Christ, it was too early to get all cranked up about fucking someone else’s fiancée. Noah pulled his brain back into neutral, trying to take in the sights and smells as he made his way to the studio. He was tired, but that was his fault. Kelly had texted him at ten and, wanting a distraction from endless thoughts of Nicole, he’d invited her over. When they were done, he’d walked her to the door and Paula had come into the hall in her Minnie Mouse pajamas, primed for trouble. “Ooh, new girlfriend?”
“Get back to bed,” he’d told her, but Kelly had already flashed Paula a hopeful smile. “Not yet.”
He’d almost groaned. He’d been screwing Sam’s tattoo model for a while, and he was sure there was nothing to it but sex, but he hadn’t actually asked, and now he’d have to end things.
As he crossed at the lights outside Brunswick Bakehouse, he trialed methods of letting Kelly down easy. A call was probably over the top, but a text was pretty cold. Meeting up with her just to tell her he was into someone else seemed like a dick move. He lit another smoke and remembered something his old man used to say. “You want to get rid of a girl, just vanish, mate. Stop calling; stop going anywhere she might find you. That’s the way to do it.”
As he strode past a pop-up sneaker store, he reflected his dad had invented ghosting years before it entered the cultural lexicon. If his old man wasn’t in Bali avoiding charges—and a massive cunt—he’d call to congratulate him. Although, Harold Newcomb hadn’t invented anything. The art of wandering off to let chicks do the dirty work of dumping themselves probably went back to caveman times. His old man had just perfected it. Off the top of his head, Noah could remember three times stacked blondes had showed up at his house looking for his dad.
“I haven’t seen the prick,” his mum told them. “Who knew bikies were such arseholes, hey?”
Ghosting was a weak move, he decided, ashing into a street bin. He’d call Kelly tonight and tell her they weren’t going anywhere. He’d leave out the obvious question—why the fuck did she want them to go anywhere? The sex was fine, but it wasn’t earth-shattering. But maybe he was putting his feelings onto her. Maybe she’d been fully present when they fucked, while his mind turned like a compass needle back to Nicole DaSilva.
He’d never been so obsessed with someone and unfortunately for Nicole, that was her. Until his idiot brain finally absorbed the fact she was engaged to some dickhead from Adelaide, he had to roll with the punches. Nothing else to do. She wasn’t interested. If she had been, she wouldn’t have run when they kissed in the hallway at Sam’s party. Not that it’d been a real kiss. More of a drunk peck.
Noah reached the scarlet façade of Silver Daughters, taking a second to admire the polished windows and the clean sidewalk. Nicole had done that herself, sweeping and polishing in her tight skirt and red-bottomed heels.
“We want to be perceived as a professional high-quality business,” she said at their last breakfast meeting. “That impression starts at the door.”
“Doesn’t it start when the client thinks about coming to see us?” Tabby asked. “Or does it start at the point of their conception? Come on, everyone; let’s debate the nature of existence!”
Noah didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Sometimes that felt like a good thing. He shouldered his way inside the studio and found Gil leaning against the reception desk, a lilac Supreme cap low on his forehead. “Hey.”
Gil looked up. “Morning, big guy. Warm out there?”
“Not yet.”
“Hope it doesn’t get too hot today, I’ve got a PT session after work. Tris, back and thighs.”
“Mmm.” Noah had heard enough about Gil’s gains, meal prep, and lifting schedule to last a lifetime. His fortieth was coming up and becoming a walking copy ofMen’s Heathwas how he was choosing to deal with it. That and buying a shiny black Fat Boy like the one Arnie rode in Terminator 2.
He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the stand. “You ride in today?”
“Nah, it’s too hard to carry my gym shit.” Gil flashed him a grin. “Why, do you want a go? We can chuck on some training wheels, if you like.”
Noah ignored him. As far as the staff at Silver Daughters knew, he couldn’t ride and that was just how he liked it. “Where are the girls? Aren’t we having a staff meeting?”
“Yeah, not sure that’s happening.”
“Why?”
Gil pointed at the ceiling, where the DaSilva family apartment lay. Noah listened, hearing nothing but the birds and traffic outside. “What?”
“I heard a load of crying and banging not too long ago. There must be drama happening.”
Noah stared at Gil, trying to work out if he was being funny. The DaSilva sisters were all big personalities, but they’d never cancelled one of Nicole’s meetings, not even the week the place had almost been burned down. “You gone up there to check on them?”
“Nah, that’s not my business. No meeting means no pancake carbs,andI don’t have to listen to Nicole talk about the bottom line or whatever the fuck so…” Gil tugged at the brim of his cap. “I’m gonna get a keto coffee. Wanna come?”
Noah glanced back at the ceiling. He didn’t want to stick his oar in, but he owed it to Edgar to check the girls were okay. “I’m gonna see what’s happening. Lock up if you leave.”
Gil gave him a mock salute. “Good luck. Don’t let ‘em talk to you about their feelings.”
Pretty hypocritical for a guy who could wax poetic about whey protein for hours on end, but male tattoo artists tended to be showy, shit-talking assholes. At least they did in the commercial industry. The guys who’d taught him to ink were a whole other kettle of fish.
He headed around back to the residential entrance. He’d walked the cracked concrete path a million times when Edgar still lived here. They’d had dinner a few nights a week, before Nicole or Tabby were around and Sam was single and always off with her latest fling. He and Ed would sit in the backyard drinking beers and talking about art and music. He was the only man he’d ever been able to relax around. Now he was gone, his daughters filled his absence.
Sam became his boss; Tabby took the spare artist slot and Nicole flew in from Adelaide to fix the finances and fuck his head into a new dimension. He hoped he wasn’t going to run into her upstairs, lately she’d been leaving the room as soon as he walked into it. Smart chicks not wanting a bar of him was nothing new, but Nicole was under his skin so deep, it stung.