Ten Thousand Lies (12 page)

With an exhausted grunt, I dropped onto my air mattress and closed my eyes. I wasn’t particularly comfortable, but until I could find a box spring and real mattress, this would have to do. My phone jabbed me in my butt cheek, and I lifted my ass and dug it out of my pocket, tossing it next to me.

“Hello?”

My eyes sprang open, and I grabbed my phone. “Hello?” I said. “Sorry, must’ve butt-dialed.”

“Jaime?”

Heavenly and laced with British, Ricki’s deep voice caressed into my psyche. Then, a thrill of panic seeped into my chest.

I can’t afford fucking long-distance phone calls!

“Yeah, hey, sorry. That was an accident. I can’t afford this call.” Then, I just hung up on him. I started to text him instead—that was more affordable with my plan—when my phone rang.

“Hey,” I answered. “Sorry. I sat on my phone.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, genuinely worried.

His tone made my eyes burn and throat ache.

“I’m good.” I totally sounded just the opposite.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxed.

My whole face quivered in an attempt to hold in my sobs. My chest hurt, an abysmal ache that wasn’t going to let up until it busted loose. With a sudden snort—
how fucking embarrassing
—I exploded into the sobs that only self-pity could produce.

For ten minutes, I poured my heart and soul out to Ricki, a virtual stranger, who was silent on the other line, as I wept and wailed for Ulla, for me, for the fact that my own flesh and blood had kicked me out of the only house I’d ever lived in, that I was something to move on from.

Something to leave behind.

Once the poison within me drained, I felt limp and no longer cared. I stared up at the ceiling with gritty eyes and blurred vision.

“So, that’s my end of the shit stick,” I said. “What’s up with you?”

“Jaime…” Ricki’s voice was soft and buttery. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you get in touch with me before?”

“I didn’t mean to get in touch with you now.” I laughed. “My ass did that on its own, and to be honest, I’m too tired to try to control it. I’m sorry for unloading like that.”

“I’m not. You needed to let that shite out. Why didn’t you call Xanthe or Rex before it got to this?”

“Before it got to what? I’ve got a roof over my head and a job, so I guess I’m all set. I won’t starve to death. I’m good, really. Just…it all just stressed me out.”

“We’re your friends, Jaime. We’re here for you whenever you need us.”

“You guys are an entire ocean away, on a separate continent. There’s no way in hell I’m going to bother you all with my own baggage. Besides”—I sighed—“I can’t afford that shit.”

“I’ll be calling you once a week then.”

“It’s all right, Ricki,” I replied.

“It will be, and I’m calling you at least once a week from now on, got it?”

Hearing that made me so very happy for some reason. “Yeah, man, I got it.”

“This is the last fucking time!” Dave could be heard yelling from the back of the shop. “Get out of here before you end up murdering a goddamn customer!”

Monroe, our piercer—or, well, our freshly fired piercer—shouted back, “Fuck you! It’s not my fucking fault if the customers can’t fucking follow the cleaning instructions!”

Monroe’s track record was pretty terrible. At least seven out of ten of her customers had come back with inflamed, crusted piercings, heavy with infection. Dave had taken one look at her most recent return—a navel that would need antibiotics—and he’d lost his shit.

I had been the shop manager for the last two years. I did everything that kept this shop running—from cleaning it down to placing the orders for ink to booking appointments. It was a well-oiled machine I was quite proud of.

But Monroe was a dirty piercer, and on several occasions, I’d told Dave when I’d spotted her piercing without wearing gloves or not using the alcohol swabs to clean the skin before shoving a needle through.

Blowing past me with her bag, Monroe blasted out the front door and didn’t look back. Dave came out from the back, a thunderous look upon his face.

Dave was handsome. Tall, wiry, covered in ink. He had a wealth of auburn hair I occasionally liked to run my fingers through because it was just that pretty.

His eyes swung to me, and he tried to smile.

“No worries, man,” I said, waving his foul mood away. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”

“It should’ve been much sooner than this. People are going to think we’re fucking filthy in here.”

“No one comes in with infected tattoos,” I pointed out. “So…should I start looking for a new piercer?”

He gave me an appraising look. “No. I want you to go online and register for anatomy courses.”

“What?”

He flung his arm toward the door Monroe just exited. “That stupid bitch had no clue about the human fucking body. I want you to find some classes online and enroll. You get through those, and I’ll teach you how to fucking shove a needle through body parts.
You’re
our new fucking piercer.”

“I can’t afford that shit, Dave.”

“The shop will pay for it.”

“But…”

Dave knew my plans. He knew I was going, one way or another, to Amsterdam in two more years. While I loved it here and I loved hanging out and living with these guys, it wasn’t what I was meant to do.

“You’ll train the next one when the time comes,” he said, opening the schedule book.

So, I went and found courses that actually offered certification online, and I enrolled immediately. During downtime at the shop, I put in the hours needed, and within three months, I was certified in anatomy and physiology. I knew the human body from the inside out.

Dave trained me to pierce, which in itself wasn’t hard. But the anatomy courses had sparked something inside me to take it to the next step. I convinced Dave to pay for a three-month course for phlebotomist training, so I’d have certification to draw blood. Granted, it wouldn’t be medical or even lab work, but it was great in the sense that I would know how to handle blood and the disposal of hazardous waste.

With two certifications under my belt, I felt better about myself. I might not have been attending Oxford University or learning how to take down a thug kidnapper, but damn it, I was accomplished in
something
.

Me: I’m a certified phlebotomist!

Ricki: Sounds contagious.

Me: It does, doesn’t it?

Ricki: Are you free to talk?

Me: I always have time for you. ;)

Less than a minute later, my phone rang, and with a goofy grin, I answered, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, phlebo.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I’m proud of you. It’s good to know you’re doing something for yourself.”

“It feels good,” I confessed. “I guess I found a spark.”

“I told you. Even though I don’t know any phlebotomists who use their education for piercing.”

“Well, it sure as shit saved our reputation. Dave made me hang my certificates in my piercing room and everything. And when I leave, he’s going to insist the next piercer does the same thing.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“How’s tattooing going?”

“Bloody fantastic,” Ricki replied, making me laugh. I loved it when he said “bloody” anything. “I’m doing some huge pieces now…”

Without fail, Ricki had called me once a week for the last two years. Sometimes more, if I needed a pick-me-up. He was always able to put me in the best mood. It was strange how I’d never actually met the man, but he’d become as much as my best friend as Xanthe or Rex. There was nothing we really didn’t talk about.

Except…well, we never talked about sex.

I wondered if he was seeing anyone, a little jealous that there might be women who had that voice in person. He sounded so fucking sexy all the damn time. Like he’d just woken up and had some awesome sex. I imagined he permanently had bed head and heavy eyelids that spoke volumes of satisfaction.

It wasn’t like I was abstaining or anything, so I had no reason to be jealous. Hell, JT and I had a thing going on the side that we both hoped no one knew anything about. It was just sex. It had nothing to do with our friendship.

I also had a couple of guys on call when I needed to get laid but nothing serious. The guys I brought home on occasion knew the drill. No strings attached. No feely-feels or romance. Sex and straight-up hanging out. No need to complicate shit. I wasn’t going to be staying, so there was no point.

Besides…I couldn’t commit while I dreamed of the face behind
that
voice. When I finally met Ricki, I was prepared to have the illusion destroyed, but until then, it was a great excuse to keep me single.

“Well, my next client is here,” he said, sounding bored. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” I replied, hanging up with a huge grin on my face.

“What does Ricki look like?” I asked Xanthe a few days after my last conversation with him. “Is he cute?”

“I think he’s adorable,” she replied. “Not my type but definitely a cutie. Why?”

“I’ve been talking to the man for the last two years, and I have no clue what he looks like.”

“Really? Are you friends on Facebook?”

“Um…no. I hardly go on there anyway. He’s got a Facebook page?”

“Well, he mostly posts his work. I don’t think he’s actually got any pictures of himself up there.”

“I post shit to the shop’s page but nothing more than that.”

“I’ll check my phone. Maybe I have some, and I’ll text them to you.”

“Cool.”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

“I think he’s got the sexiest voice on the planet.”

“Hmm…you’ve heard Deo’s voice, right?”

“Indeed I have.”

“And you think Ricki sounds sexier?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well then, it must be love,” she said dryly.

Something pinched me around my heart.
Panic?
Quite possibly.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I stated.

“Suit yourself,” she replied.

Suddenly desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Did your new roommate move in yet?”

“Opie?”

“Was there another one?”

Xanthe chuckled. “No. And, yes, Opie moved in over the weekend. She’s, uh…”

“She’s what?”

Sighing, she said, “She’s damaged, too.”

“Like Ulla type of damage?”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “No…but…”

“Buuut?”

“The reason she was placed here with me is because the Locals are hiding her.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what happened to her. Not yet anyway. I don’t get the feeling she was sexually assaulted, but it’s something really bad. She’s nice though. Quiet. Mostly just keeps to herself. I’ll have to dig around to get any info on her. Dad told me to just let her open up on her own.”

“He knows what’s up with her then?”

“He fucking knows everything, Jaime. He’s the one who told the Locals to let her be my roommate.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Well, I have to get going. I’ve got class in a half hour.”

“All right.”

“Love you, Bro Dawg. I’ll call you on your birthday,” she said.

“Sounds like a plan, Bro Dawg. Love you, too.”

A minute later, my phone beeped with a text message. Opening it, I came face-to-face with a tattooed bearded man. Bright, warm brown eyes were twinkling at the camera as a shy smile breached through the heavy facial hair.