"That possible?"
"I can do it. Can you?"
Maybe. "Yeah." I take her hand.
Shake.
Watch as she pulls up Facebook, changes her relationship status.
Do the same with my cell.
There it is.
We're official.
This is either the smartest thing I've ever done or the stupidest.
One of the two.
Chapter Nine
Ryan
Leighton smiles as she hands my client a receipt. Then a pen.
She presses her palms into the counter, leans forward, squeezes her arms to push her tits together.
She always does this shit.
Usually, I shrug it off.
Today, it's making my jaw crick.
My fingers curl into fists. Words form on my tongue. Keep your eyes to yourself, asshole.
As far as clients go, this guy is great. Receptive to my ideas. Honest when he needs a break. Good at keeping still.
But I want to deck the motherfucker and tell him to keep his money.
He could be the guy who has Leighton's heart.
It could be anyone.
Fuck, she looks good today. Hot pink sundress with a black dinosaur print. Lacy black bra peeking out from the neckline. Purple hair in that perfect straight line.
Purple makeup bringing out the green in her eyes.
Berry lips drawing every ounce of my attention.
The guy chuckles at some compliment. "Me too." He pushes his shirt up his shoulder, showing off his now finished sleeve.
Leighton giggles. Leans in to whisper in his ear.
He nods. Scribbles a tip. Signs on the dotted line. Writes something below it.
His phone number.
I bite my tongue.
This is part of her job.
She's better than it. But we all have to stoop to shitty stuff sometimes. It's part of making ends meet.
No matter how badly I want to punch this asshole, I'm not going to steal her tip money.
The customer turns back to me. He offers his hand. "Thanks, dude. It's perfect."
I shake. Nod no problem.
He leans in to whisper. "Put in a good word for me with the babe with purple hair."
"Can't."
"Cruel."
"She's my girl." The words are unpracticed. But they're easy on my tongue. Natural.
"Fuck. Really?"
"Yeah."
"Didn't realize." He shrugs at me. "Sorry."
She smiles that wide nothing is a problem customer service smile. "Keep it our secret." She winks.
His chuckle is nervous. "Forgive me enough to do my next one?"
"Yeah."
He nods sweet then makes his way to the door. The bell rings. It nearly screams the asshole is gone.
Leighton's tits fall forward as she leans over the counter. "Can you believe that guy? Apologizing to you for wanting to ask me out? Like I'm your property or something?"
"Asshole."
"Not with the times." Her eyes find mine. "Are you really pissed about that?"
No. I'm worse. I'm pissed he's looking at my girl when she isn't even mine. "You're gonna pop out of that dress." I try to make it matter of fact, but it's not. It's weird, her on display. Inviting in a way it shouldn't be.
"Sorry. Next time, I'll wear something that will get you less than a thirty percent tip." She waves the receipt like it's a first-place ribbon.
"My talent had nothing to do with it?"
"It's canceled out by your attitude."
"Not everybody wants to chat."
"Uh-huh."
Dean steps into the lobby. "What did I hear about Leigh's tits?"
She rolls her eyes. "Why are you always here to offer commentary?"
"Your tits." He makes a show of leering at her chest. "Why else?"
She cocks her hips to one side. "Don't you have clients?"
He motions to the clock. "Ten minutes until my next appointment. Enough time to talk you into keeping ‘em on display."
"You couldn't talk me into a cup of French roast with extra half-and-half." She sighs in the direction of the Keurig. Waves at the coffee maker like it's her favorite thing in the entire world.
I slide my hand into my pocket. Wrap my fingers around my cell. The shit on it is good news. But it still makes my throat tighten.
I look to my younger brother. Raise a brow you mind?
He folds his arms. Yeah, I do.
I ignore him. Take three steps to the counter. Until my thighs are pressed against the black plastic.
I pull my cell from my pocket. Pull up my texts. "It worked."
I show her the display.
Penny: Why didn't you tell me you were seeing Leighton?
Ryan: I didn't?
Penny: I always thought you'd be good together. Frank and I are going to a cake tasting Saturday morning. You should join us. Make it a double date.
Leighton's eyes stay glued to the screen. "She thought we'd be good together? What the hell is that?"
Passive aggressive bullshit. "It's what we're going for, yeah?"
Dean clears his throat. He's still standing behind me.
"Yeah?" I keep my back to him.
He moves forward. Until he's next to me. "Leigh, tell me you're not."
She looks to him. "You already know the answer."
"You're smarter than this," he says.
She motions to me. He's right here.
"Fuck this. I'm not gonna be the voice of reason. Ruin your lives if you want," he says.
Leighton's eyes turn down. She presses her lips together, fighting a frown.
I hate the frustration in her brow.
I want to wipe it away.
I want to destroy all the pain in her life.
But that isn't different. She's my best friend. I've wanted the world for her for a long time.
This isn't changing shit.
It's just not.
I turn to my brother. Find the first change of topic I can. "We need to hire help."
Dean shakes his head. "What about the dozen artists you rejected?"
"What about them?" I ask.
He laughs. "Half of them were better than you."
"No." Some of them were good, but none of them were better than me. No one takes their shit as seriously as I do.
"All right. But they were plenty good."
"And?" I ask.
"You're transparent." He turns to Leighton. "Isn't he?"
She shrugs. "All four of you turn down appointments. You need to hire more help."
"Set up some appointments," I say.
"Sure. But I'm holding you to hiring someone." Dean turns. Looks to Walker, who's currently in the middle of a back piece. "You eavesdropping, Williams?"
The hum of his gun ceases. He whispers something to his client. Then said client pushes himself up with a thank fuck for the break sigh and moves to the bathroom.
Walker stands. Moves into the lobby. Studies the three of us like he's an anthropologist encountering an entirely new civilization.
His dark eyes fix on Dean. "What did you do?"
"Ryan wants to hire help," Dean says.
Walker shakes his head. "Bullshit. Ryan turned down every artist on the Westside."