Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I nod. Because he isn’t telling me anything I don’t know. I just don’t particularly like it. That’s the truth of the situation. “You’re not concerned about us being involved and working together?”
He just shrugs.
“Okay.”
“You know, I asked him if he wanted a couple of tickets to a band that was passing through town last night. A friend of ours had bought them, then couldn’t make it,” says Ed, all in the same quiet reasonable tone. “I happen to know my brother loves that band. He only missed out on buying tickets because they sold out too damn fast.”
“Huh.”
“You know what he told me?”
“What?”
“He said he had to stay home and wash his hair.”
I snort. What a clown. We did in fact have sex in the shower, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. But he’d also known that crowds and loud noises tend to wear on me. Standing up for long periods of time isn’t great either. While I might have gone if he asked, it would have worn me out and we have work today.
“Then he waltzes in here this morning with a stupid grin on his face,” continues Ed. “My brother is not a morning person. Smiles before midday are in limited supply. But not today.”
I keep my mouth shut.
“The little shit is practically walking on sunshine.”
“The little shit is over thirty years old and more than six feet tall.”
His serious façade cracks for a moment. “Yeah. But he’s always going to be my little brother.”
I smile.
“We came out big,” he says. “All three of us were up around ten pounds. Mom still bitches about giving birth naturally.”
“Ouch.”
“Clem says if we ever go there she’s taking every drug on offer.”
“And I do not blame her one iota.”
He smiles.
I cross my arms. A purely defensive position given where I’m about to take the conversation. “Thought for sure you’d have some concerns about us getting involved.”
“You’re adults. If you think you can live and work together and still manage a relationship then that’s on you two,” he says, taking another sip of coffee. “I trust you both not to bring any shit in here. To behave professionally and so on.”
I nod. “We’re not really in a relationship, though. Exactly. It’s, um, it’s something else.”
He just looks at me.
Oh my God. Talk about overshare. My mouth needs to stay shut.
“It’s complicated, huh?” he asks with a gentle smile.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been meaning to thank you, actually.” He takes a seat on one of the stools on wheels we have around the place. “Leif hasn’t been himself the last year or so. What with everything that happened. You’ve brought him back to life in a lot of ways.”
“Oh.” And that’s all I’ve got. Go, conversation skills.
“He trusts you. I mean, he’s spending less time on his own, going out more, doing stuff,” he says. “Things were pretty grim there for a while, so it’s really good to see.”
“I’m glad.”
“He was just . . . down on everything. Especially after all the shit that happened.” A trace of fury crosses his face. Along with something close to guilt. “It was kind of a shock to see him that way. He’s always been the joker, you know? The positive person that makes everyone laugh and never takes anything seriously. Sometimes to his detriment. But it’s like his heart was full of hate there for a while. Everything weighed him down. The accident, that the police couldn’t find the guy, then there was the amount of pain he was in with his arm all fucked up. You helped shift the remnants of all that and I’m grateful.”
“He’s a good friend,” I say. Because what the hell am I supposed to say?
“Clem said your divorce was finalized on Friday.”
“Yes.”
“Must be a weight off your mind.”
“It really is.”
This is the part where some people would warn me to maybe not get involved with their little brother, what with how my own life has been so riddled with strife lately. Suggest I take some time to get my own shit together. But Ed doesn’t do that. Which I appreciate.
“I better get started on these sketches,” he says instead, picking up his tablet. “Try not to worry about what he’s doing. Because I assure you, he’s not getting up to anything. Tattooing takes focus and concentration. One moment of distraction is one moment too many.”
“Mm.”
He frowns. “You’re a worrier. You’re going to worry anyway.”
“Yeah.”
There’s nothing much more to say. We both go back to our own work. It was a nice chat, all in all. My new boss is a nice guy. Leif is lucky to be surrounded by people who care about him. Not that I’m a lonely girl or anything. We’re both lucky.
I get back to updating the books on the laptop sitting on the front shop counter. Things are looking good. I’ve also been doing some research into conventions Ed and co might want to consider attending, along with other possible avenues of promotion. Though it seems to work mostly on word of mouth in this industry. Social media has a role to play. There’s also a new line of inks they might want to take a look at. I’ve been organizing some samples for the shop.