“If Mom were here, she’d say I owed you an apology.”
“Because you yelled at me for wronging your brother, even though it was the other way around? Because you thought I’d be shallow enough to avoid him after his accident, when I didn’t know anything about it?”
“Somethin’ like that,” he replied.
“Okay, I’ll take that acknowledgment as an apology. Thanks.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, changing tacks, loyalty sitting squarely with family.
“I need to apologize to Phoenix.”
“You’re fishing for an apology from me when you owe one to him?” He shook his head. “Tell him yourself.”
“I would, except he doesn’t return my texts.”
“So you came to ask me? Maybe there’s a reason he’s ghosted you, darlin’.” He wandered back towards his table of paperwork.
Orchid ignored his last remark and stayed planted like she owned the place, from the black-and-white checkered floor, crisp linens on tables, and walls covered with photos of body art.
“Wow, so . . . pretty,” she said turning towards the pictures. “No, more than that. Evocative, powerful.”
He glared at her with suspicion as she studied the wall of tattoos of people’s faces. “Jack Nicholson, Marilyn Monroe, Johnny Depp . . . ”
Walking slowly toward him, gazing at the myriad pictures, she appeared to be a young gallery visitor. A laugh of pleasure burst out of her, pure and innocent. “Children and animals!” She turned from the pictures of pugs, cats, and chubby-cheeked toddlers executed in the blue-green of tattoo ink and faced him.
“Children and animals are a surefire way to pull at heartstrings in advertising.”
“Phoenix teaching you tricks of the trade, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said with earnestness. “He taught me a lot.” She flopped onto one of the hulking black vinyl tattoo chairs.
“He taught me about kindness, what it means to be a gentleman, how to use humor no matter how bad the situation looks.”
She grew quiet. He continued sorting papers, one pile for unpaid bills, another for invoices to be mailed, junk tossed right into the recycling bin.
“Is your shrink away?” he asked, using sarcasm to try to harden the vulnerability on her face. He didn’t want to get sucked in. It was hard to avoid because whatever she was thinking, she was being real.
She laughed, a pretty sound, unlike the raucous ribaldry that often ran through his place.
“You’re the shrink I need, because you know him better than anyone else.” Brown eyes looked at him full of hope. His hands paused over the piles of paper, stilled by feeling like he was the hero in an un-filmed action adventure.
Knows him better than anyone else?Christ, am I really that person for another human being?
She leaned forward, one elbow on his workspace. When she rested her chin onto the palm of her hand, she pulled back, surprised. “Ow! I keep forgetting,” she said, putting one hand up to her bandaged forehead.
Caleb drew himself straighter. Phoenix would want him to protect her, just as he himself had tried to protect her.
“What happened?” he asked, drawn in despite himself.
“Have you ever been to his agency?” she said, answering his question with a question.
“Yeah.”
“I crashed through a glass case there.”
“What?” He stood, chuckling darkly. “You want a tattoo of that?” he asked.
“Very funny,” she said.
