Page 10 of Ink

“You doin’ okay?” Tommy asks.

My smile briefly moves to him. “Yes, thank you.”

Tommy returns my smile with a genuine one.

See? He’s such a nice guy.

I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Twisting my head to the side to see what it is, I’m greeted with Ink scowling. We barely have a chance to make eye contact before he’s pushing off the wall and stomping off to wherever he came from.

He has a way of making me feel so small. I hate that someone I just met has that kind of power over me. And why? I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. He likes to think he does, but he doesn’t. No one really knows the true me. She hasn’t been introduced, but she will be.

I don’t know what crawled up his butt and died, but lucky for him, I have experience dealing with grade A buttheads. He may be better to look at, but that doesn’t excuse the crap personality.

The rest of the day passed by fairly quickly. Nothing crazy happened, and I successfully scheduled my first tattoo appointment without needing Tommy or Gage to help me. I refuse to ask Ink for help. He may be my boss, but there’s other people around that are fully capable of helping me without making me feel like I’m less than.

The best part of all is I didn’t get fired. Gage was the one who actually asked me to come back. Ink was nowhere to be found when it was time to close, and I was okay with that. I think the best move forward is to avoid him unless it’s absolutely necessary to talk to him. So all in all, I’m considering today a win, even if I have to walk back to the crappy motel.

“Is your ride picking you up?” Gage asks while he finishes shutting off the lights.

“Uh, no. I walked.”

“I get you walked here, babe, but what I’m asking is if you have a ride picking you up. It’s dark out.”

I slowly shake my head, too embarrassed to admit that I can’t afford a cab and I don’t have anyone that would even consider picking me up.

“So you’re walking?” he asks, like I’m crazy.

The look he’s giving me makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m a little kid again, getting scolded by her dad because I wanted to play outside, but that wasn’t a place for little girls.

My thumb absentmindedly spins the fidget ring that’s on my pointer finger. It’s been one of my coping mechanisms when my anxiety feels like it’s about to take over.

Confrontation of any kind and I do not mix.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s a pretty straightforward path.”

“I know it’s a pretty fucking straight forward path, babe. It’s a goddamn sidewalk. But I also know it’s dark out and you’re a woman walking by herself. That’s a bad combination.” Gage shakes his head, looking torn between something.

That’s about the only thing she has going for her. I don’t think anyone coming in here would want to put any effort into that.

Ink’s words play on repeat in my head, making me wonder if Gage’s concern is fake. He’s probably only doing this because that’s what a decent guy would do.

“You sure you’re going to be okay? I’d give you a ride, but I’m already late.”

“I’ll be fine, Gage.” I try to give him what I’m hoping is a reassuring smile, even though on the inside I’m dying for this charade to be over with as I follow him out the door. “Thank you, though.” Your fake concern isn’t necessary.

“Alright, babe.” Gage hesitates before locking the door behind him. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

For the last two hours, I watched the street vendors walk by with their tables and carts in tow. This made me a little excited about the walk home because I love looking at items people have made by hand. I’m hoping walking by them will give me the serotonin my body has been craving, even if I have to get it by window shopping.

“See you tomorrow,” I say to his back.

Most of the vendors don’t pay me any attention as I slowly walk by and try to scope out the items for sale without stopping. They must be able to tell I’m broke as a joke right now.

I’ve passed a table full of knock off handbags that could pass for the real thing, a table of kid toys that looked like they bought them from T.J. Maxx and are flipping the items themselves.

It’s not a bad idea, honestly.

As I’m nearing the end of the strip of vendors, the streetlights seem dimmer and the crowds of people have thinned out, with just the random lurkers lingering. It’s almost an unwelcoming calm.