“How you hanging, lover boy?” Harlan asked as he slipped inside Cliff’s booth at his shop, just ending his stint in the apartment upstairs, monitoring the town.
“She still isn’t speaking to me.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” Cliff shrugged as he turned back toward his drawing table in the corner of the room.
“Want me to get Cassidy to talk with her?”
“Naw, that’s okay. Logan sends me updates, and as long as she’s safe there and home with me, that’s all I need.”
“Cliff,” his friend bellowed.
“So, you want a touch up on your color,” Cliff asked, hoping to change the subject.
Harlan plopped himself on the table and tore his shirt up and over his body.
“Yeah, I could use some on my chest.”
“Sure, let me get the list of colors and we’ll get started.”
Twenty minutes later, Cliff wiped away the remains of the ink with a paper towel then cooled off the wound with some ointment.
“This should last a good while unless you plan on standing under the stage lights shirtless again.”
“Well. . .” his friend said hesitating while letting his words hang in the air. His and Ryker’s band, Exoneration, was going back on tour if his voice was any indication. Cliff wondered if he’s told his wife yet.
“No worries, you know I’ve got you. Let me just shoot a text to Logan for an update, then I’ll dress it up.”
“Sure.”
Taking off his latex gloves, Cliff grabbed his phone from the desk and typed out a text to his friend, just to check that Alexis was okay.”
Usually, Logan responded right away with an automated text that he was with a patient or he replied personally. But when Cliff’s text went unanswered ten minutes past him dressing Harlan’s new ink, Cliff began to worry.
“Hey, man. I’m going to call Logan; he’s not answering my message. Then we can go. I’ll close early today.”
“I’m sure everything is fine, lover boy. But sure, take your time. I’m in no rush.”
He called Logan’s phone, the doctor waiting three rings until he answered. The time between those three rings seemed like a lifetime.
“You know, I do see patients every now and then.”
“Sorry, man. I just had this bad feeling and I wanted to check in. I learned early not to ignore my instincts.”
On the other end of the call, Logan explained that Alexis went to take a break, but that she had her phone with her if he wanted to call. But as Cliff eluded that Alexis wouldn’t speak to him, Logan chuckled.
“I’ll go check to make sure she’s okay, hold on.”
Through the phone, Cliff could hear the soft patter of Logan’s feet as he stepped across the linoleum.
“Cliff, damn man, Cliff she isn’t here.” The panic rose in his friend's voice. “I saw her go this way. Dude, I’m sorry.” Ending the call, Cliff stared blankly at the wall, unsure what his next steps would be.
She’s gone. Fuck, she’s gone. What to do next? What’s the next step?
Harlan must sense Cliff’s panic because the large man jumped from the table and stood in front of him.
“Is it Alexis? What do you need us to do? Who do I need to call?”