If we haven’t yet said the words or agreed on terms and labels, that’s what she is to me. That’s how I’m going to treat her.
It’s not long before I have both packets of pills, along with some cooling gel strips, a drum of ginger chai latte because I heard that ginger and caffeine are both good for migraines, and a tub of her favourite Ben & Jerry’s for when she’s feeling better.
She looks terrible when I get back, holding her head like her skull will split apart if she doesn’t. I read the instructions on her prescriptions and, picking the one for when a migraine has already begun, manage to get her to sit up enough to lean on me and slip one of the tablets under her tongue. I can’t make her truly comfortable, but when I reluctantly leave, I know that I’ve gotten her as close as possible, with a tall glass of water on her bedside table, the blackout curtains drawn, and a cool strip on her forehead above her right eye.
I don’t have a choice about going back to work. Nate Woodruff’s coming in specially, my afternoon got booked out just for him, and he’s not going to be in the country much longer. His dad’s latest cerebral western blockbuster is premiering in LA in a few days, and he wanted this ink done before then. Besides, he’s a mate, and I don’t want to let him down.
When I get in, Emily, bless her heart, is busily rebooking Sadie’s appointments for the day. She came up with the excellent idea of leaving the last day of the month free in Sadie’s calendar in case she has a migraine and needs to move her appointments, and that’s certainly paying dividends today. The newest Mrs G knows how to keep us organised and running smooth as silk. “Nate’s in your room,” she mouths to me, and then carries on her current phone call. She doesn’t bat an eyelid. Between Chris Richards and the rest of the Turn It Up band membersandNate the up and coming actor, she’s not phased by celebrities anymore. She knows they’re just people doing a job who are employing me to do mine.
Nate’s father is one of the most famous and iconic film stars of all time, a genuine Hollywood legend, and Nate resembles him so closely that even someone who didn’t know who he was would say he looks just like Mac Woodruff. But the resemblance begins and ends there. They’re completely different people, and they’ve only recently developed anything resembling a father-son relationship with each other.
Nate comes to me because I’m good at what I do, and also because I’m a good listener. He hasn’t had many people to confide in so far in his life. So I’m not surprised when his main topic of conversation was how badly his dad fucked up with his birthday, sending him a card with his older brother’s name on it three weeks late and telling Nate he was overreacting when he called him on it. They still have a long way to go before they’re fully on board with each other, I reckon.
As I continue with his sea life themed tattoo sleeve, a long term project we’ve been doing off and on for the past eighteen months or so whenever he’s in town, he gives me an odd look. “What’s her name?” He smirks. “You’ve got that low key permanent smile that can only mean one thing.”
I look up from my shading and consider talking to him. I haven’t said anything to Eli and Dean, even, despite their curious looks and obvious restraint, and they’re my blood. But Nate’s still a friend, and he’s outta here next week. And the urge to tellsomeoneabout what’s been happening without having to deal with the third degree is suddenly irresistible. “I do, huh?”
“Unmistakable,” he confirms, and there’s a tension around his eyes making them crease ever so slightly, like someone who’s broken the same bone as me before and knows how it feels.
Fuck it. I’m only human. “Sadie Stewart,” I mutter casually before reapplying the needle.
He bursts out laughing, holding his other hand up so I’ll stop. “You’re shitting me?”
“I shit you not, amigo,” I reply, a smile spreading unstoppably across my already smug face.
He punches the air. “Alriiiiiiight! About time you two hooked up.” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “After all this time, what finally made it happen?”
I think about it. “You know, I’m not sure,” I say slowly, wondering when the point of no return took place. Sure, there was the wedding kiss, but she could have backed away afterwards, although she did run the hell out of there like a bat out of hell. But in the end, she didn’t. She followed my trail of breadcrumbs, and now I know what it feels like to sleep with her bare skin against mine. I cover my thoughts with a cocky shrug. “Guess she finally saw what a handsome, smart, hilariously funny guy I am, and you can’t blame the poor girl for wanting a piece.”
He snorts. “Well, whatever it was, I’m glad, man.” He gives me a genuine, kind of sad smile. “You’re a lucky guy, and I’m happy it finally happened for you.”
I tip my head to one side. “You knew?”
“Not for sure,” he admits, “but now and again I caught you looking at her, and…”
“And you know the look.” Damn empathy. I feel for him, and I hope he has the same happy ending that I do. Now that I know how it feels to be with the person I’ve always wanted, I can’t bear the thought of going back to the yearning, the pain, the raw existence he’s still going through if my guess is on point. “You know, you can talk to me about anything, man, not only about your dad.”
He looks me in the eye, and I can see I called it. “Maybe some other time,” he finally says, resigned and quieted.
Just like I used to be.
The second Nate’ssession is over, I high tail it back to Sadie’s. I’m meant to be finishing off payroll, but I always start that early enough in the month that it ends up being just a click of a few buttons when the time comes. I can delay it for a night.
When I open her door using the keys I kept from earlier, I’m relieved to see that she’s up, sitting on the sofa and listening to an audiobook on low volume with a blanket wrapped around her, blowing on a mug of soup. She’s still pale and with tired eyes, but smiling. I was prepared for her to still be asleep, so this is a very pleasant surprise. I tell her as much, and she reaches towards me.
“The meds did the trick,” she says, her voice still quiet, so I lower mine too. “I’ve still got the postdrome nonsense to get through, but I no longer want to rip my own brain out.”
“Always a good thing. I like your brain where it is.” I give her the gentlest kiss, trying not to nudge her head at all in the process.
“You do, huh.” She leans her head against mine, a little heavy, like she’s sleepy.
“Definitely. It’s big and sexy and fits perfectly inside your cute as fuck skull.”
“You honestly do talk the biggest load of shit sometimes,” she murmurs.
“You love it, really.”
“Bunch ofwank,” Gary pipes up from shelf near the door, giving his wings a good flap. I swear he smirks at me with his wry little beak. I grin back. He’s worth his weight in gold.
