Page 24 of Bad Influence
I briefly wonder if I should message Carter and tell him I’m in a tattoo shop with no further explanation. Will he tell our parents? Of course, he will. Carter and I used to be close when we were younger. There was a time he used to protect me from our parents, especially our mother. She always listened to him so he could sweet talk into letting me stay at home, into not putting me in suffocating dresses. Then he went to college and suddenly, he wasn’t the brother I knew anymore. He was just a reflection of our parents, cold and distant.
So, I don’t message him back. I don’t tell him I’m okay. I know he’s not asking because he’s worried. He’s only asking so he can talk me into coming back for our parents. As far as they’re concerned, Carter is the least threatening person they can use against me.
Turning off my phone, I slide it back into my pocket just as the sounds change in the back. Killian walks out with his client who thanks him and wraps one arm around him in a hug while the other remains tucked between their bodies. Killian doesn’t return the hug. His body remains stiff, all six foot four of him standing there like a pole.
I have this unexplained urge to get up and pull her away from him. But unlike Killian, I can control my insane thoughts, so the only thing I do is look away. Who he hugs or doesn’t isn’t any of my business.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her detach herself and move towards the door. Killian turns to his next client, who is also a woman. We’ve been here for six hours and all his clients have been women. According to Eve, that’s just how things are.
It makes me realize I need to leave the apartment. Because eventually a woman is going to find her way back there with him. I can’t stand the thought of Killian with someone else under the same roof as me.
Killian starts to lead his client back as I return to my ereader. I’ve gotten to meet some interesting people, but I don’t understand why he wanted me here in the first place.
Just as I reach for the fries sitting on the stool beside me, Killian stops and turns to me. I look up, a fry halfway to my mouth.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer, a little confused by his question.
His eyes drop to the fries beside me. “Hungry?”
Okay, admittedly, the fries are hours old and cold, but they still taste good.
“Don’t judge,” I say. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a carb?”
“You know you can order more fries,” he says.
“I want these fries,” I reply stubbornly.
His mouth does this weird twitch thing that I think is his attempt at a smile. But he doesn’t actually smile. There’s no amusement in his eyes, either. Only grimness. He must really hate me eating these cold fries.
“This is my last client, and then we can go,” he says. “We need to talk.”
His eyes stay locked with mine for a moment before he nods and walks away. I drop the fry back into the paper basket. My stomach suddenly feels full and I can’t stand the thought of having to swallow something.
I know he spoke with Gerry earlier so I can only assume he’s kicking me out again. I should tell him I’m leaving before he hasthe chance. Though, even after one night, I know I’m going to miss that view.
I’m helping Eve close the shop when Killian comes out with his last client. Eve and I are behind the counter as she works on the laptop, looking after the accounting stuff. Running a business is fascinating. According to her, Killian does most of this stuff at the end of the week and I somehow have a hard time picturing him chasing after numbers.
Not because he’s not smart! The man graduated top of his class from an Ivy League law school and left it all to be an artist and somehow makes the same amount of money he would have as a lawyer. It’s only that, I always think of him painting, and not doing accounting.
Eve looks at him over her shoulder. “I was double booked today becausesomeoneforgot to add a client to my schedule after confirming them.”
“We already fired her, Eve,” Killian says.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not salty about her trash talking me,” Eve mumbles.
“What do you suggest I do now?”
“Can’t we hire someone who actually wants to do the job?” Eve asks. She closes the laptop and turns her kohl-lined eyes to Killian.
“How about Luke?” I suggest. “He’s an artist, I’m sure he’d love to work here.”
Killian looks at me like I suggested he sacrifice his beloved pet. “No!”
His voice is harsh, ringing with finality.
“The barista from Beanie’s?” Eve clarifies.
