“Not here, either.” I paused, frowning as I thought about it. “You know, Dennis, I loved that we were a team for so long. You were my favorite part about Los Angeles. Still are.”
But not for long. He and Ethel were heading back to the East Coast soon, to reunite with their family in Maryland.
“But is it weird that I love taking the bus? There’s something really great about just sitting in front of a window, watching the city zip by, with your headphones and just…disappearing for a little bit.”
Dennis’ mouth widened into a satisfied smile. His eyes shone. “Yes.” He clucked his tongue. “I feel the same way every time I read a book. Goodbye, Hallie.”
I saluted him, winking at Ethel. “Until next week, folks.”
I arrived at Misfits and Shadows, my favorite tattoo shop, half an hour early.
This was a first for me. I was usually in the habit of being late for everything. It made me feel important, sought-after. Not anymore. I was now thriving on being organized, calculated, and always on time.
In one of our bi-weekly sessions, Ilona pointed out that perhaps I was feeling so down about myself because I never gave myself a chance to succeed.
“Always late, never prepared. It’s almost like you want to fail, Hallie, so you can prove to yourself that yes, you are, in fact, all those things you believe people think about you.”
Misfits and Shadows was as wacky and colorful as the rest of Sunset Boulevard. The building itself was all black. Instead of a sign, there was purple and pink graffiti with the joint’s name, decorated with three-dimensional skulls and roses. The artists here were the best. Back in my heyday, when I had very little to do with my time, I would spend hours sitting here, planning my next design with them.
I stared at the name of the tattoo shop, took a deep breath, and turned around promptly, walking in the other direction.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t handle failing.
It was horrible, and cowardly, and stupid, but it was the honest truth.
Hearing the word ‘no’ was going to undo me.
My phone rang in my pocket. I tugged it out, punching a placebo button on the light to cross the street.
Mom
It wasn’t the first time she’d called this week.
It wasn’t going to be the last time, either.
I should feel bad, but I didn’t. It was complicated. Ilona assured me that it was okay to take some time, step away from the situation, and examine my feelings before I faced my family.
Weirdly enough, I didn’t feel the dread and embarrassment that usually accompanied a call from my mother. Just a dull ache in my chest—an ache that burned a little hotter, a little deeper at the thought of giving up on the opportunity to try to make something of myself.
Not answering Mom was a choice I could undo.
Not showing up to my first intern interview would be something I’d definitely regret.
I pivoted, stomping my way back to the tattoo shop with purpose. I was still fifteen minutes early. I pushed the glass door, tornadoing to the reception counter before self-doubt weighted down my legs again. The place was packed, as usual. Misfits and Shadows didn’t accept walk-ins, and it wasn’t hard to see why. They were the busiest parlor in Los Angeles.
“Hallie!” Meadow, the receptionist with the Chelsea haircut, three lip rings, and an abundance of green eyeliner greeted me. “You’re here. Want something to drink while I get Grady?”
Grady was the big boss. The owner. The guy who inked all the famous people in town. He hadn’t been accepting new clients in a decade or so. I’d managed to squeeze in with him only twice, when he was in a good mood and had last-minute cancellations.
A ball of anxiety lodged in my throat. I swallowed hard, pushing through it.
“If you don’t advance yourself—who will?”—Ilona.
“Water would be great.”With a side of Xanax.
“Sure. Have a seat.”