Inside, the waiting area was neat and clean, with walls covered in framed artwork. I stepped up to the empty reception counter and set down my portfolio. A woman came around the corner in a pair of jeans, belt, and a vintage, dark-gray Rolling Stones T-shirt. Her hair was black, with blond streaks and fringed edges. Her dark-chocolate eyes ran over me.
“I don’t do underage tattoos,” she stated before turning around.
“I’m not looking for a tattoo,” I told her.
She moved back to the desk and crossed her arms. “Then you’re in the wrong place, cheerleader.”
I raised an eyebrow. Cheerleader? Really? I put it out of my mind. “I was actually wondering if you had any job openings.”
Her eyes ran over me before meeting mine. “You want a job here?”
Okay, now she was irritating me. “Yes. I eventually want to find an apprenticeship, learn everything I can, and become a tattoo artist. But I’m seventeen, which is why I’m hoping you might need a shop girl.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You want to be an artist?”
“Ever since I was a kid.” I took a deep breath and opened my portfolio before turning it towards her. “I’m practicing my artwork and trying to learn everything I can. It would be wonderful to get a chance to see how a real shop works.”
Her eyes narrowed on me before looking down at my portfolio, which was filled with neo-traditional and watercolor style tattoos. It had taken me weeks to draw and improve each design until I liked them enough to include them. My heart was pounding in my ears as she looked through the pages.
She looked at me, then at the drawings again, before closing my file. “I’m not hiring today.” My heart dropped. She turned and started walking off.
I wanted to work in a tattoo shop before I died. If I wasn’t going to be able to learn officially, at least I could watch. I wanted this. “Alright. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She turned back. “I told you, I’m not hiring.”
“Today,” I reminded her. “You said you weren’t hiring today. That doesn’t mean you won’t be tomorrow.” I closed my portfolio.
She raised an eyebrow and looked me over again. “I won’t be hiring tomorrow, either.”
I smiled. “Then I’ll see you the next day too, and then the next, and the next.”
Her lips moved into a half smirk. “Have you ever had a job in your life?”
“Several.”
“What? Did you keep getting fired?” she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“We kept moving,” I countered.
She ran her eyes over me, seeming to decide something. She walked around the desk and leaned on the counter. “You have a resume?”
I opened the folder, pulled it out of its pocket, and handed it to her. Her eyes ran over it. Eventually, she looked at me again. “There are a lot of cities here. How do I know you aren’t moving again?”
“I'm living with family now, and I'll be eighteen in August,” I explained.
She reached out, turned my portfolio to her, and looked through it again. “These are good, but you need to work on your use of negative space.” She pointed to one of my skull and roses drawings. “This is too busy; you’re packing too much in. You need a balance.” She met my eyes. “What are your plans for college?”
“I haven’t made any,” I admitted. “Everything would depend on where I could get an apprenticeship.”
She tapped the drawing. “You need college-level art classes. It’ll help you perfect your technique, and that is everything.”
I nodded. Shit. “Alright. I’ll start looking at art schools.” How the hell was I going to do that?
“You’re out for the summer?” she asked.
“Yeah, yesterday was our last day.” I told myself not to hope.
“Alright, I’ll start you at one day a week for a few hours,” she told me. I resisted the urge to shout in victory. “Come back Monday, around eleven. The sign will say closed, but I’ll be here.” She eyed my clothes. “And casual is more than fine.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. “You won’t regret this.”
“I better not.” She held out her hand. “I’m Meghan Bricker.”
I shook her hand with a smile. “Lexie Delaney.”
When I got back in the car, I practically knocked Miles over in my rush to hug him. He laughed and hugged me back.
“I take it you got the job?” he asked, chuckling.
“Yes!” I practically squealed as I squeezed him tight. Moving back to my seat, I smiled up at him. “I start on Monday.”
He grinned at me. “That’s great.” I put on my seatbelt, still beaming.
Miles pulled out onto the road and started for Zeke’s house. “Did they like your artwork?”
My smile faded. “Yeah, though she did say I should take college art classes.”
“She did?” he asked carefully.
I looked out the window and sighed. “Yeah, looks like I need to start looking for an art school.”
“What was your SAT score?” he asked.
I wrung my fingers as I answered. “I haven’t taken it.”
There was a long silence. “Well, testing starts again when school starts. I’ll help you prepare if you’d like?”
I flashed him a smile. “I’m taking you up on that. I’m way behind on the college front.”
“Maybe, but you do have a great GPA. And you have time to prepare for the exam,” he reassured me.
“My GPA is pretty good,” I admitted, feeling better. If Miles said I had time to get ready for the test, I had time.
“And with a job, that will help with extracurriculars,” he said, clearly thinking out loud.
I closed my eyes. “Extracurriculars.” I groaned before turning to him. “I don’t have any, at least none that I can put on a college application.”
“That’s not completely true.” He turned into Zeke’s long driveway.
“What am I going to put? ‘Crossing the dead and healing the Veil?’”
He grinned. “I was going to suggest ‘volunteer work.’”
I thought about it. “Okay, yeah, that might work.”
Then it hit me, like a blow to the heart. I almost couldn't breathe as I realized, I might not have to worry about college. Given what my scans showed, I'd be lucky to graduate high school. Shit. My heart ached, and I fought to keep my face blank.
Miles pulled his car in next to Zeke’s Jeep. “The point is, don’t panic. You have time, and I’ll help.” He sounded so excited…
I sent him a smile as my throat tightened. “Thanks, Nemo.”
A warm smile spread across his face. “You’re welcome, Lexie.”
I got out of the car and let Hades out, grabbing my bag of clothes to change into. I was not working in Sylvie’s garden in slacks. Hades ran off with his leash still attached. I wasn’t worried; he wouldn’t leave the property. I headed for the house while Miles headed around the side.
“Tell them I’ll be there after I change,” I said, opening the front door.
“I will,” he said before disappearing around the corner of the house. I walked inside and closed the door. Zeke's house was cute, there was no other way to describe it. The inside was bright and had a beach house feel; all white wood and light colors. The house was cool and quiet, exactly what I needed right now. I walked to the end of the hallway across from the door to the bathroom. Zeke's bedroom door was cracked open. I knocked, just in case he was inside, but there was no answer. Heart aching, I walked in, closed the door and sat on Zeke’s bed. I took deep, slow breaths, hoping it would stop my eyes burning. I got a job at the shop. Be happy and just enjoy that. Focus on the good.
Slipping off my shoes, I got up and started changing into my cutoffs and a blue tank. I was fastening my shorts when the door opened.
“Hey, Beau— Oh, shit!” Ethan’s voice came from behind me.
I rushed to put my shirt on. “Damn it, Ethan,” I snapped as I pulled it on over my head.
He chuckled. “I’ve seen you in your underwear before.”
“In emergencies,” I countered. “Not exactly the same.” I pulled the hem down to cover myself and got my sandals out of my bag. It was totally different. Especially since he had kissed me, even if he didn’t remember it. Or remember grabbing my ass... or biting my lip... I let out a breath as my body warmed at the memory. Now, if only I could forget it.
“Sorry, Beautiful.”