Page 96 of Rome
Once I finally got back to the duplex, I started packing up what little shit I had there. I wanted to be ready to move back home first fucking thing Saturday morning.
Thursday was an absolute bitch of a day. It was raining, so I couldn’t ride my bike, which automatically put me in a pissy mood. I got to the shop early, only to find that the fucking roof had sprung a leak directly over the supply closet in the back hallway. Several soggy boxes of nitrile gloves had to be tossed out, along with two cases of paper towels and a box of wrap used to cover the new tats when clients left. I put a bucket down, then called for a couple of prospects to come over to mop up and move shit around until it stopped raining, and we could get someone up on the roof to make repairs.
Lacey called off work right before we opened. She had sprained her ankle after tripping over her cat. Then, Saint managed to fuck up the credit card reader trying to get one of his clients paid out, necessitating a twenty-minute call to their fucking customer support help line.
He and Dax ordered Mexican food to be delivered for lunch, but I was too damned busy with back-to-back clients to be able to eat. That turned out to be a good thing, since they had to take turns shitting their brains out in the single stall restroom not long after they ate.
“I tried to warn you two not to get food from that joint, let alone fucking shrimp tacos of all things. That place is sketchy as hell, and I swear the health department shuts it down at least once a month.”
“The shrimp tasted funny, but I think the sour cream was off, too,” Saint moaned as he clutched his stomach, and I grimaced as Dax dashed over to the corner to throw up in the trash can.
“I’m sure it was. I saw that shit. Sour cream isn’t supposed to be chunky, dumbass,” I pointed out with a roll of my eyes. “Why you ever took a bite of it is beyond me.”
“Both of you go home, and I’ll see if Diego can come in early.” He was supposed to come in around three o’clock, and work until we closed at eleven, but when I called, he agreed to come in early to help me cover the appointments Saint and Dax had. We would just have to turn away any walk-ins and reschedule anyone who insisted on having those two dumbasses do their work.
At that point, I called Abby to let her know what was going on. She listened in sympathy as I told her about the clusterfuck I’d been dealing with, and brushed aside my apology that I hadn’t gotten my new cherry blossom tattoo today as planned.
“I’m sorry, Abs, but I’m going to have to stay until we close tonight.”
“That’s OK. I hope your day gets better.”
I snorted. “Well, it can’t get much worse.”
I should never have said that because the universe clearly took it as a fucking challenge. Over the next few hours, I spilled ink all over my jeans, had a new client who forgot to mention that he was afraid of needles until he fainted in my chair, and had an argument with a guy who insisted that the Japanese symbol he wanted on his shoulder meant “fierce warrior”. According to Google translate – which I consulted to double-check the image the guy gave me – the symbol he wanted actually meant “small penis”. The jackass insisted that his friend, who spoke Japanese, gave him the symbol, and didn’t believe me when I told him that his friend had been yanking his chain. He finally left – without any ink – after I refused to tattoo the image his friend gave him.
The cherry on top of the shit sundae that had become my day was kicking some piece of shit out of the shop for trying to bully his nineteen-year-old girlfriend into getting his name inked on her arm, which she absolutely did not want to do. Diego alerted me to that one, right before he asked if he could kick the guy’s ass. We settled for kicking him out, banning him from the shop, and paying for an Uber to take her home, where she still lived with her parents.
Before she left, she promised that she wanted nothing to do with the guy ever again, and I hoped she stuck to that. The only reason we let the fucker walk out unharmed was because she swore he’d never actually raised a hand to her. He was just a controlling asshole, she said, so I’d given her a lecture on spotting the red flags of potential abusers while we waited for her Uber driver to arrive.
Abby walked in just moments after the girl left, with Everly in her arms and Ethan trailing behind her, carefully balancing a big pizza box, with a smaller box on top.
I could have dropped to my knees right there to worship that woman.
“Hi, Daddy. We brought you some pizza, ‘cuz Mommy said you’re havin’ a bad day.”
I grinned down at him and rubbed his head as I took the boxes from him and set them on the counter.
“Thanks, buddy. I didn’t get lunch today, so I’m starving.”
Everly grinned and started bouncing in Abby’s arms when she saw me, and I reached for her as I bent to give Abby a quick kiss.
“You are a godsend, baby girl. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The kids and I already ate, but we wanted to stop by for a few minutes. The smaller box is filled with breadsticks and dipping sauces. I got a deluxe meat-lover’s pizza, so I hope Diego likes that kind, too.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. He can pick off anything he doesn’t like.”
I handed Ev back to her and grabbed the boxes, then led my family back to the break room. I popped my head into Diego’s suite to let him know about the pizza, and his client said he wanted to take a smoke break if Diego wanted to eat a slice or two.
We had just settled in at the small table when Diego walked in, and I introduced him to Abby and the kids.
“It’s nice to meet all of you. Rome talks about you guys all the time,” he told Abby with a smile.
He helped himself to a couple of pieces of pizza and a few breadsticks, eating them quickly while he leaned against the counter.
Abby got up and got a Dr. Pepper for me, then asked Diego what he wanted. She handed him the requested bottle of water as I started telling her about the young girl and her dickhead boyfriend.
“Remind me to give Everly the same red-flag lecture when she’s thirty.”
