“Someday, we’ll both be here for a loan,” Vandal shoots back.
I saunter over to Gram, who’s rinsing the dishes in the sink. “Hey, Gram, I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”
“Of course we can.” She grabs a towel and dries off her hands. “Let’s go in the other room.”
I follow my grandmother to the den, which I know is her favorite room because it’s filled with all of my late grandfather’s most coveted things. I wish I could have met him before he passed away, and thank him for changing my life. But sadly, without his death, my father would not have had come clean about having two sons, and I wouldn’t be here now.
Gram sits on the leather couch and pats the spot next to her. “Come sit by me, Lukas. You have a glint in your eye. Have you met someone?”
I love my grandmother for so many reasons. She’s not just the sweetest and most caring person I’ve ever met; she is amazingly in touch with every single person in her family. She truly knows each of us and what makes us tick. Being the matriarch of a family of mostly male musicians and artists cannot be easy, but she keeps us in line and makes all of us feel loved and accepted, even when we have fucked up.
I flop onto the worn leather couch and stretch my legs out in front of me. “I did meet someone, Gram. I need some advice.”
She clasps her hands on her lap. “I knew it! Okay, let’s see if I can help. Tell me all about her.”
I sigh, feeling lost about how to explain my feelings. How do I explain that heart-stopping jolt I feel every time I see her or touch Ivy?
“She’s a client.”
Gram raises her eyebrows at me. “I know, I know,” I say, holding my hands up. “I broke my own rule, but there’s just something about her. Every time I touch her, my stomach does back flips. I can barely tattoo her without my hands shaking. I’ve never felt like that before.”
“Ahhh . . . chemistry is so wonderful. I remember that feeling.”
“Yeah. That. She’s really cute, too, and kinda shy. She has a good job, and she’s totally normal. She doesn’t party. She doesn’t have fake tits . . . she listens to me when I talk, like she really cares about what I’m saying, ya know?”
A warm smile touches her lips. “She sounds like a lovely girl for you, sweetheart. I like her already.”
“Yeah, but here’s the problem—she won’t go out with me.”
“Oh,” Gram says, frowning. “Well, why not? Why wouldn’t she want to date you?”
“She’s thirty-six. Her husband just left her a few months ago, after being married for eighteen fucking years. He had an affair with a younger girl. She’s got two kids, a teenage daughter and a son a little older than Katie. Her head still seems a little messed up over it. She keeps saying she’s not ready, and that I’m too young for her.”
Gram listens intently, her eyes growing wider the longer I talk, and she finally lets out a little whistle. “Oh, boy. You have your work cut for you, I’m afraid.”
Taking a deep breath, I stare at the old grandfather clock against the wall, which belonged to my great grandfather, and then my grandfather. The cherry wood is gorgeous and perfectly carved, and the ticking lulls me as I stare at it, almost hypnotizing me. Gram knows that I’m in love with this clock and has promised to will it to me when she passes, which is something I don’t even want to think about, but I will cherish that clock forever.