The Hysterics (8 page)

Chapter eleven

Mending – just about 3 weeks later

DANE

“Just say yes, Juliet,” I whispered as I walked up behind Fallon as she stood in front of the broken copy machine, about to kick it again and muttering obscenities under her breath.

She turned with an eyebrow raised and tired eyes. “What?”

“You’re the one who called me Romeo first. But will you come tonight?”

“Dane, I told you, I don’t know.” Her weight shifted as a small smile pulled on her lips.

“But, you want to?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I am up for it.”

I grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Let me take you out, get your mind off all this bullshit.”

She sighed, staring at our interlocked fingers, but stayed quiet.

“Look, I have a surprise for you. You’ve barely talked to me in weeks, ever since the doctor’s appointment. I get it, you needed space and all that shit, but it’s time for you to smile again. It’ll just be us. Please?”

“I don’t… I just don’t think I can.” She slowly bit her lip ring, grabbing the papers from the copy machine.

“What if I told you I’ve missed you?” I cringed at how honest those words were. I had never felt so drawn to a woman before; I hated how vulnerable it made me and how mushy I got when it came to her.

God, I sound like a freaking pussy!

“I just don’t feel like going out, having to get dressed up, ya know?”

“Perfect!” I sounded way too enthusiastic. I took a deep breath. “This is one of those times when comfortable clothes are preferred. Trust me. This will be good for us both.”

She shrugged. “Alright.” She lightly squeezed my hand then started to walk back toward her office. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being my Romeo,” she whispered as she walked away, shoving the pages she was holding into my hands and saying louder, “Oh, that’d be great, Dane! I really
would
love for you to fix the copier for me.”

I laughed and she winked at me, then smiled. That smile killed me and sent me straight up to freaking cloud nine. I tried to fiddle with the dinosaur of a machine as it groaned and stuttered, but it refused to do anything but print squiggly black lines. 

I paced my living room floor at least a hundred times while I waited for Fallon. She had refused my offer to pick her up and said that she would be at my place around seven. The clock was ticking closer and closer to seven fifteen, and I was starting to think it was more than likely she was going to stand me up than actually show.

I shouldn’t have pushed her. What the hell am I thinking?

I sipped tea and continued to circle my coffee table while the cooking channel played white noise in the background of my racing thoughts.

Finally, a soft knock echoed through my apartment and I felt like I could exhale.

“You had me a little…” As I opened the door I realized that I wasn’t opening it to the right woman.

“Were you expecting someone?” Whitney was standing in my doorway wearing a tight red cocktail dress, her long, blonde hair perfectly curled. She licked her luscious red lips as she stared me up and down, running her hand over my chest.

“What the fuck are you doing just showing up at my place?” The sight of her made my skin crawl. I thought I had been clear enough that our relationship—or lack thereof—was over. I didn’t want a fuck buddy anymore. Well, at least not her as a fuck buddy.

She popped her hip out, crossing her arms over her large, perky chest and pursing her lips. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts and I’ve missed you.” She tried to touch me again, but I stepped back.

“Let me in, we have some time to make up for.” She leaned in and tried to kiss me, but I shoved her gently back right before Fallon’s voice pierced my ears.

“Dane? Whitney? What the…?” And with that, Whitney slapped me and Fallon turned on her heels and started to walk back to the stairs.

I didn’t care what Whitney thought or if her feelings were hurt. All I cared about was that Fallon might start to not trust me.

“Fallon, wait!” I called after her.

Turning slowly to me, she mouthed, “Her? Really?” Whitney was still standing in my open doorway but I didn’t dare turn to look at her.

“I’m going to grab my coat and lock up. Then we’re heading out, ok?” Fallon just stood there staring at me.

“No. I think you have a visitor who needs some…
attention
.” Fallon nodded to Whitney and then kept on walking toward the stairs.

“No, actually, Whitney was just leaving, and forgetting my number and address along with it.”

Whitney stomped by us. “Wait until Payton gets a whiff of this little HR nightmare!”

Fallon stepped in front of her, smiling, her eyes narrowed. “What are you going to say, my dear? That you think I’m sleeping with one of the staff? Newsflash, sweets, I’m not the one in stilettos getting rejected in this hallway. Have fun trying to play the he-said-she-said game with this one.”

Whitney stared, catching flies, while Fallon just smiled and continued. “I’m not saying that you have anything to worry about, but you definitely do not have a leg to stand on with this. There is no rule in our office that staff members can’t socialize outside of work. If you ever paid attention to anything you’d have realized that we encourage our staff to hang out and bounce ideas off of one another, it breeds better writing. You should leave now. Dane and I have some plans that you have rudely interrupted.”

That was it. Whitney was gone, but not silent. Within seconds of the stairwell door slamming, my phone was vibrating with ‘fuck you’ texts.

Fallon shoved my shoulder as I powered down my phone. “So you and Whitney, huh?”

The back of my neck pricked with heat. “Old news that won’t go away.”

Fallon grabbed my hand and started for my open apartment door. “Well get your shit and lock up so we can get going.”

“You’re not mad?”

She stopped in the doorway, blocking me from entering. “I dated Kenneth Rhodes. I learned fast that jealousy only makes you bitter.”

“You must be the perfect woman.”

“Far from it, but I’ll take the compliment.”

FALLON

“So where are we going?” I stared out the window, completely turned upside down. The light raindrops hitting the window streaked down as I tried to read the street signs at the intersection we were turning at.

“It’s a surprise, Juliet.” Dane’s face was stern as he looked up and down the street that had no open parking spots.

“Dang it,” he muttered as he pulled around the back of a dingy-looking bar at the end of the street. “I know the owner here, he lets us park out back when there aren’t spots in front of Vatican.”

“Vatican?” I asked, while getting out of The Judge.

“In black ink my love may still shine bright,” is all Dane offered up as an explanation as he grabbed my hand and opened the back door to a tiny kitchen that smelled like burnt, greasy cheeseburgers.

“Are you really quoting Shakespeare to me again? You are such a pathetic romantic.”

We made our way through the kitchen as Dane said hi to the cooks, addressing each of them by name all the way to the front bar where Dane stopped to shake the hand of an older man standing behind the old cherry wood counter. Glancing around the narrow space, I realized I had been there before: we were at Mountain Breath.

The man’s face lit up as he grabbed dirty beer mugs off the bar top and scooped up some dollar bills left by his last patrons. He must have been in his late fifties or even early sixties, more silver than black in his hair. The wrinkles under his eyes and around the corners of his mouth hinted at him having a lot more of them from smiling than from frowning, which is always a good sign. The back wall of the bar was covered with old black and white pictures of a smiling, happy family.

“Hey, Dane! Long time no see!”

“Hey, Mr. Steele.” Dane blushed when he said the man’s name, looking to me while it clicked in my head.

“Who’s this pretty lady with you?”

“Hi, I am, uh, Fae.” Tripping over my fake name was something I needed to get over. Dane’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, as if he knew how hard it was for me to lie. “I work with Dane.” I took Maverick’s father’s hand, looking into his dark brown eyes as they perked up with pride, beaming over at Dane like a proud father.

“You can call me Marty. The Mr. Steele shit is too formal.” Dane looked away sheepishly like a child getting scolded. “Well, I hope Dane is planning on bringing you by this weekend for Lori’s birthday!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to talk her into coming.”

I leaned onto the bar, winking at Marty. “I’ll be there. Thank you for inviting me.”

Dane cleared his throat and grabbed my hand again. “Alright, well we have an appointment at Vatican so we’ll see ya later, Pop.” A small smile spread across Marty’s face and it looked like he might tear up a bit.

“You take care of Fae, now. She seems like a keeper.”

“It was very nice meeting you, Marty. Hopefully I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

He nodded at me and we made our way out the door and across the street to a storefront that had a huge neon sign that said ‘tattoo’ on it. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“What are we going into a tattoo shop for?”

He spun me around and pulled my chin up so I was looking into his beautiful gray eyes. “We’re getting tattoos together tonight. We’re both going to start a healing process with a few simple words.”

“What?” I was speechless. I never had someone proactively try to get me better. Almost all the peer pressure I had experienced was detrimental to my wellbeing. It was one of the best moments of my life, to look into someone’s eyes and know they genuinely cared about me. “And what words are we supposed to be getting?”

He kissed my cheek and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I already told you,” he whispered, putting the page in my hand and opening the door to the shop.

I stared down at the Shakespeare quote, beautifully drawn on the page in two different scripts. One was bold and masculine and the other was gentle and feminine with a small heart. I couldn’t bring my eyes up from the page while my feet moved through the doorway; I was captivated. I had so many questions, but words escaped me. All I could do was let the script burn into my heart, cauterizing my open wounds slowly and perfectly.

Hearing Dane’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Hey, is Cruz here?”

The woman behind the front counter was tall, skinny, and completely covered in inked art, even on her scalp to the sides of her perfectly groomed bright purple mohawk. Her pierced lips curled into a smile. “Yeah. Dane and Fae, right?” she asked while looking down at a huge appointment book on the glass counter. “Cruz is all set up for you two. You guys can head back to his station, if you’d like.”

We both smiled politely and I followed Dane into the back room of the shop. It was a typical tattoo shop, open with stations spaced around the room and decorated with tons of pictures of past clients, paintings done by the artists, and signs that cracked me up.

‘Tipping makes it hurt less.’

‘I’m the tattoo artist your mother warned you about.’

We were greeted by a short, overly tanned man who looked to be in his mid-forties. “Hey, Dane, you made it!”

“Yeah, sorry we’re late. This is Fae, the chick I called about earlier.”

I shook his hand while he asked, “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Dane took the paper out of my hand and gave it to Cruz. “We’re going to get these. I want mine here.” He pointed to the left of his chest, right over his heart. “And Fae?”

Dane and Cruz turned to me at once—this was all happening so fast. The reality of the situation settled in and I started to get nervous, a completely different sensation than what I usually felt when I got a new tattoo.

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it yet. Where should I get it?” I asked Dane and he turned bright red for a second while looking over my body. I knew he had seen most of my skin while we were in the doctor’s office so he knew where I was and was not tatted already.

“How about your right ribcage, do you have anything there?”