“Summers through college. Medical office.” She’s smiling at me, and I still can’t get over how someone who looks like sweetness and sunshine decided King Ink is where she wants to work.
“Can you learn booking software?”
“I can learn most things. Software is easy.”
“Some of our clients are rough around the edges. Like Mackie.” I hold her eye. “That’s not going to change.”
She doesn’t blink. “Not a problem. I know what rough around the edges looks like.”
Something in her tone says she isn’t talking about my clients. But she looks fresh and sweet, not a woman who understands what rough around the edges means. There is definitely more to her than meets the eye, especially after the way she coolly and calmly handled Mackie, and it piques my interest.
I don’t know how long this can last, and I know having a girl in the front who makes me hard just by smiling at me is going to be a problem, but the crew is going to mutiny if I say no.
“Fine. Come tomorrow morning at eight, and I’ll get you started.”
CHAPTER 2
CLARISSA
You did what?”
Margot stops walking, and Biscuit’s leash goes taut between them. Biscuit circles back, nosing Margot’s ankle.
“I got a job,” I say, turning back to look at her and seeing her staring at me with her mouth open.
Biscuit pulls forward, and she falls back into step beside me. “You got a jobat a tattoo parlor.”
“I sure did,” I smile. I’m still not sure why I went in on Thursday, other than seeing the sign, knowing I needed a job, and also because I knew my father wouldn’t like it. I love Father, but everything with him is “don’t do this” or “don’t do that” or, more often, “do what I say regardless of what you want.” I want somethingIchoose, even if it turns out to be a mistake.
She stares at me, her purse buzzing. She holds the leash out to me. “Take Biscuit while I turn this off. Tell me about this place.”
I loop the excess cord around my fingers and let it go. We are in Caldwell Park because this is what we do on Sundays: same path, same loop around the pond, while Biscuit sniffs the same trees and benches like they’re brand new every week. I smile as I spot a kid on the playground playing with a pinwheel.
“His name is Carmine.” I smile as I say his name. “He runs the shop. There are four other guys.”
She holds up one finger. “Stop. Carmine.” She lowers the finger. “Tell me about Carmine.”
I watch Biscuit nose into a hedge so my face has somewhere to be. “He’s my boss, Margot.”
She lifts her sunglasses by one knuckle slowly and looks at me over them.
“It’s only been three days,” I say.
She waits. “And?”
“And it’s been intense.”
The corner of her mouth tugs. She lets the sunglasses drop back down. “Intense how?”
“There was a guy in the shop on Thursday. Giant and tattooed. Wanted same-day. Carmine told him no.”
She leans forward mid-stride. “What happened?”
“He bumped into me and I told him, ‘Excuse you’.”
She stops again. “Clarissa!”
“He didn’t apologize for bumping into me.” I shrug. “You know how many shifts I had at the soup kitchen or the shelter growingup. I’ve dealt with these kinds of men before. Be polite, firm, stand your ground. Plus, I’m pretty sure Carmine and the guys would have stepped in if anything happened.”
