“Yep,” Sam said, ignoring the gurgling in her stomach. “Let’s sell and split the profits then you’ll have your wedding and Tabby’ll have endless weed money and I’ll move to Costa Rica and bang locals and learn how to do stick ink tattoos.”
“Sammy,” Nicole’s voice was gentle. “Is that what you want?”
Sam looked up at the wall where her father had mounted a framed photo of the three of them. She and Tabby had matching shampoo Mohawks and Nicole wore a bubble beard. All of them were laughing their asses off, frozen in time in the exact same bathroom, twenty years earlier. No, she didn’t want to sell the business to Greg Sanderson, she wanted to run a successful tattoo shop and have her family around her and a hot boyfriend who spanked her like the boss from Secretary. She wanted to not feel so lonely and unfulfilled and distracted all the time. Essentially, she wanted everything, but that wasn’t exactly realistic.
“Yeah,” she told Nicole. “I want to sell up.”
There was a short pause followed by a long, gulping sound, as though a lot of Nicole’s wine had just been drained into her stomach. “I’ll come back to Melbourne.”
Sam jolted upright, splashing lukewarm water over the edge of the bath and onto the floor. “Huh?”
“I’ll come to Melbourne. For a bit, I mean. It’s obvious you need me. I’ll help you go through the finances and shake off the heritage listing and get your social media turned over.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I am, okay? So let’s not make a big thing about it.”
Sam grinned so hard it hurt her face. There she was, the girl who’d once sat on the couch in pink tracksuit pants eating chicken nuggets off a tray. “You mean it?”
“Yes. I can work remotely from anywhere and I have a tonne of leave. I’ll fly down on Sunday and stay a week. Two if working through everything takes longer. That way I can free you up to handle the clients.”
Sam closed her eyes and kicked her feet in the water, trying not to scream her happiness to the ceiling. This could work. No one could do money like Nicole, and then they could hang out without arsehole Aaron around, watch TV and drink wine and go out for dinner the way they had before she moved away.
“Just let me get my laptop and look up flights,” Nicole said. “Is my bedroom still set up?”
“Fuck yeah,” Sam lied. She’d move her dad’s easels and penguin sculptures out of there as soon as she got out of the bath.
“Good. Now, you just soak and try not to cry anymore and I’ll work on a two-week plan.”
Sam heard the sound of a computer being turned on and knew her twin wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Whenever she dedicated her powerful brain toward solving a problem, the response was always swift and awe inspiring.
“Okay, so you’ll need a new accounting system. We can finally use the KeyMaster program I told dad to install in 2015 and weneedto digitize the backlog.”
Sam lay back in the bath, grinning from ear to ear. “Sounds good.”
“…and you’ll need to enter competitions again. It’s almost September, which is perfect. All the big ones will be opening up for registration soon.”
Sam’s smile vanished. “You want me to go back on the competitive circuit?”
“Yes, it’s great advertising and you’re too good not to win.”
“But—”
“Tabby can handle the social media side of things and tattoo a bit. God knows it’s about time she had a steady job and—”
“Tabby?” Sam interrupted. “You want to bring in Tabby?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want her youngest sister’s help in saving the business, it was that Tabby’s understanding of what was ‘helpful’ was very different from most of mainstream society. And often not very helpful. A few years ago, their dad had been rushed to hospital after a minor stroke and Tabby had come to the hospital with her ex-boyfriend, a brand new boyfriend, a loaf of bread and a jar of pot honey. She wasn’t an arsehole, but you didn’t want to rely on her for a lift to the train station, let alone assistance in times of trouble.
“Yes, I think Tabby should be involved.” A keyboard rattled on Nicole’s end of the line. “Can you pick both of us up from the airport at five on Sunday?”
“Uh…yeah?”
“Great. So you’ll be doing competitions, I’ll be straightening out the books and Tabby can work on your social media accounts and re-do the website…” Nicole’s voice trailed off as she continued typing frantically.
“Hey, is Aaron going to be cool with you coming home on such short notice?”
There was a pause like a piece of toffee being stretched to maximum capacity.