One More Day (6 page)

She looked away, remembering the last time he said that.  "Yeah, and a fucking long sleeve.  You can't even let me see your tattoos, but want me to bear my soul?"

He sighed, and nodded.  "No, you're right."  Then he stood. 

Tugging his shirt off left nothing but a thin white tank - a wife beater - underneath.  Mack couldn't help it, she looked.  His broad shoulders filled every inch of the tight shirt, covered in brilliant colors.  Light but vivid blues, pinks, yellows, and oranges kissed across his left arm, looking like a neon rainbow of sharp lines.  As her eye followed them, she realized that each was an animal, slowly working into the next. 

A tiger clawed across his arm in reds, orange, and black.  A bird flew from its claws toward what could only be a giraffe.  At his wrist the colors were dark jewel tones, but as they moved up to his shoulder, the pigment changed to pastels and neons.  It was beautiful and made of nothing but pointed lines -but graceful and gentle as well.  Through the thin fabric, she could see shapes staining his right pectoral, but that was all.  Where ever his third tattoo was, it wasn't on his upper body.

"That's beautiful," she said weakly.  "It fits you."

The corner of his lip twitched up, and his blue eyes fell back to her arm.  "Thanks.  Everyone expects me to be covered in shit like Colby.  I never was a fan of black, so I decided to do something different."

"I have cancer." 

His eyes flicked back up and met hers.  He said nothing, but the only thing she could see on his face was understanding.

"Stage IIB cervical cancer.  I started chemo today.  I'll lose my hair by next weekend or the one after."

"So no more coffee, huh?"

She bit her lip, begging the tears to hold off.  She wasn't a victim. she didn't need sympathy, and she wouldn't act like it.

"I have no idea.  The doctors say it's different for everyone, and what is horrible one day might not be the next."

"Then we'll take it one day at a time.  You need to lay down for a bit or anything?  Truth, Mack.  Don't fucking try to tough this shit out on me."

She sighed.  She'd been exhausted all day, and honestly, crashing on the sofa in the break room didn't sound bad at all.  If Ryan was honestly going to be this nice about the whole thing, maybe she should grab just a couple of hours of sleep.

"I didn't sleep at all last night."

Chapter 6

Ryan patted her hand, then left, holding up one finger for her to wait.  He walked down the hall, and leaned into the main shop, calling out to Colby.

"Taking Mack upstairs."

"Good idea, man.  I'll call if there's anything," Colby said.

When he came back into the room, she was still feeling like she'd been hit with a bat.  All day, she'd felt like she was working twice as hard to do half as much, and now, her stomach was obviously unhappy.  She knew she'd gone pale, and her hands were clammy, but she refused to be the weak girl that couldn't take care of herself.

"Come with me," he said, gently helping her from the chair.

"Would you be upset if I asked you to move the coffee pot?" she asked.

"The coffee pot?" Ryan asked.  "No, you're not fucking crashing in the damned break room.  Fuck, Mack."

Walking beside her, one arm gently around her shoulders, he steered her toward the back, but away from the door outside.  To the left was a solid metal, white door.  She'd always thought it was just another closet, but when he opened it, she saw a set of stairs.

"Tell me stairs aren't going to be too much?" he asked.

"I'm good," she promised.

With a nod, he led her up.  At the top was a huge loft.  The stairs turned to make a second flight to yet another level above.  Wood floors stretched as far as the eye could see, and old brick lined the walls.  The space was huge, covering as much area as the shop below.  In the back, a pair of large, sliding doors stood open, a massive bed just beyond it.  Every place big enough held a painting.  She saw landscapes and fantastical animals hanging beside portraits and roughly sketched nudes.  It was like an artist's paradise.

"I didn't know this was up here," she breathed, looking around.

"Yeah, it's my place.  C'mon, you need to lay down."

She let him guide her along, feeling too weak - both in mind and body - to complain.  "You live over the shop?"

"Makes rent cheaper.  There's a third floor, too, but it's empty."  He guided her to his bed, gently holding her shoulders, and convinced her to sit.  "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she finally admitted.  "I feel like I'm trying to think through mud, and if I blink too long, I'll pass out."

"It's the chemo.  Hits you like that.  Take off your shoes, I'll grab you something to drink."

"No," she said.  "It won't stay down, Ryan."

"Mack, just fucking have some faith?"   He turned and walked back into the massive main room.

Unable to think of anything else, she obeyed and pulled off her shoes.  Setting them beside the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and shoved her face in her hands.  She knew she should be freaking out, but she just didn't have the energy to do it.  When Ryan returned, he had a glass of red fluid in his hands.  He sat beside her and gently put on arm around her shoulders as he passed her the glass.

"It's just kool-aid, but you should be able to get it down."

"What?" she asked.

"Drink it," he said, his tone saying that he wouldn't accept anything else.

So Mack drank it.  It didn't taste right, but it didn't taste horrible either.  She made it half way through the glass before taking a break, but the look on his face told her that wouldn't be enough.  When there was only a swirl left in the bottom, he gently took the glass from her and stood.  Setting it beside the bed, he yanked at one corner, and gestured.

"Under the covers, Mack.  You're still on the clock, so I get to tell you what to do."

She smiled and pulled herself closer to the pillows, flopping on her side.  As soon as her head was down, her eyes just wanted to close.  She felt like she was a small child, able to sleep through anything, even the rolling feeling in her stomach. 

Ryan grabbed her legs and lifted them enough to get the last of the covers out from under her, then gently lay them across her body.  Mack's eyes refused to open for more than a second, but she could feel that he moved to sit at her hip.

"Just sleep for a bit, Mack.  I'll be here if you need anything.  There's a trash can beside the bed, ok?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He just rubbed her shoulder gently.  That was the last thing she remembered.  When she opened her eyes again, she heard voices in the other room, but her stomach was her main concern.  She took a long slow breath, convincing herself that she would not puke.  She would be fine, and she would not puke anymore.

"I locked up the shop," she heard Colby saying.

"Thanks, man."  That was Ryan's voice.  "She started chemo today."

"Ah, fuck.  Same shit your mom had?"

"No," Ryan said.  "She's got no one though, Colby.  It's just us."

"How the fuck?"  Colby sounded annoyed.  "I find that fucking hard as hell to believe.  Ok.  So what do we need to do for her?"

That's the last thing she heard before her stomach won the fight.  Leaning over the edge of the bed, she saw the trash can he'd left close by, and grabbed it, retching all of the kool-aid in her stomach in a violent heave.  Empty, her stomach refused to give in.  It heaved again, and she gasped for air, praying for something else to come out.  Anything, just so long as it would hurt less.

The gentle hands returned, supporting her as she vowed anything she could think of to make the heaving just stop.  Ryan just held her, supporting her enough so that she didn't have to do it herself, until the episode finally ended.

"Lay back," he said softly.  "I got ya."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Almost nine."

She nodded.  "How long was I out?"

"A bit.  You got any meds?"

"I didn't get them filled," she said.  "I had to come to work, and I fell asleep on the couch."

"Fuck," he breathed.  "You got the prescription?"

"It's already called in.  I left it at home.  I'll pick it up in the morning."

"Hey, babe," Colby said, sinking onto the other side of the bed.  "Gimme your keys, and I can go grab it."

"Fuck," Mack sighed.  "You know too?"

"Yeah, baby.  We don't keep secrets.  I've been in your crib.  Where'd you leave the prescription."

"Grab her some clothes too," Ryan said.

"What?" she muttered, trying to keep up.

"I can do that.  C'mon Mack.  Comfy clothes, where are they?  Prescription?"

"Just drop me off," she said.  "I'll take care of it."

"No," Ryan said.  "Sorry."

"Let me be a fucking hero," Colby insisted, brushing her hair back.  "You don't tell me, I'll fucking find it on my own, and end up all up in your shit."

She sighed.  "The bar."

"And the clothes?"

"I'm fine."

"Bull shit," Colby teased.  "No way Ryan's letting you puke your guts out alone.  You tell me where your clothes are, or you'll be wandering around his place in your panties in a few."

"What?"

"Mack," Ryan said.  "Stop being a hard ass."

"There's a basket on my bed.  I've got a few things in there."

"Get the script first," Ryan said.  "Grab cash out of the till."

"I got it," Colby assured him.

"That shit isn't cheap, man," Ryan said.  "Grab a couple big ones, just in case."

"Gotcha.  I'll be back in a bit."

She felt his weight leave the bed, but didn't even bother to open her eyes.  She was almost asleep when the bed got light again, and she heard Ryan moving around the room.  Pulling her eyes open, she watched him grab the can and walk into the bathroom.  He still was wearing only the tank, and she could see the spot across his shoulder where the chameleon would fit.  Blinking slowly, she realized that it would need to be altered a bit to be perfect, but her eyes didn't open again for a while.

"Nausea meds.  Pain meds.  More meds.  Good god, you gonna be able to get her to keep this down?" Colby asked softly.

"Yeah," Ryan said.  "Hard part's going to be to get her to change."

Colby chuckled at that.  "My job, bro.  I can talk anyone out of her clothes."

"Fuck," Ryan laughed.  "Keep telling yourself that, man."

"Yeah.  Anyways, I found this too.  You want me to come pick her up tomorrow, or take your bike?"

Ryan sighed.  "Every day this week?  Shit.  No I got it."

"Yeah.  I'll open."

"I don't give a shit," Ryan said.  "Damn it, Colby.  If you'd seen her."

"I can imagine, man.  You don't have to take this alone, bro.  Katie won't care."

"I know," Ryan assured him.  "I swear, I'll yell if I need a hand, ok?"

"I'm holding ya to that, bro.  Let me get her changed."

"Shower too," Ryan said.  "She'll feel better for it."

Mack pulled herself up in bed and rubbed at her face.  A few dim lights lit the room and more were shining outside the doors.  Colby and Ryan sat on the sofas, both nursing a cup of coffee.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Colby said, seeing her.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder.  He smiled, then turned back to Colby, tilting his head at her.  "Do your thing, man."

"Did someone say shower?" Mack asked, making both men smiled at her protectively.

"Yeah," Ryan said.  "You feeling good enough to manage?"

"I think so.  What are you two doing?"

"Taking care of you."  Colby heaved out of the chair.

"Why?"

"Make ya a deal."  He walked into the room.  "You make it all the way through a shower, and put on something a bit more suited to being sick as fuck, and I'll tell ya.  You make me come pick you up off the floor, and you have to keep guessing."

"Deal."  She flung the covers back and put on a brave face.

Staggering into the bathroom, she was shocked to see it was massive.  A large glass shower stall filled one corner and a two person tub was on the other side.  Closing the door behind her, she thought about locking it for only a second before realizing that either of the guys could, and probably would, break it down.

It wasn't a long shower, but Ryan was right, it really did help.  With a towel wrapped around her body, she remembered that she hadn't brought any clean clothes in with her.  She cussed herself under her breath, but stopped when someone tapped at the door.

"I got clothes," Colby called.

Mack cracked the door open to see two hands jutting from around the corner, a comfortable outfit in his hands.  She took it and closed the door again.  Pulling on a soft pair of fuzzy purple pants, and a tight black tank, she wiped at the mirror.  Well, she didn't look like the model employee, but then again, she'd also just slept in her boss's bed, and puked into his trash can.  Twice.  She couldn't really make a worse impression.

When she staggered back into the living room, the coffee cups were gone.  Both guys watched her - Colby looking worried, Ryan looking relieved.  Without asking, she just sank into the closest corner, claiming the opposite side of Ryan's couch.  Casual; it was all about acting as casual as they were, she told herself.

"Ok," she said.  "Story time."

Ryan shook his head and gestured for Colby to go ahead before making his way into the kitchen.  While Colby talked, he pulled out a glass and opened the fridge, pouring more red kool-aid.  Mack knew it was for her.

"So, about six years ago, I was this bad-ass tattooist.  I thought I was the shit.  I'd worked at a few top end places, but couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that my fucking drinking was what kept getting me fired.  I'd work a shift, make a good amount of money, then hit the bars, blowing it all before my next.  I was always either drunk or hung over, and a real pain in the ass."

"Wow."  That was not at all what she'd expected.

"Yeah.  So I went to a convention, and there was good ol' Ryan Sterling.  His designs were bold and colorful, and his station was crowded.  I figured I'd hit him up for a job, because he was almost as good as me, and new to the scene."

"The shop had been open for four years by then," Ryan added from the kitchen.

"Yeah, but I was hot shit.  So, three times I told him I'd work for him.  I didn't ask, mind you.  Not until Sunday night.  He was packing up, and the convention was ending, and I was fucking desperate."

"He was in sad shape," Ryan teased.

"So, when nothing worked, I decided that shoving on him was the best idea ever.  I'd already had a few - bottles mind you - so was feeling on top of the world.  That fucker just stepped back and told me that if I could get sober, he'd hire me.  Shocked me enough to stop trying to kick his ass.  So, I told him I could."

"He lied," Ryan said.

"No, I was just wrong.  Anyway, I moved here, started working, and went two whole days without a drink.  Third day, I showed up to work drunk."

"Fired him," Ryan said.  "Kinda."

"Told me he'd re-hire me if I started going to AA meetings.  I did.  It was pretty rough there for a bit, and I spent many hours up here bawling to him like a baby, but yeah.  Been sober for five years, ten months, seventeen days now."