Ross 02 Rock Me(21)
“I’m so glad you’re in,” Michelle said to Candace. It was probably the first genuine thing that had been said at this table. “We’ll have a good time. And we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Candace replied, trying to pour some truth into the words. She’d love to catch up with Michelle, but preferably some other way that didn’t involve a crappy pastel bridesmaid’s dress and dyed pumps and hanging out with a bunch of people she couldn’t stand. She’d have to train herself to walk in the shoes so she didn’t wind up face down on the floor of the church. Michelle turned to her sister. “So you never told me why Becky’s out. What happened?”
Candace picked up her water glass to take a sip, thinking this was probably going to be a riot. Deanne rolled her eyes heavenward, lifting her hands for emphasis as she bellowed: “She got a tattoo!”
The mouthful of water Candace was in the process of swallowing jammed in her throat and came back up. Frantically, she grabbed one of the heavy linen napkins and pressed it to her lips, certain she was turning beet red as she tried to catch her breath. Michelle was grinning knowingly at her, but Deanne and Sylvia were both too caught up in their horror over the situation to notice.
“It’s on her upper back. Right here.” Deanne indicated the spot on her left shoulder blade. “I said,
‘Rebecca! Oh my God! The dresses are off the shoulder. I can’t have you walking down the aisle like that!
It’s trashy.’ I mean, you’re all wearing up-dos. That thing will be right out there for everyone to ogle.”
76
Rock Me
Sylvia was shaking her head as if being faced with all the suffering in the wide world. “How dreadful. Those things are hideously unattractive.”
“Oh, Aunt Syl…” Michelle began indulgently. She’d always been so much better at dealing with Candace’s mom than Candace herself. She was so easygoing about everything, taking it all in stride. Of course, that was the best way to survive in this family. “They’re the norm now. You might as well face it.”
“I will not. People are ruining their bodies with those wretched things. Candace Marie, if I ever hear of you—”
“Aunt Syl, before you say anything, don’t forget I have three.” Michelle was laughing, having a great time. “Of course, you don’t date a tattoo artist for over a year and not walk away with a few souvenirs.”
“What did he do, hold you down and tattoo you against your will?” Deanne asked. A dreamy smile—
remembrance?—spread across Michelle’s lips and there was no denying the flush that crept up her cheeks. Her entire demeanor had softened.
Oh, crap. There were still feelings there. Candace had just witnessed Michelle silently go to pieces at the mere mention of him.
Thankfully, Sylvia’s lips were currently sipping water, but her narrowed, accusatory gaze flickered over to Candace.
“At least yours aren’t anywhere I can see,” Deanne finished.
Michelle managed to pull herself out of her own Brian-induced funk. If only Candace could do the same. “So what are you saying? If they were, I couldn’t be in your wedding? Your own sister?”
Deanne sniffed and pursed her pillow lips. “It would depend on what they were. I guess.”
“What did Becky get?”
“I don’t even know.”
Michelle shook her head, giving Candace a wink as the waiter came to take their orders. Still feeling stuffed from her late breakfast, she ordered a garden salad and earned an approving nod from her mother that made her not want, but need to tear the woman’s hair out and then order the most fat-laden item on the menu.
“Good for you, Candy. Better to have to take the dress in than let it out, I always say. And you do look as if you’ve put on a few pounds these last couple of months.”
She did not just go there in front of everyone. Are you kidding me?
“I don’t think she’ll need too many alterations,” Deanne said, eyeing Candace critically from the neck down. “You’re basically the same size as Becky, I think. Maybe take the bust in a bit.”
Of course. Because I have no boobs. But remember, I’ve got ass. If she didn’t get through this day without hitting someone or screaming, she had far more self-control than she thought.
77
Chapter Nine
Brian must’ve been wearing one hell of a thunderous expression. When he stalked into the shop that evening, his employees glanced up at him, opened their mouths to speak, apparently thought better of it, and went back to whatever they were working on.
Shit. They were swamped. Everyone had a client and there wasn’t an empty seat in the waiting area. So much for going back to his office or his studio and unwinding by drawing and blasting the music until his eardrums bled, which had been his plan when he’d forced himself to leave his apartment. All he’d been doing there was pacing like a caged animal, thinking about calling Candace and apologizing for being such an ass this morning. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to interact with anyone, but now that he was here, he couldn’t go into the back and hide while his guys were working their asses off. That’s something the old Brian would have done, the one he kept insisting didn’t exist anymore. Hell, the old Brian wouldn’t have gotten off the couch tonight in the first place. He’d have wallowed in his misery, or drowned it in booze. Now he would drown it in work. He needed to put the mindfuck Candace had run on him out of his head. Of all frigging ways for it to end. If only he’d cut out as soon as he’d been dressed and ready, like he usually did in those situations, he might still be willing to stick it out and see what the future held. It was probably for the best it had happened the way it had, before he let himself get too involved.
“I’ll be with you guys in a minute,” he told the waiting group as he strode through toward the back. He thought he sensed a collective sigh of relief from his artists. It only took him a few seconds to grab his cap and his gum—damn, but he needed a smoke—and head back out to the chaos. His first client of the evening wanted her navel pierced. She thought. She was petite and really pretty, and looked young enough that he made her flash her ID. Nothing irked him more than sixteen-year-olds coming in here trying to pass themselves off as eighteen—well, nothing except thirteen-or fourteen-yearolds who actually had permission from their parents—but his girl checked out. She’d only ever had her ears pierced, and had about five bazillion questions. As he began to settle into the routine, explaining aftercare, helping her pick out the jewelry she wanted, he started to feel a bit better. But his girl was so hung up on whether or not it was going to be unbearably painful that he was finally forced to give his usual spiel about the pain factor, only it came out all wrong. And ended with, “So, hey, it’s all gonna hurt, there’s no way around it. If you’re deciding on where to get pierced based on where it’s going to hurt the least, then it’s not for you.”
Rock Me
She looked at him in surprise. Great. He was supposed to put them at ease, not chase them away. But just then he realized where his statement had come from…it rang true with relationships too. They weren’t for him. Too much pain involved.
Physical pain he could take. It came, did its damage, and was gone. He didn’t know what to do about the ache that gnawed at his gut after everything crashed down around him. There’d only been a handful of times he’d experienced it, and today was definitely one of them. After one night with the girl? No way.
It couldn’t be just about her. The way she’d treated him was shitty, that was all, and he’d be pissed at any girl who screwed him over. God knew he didn’t mind using someone, and he didn’t mind being used. But that shit was supposed to be understood from the start. There were ethics involved. Two people getting each other off was one thing. But she couldn’t ask him to be her first, she couldn’t look at him as if she wanted to crawl inside him, she couldn’t cry on his shoulder for ten minutes in the shower only to turn around and treat him like dog crap afterward.
But she wouldn’t know a damn thing about how any of this works, dumbass. Remember?
That was the exact reason he was better off without the hassle. His girl finally stopped fretting and went ahead with the piercing. The clamps seemed to freak her out more than the needle. She did better than he expected, but then, he knew he was good. Most of his clients said they felt a pinch and that was it, but he had the occasional one get light-headed. It always made him feel like an ass, and he ended up buying them a drink from the machine and talking them through it until he was sure they were okay to leave.
That was actually how he’d met Michelle at his old workplace, the one and only client he’d ever let himself get involved with. As soon as she jumped off the table after getting her navel pierced, she’d gone dead white and swayed. He’d taken her arm and steered her to a chair before she could hit the floor. It had been such a slow weeknight, he’d ended up sitting with her and talking until closing time. Her friend had finally grown exasperated and taken off.