I ease the door shut behind me, the latch clicking soft in the dark.
Walking away, all I taste is regret.
And the fucked-up hope that someday I’ll see her again.
Chapter 4
Ben
April Fool'sDay
I’m running a clean rag over the counter for the third time, not really paying attention to what I’m doing. My hand’s steady, but my head is fucked, making it impossible to get that slice of clarity I keep chasing.
It’s been like this for six weeks now. Every time I close my eyes, I see her…blindfolded, skin glowing, moaning under my touch. An angel with soft curves and a broken heart, and I can’t fucking get her out of my head.
Trust me, I’ve tried.
The bell over the door chimes, interrupting my thoughts. First customer of the day. I don’t look up right away, just keep wiping down the counter, lost somewhere between memory and regret. But when I finally glance up, my world tilts.
It’s her.
Her hair’s loose, falling around her face, just like it did that night. She’s drowning in a jacket that’s way too big, sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. She stands in the doorway, like she’s waiting for someone to notice she’s breathing and tell her it’s a problem.
She steps inside, slow and hesitant. I freeze, watching her scan the shop, her eyes flicking everywhere but mine. My heart is a jackhammer in my chest. She doesn’t see me, at least, not the way I want her to. I can tell she’s nervous by the way she grips her purse strap, both hands white-knuckled. Part of me braces myself, just in case she recognizes me. But she doesn’t. She couldn’t. She stayed blindfolded the whole time.
The door swings open behind her, flooding the shop with a cloud of expensive perfume and instant drama. Two women strut in, heels clicking on tile. Their energy fills the room, manufactured and dangerous.
They head straight for me, barely glancing at her as they shove past her like she’s invisible. She follows behind them, head down, trying to make herself smaller.
In my most professional voice, “Can I help you ladies with something?”
The taller one flashes a megawatt smile, all teeth. “Yes, you can,” she purrs. “I’m Debora. This is my sister, Branda.” Branda gives a little wave, eyes already sizing up the shop for an audience. “And the one hiding back there is our stepsister, April.” There’s a mean little twist to her mouth as she says it.
April.
Branda leans in, smirking, “Hope you’re ready for some fun this morning.” Neither of them pretends to be polite, disregarding her as if she’s part of the furniture.
“Excuse me, do you have a restroom?” April’s voice is so quiet I almost miss it.
Just as I remember.
“Yeah. Back of the shop, down the hall. First door on the left,” I say, pointing.
She nods, never meeting my eyes.
“Thanks.”
Debora takes over instantly, tossing her hair, scanning the room like she’s rating it for Yelp. “We’re here for our stepsister’s tattoo.” Eyes rolling for extra effect.
Branda snickers, voice bright and cruel. “She’s such a pushover, you know? This is going to be epic.” She fans out five crisp hundreds, slaps them on the counter. “It’s an April Fool’s Day thing. We want you to tattoo ‘more parking in the rear’ right above her ass. Make it huge, so even she can’t pretend it’s not there.”
Both stepsisters lose it, giggling, feeding off each other’s mean-girl high. I want to snatch the bills and shove them down their throats. I want to call April back and tell her she deserves better. But I don’t…not yet.
Instead, I pick up the cash, fanning it slow, eyeing them like I’m sizing up a mark. “Block letters or script?” My voice is all business.
She waves a hand, smirking. “Dealer’s choice, hot stuff. Just make it obvious.”
April comes back, clutching her coat like armor, head down.
