CHAPTER SEVEN
Cami
In all honesty, my first day had been both boring and eye-opening. It was boring only because it seemed like I was hanging out and goofing off with Sketch more than actually learning anything. Brand seemed a bit standoffish but I could sense he was watching me to see how I was with people and handled myself around the actual tattooing. I guessed it was a good thing that I didn’t get queasy or have to leave the room.
Which, I wasn’t sure of when I agreed to watch him that first time. And it was all I could do to keep from chewing on my lip because I felt so uncertain. Watching videos of people getting tattooed on YouTube and seeing it in real life were two totally different things. Yes, I knew this and that was the reason I’d been so nervous and a bit shaky that first time.
I, like millions of other people, wasn’t a huge fan of needles but there was something magical and entrancing about watching the ink go into the skin. It fascinated me, not overly so to where it verged on creepy. It was amazing to me how Sketch and Brand could make the purple-blueish outline turn into a work of art. How they made the colors or shading in their heads come out with such perfection. Or at least it looked that way. I had no idea because I wasn’t actually in their heads to see how they envisioned it.
I had been working at the shop for about two weeks. After the third day, Brand told me he was putting me on the payroll. Which, I honestly was confused on, because I sort of thought I’d be doing everything for free. At least that was the impression that I got when I was looking up things online. But I wasn’t going to complain at all.
He didn’t blink when I filled out my information and gave him my driver’s license, which told me one of two things. Either he didn’t know who my family was or he just didn’t care. Whatever it was, I would take it, because it was bad enough that he called me ‘rich girl’ in his head. Okay, so maybe I didn’t know that for sure. But there were times I caught him eyeing me with a strange look on his face. A look that almost said ‘you don’t fit in’ and it was like he couldn’t get past the idea that someone in my position, being raised like I had, would want to so much as step inside a tattoo shop let alone want to learn how to tattoo. Also, I was sure I’d witnessed him shaking his head at my bag and shoes on more than one occasion.
I could honestly say that Sketch kept me on my toes. And I quickly learned to always knock before I opened the door to his room. I made that mistake once and would never do it again. That moment I suddenly understood why his window was the only one that had blinds. I also learned that he had metal in places that I didn’t ever want to know about. Ever. Apparently, some women liked that sort of thing, and not only that, but they liked to be smacked in the face with it. Yep, that image will stick with me for a million years, and not in a good way.
Blade was more the quiet, intense type. He was a bit scary too. I didn’t shy away from him but I definitely didn’t seek him out if I didn’t have to. He was polite though. Always greeted me when he came in and when he talked to me he seemed to lose the intense hardness that clung to his face constantly.
And then there was Brand. I really had no clue what to think about him. The more I was around the guy, the more I found myself liking him as a person. Once he warmed up to me, he joked and laughed. However, there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was almost as if he was holding himself back a little around me. But at least he wasn’t being a turd nugget. I had honestly been worried the first day I’d worked with him because he seemed to really keep his distance. Maybe it was because he was unsure of me. I had only hoped that I somehow had changed his mind.
I was pretty sure Chris and Brand were a couple. They weren’t overly touchy, but there was a huge closeness with those two. And they seemed to be attached at the hip. Every day that I’d been there, Chris had stopped by even if it was for a short minute. Then there was the fact that Brand had plans with him most nights, or if Chris was working, Brand was headed to the bar that Chris worked at after we closed up the shop.
Sketch talked about it so naturally that I didn’t think that he or Blade had any negative feelings about their relationship. But then again, I imagined that Brand wouldn’t hire people that would.
And me? Well, I didn’t care either way and if I was being completely honest, the two of them were super cute together. They picked on each other in a sweet, playful manner half the time. Brand always seemed a little lighter when Chris was around, and Chris was forever making sure Brand was taken care of. Like he’d bring him food. Or Brand would forget something and Chris would run it up to the shop, sometimes without Brand even realizing that he’d forgotten whatever it was.
“Cami!” Brand yelled from in his room.
I went running because he wasn’t one to yell and I knew it had to have been something major. He was giving some air-head blonde a rose tattoo on her ankle. And no I wasn’t being judgy, she was really dumb. For crying out loud, she asked three times where to sign her name on the form. It was not only clearly stated, but I had gotten in the habit of highlighting it.
So, if he was yelling then it had to be bad. I could tell he was less than thrilled to do the tattoo in the first place, but like a good business owner, he plastered on a smile and said something along the lines of how he would love to do it.
“Yeah?” I asked with a hard pant as I rushed through his doorway.
“Can you grab a bottle of water, she says she feels like she’s gonna—”
Barf.
No need for him to finish that statement because that was the moment she lost her orange colored cookies all over me.
“I’m sooooo sorry,” she said covering her mouth while I stood there shocked and disgusted.
I had puke on me, and not just a little, it felt like this chick had downed like two burritos and a basket of chips before she walked in here. And what the hell did she eat to make it such a bright color? Maybe it was best that I didn’t know.
“It’s just that he was about to put that thing on me and I really started to like think about what he was going to do. Like that ink is going to go into my skin. I—”
And then there was more, this time she managed to cover my shoes.
I had vomit in my shoes. I could feel it sliding down and settling in the empty space between my arch and the padding.
My eyes landed on Brand, whose face held a look of absolute horror. I could tell he knew what to do just as much as I did at that moment.
I was speechless and frozen in place.
“Oh, fuck!” Sketch said and I didn’t dare turn around to look at him. “Yo, bitch, you got to go.”
He had said exactly what I was thinking.
“Cami, shit, I’m sorry,” Brand said, managing to shake himself out of his shock. “What can I do?”
I couldn’t even, for lack of a better term. I held up my hand because what I was thinking did not ever need to leave my brain.
Luckily, there was enough room for her to scoot past me and out the door. I thanked the powers that be that Sketch took over and not so nicely ushered her out.
I turned without a word, chunky bile falling off me in clumps, and walked to the bathroom. I needed a shower and there wasn’t going to be one of those until I got home. But I’d be damned if I was going to put my vomit covered tushie in my car. Yeah, so my backside hadn’t been touched, but you get what I meant.
Once I was tucked away in the bathroom, I stripped down with the quickness of a cheetah, not caring that my clothes were going directly in the trash along with my shoes. I patted my bra to see if there were any wet spots. I breathed a little sigh of relief that I didn’t have to ditch it and that my thick jeans had kept my panties dry as well.
I ripped a bunch of paper towels off of the roll and doused the wad with water. I scrubbed my skin as best as I could, knowing I wouldn’t feel clean until I got a hot shower and some body wash. Then lathered every inch of my skin with my favorite scented lotion, just for good measure.
“Cami,” Brands voice caused my body to jerk in surprise. The door was already opening and there wasn’t a chance that I could stop it. “Oh, fuck. Shit. Ah…” he said right after he had already stepped into the small space and realized that I was standing there almost naked.
Oh, God. How embarrassing, my boss seeing me like that.
He did his best to be respectful and avert his eyes.
Then I remembered that he had a boyfriend and that he obviously had no interest in my body.
“It’s fine,” I said with ease.
His eyes met mine in the mirror because I still couldn’t bring myself to turn around and face him. I swallowed hard and I had no idea why my words had suddenly escaped me. To his credit, he kept his gaze locked on mine. But then again, it probably wasn’t that hard for him. I had to admit that if the roles had been reversed, I might have taken a peek—or two. There was no way to deny the guy was attractive. He really was. That didn’t mean anything, though. There were plenty of men that I looked at just for the pure pleasure of enjoying their human male form.
“Damn, C-money, you got a bangin’ body under all those clothes,” Sketch said breaking the awkward silence that hung in the air. “Like some She’s All That shit goin’ on there.”
Yes, C-money. It was like my new nickname from him or something. While I should have hated it, I didn’t. I kind of liked that Sketch had his own little thing for me.
“Really, Sketch?!” Brand said as he kicked the door closed, cutting of Sketch’s view of me. “Do you even know what sexual harassment is?!”
Brand sounded annoyed and pissed off. I could only laugh because I knew Sketch meant it as some sort of flattery. But I could see where Brand was coming from, being that it was his business and name on the line.
I wasn’t even going to point out to Sketch that he was probably born the same year that movie came out. Even if I did question his knowledge of it beyond reason. I mean, I was like five at the time, and the only reason I knew about it was because, at one point, it had been my older sister’s favorite movie. For like at least three years. She watched it all the time and since I was the youngest, I didn’t have a leg to stand on when I told her I didn’t want to sit through it again.
“I meant it as a compliment. Sorry, Cami,” he called out through the closed door and I let out a short laugh.
It was just what I needed right then. I needed to laugh and lose the anger and frustration of what had just happened.
“It’s fine,” I said, meeting Brand’s gaze in the mirror again.
“I, um,” Brand said and as his eyes shifted to look at the floor, I knew he was uncomfortable right then. “I brought you some towels. And I had an extra shirt in the office. I’ll just...leave them here.”
“Thanks,” I said as I grabbed the offered pile of things that I desperately needed before he could set them down. His arm brushed up against mine and I felt the goosebumps rise at the contact. I hoped that he thought it was just because I was cold.
I was far from cold.
And I had no idea why.
It wasn’t like I was attracted to him.
Even if I was, it wouldn’t matter.
He was:
A) Gay
And
B) In a relationship with a guy that was, we should just admit this together, flipping perfect for him.
So I brushed it off whatever was going on with me and concentrated on cleaning myself up as much as I could.
“I’m really sorry,” he said and his warm hand landed on my shoulder.
“I hope you know, I’m going home now,” I said doing my best to break the tension.
His head ducked as he let out a little chuckle. Then his eyes jerked up to meet mine in the mirror once again.
Holy fiddlesticks! There was a strange intensity there that I kept telling myself that I had to have been making up. My mind was clearly playing tricks on me and my brain was spinning out of control. Because even if he weren’t gay, there was no way anyone could find me attractive right then, smelling like the vomit that had covered me.
“Yeah, not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He blinked and everything was gone. I knew I’d imagined it then. Without another word, he turned and exited the bathroom, somehow managing to take all the air out with him.
I could not even begin to explain the awkwardness that had just taken place. I brushed it off, thinking that it was all on my end. It was then that I realized I might have had a tiny crush on my boss. My gay boss.
I was as screwed.
Completely and utterly up doo-doo creek without a paddle.
Because it wasn’t just a crush.
As much as I tried to deny it, Brand made me feel things I didn’t even think existed.