Page 72 of The Fake Out

“Her husband was abusive,” he admitted in a small voice I barely heard over the sound of the needle.

I felt my eyebrow rise but kept my head bent on my work.“Oh, shit. You think he had something to do with it?”

“He was drunk. I guess the cycle repeats itself. I was trying to help her get out.”

“Wow, I can’t imagine that, man. That must have been hard.”

“I have custody of my nephew now.”

“Wow, Logan, that’s… How do you manage with all the travel?”

He sighed. “My teammates have helped a lot. Nannies, too. Although, I’m desperate for a reliable one. You know anyone good?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, can’t help you there. Is it hard being a single dad and playing hockey?”

“Yeah, it’s hard, but I know I have to be the best for him.”

“That’s great, man. He probably needs a good male role model.”

He nodded. “I want him to see that men aren’t like his dad or my dad, that we can be decent people.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I thought what he said was admirable. He seemed like a decent guy. Blaise said he didn’t know him that well. He was still a rookie, and Logan was worried about staying on the team.

I wiped at his skin and went back in to start the shading. “You doing okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “Good. Blaise said you’re good at distracting customers.”

“She is,” my brother’s voice said behind me. “That’s looking good.”

Logan grimaced. “Painful, though.”

“We suffer for our art,” I said.

Alex laughed. “Okay, goth girl.”

I mentally gave him the finger and finished up. I explained the aftercare treatment to Logan and walked him back over to the front desk. Liv helped him check out and shamelessly flirted with him while I cleaned up my station.

“You got a minute?” Alex asked. He chewed on his bottom lip, the light above him reflecting off his lip ring.

I nodded but hoped this was work stuff and not personal stuff. I wasn’t ready to forgive my brother. Not yet.

“You liked Kelly, right?”

Kelly was one of the artists we interviewed last week. She worked at the shop over in Kensington that one of my friends was at. She did a lot of cool pin-up style tattoos, and she would bring a unique style to the shop.

“Sure, I like her style,” I said.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, me too. I want to offer her a chair here.”

“Okay, cool.”

“I think we also need another artist.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are we keeping asshat on?”

“For now.”

“Okay. I have another client. I don’t have time to chat.”