Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,1
they never play by my rules.
Case in point, Chris is sitting on my stool before I'm even done setting up. “I need to talk to you, kid.”
Kid. He always calls me “kid,” but I suppose twenty-three is a kid to a guy in his forties. “You firing me already?”
He grins. “No, but you do have to leave.”
I stare at him, unsure about what the fuck is going on. “What are you talking about?”
He hands me something, but I don’t look down at it. “I need you to move to St. Louis for me.”
“St. Louis? What the fuck are you talking about?” I look down at the paper and see the word “DEED” at the top. “What is this?”
“Your own shop. It’s a shithole, but I think you can do a lot with it.”
What? I look down at the paper, seeing my name on the deed. Why? “No fucking way.”
“Yes fucking way. You’ve earned it, kid.”
“No. I haven’t. And I don’t need your pity shop.”
He laughs because Chris has no problem laughing about anything. “When Logan first came to me and asked me to give you a job, I was skeptical like anyone would be. But you’ve stayed clean. You’ve done your job, and you have fucking talent.”
It’s bad enough I only have this job because when Logan took my girl, Quinn, and my balls, he made it even worse by asking his Uncle Chris to give me a job as a consolation prize. “I can’t take this. Give it to Jay.”
Jay, Ty, and Frankie are all artists who also work here and have long before me. They’re like family.
“That fucker is never leaving here. Ty, Frankie, and he are now all my partners in this shop. But I want to open another shop. It’s yours, but I'm a silent partner.”
“The money.”
“Just take it. Go. Be free, little bird.”
Even though I’m thankful to him, and he’s done a ton of shit for me, I still can’t resist holding up my middle finger.
And the fucker just laughs.
I find myself watching Jay, Frankie, Ty, and him laugh often. I wonder how it comes so easy to them. How they can laugh about almost anything.
I don’t laugh.
I rarely smile.
I’ve never seen a reason to.
“When?”
“I know we have a bigass party to attend tomorrow.” Of course, it couldn’t just be me and Sean to send Sean off. No, we have to include all Logan’s bigass family at a fancy country club. Because that’s who we are now. “So, how about the day after that?”
“That’s fast.”
“The shop has an apartment above it too. It’s the exact same setup, Rhys. It’s ready to go.” He laughs. “Okay, that’s a lie. It needs some work, but I have all the faith in the world in you, kid.”
That should feel good, but it doesn’t. I don’t want anyone depending on me. Ever.
“I’ll pay you back.”
He laughs. Again. So fucking easy. “No shit. It’s coming out of the profits. I’m not worried.”
“You really shouldn’t put this much faith in me.”
“Rhys.” He looks like he wants to pat me on the head or the shoulder, but he knows better. I hate to be touched. And he respects that, his icy blue eyes locking on mine and making me uncomfortable. “You gotta start believing in the good in you. We see it.”
I shrug. “Don’t.”
He stands up. “I’m gonna miss you, but I'll stop by. St. Louis isn’t too far.”
“Three hours.”
He nods and goes back to the front, going about his day like he didn’t just hand me, a twenty-three-year-old, punk kid, ex-addict a shop of his own.
I didn’t know people like him existed when I was growing up.
I still have a hard time believing they do.
I stare at the tattoo on my wrist, a cloud with a lightning bolt coming out of it. I trace over it and smile, thinking about Logan’s words to me.
“You just need a man strong enough to weather the storm who needs a badass bitch to go through it with him.”
That was the day I asked him to give me a tattoo. He wouldn’t because he didn’t love me. He was always in love with Quinn and, like every other man I knew, he was just using me. Until he found her again.
It’s fine. Quinn is cool, and we actually all still stay in touch. Quinn has become someone I go to often to just chat about nothing and everything.
And then I think about the man who actually gave me this tattoo. I feel the bitterness rise