I give her a quick hug. “Thank you, Sweetheart. That means a lot to me. Life is just a little hard right now.”
When I go back to the bathroom to shower, I’m horrified to see that I have dripped the hair dye onto the floor, and some is on the wall and in the porcelain sink. How the hell did I do that? I grab a bottle of spray cleaner from the kitchen and scrub at the splatters, but most of it is not coming off, leaving a faint red stain in several places on the floor and wall. Shit. Paul will freak when he sees this if he wants to sell the house.
I vow never to try to do things with my own hair again. Grey hair seems much safer than this art project I turned my head into. The new color probably won’t even be noticeable.
LUKAS
MY COUSIN STORM IS THE LEAD guitarist of Ashes & Embers, a kick-ass rock band that his brothers and my brother, Vandal, are members of. When Storm found out that I play the violin and the piano, he had this cool idea to add some classical elements with a metal edge to a few songs the band was working on. I laid some tracks with them at the studio for those songs, and agreed to play live with them at the local clubs where they play occasionally.
I love music, but I love the tattoo parlor more. Owning my own business and having steady income is something I’ve always dreamed of and never thought I would really have. Call me boring, but I like stability. While some people may think living the rock star life, and touring around the country—or the world—would be amazing, it’s not a lifestyle I want. It would only feed my demons and dredge up my past issues with feeling unsettled and unwanted. I’ve seen how Vandal has to juggle the band, working at the shop, and his daughter, and I just don’t want to split myself that way.
So now, Storm is here to make sure I’m going to play live with them in a couple weeks at a club across town.
“I said I’ll do it, man,” I assure him for what must be the tenth time.
He’s excited and jumpy, as usual. “This is special. I’m singing a song to Evie,” he says, following me around like a little kid.
I look up at him as I clean my work area, trying to remember why that name sounds familiar. “The girl from the blizzard incident?” I ask him.
He nods, clapping me on the shoulder. “That’s the one. I gotta get this girl, Lukas. I’m fucking mad crazy over her. And your intro to the song is gonna kick fucking ass.”
“It’s gonna be sweet. No worries. So what’s the deal with the chick?”
He leans against the wall, right on top of one of my paintings. “She’s got a fucking douche-bag boyfriend she’s been with for like half a fucking century,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But she’s not happy.”
“Are you sure about that? Is that your assessment or her own?”
He glares at me. “Don’t use big fucking words with me, Lukas. She’s not happy. Period. I know it, and she knows it. I just have to get her to admit it.”
“I think I know the feeling.”
The front bell rings, meaning Ivy is here. Finally. “Look, that’s my next appointment, so you gotta go, Storm.”
He turns toward the waiting area, grins at me, and leans toward me, lowering his voice. “The one you were telling me about? The older chick?”
I push him out of my work area. “Yes. Be gone.”