Books, Tattoos & Other Inky Things

3. Do You Always Talk Shit About Your Friends?

Baz was going to be massively late opening the shop today, but he didn't care. His mood was excellent. He'd had a stellar night.

He made his way north through the campus and into the downtown area of Coaling Springs—a college town that only existed to serve the student body of Tate Olliver University. He slowed before the door marked Dreamweaver Tattoos and gave the handle a quick tug to make sure he'd locked up when he'd taken Nella next door to Draper's last night. The door didn't budge. All was well. He could catch more sleep and open late this afternoon. His appointment book was unusually light, so he knew how he would spend most of his work evening.

Reading Rindlewinn.

He could feel in it his satchel right now. He imagined the book was getting heavier with each step that carried him away from their magical night and back into reality. 

He couldn't afford to dabble in Nella's brand of magic. He had a job and bills to pay. Not to mention his... family complications. Shit went sideways in his world. He had little control over the things he was sometimes compelled to do. Nella didn't belong in a world like his.

So he'd finish reading Rindlewinn tonight after work, and he'd take it to her at Draper's tomorrow night. If they didn't get drunk, their date would probably be as awkward as their morning after. She'd leave the bar with her book, and he'd never hear from her again.

That would suck, but he was used to suck.

He passed through the lobby of his highrise condo. It was nice, the nicest place he'd ever lived, but he didn't own it. In two minutes, he was up the elevator to his apartment and across the trendy living space with its wall of glass and generous balcony. He paused in his march down the hallway and observed his roommate. Jayson stood in a small room with French doors opening into the hall and another set of French doors leading out to the balcony behind him. Jayson used the space as a home office since he worked from home most days.

The frantic state of his roommate was familiar to Baz, though he hadn't seen Jayson look quite this jacked up since college all-nighters. Jayson's black hair stuck out on the left from a continual raking, and he wore a crazed, over-caffeinated expression. He bounced on his toes as he waited on plans to print from a noisy plotter.

Baz knocked on the open glass door.

Jayson didn't look up as he scratched notes on the giant sheets of paper. "I should be pissed, you know. I waited at the diner last night for an hour."

"Shit. I totally forgot. Sorry. I'm buying the next three times."

As Baz edged away from the open door, Jayson looked up with a grin. Ah. He wasn't pissed at all.

"Where do you think you're going? The Bro Code states if you bail on plans with your buddy for a hook-up with a hottie, you make reparations."

"Dude, I just said I'll buy you three late-night greasy cheeseburgers."

"No thanks, I'll have the dirty deets, instead."

"There's no dirt," Baz lied.

"Bullshit. Word travels fast in this town; you were kissing a girl in Draper's last night, and you left with her."

"Fuck," Baz chuckled.

"I'm sure you did, and I want the story. Who was she?"

"Just a girl."

"Wild girl? Crazy girl?"

"Nice girl. Grad student girl. She came into the shop, and we went for a drink. Nothing... much... happened," he lied.