*****
Francesca was stretched out on the chaise lounge, looking like she was about to indulge in a late morning nap. She opened one eye when I came in.
“I feel like such a harlot,” she said. “But I kind of like it.”
I leaned against the side of my desk and looked at her. “I think I called you down here for no reason,” I said. “I’m not ... I’ve got to get to work.”
“On that customer out there? I can wait.”
“She’s not ... never mind. No, she left. I’ve got some other work I need to do. I’m just not ... it’s just not a good idea.”
Of course I felt like a complete asshole, having called her to come down here, and now here I was, changing my mind. But ... no. I just couldn’t, not because part of me didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t want to invite anymore bullshit into my life.
Francesca raised her eyebrows and gave me the are you fucking kidding me? look, then she let out a long sigh and sat up.
“Can I give you a little advice?” she said.
“Sure, why not.”
“Get your head straightened out. You don’t know if you’re coming or going.” A slightly cynical smile crossed her face. “Well. You’re not coming, we know that. I’ll see you later, Graham.”
And then she left, too, much in the same manner Chloe had.
*****
After they were both gone, I tried to find something to busy myself with, but Helena had closed up last night and left the shop in good shape. I didn’t want a customer to come in; I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do any tattooing at the moment.
The last thing I probably needed was a coffee, but I didn’t care; I needed something, and I wasn’t about to start drinking on the job. I stepped outside into the hot, humid air and locked the door behind me. There were several cafes to choose from within walking distance, but I chose the closest one, despite it being trendy and probably overrun with tourists.
Inside, the air conditioner was blasting and the air was icy.
I grabbed my coffee from the counter and turned, almost bumping into Tara, who was looking down, tapping away at her phone. “Oh,” she said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Hey.” She looked back down at her phone and then up at me. “I was just texting with Chloe. She said she just tried to go and talk with you.”
It was hard to read the expression on her face; I couldn’t tell if she was about to just turn around and ignore me or try to throw that frothy iced drink of hers in my face.
“But before I leave,” she continued, “I see an empty table over there; will you come sit over there with me for a minute?”
We went over to the table and sat down.
“So, obviously I don’t know all the details yet of what happened, but I feel like the two of you are kind of amateurs about this whole thing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“Chloe is because you’re really the only guy she’s ever been with, but you—you might have been with a lot of women before, but I can tell that you’ve never really done the whole relationship thing, am I right?”
“Never felt compelled to.”
&nbs
p; “Until now.” She gave me an even look.
I took a sip of my coffee, not fully wanting to answer that statement.
“Not that I’m trying to make up excuses or anything, but I never had that positive, loving relationship modeled for me as a kid. My mother isn’t someone who you’d nominate for any mom of the year awards, I can guarantee you that. And my stepfather and I never got along.”
“What about your dad? He not in the picture?”
“No. Definitely not in the picture. So, it always just seemed like a smart idea to steer clear of any relationships, and just stick to the casual stuff.”