Chapter Nine
Keston
I opened the shop on Friday, still smiling from Grady’s early morning text.
It’s almost the fucking weekend. Smile and get ready to party.
“You are such a dork, brother.” I snickered to myself and flicked on the lights.
I didn’t plan to stay long at Grady’s little get-together—cutesy parties weren’t my vibe. But for Grady, I’d suffer through it. With Carlos gone, he was the only constant in my life, the only one I could truly count on.
I checked the computer and was satisfied to see a fully booked workday ahead. And not only today—we were booked into the next month. The social media accounts Bailey had suggested were bringing positive results, and along with the new-client special, now prominently displayed on our sidewalk sign every day, the demand had doubled relative to the previous week. Ambrose had hinted that if things kept up, we could even expand, but I shut that down real quick. Carlos had wanted one spot only, and I agreed with him. I wanted to be confident that every design we placed on someone’s body met my exactingstandards, and I couldn’t do that without seeing the art in person.
Ambrose strolled in. “Morning.”
“Hey.” I sipped my coffee. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” He set his backpack on the table. “I am so ready for the weekend.”
“Sounds like someone has plans.” When Ambrose didn’t answer me, I crossed my arms. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Carly and I have appointments to look at houses.”
“Cool. Where?”
His gaze shifted to the floor, and I knew something was up. I set my cup on the counter and waited.
“Uh, Florida.”
Shock, anger, and betrayal traveled through me like a live electrical wire, but I refused to let him see it.
“Long commute,” was all I said, and picked up my coffee.
“Look, it’s not what you think,” Ambrose started to explain. “Carly has family there, and she wants to see what’s available. That’s all.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course. I know you love it here.”
“I do. You know that. I’m not movin’, Keston. I’m doin’ it for Carly. I told you we’re looking for a house, and that means gettin’ married, buying a place… You know how it is.”
“Not really. That’s why I make my own rules. Nobody’s gonna tell me what to do.” I paused. “Or where I can live.”
Red-faced, Ambrose grew agitated. “And I said I’m not movin’. Dammit, Keston. You know you’re my best friend. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
I didn’t mean to piss him off, but if he was going to bounce on me, I’d like to have a little notice. After everything we’d been through together, was Ambrose gonna leave?
“Chill, dude. If you say you’re not, I gotta believe you.”
“And yet you don’t. I see it in your eyes.”
He stomped across the store to his space, and I moved to mine. Usually we talked as we set up, a routine we’d honed over so many years of working together, but today we remained silent. I couldn’t stop thinking that Ambrose’s days here were numbered and he had one foot out the door.
I took out the disinfectant wipes and turned on the autoclave to sterilize the equipment. When I’d first come to work for Carlos, I’d never thought about the business side of tattooing. All I’d been interested in was creating designs. My first had trended dark—I’d specialized in the reaper—but once Carlos and I got together, I was able to work past the ugliness and fear of the life I’d left behind. I gave myself permission to experience beauty and happiness in my creations. All that I was, I credited to Carlos and the love and faith he’d had in me. His death had killed that joy, and I refused to let any light in.
“What’re you doin’ this weekend?” Having worked out his anger on cleaning his chair, Ambrose decided to speak to me again.
“Nothing much. Grady’s having a housewarming party—he bought an apartment in Brooklyn—so I’ll stop by, then work as usual.”
“Man, you gotta get a life. All work and no play and all that jazz.”
