Knockout (31 page)

I laughed as I framed the shot with rows of tattoos on the wall behind the pink princess in front of me. She made a sweet kissy face at me as I snapped the shot.

“Alright,” I told her, not putting the phone down. “Now give me one for you.”

She only hesitated a second before smiling wickedly and
flashing devil horns. I snapped the shot quickly before she could change her mind.

“Send that second one to Carter,” I told her, handing her phone back.

“I was thinking the first one.”

“Do what you want, but if he’s worth a damn he’ll prefer the second one.”

As she typed furiously, I knew which pic she would send him.

My own phone suddenly buzzed in my bag hanging beside me. I pulled it out, saw the screen and frowned.

“Are you girls gonna go be some poor shut-in’s wet dream tonight or are you going to stand here texting all day?” Bryce asked, glaring at us both looking at our phones.

Sam looked up at me smiling, then froze. “Who is it from?”

“Kellen.”

I heard from him every few days but only in text messages. Short ones at that. The most recent was pretty standard for us
lately and it went something like this:

You okay?

Yeah,
I’d replied, hoping if I said it then I’d mean it.
Are you?

Sure. Heard from Laney?

No. You?

No.

And that was that.

By the end the first month, when we hadn’t mentioned what had happened between us or what it meant for us moving forward, I’d gone from hoping he’d call to praying he wouldn’t. Suddenly no news seemed like good news and I was starting to feel okay with the idea of never talking about it and simply pretending it didn’t happen. It seemed to be what he was doing.

“What is he saying?” Sam asked.

I could feel her and Bryce watching me as I stood there staring at my phone and biting my lip.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I haven’t opened the message yet.”

“Well, open it!”

“What if it’s him saying he can’t handle it?!” I shouted back, voicing the fears I felt every time he messaged me.

“What if it says he can
?!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“Open it. You won’t know until you read the damn thing.”

I slid my sweaty finger over my phone, watching the glistening streak of pure anxiety it left behind. I’d have to read his words through that haze. Through the fog of my own mind going ballistic and hoping and hating and feeling angry and empty and hurt all at once.

I took a quick breath, preparing myself as butterflies went bat shit in my belly, and I opened the message.

“Weird.”

“What is it?” Sam asked anxiously.

“It’s an address.”

“To where?”

I kept reading. My breath escaped me in a rush of annoyance. “To a shop. A storefront he wants me to look at.”

“Is he still helping you with that?”

“Apparently? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“You know you’re bailing on me,” Bryce grumbled.

I gave him a
dubious look. “You want me working here in this shop with you forever?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You’ve got talent for miles, Jen. I’ll lose a little business when you leave which goes to show you’ve got the talent to pull in faithful customers and you need to open your own shop. Would have been nice if you hadn’t realized that so quickly, though.”

“You were banking on my ignorance?” I asked, smiling.

Bryce barked a laugh as he rose from the counter, heading toward the back. “No, but I never banked on your boy lighting a fire under you either.”

“He’s not my—why do I bother?” I said, shaking my head in frustration.

“What does the place look like?” Sam asked, coming as close to me as her huge hooped skirt would allow.

I opened the link to the address on my phone and watched it take us to the same realty app I used when I searched properties in the mall with Sam. It brought up a map.

“That’s your dream neighborhood,” Sam squealed excitedly.

A picture of the front.

“That building is sick,” she said, her voice becoming more hushed.

She was right. The building was amazing old industrial, the kind of reclaimed space in a shady neighborhood that could be a place to get murdered or the best bar in town. I knew I had to open somewhere with edge that wasn’t too far gone. It had to have the genuine tattoo parlor feel for the tat junkies and enough edge to bring the thrill seeking trust fund babies sniffing around when they were feeling wild. But it couldn’t be in a slum. You couldn’t be scared to get out of your car after dark. And this building, this neighborhood, it was all of those things. It was perfect, exactly what I’d been dreaming of, and when I saw the price tag I almost died.

“I can afford it,” I whispered.

“Seriously?”

I nodded slowly, dumbfounded. “With dad’s help, yeah. I can easily afford it.”

“When can you go see it?”

I flipped back to Kellen’s message. It said the place had just gone up for sale but it wouldn’t last. Our realtor wanted to show it to me
now.

“Today. Right now.”

“Go!”

“No, we have ComiCon to go to.”

“Screw ComiCon!”

I held up my finger to her. “Easy. Respect the Nerd.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “I know but this is so much more important. This is everything you’ve wanted. Go! Now!”

The butterflies that had swarmed in my stomach settled down heavy as lead in my gut, making me feel guilty and awful.

“I don’t want to bail on you.”

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, grabbing my phone and texting at the speed of light, her black lacquered nails flying over my phone. “There,” she said happily, handing it back, “you’re going. See you later. Send me pictures.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go! I told him you’d meet him there in two hours.”

“What?” I cried, looking down at my hookerish outfit. “I can’t go like this! And it takes more than two hours to get there from here.”

“Then you’d better hurry. No time to go home for wardrobe changes.”

My phone buzzed.

See you there.

“Shit!”

“You better get a move on,” she said, pushing me out the door.

“Are you still going to go to ComiCon?” I asked her as she hustled me toward my car.

She snorted. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing. I’ll see if Carter can play hooky for the afternoon. Maybe he can go with me.”

“Is he into this stuff?”

“No, but he’ll probably still go.”

I grinned at her. “Because he’s into you.”

“Yes, I’m very charming. Now
go
!”

She slammed my own door in my face.

I drove as fast as I could without getting a ticket. I didn’t have time to be pulled over. I was late before I even got started and wasn’t that a metaphor for my life? I was always a step behind. Always reaching for something just ahead of me, just outside my grasp and even when I finally gripped it and held it to me as tightly as I ever possibly could, it slipped away. It stopped calling.

When I pulled up outside the building my realtor, Amanda, was already there. She was tall, black and absolutely beautiful. Today she was dressed casually in jeans and a nice red V-neck shirt though she was still sporting 3 inch black heels. Looking at her dressed in perfect business casual modesty made me painfully aware of my costume. As I killed the engine, I took a deep, steadying breath and wished I had a blanket in the back that I could wrap myself in. Maybe a bucket to put over my head and hide my crimson, shamed face.

Then Kellen pulled up, his bike rumbling beside my SUV and I felt like I’d die. Why hadn’t I told them to give me twenty extra minutes to change?

He slid off his bike gracefully, pulling off his helmet and removing his stiff riding jacket. I watched him ruffle his hair as he smiled to Amanda then he turned to face me. He didn’t falter. His smile stayed on his face
as he rounded the front of my car to come open my door for me. He looked genuinely relaxed and so incredibly happy, like the guy I’d always known. I wondered if all the stress and worrying I’d been doing was for nothing. Maybe all he’d needed was time. Maybe we were going to be alright after all.

I smiled as he opened my door for me, offering me his hand.

“Hey,” he said, his voice so deep and perfect, “are you ready to make all your dreams—“

And then he saw what I was wearing.

His smile disappeared as his eyes roved over every inch of the outfit I was wearing. Or not wearing, I guess. His glance paused on my bare thighs where the boots ended and the bathing suit type bottom of the top gave out and there was nothing but me and smooth, tanned skin.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice going deeper. Darker.

I kept my eyes fixed on his where they continued to move over me. Finally they found my face.

“A costume. I was going to ComiCon with Sam when you texted me. I’m the Silk Spectre from—“

“
Watchmen.
Yeah. I know.”

“Then why’d you ask what it was?”

“I meant why are you wearing that?”

“I told you, I was going to ComiCon but I thought this was more important so I rushed here. I didn’t have time to change.”

His mouth quirked. He pinched it tightly together but it continued to twitch. He was laughing at me.

“I look like a hooker, I know,” I said, feeling exasperated.

“A hot hooker.”

“Most hookers are, aren’t they?”

He chuckled. “You haven’t seen many, have you?”

“No, but should I be worried that you have?”

“All part of the experience growing up in the slums. If it’s any consolation, you look expensive.”

“My mother would be so proud,” I muttered, swinging my legs out of the car and stepping down in front of him.

He immediately backed up a step, putting distance between us. Smiling, he swept his arm out.

“Ladies first.”

I knew he was laughing at me still. I didn’t care. He was there and he was looking me in the eye, talking to me and being the guy I had grown up with. I didn’t need him hugging and kissing me, telling me he’d missed me and he loved me, that it would all be okay. I needed him like this, the way I’d always needed him. Like my friend. My best friend.

It was so nice, so relieving, it hurt.

“Hey, Amanda,” I called, waving to her as I strode toward the building.

Her eyes went round but she kept her cool. “Jenna. I like your shoes.”

“Thanks. They hurt.”

“The good ones always do. Are you going to a party?”

“Sort of. I was going to ComiCon.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

I waved my hand. “It’s a nerd thing. Never mind.”

I felt Kellen behind me
then a sudden weight on my shoulders. He had draped his riding coat over me. It did little good for the exposed skin on my thighs but I felt far less naked with the bulk of the shiny skin tight vinyl hidden.

I shot him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his hands still on my shoulders. “You ready for this?”

“Definitely.”

Amanda led us inside, actually entering the building with us this time. Now that we weren’t shopping biohazards, she was a much more willing participant in our search. She began listing off all of the specs, telling me the square footage, the updates recently done, how other shops in the area were doing. I wanted to hear it, I really did, but I missed it all. I was too floored. Too in love.

The floors were distressed hardwood, dark and scuffed and beautiful. The walls were exposed red brick, the windows huge and pouring in the afternoon light. It was completely open, devoid of any walls or partitions meaning I could do with it as I liked. I heard Amanda say there was a bathroom in the back, but that was it. Everything else was wide open, full of promise.

“We’ll take it,” I blurted out, interrupting Amanda.

She smiled at me. “You didn’t hear me, did you? I was just saying it’s selling at the price it is because it has an old roof. It leaks when it rains. The entire thing has to be replaced, something that can cost you easily $10,000.”

I nodded in understanding, looking up at the ceiling to see that there were indeed water stains. Horrible brown, hideous, most likely foul smelling water stains. The place had issues. But I could handle issues.

I signed the offer that afternoon. I put my name and my dreams on the line, then I waited. Kellen stayed with
me all day as we waited to hear back on whether or not our offer was accepted. He bought me beer and a hotdog and sat on top of a picnic table beside the ocean with me. We talked about the changes I could make to the place, he drew a layout on a napkin of how my shop could look and I sketched a logo I’d been thinking about for the last year.