“THIS PARADE IS GOING RIGHT past Valentina’s place, so they’re throwing a party. You gotta come out and have some fun.”
I finished cleaning my station and turned to look at Constantine Leahy. “You’re my boss. You’re supposed to tell me to get my ass back to work, not try to drag it out of here.”
“We’re closing the shop for the rest of the day. I’ve had you and D working every night since the season kicked off so we could scoop up those tourist dollars, but you both need a fuckin’ break. Consider this your newest assignment. We aren’t taking no for an answer, and Delilah already agreed.”
We, I assumed, had to mean Vanessa. “Your wife isn’t trying to set me up with anyone, is she? Because I’m out if that’s the case.”
Con glared at me. “I’m not into any kind of matchmaking shit. Who the hell has time for that? Whatever Van is doing is on her, and I’ve got no clue what that might be. I just know there’s food and booze.”
I put the last piece of my machine away and stood. “Fine. I’m in. Where am I meeting you?”
He eyed me. “You’re coming with me. If I leave here without you, we both know you’ll never come.”
Fucker was right, and I wasn’t getting out of this. “All right. Let’s go.”
“Not that I give a fuck, but don’t you want to change your shirt?”
I looked down at the black Voodoo Ink logo T-shirt and back up at Con. “Are you really fucking asking me that?”
Con laughed. “Never mind. I’ll lock up and we’re out of here.”
I followed him out the back door of the shop into the alley behind the building. “I can’t wait until Mardi Gras is over. Is it just me, or do these tourists get more obnoxious every year?”
I watched a group of kids who didn’t even look old enough to drink tromp across the alley wearing their STUPID 1, STUPID 2, STUPID 3 shirts and giant neon sunglasses. Beer cups hung around their necks with their beads.
“Every fucking year. Because they get younger, dumber, and drunker.” Con started off down the sidewalk, and I followed.
Con pulled open the door of his sweet-as-hell Chevelle. My bike was tucked into a small half garage built into the back of the building.
I made myself comfortable in the passenger seat and we headed toward the Garden District via the back roads to avoid the bulk of the traffic.
“Anything I need to know about the shop?”
After Con had stopped working there, I’d taken up the reins as the unofficial manager. Delilah hadn’t wanted anything to do with “being management,” even though she’d worked there longer than me. Even with her aversion to anything non-artistic, she picked up more slack than she let on. It was the title that gave her hives.
“No, we’re good. Money keeps coming in, so hopefully you’re good too.”
Con nodded. “No worries on that part.” He waited for pedestrians to get out of the road before turning another corner. “You think you might want to buy the place someday?”
Buy the place. The words echoed through my head, and visions of sitting in my uncle’s tattoo shop in Hell’s Kitchen followed. It was where I’d learned and honed my trade. Where everything that had mattered had been centered until he’d gotten strapped for cash and made a bad decision—borrowing money from a loan shark.
When a payment came up he couldn’t make, the loan sharks started coming around to collect with threats and heavy hands, so I’d put my knack for blackjack to work earning extra money to cover the interest. Who the fuck was I kidding? I’d counted cards, and I’d been good at it.
Until I got too cocky and destroyed everything . . .
“If you’re not interested, just tell me.”
I blinked, forgetting I was supposed to be answering Con’s question. “Sorry, I was just trying to wrap my head around your question. I’ve never thought about it.”
Con probably didn’t realize that even though my sister was here, I never considered New Orleans a permanent stop for me. I had to be ready to move at any time. It might have been ten years since that shit went down, but that didn’t mean my demons weren’t still hunting for me.
“Think about it and let me know if you’ve got any serious interest. If not, we’ll keep doing what we’re doing.”
Con’s words hung with me as we pulled up to a wrought-iron fence that swung open, and he parked next to his brother’s Hemi Cuda. Lord ran Chains, the most badass pawn shop in town, with his feisty redheaded girl, Elle.
“Damn, you got the whole crew to come out for this?”
“You think Elle would let Lord miss it to work instead?”
“Good point.”
The door to the house opened and Vanessa stepped out, clearly waiting for us to show. “You coming in? Elle’s already pouring shots, so we’re all screwed.”
“We’re coming, princess,” Con called.
I pushed open the car door. “Guess we’re all going to be walking home.”