“What’s up?” The question came from the tallest, best-looking boy in the gang. He was holding a vape pen in one hand, a can of Jim Beam in the other and he was grinning as though he was the coolest thing he or anyone else had ever encountered.
Sam folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry, what are you? Fucking twelve?”
“Nah,” the kid said, looking offended. “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen inches,” another boy kicked in and they all cracked up. Sam rolled her eyes at Scott. “We weren’t this immature, right?”
The corner of Scott’s mouth lifted. “To be fair, none of these boys have sent me a fake letter telling me I’d won a trip to Euro Disney—all I had to do was mail them a picture of myself kissing a frog.”
“Oh yeah.” Sam tried and failed to contain a grin. “Man, if childhood me put as much effort into school as pranks, I’d probably be a neurosurgeon, eh?”
The big boy snapped his fingers. “Oi, so are you gonna give us a show or what?”
Scott glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
The boys fell over themselves laughing.
“Shouldn’t you be at school,” one of them imitated, making Scott sound like Basil Fawlty. “Get back inside the monopoly board, man.”
That made no sense, but it only made the boys laugh harder. No doubt the contents of their vape pens were assisting their merriment. Sam looked at Scott and saw his face had just…paused. Gone blank. She remembered the afternoon they’d spent at the police station and a pang of remorse had her clapping her hands. “Okay boys, you’ve had a laugh, now piss off, thanks.”
“Nah, not until you show us the rest of your tattoos,” the tallest boy countered. He’d stuck his vape in his mouth and was talking out the other side like a ridiculous parody of a gangster. “Bet you’ve got some good ones in your pants.”
Sam opened her mouth to tell him to eat shit, but Scott was already walking up to the gang. He stood in front of the leader, a pleasant smile creasing his mouth. “Okay, boys, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to leave.”
His voice was cut glass and he towered over each and every one of the boys. Sam saw some of the kids at the back of the group recoil, but others puffed their chests and looked to their leader who was chewing the end of his vape pen. “Fuck off, pommy.”
Scott’s smile remained pleasant, almost paternal. “Original. Now, I’ll ask you once again. Leave, or this situation is going to become considerably worse for you.”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Fight me?” The boy looked behind him, as though hoping for a laugh. He got a few weak smiles.
“Why not?” Scott asked. “You’ve already decided you can smoke and drink and harass women in the street, surely you’re not opposed to fighting a grown man?”
Sam laughed and the boy seemed to shrink a little. The leader and Scott stared at one another for a long moment and the kid mustn’t have liked what he saw because he muttered something, stepping around Scott and gesturing for his group to follow. They did, passing Sam without looking at her. Scott watched them go, his dark eyes hard as coal.
“Um, thanks for that,” Sam said, feeling a little punch-drunk from the accumulation of the morning events. “You didn’t need to, um, defend my honor. They’re just idiot kids.”
Scott didn’t reply. He looked down straightening his jacket lapels. Sam could see two dark half-moons where she’d cried her mascara onto his chest. Christ, how embarrassing. “If you have to go, just go. I know you’re busy.”
Scott glanced at Silver Daughters Ink. “I’m not. Look, I don’t know what your plans are for the afternoon, but let’s go for a coffee. Talk about what’s happening.”
Sam pictured the two of them sitting snug in the corner of her favourite café and was horrified by how much she wanted to make it a reality. “No!”
Scott’s face went blank. “I see.”
“No, I mean…I’ve been drinking so much coffee my blood is caffeine.”
His expression softened and he checked his expensive-looking watch. “What about a beer?”
Sam considered it. On one hand, day-drinking was a bad idea when you were emotionally distressed. She’d learned that the morning her dad left. On the other hand…it couldn’t possibly make her day anyworse,and she didn’t have any clients booked for the afternoon, just a consolation. “Okay, just let me grab my jacket and let Noah know where I’m headed.”
“Sure. I’ll wait out here.”
Sam walked back toward SDI and pushed the glass door open. Noah stood behind the front counter. “Called the cops about Frank. They said they’ll be around in a couple of hours.”
“Cool, I’m going out. I should be back soon.”
Noah nodded, his gaze never lifting from the pages of Assassin’s Quest. He had the paperback propped open on the counter. He was obsessed with fantasy novels—the more dragons, elves, orcs and fake maps before the contents page, the better. Ironically, he hardly ever tattooed fantasy iconography, choosing to specialize in pin-up girls and blackwork.