The Rules of Dating(4)
“I can explain.”
For some reason, that made me even more irate. As if there could be any explanation for his behavior. I lost it then. Pointing to the door, I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Get out! Get the fuck out!”
I’d been talking to Kaiden, yet one of the women bolted to the door and practically fell out onto the sidewalk.
“Good. Yes.” I nodded. “Good idea. All of you, get the fuck out of my shop! Noooow!”
If I’d been in the right frame of mind, I might’ve appreciated the humor in the scene unfolding. A six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound tattooed man made a beeline for the door—running away from a five-foot-one lunatic who’d just tattooed a giant pink Tinder flame logo on his arm. He was so nervous he almost trampled a few of the Tinder bitches to get out the door.
Once the last of them was on the street, I closed the door, closed my eyes, and tried to calm down.
Then a man’s voice sprung my eyes back open.
“Uh… I guess this isn’t a good time,” the cute narc said, the one person besides Justine and me remaining in my shop.
“Yeah, probably not,” Justine murmured. “Maybe come back another day.”
But I’d snapped, and it was going to take more than Kaiden leaving to glue me back together. I marched over to the counter with a deranged smile. “No, don’t go. What would you like me to tattoo on you?” My voice went eerily flat. Also, for some reason, my eyes were no longer blinking.
He looked a little nervous. “Uhh… I’m not sure.”
I tilted my head. “No? Then let me help you. Where do you get the women you fuck behind your girlfriend’s back? How about the Bumble logo?” I lifted a finger into the air. “Or maybe Plenty of Fish in the Sea? That’s kind of cute. A colorful little fish? Or maybe Hinge? I can probably knock an H out in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”
The poor guy just kept staring at me.
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, what’s it going to be? I don’t have all day.”
I noticed he had a piece of paper in his hand. It looked like there was a picture on it. I snatched it and started to laugh maniacally. “A rose? A fucking rose. How cliché can you be? You must already have an infinity symbol, huh?” I tossed the paper at the guy. He made no attempt to catch it.
“You know what?” He thumbed toward the door. “I’m just going to go…”
“Good! You’re probably an asshole too! You know how I know? Because you’re all assholes.”
The guy smiled sadly at Justine. “Thanks for your help.” He pulled open the door, but stopped before walking through. “I’m guessing you must be Billie?”
When I didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Okay then. It was nice to meet you. By the way, I’m Colby Lennon, your new landlord.”
CHAPTER 2
Colby
Holden came over bright and early the next morning to fix the leaky sink in my kitchen. I could’ve done it myself, but he knew how important weekends were for me—the only full days when I could spend quality time with my daughter, Saylor. Holden wasn’t just the handyman around here, though. He was now part owner of the building, along with me and two of our other good friends. As a career musician, Holden didn’t technically have a day job, so when he wasn’t touring, he handled repairs around the building. He’d grown up helping his dad, who was a contractor, so he knew how to fix pretty much anything. He’d held many odd jobs before becoming our permanent handyman.
Saylor sat next to me at the table, drawing while I drank my morning coffee and watched Holden mess around under the sink. He came up for air and looked over at the paper my daughter was sketching on.
“Did she just draw what I think she did?” he asked.
I looked over to find my three-year-old had doodled something that looked suspiciously like a penis with eyes…and tentacles.
“What is that, Saylor?” I asked.
“That’s you, Daddy,” she proclaimed.
“Sounds about right.” Holden laughed.
Saylor loved to draw, loved art in general. Even at the young age of three, it was evident. Her appreciation of art was one of the reasons I’d wanted to surprise her with a tattoo in her honor. That plan had certainly gone to hell. Which reminds me…
I turned to Holden. “Hey, what do you know about the girl who rents the tattoo shop space downstairs? Billie?”
“You haven’t met her?”
I shook my head. “Oh, I met her alright.”
“What happened?”
I gave Holden the CliffsNotes version of what I’d witnessed at the shop last night—or at least what I’d been able to decipher from the circus happening around me before I left.
“Shit. I can’t blame her for going apeshit on the guy. Pretty brilliant set-up.”
I chuckled. “I have to admit, it was—even if I got caught in the crossfire.”
“But I’m telling you…” He pointed a wrench toward me. “She’s cool as shit. You most definitely caught her at a bad time.”
“Yeah, well, she should’ve treated a customer with respect, even if she was having a bad day.”
“What was her reaction after you told her you owned the building?”