Adelaide
Ithrew open the glass door,stomped inside the brightly lit shop, and homed in on the pink-haired pixie behind the reception desk. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. And I got it. I was in a floofy party dress, storming into a tattoo shop. It probably wasn’t something that happened often.
But I was a woman on a mission.
“I need a needle in my nose, and I need it now. What do I have to do to make that happen?”
Yes, my demand came out as more of a demented shriek. No, I wasn’t proud of myself.
The pink pixie sprung up from her seat, bracing her hands on the top of the desk. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I stomped over to the desk. “It’s my birthday, and it’s been a real shit show. I’m in this fantastic dress with nowhere to go and no one to dance with. Can you believe it?”
She scrunched her adorable little nose. “Well, that blows. I hate to bring you down even more, but we’re sort of closed right now for a VIP client.”
“Who’s the client?”
She shrugged. “I can’t tell.”
“I won’t look at them.”
“My boss would kill me.”
“Just give me a needle. I’ll do it myself.”
She crossed her arms. “As a piercer, I’m insulted.”
So, shewasn’tthe receptionist.
“I didn’t say I’d do a good job. I’m sure I’d probably end up hitting my brain or something.”
She laughed. “Honestly, it would be pretty hard to hit your brain. I think that would have to be purposeful.”
Down, but not out, I sighed, placing my elbow on the counter, chin on my fist. “Let me paint a picture of my evening. There were times, while spending two hours watching my boyfriend devolve into a misogynistic finance bro, a needle to the brain would have been preferable.”
Pixie winced. “Wow. Thatreallyblows. You’re with a finance guy and you’re wearingthatdress?”
“Yep. He didn’t like it.” I did a twirl to show her all that Jason hadn’t even come close to appreciating. “How can anyone not like this dress?”
“That’s a mystery.”
That voice didn’t belong to Pixie. I spun around, tripping over my feet a little. Two strong hands caught me by the elbow, keeping me steady.
“Hey, neighbor.” Adam Wainwright grinned at me. From up close, his teeth were perfect. White, straight, not too big, not too small. When he smiled, just a little bit of pink gum showed. I really liked his smile up close.
“Hey, neighbor,” I echoed. “Thanks for catching me. I guess my audition for a music-box ballerina isn’t going to go well since I haven’t got the spinning thing down.”
He chuckled. “Damn. Here I thought you were throwing yourself at me.”
“No, that was my attempt to fall at your feet.”
“I’m sorry I stopped you then.” He dropped his hold on me and took a step toward the desk where Pixie was watching. “I need to settle up.”
She took his credit card and sat to type on a computer. I put my hands on my hips.
“So, you’re the VIP who closed down the shop?”
Adam lifted a shoulder. “I have girls throwing themselves at my feet all the time. Hazardous when I’m getting tattooed.”