“Sounds boring.”
“Right? I asked if you were his boyfriend or the secretary—”
“And I told her you were neither,” I interrupt.
“Which is true.” He confirms. “The receptionist part, anyway.”
I groan.
Carey rolls his eyes. “He’s just playing hard to get.”
I glare up at him. “And you’re making it real easy.”
The phone starts ringing again, and I can feel my client's muscles tense.
“I better get that,” Carey says, then leans closer to her. “And you can ask him why he hates me so much, and tell me his answer after.”
She nods with a tight-lipped smile, and watches him walk away.
“Hi, Teken Ink, this is Car—no, Eden’s not in today… No, we still don’t know when he’s gonna be back.” I can feel the weight of the call on my own shoulders, but Carey remains standing tall. “I’m really sorry, but a personal matter has arisen, and due to unforeseen circumstances we are unable to give you a return date.”
“Why don’t you like your 'not secretary' who does secretarial work?”
“I don’t not like him."
“So it’s just a lovers quarrel then?” she teases.
“Goddamn,” I sigh. “He was messing with you.” I look at her. “You’re not gonna stop pestering me are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. The guy people keep calling about, Eden. That’s his brother.” I wipe her skin, then re-ink. “And he screwed us bothover royally. So I guess, just the sight of his face reminds me how much I hate his brother right now.”
“So his brother’s the one you don’t like?”
“I don’t hate him either. Not really. He’s just… Why am I telling you this?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head with a genuine expression.
I go back to work in silence.
Once I've finished the last pass, I wipe her down then tell her to, “Go check it out.”
She’s off the table in a flash, skirt flippantly hanging on, grinning from ear to ear.
She makes a beeline to Carey. “You gotta see this.”
He throws her a shaka hand gesture then looks at me over her shoulder, but I can’t decipher whether his eyes are asking me for help, or taunting me that my client likes him better.
I look away first. “C’mon, I’ve gotta dress it.”
She skips back. “I love it.”
“I aim to please.”
I rattle off the aftercare instructions and hand her a printout too because she’s not really listening. She’s already talking to Carey about her favorite bar in town.
I ring her up, she pays, and leaves a tip.
