiting to get inked looked at Zeke storming away then lowered their gazes to their smartphones.
Jasmina pumped her fist.
Lauren mouthed “About damn time.”
Long fucking overdue.He hadn’t felt this stoked in weeks or as determined about his next move…what he had to do when it came to Clover.
The only person who had ever mattered to him.
Please don’t let it be too late for me to fix things between us.
He ran to his station.
Tor stood in the hall. “Everything all right?”
Not even close.“I’ve fucked things up worse than I thought I ever could. I have to talk to Clover. Can you cover for me?”
“Sure.”
“No. Wait. I have to do something first.”
“Need any help?”
“Not with this.” Van Gogh dropped into his chair by the computer. “It’s something I should have done a long time ago but put off.” He looked over. “About our talk…”
“Everything stays in here. I don’t gossip.”
“Good to know. By the way, get in my face like that again and I’ll slice off your nuts.”
Tor clamped Van Gogh’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. Next time I act like an ass feel free to say so. That’s what friends are for.”
Lovers, too. Especially those who liked a person in spite of his faults, maybe even because of them. Weeks earlier, Clover had tried to open his eyes about his behavior but had been too nice, then distant. She should have slugged him.
Tor left.
The intercom buzzed. “Van Gogh.”
Jasmina.
He pulled up websites for his research. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks for what you did.”
It wasn’t nearly enough. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. Everyone else here, too. Next time I lose my mind, I hope you’ll brain me before my bad judgment affects you or this place.”
