Spencer Cohen Series, Book One (The Spencer Cohen Series 1) (12 page)

“But you like him.” It wasn’t a question.

“He’s a client,” I said quietly, “who wants me to help him get back with his ex.”

“Well, fate is a funny bitch,” Lola said. “She has a way of making things right. Look at me and Gabe.”

I nodded. They were perfect for each other. Life tried to split them up, but as it turned out, fate stepped in and righted that wrong. Well, fate
and
me, but mostly fate. “You’re my best success story.”

“And we owe it all to you.”

Silence stretched out for a while which didn’t happen often between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just there. I was happy to wallow in self-misery anyway.

“You’ll have your own success story,” Lola said eventually. “Spencer, you deserve to be happy. There is someone out there, just for you. You’ll see.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah right.”

“And if Andrew decides he wants Eli instead, then it wasn’t meant to be. And it’d be his loss. But you watch,” she said, as she swerved lanes. “He’ll call you.”

And like she had ESP or something, my phone rang. Andrew’s name flashed on the screen. My heart pounded and I smiled when I saw it was him, but then it occurred to me… “What if he’s calling to tell me he and Eli are back together?”

Lola stared at me. “Answer the phone.”

“Watch the road!”

She yelled, “Answer your damn phone!”

I pressed the answer button more out of panic than anything else. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could.

“Are you okay?” he asked. No hello, no small talk. “You sounded terrible in your message. You said you didn't feel well? I’ve been in meetings all day, and I just got your message now.”

“Nah, I’m okay. I feel a bit better now,” I said. I risked a look at Lola and cringed when she was glaring at me for lying to him. “Sorry I missed your calls last night. How did it go with Eli?”

I almost didn’t want to know. I almost told him to forget I asked, but he spoke first. “I um, I haven’t answered him yet.”

Oh. Oh, thank fucking God.
“Oh,” I said. I almost laughed with relief. Lola grinned and nodded at me. It was ridiculous.

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you would want me to do,” he said. “You’re the expert in this, and I didn’t want to do the wrong thing.”

“No, you did the right thing,” I told him, which wasn’t exactly the truth. “Making him wait for a day won’t hurt him. In fact, it might make him realise a little sooner, yeah?”

“Hmm, maybe.” He sounded unsure.

I exhaled loudly. The knot of unease in my chest had let up a little. I felt better than I had all day. In fact, my stupid brain had to actually tell my stupid mouth to stop smiling, and Lola giggled. “Shut up,” I said, making her laugh.

Andrew’s voice was quiet. “Sorry?”

“Oh, no not you!” I said quickly into the phone. “Lola’s being a pain in my arse.”

“Oh,” he replied. “Should I call you later?”

“Actually, can I call you back in like ten minutes?” I asked. “I need my hands free for when Lola pulls up out the front of my place because she only slows down to thirty miles per hour and I have to commando-roll out of the car.”

She whacked my arm, and Andrew laughed in my ear. “Okay. Good luck,” he said. “And remember, keep your chin in and both arms up to protect your face. Avoid the kerb.”

I laughed at his commando-roll tips, and he disconnected the call. Lola was grinning widely at me. I ignored her. “I’d really prefer you watch the road when you drive,” I said, trying to act all cool about everything. “And I know what you’re about to say about Andrew, and I’d also really prefer you didn’t.”

She did a little dance-butt wiggle in her seat. “I’m not saying anything you apparently don’t already know.”

“I’m pleading the fifth.”

“You’re Australian. You don’t have the fifth.”

I let out a laugh. My mood had done a complete one-eighty from this morning. And as much as I wanted to admit to Lola what I presumed she already knew—that Andrew was different to any other client I’d had—I wasn’t ready to. It would make it real. And the truth was, at that very moment, Andrew was still my client. The objective was still open.

Thankfully, and somewhat death-defyingly, Lola weaved through two lanes and pulled up across from the tattoo shop like a race car driver. I jumped out and waved her off, and she was still smiling as she pulled Cindy Crawford back into traffic.

And with no clue what to tell Andrew about what to do about Eli, I pulled out my phone, found Andrew’s number, and hit call. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, sorry about that. Evel Knievel just dropped me off before hurling Cindy Crawford at some poor law abiding road users.”

Andrew snorted. “What?”

I waited for a break in the traffic before crossing the street. “Lola. She drives like a maniac.”

“And what happened to Cindy Crawford?”

“Oh, that’s her car. It’s a cute little 80s model.”

Andrew cracked up, and the warm sound of his laughter sent a flush of warmth through my chest. “Andrew, I’m really sorry I missed your calls last night.”

“That’s okay,” he said. He sounded genuine. “You’re better now though?”

“Yeah, much.”

“Well, maybe I could come around?” he asked. “I just left work, so I’m already in the car. We could work out what to do about this Friday?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay. I’ll park out back.”

“Just come straight up to my door.”

“See you in about twenty minutes.” And he disconnected the call.

I pushed the door open to Emilio’s shop and he looked up from tattooing his customer. Then he looked at me again. “Jesus. The cat that got the canary.”

I laughed him off. “Hey man. How’s your day been?”

“Not as good as yours by the look of that smile.”

I rolled my eyes. “Need anything?”

“Nah, I’m all good, my friend,” Emilio said. “Oh, new magazines came in today. They’re on the counter,” he said, nodding toward the service desk.

“Cool.” Emilio always subscribed to a few copies because customers tended to either dog-ear a page or just rip them out. I picked up the top copy. “I’ll bring it back down later. You here late tonight?”

Emilio had his head down and was busy inking his customer. “Yeah man. Daniela’s having the night off. Last client is at seven. It’s just me.”

“Want me to bring you some dinner or something?”

“Sweet, thanks.”

I took the tattoo magazine and let myself out the back door and pulled it shut behind me. Upstairs, knowing Andrew wouldn’t be far away, I freshened up. I washed my face, sprayed on some deodorant, and stopped myself from brushing my teeth. I mean, it was ridiculous. So I planted myself on the sofa and flicked through the magazine until there was a knock at the door.

When I opened the door, Andrew was standing there like a remedy for heart palpitations. Or maybe he made them worse. It was hard to tell. “Hey.”

His smile was warm and wide. “Hey. You look good,” he said. Then froze. “I mean, you look not-sick anymore.”

I laughed, all relieved and nervous, and stepped aside, a silent invitation to come inside. “I’m much better.” And that wasn’t a lie. I
was
feeling much better. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“Sure.” He walked straight in, over to the sofa and sat down. He picked up the tattoo magazine and started thumbing through it. “Looking for new ideas?”

I handed him a bottled water and sat beside him. “Not really. I stole it from Emilio,” I explained. “I just like to see what’s new.”

“They’re pretty good,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m surprised actually, by how much I like them.”

“Would you ever get one?”

His eyes widened and he barked out a laugh. “Ah, no.” Then he frowned. “Well, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Not ever?”

He shook his head. “Nope.” He took a mouthful of water and kept turning pages. He didn’t look at me when he asked, “When did you get your first tattoo?”

“Sixteen. My Aunt Marvie took me to get it.” My left hand automatically went to the top of my right arm. “The tribal cross was my first. It’s been incorporated into the entire sleeve now, but yeah, that was my first tattoo.”

His eyes shot to mine then. “Wow.”

I shrugged, and he knew the ink on my arms, no matter how visible, was a private thing. “They’re addictive.”

“Would you get another one?” he asked. “Your sleeves are done, so where else would you get one?”

“Maybe a chest piece,” I said, leaning back on the sofa. “I dunno.”

“Colour or black and white?” he said, looking back to the magazine. “You have a mix of both on your arms.”

“Depends on the piece,” I said. “And what it means.”

“Fair enough.”

“How was work?”

He looked at me and smiled. “Good. How was your day with Lola?”

“Yeah, good. Busy. She’s bossy.”

Smiling, he kept looking at the pictures in the magazine. It was easy to forget he appreciated the tattoos from an artist’s perspective, not a client’s. “Oh,” I said. “I need to get Emilio something to eat later on. Don’t let me forget.”

Andrew stayed until dinner. We got take out and ate it downstairs in the shop with Emilio after he closed for the day. Emilio and Andrew talked about lines and definition, shading and interpretation.

And not once did we talk about Eli.

Thursday afternoon I found myself on the street across the road from Eli’s place of employment. A printing business I really had no need for going to, just a burning curiosity and a healthy dash of jealousy.

Well, maybe jealousy was a strong word, but I wanted to know what attracted Andrew to Eli. They met in a grocery store, which was the stuff of chick-flicks. A little too cliché? I wasn’t sure. But Eli moved in with him. They had a history. An intimate history. Eli had touched Andrew in ways I wanted to but couldn’t. Andrew had taken
him
to bed, kissed him, fucked him. And I wanted to see why.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I crossed the street and walked through the front door. A bell chimed to announce my entrance, and not a moment later, a woman came to the counter. I recognised Terri from the Facebook photo and then at the bar where she’d had birthday drinks and invited Eli to go with. Her name tag confirmed it. “Can I help you?” she asked brightly.

The foyer was kind of old but clean. There were product deals plastered on the walls. “Yeah. I’m just looking at the moment, but I have a business convention coming up I could need some marketing products for.”

She went into a spiel of mail-outs, flyers, online ads, and I went along with it, nodding thoughtfully. She explained minimum numbers, maximums, payment options, and a whole lotta other crap I really wasn’t interested in. “So, what’s your target market?” she asked. “What kind of convention?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Tattoos,” I answered, like that explained everything. “Could I have example art printed on canvas? Or framed even. I want an executive look, high-class. I want it to look like pieces from a photography studio.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes. Hang on, I’ll just grab Eli. He’s the man you want for that.”

She disappeared and a sick nervous feeling twisted in my belly. He wasn’t the man I wanted at all, but whether this was a good idea or a really fucking stupid idea, it was too late. Because Eli walked out from the staff-only door. Terri led the way. “This is Eli,” she said. “He does all the prints like you’re talking about.” And she left us alone. Just me and him.

Eli was about my height, kind of handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes. He looked like a normal guy, just like the photos I’d seen. I hated him. Irrational, I know, but whatever. His eyes flickered with something when he saw me, and if he recognised me as the guy with Andrew from the bar the other night, he didn’t say.

“Hi,” he said, offering me his hand.

I shook it a little harder than normal, but whatever. If he was waiting for me to give him my name, I didn’t.

“So, you’re after framed prints?”

“I think so. I’m just getting prices at this stage.” As much as I totally didn’t care about wasting ten minutes of his time, I didn’t want to waste the company’s money thinking this was going anywhere. “How much time do you need, say for ten prints, sixty inches squared?”

He prattled on about prices and products, clearly trying to sell me a deal. Some would think he was good at his job. I, on the other hand, thought he was smarmy. I didn’t care how good he was with the products he sold, he’d been with Andrew, and that made him a dick to me.

By some grace of God, my phone rang. It was Lola. I made a somewhat-apologetic face to Eli. “Sorry, I need to take this.” I didn’t wait for a reply from him, I just hit answer. “Hello.”

“I’m at the shop. Where are you?”

I pretended to be disgruntled. I pressed my fingers into my eyes. “You’re there now?”

“I just said that,” she said. “Does spanking the monkey make you deaf?”

I choked on a laugh. “Right. Well, that’s what he said.”

It took her a second. It wasn’t the first time I’d needed her to bail me out of a situation. She was pretty quick with these things now. “Oh. You’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, talking to someone you shouldn’t be, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct.”

“Does this have anything to do with Andrew?”

“Yes.”

“You went and checked out the ex, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Is he right in front of you?”

I sighed loudly. “Yes. Okay, I’ll come straight back.”

Lola chuckled in my ear. “You haven’t done anything straight in your life, Spencer.”

I pursed my lips together so I wouldn’t smile, ended the call, and slid my phone in my pocket. Eli had gone back to the counter to give me what privacy the small foyer allowed, but he looked at me expectantly. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I have an issue back at work I need to sort out. Do you have a card I can take?”

He handed me his business card, and I told him I’d be in touch.

* * * *

When Andrew called me that night, I knew I had to tell him. “I saw Eli today.”

There was only silence. Then, “You what?”

“I went into his work and made enquiries about tattoo posters I don’t need.”

It sounded like he changed the ear he had his phone to, then it sounded like he fidgeted. “Did you tell him who you were?”

“No, of course not.”

“But he’s seen you with me.”

“I know.” I tried to play it cool. “I’m not sure if he recognised me. He never let on.”

“Jeez, Spencer. You could have blown the whole thing.” He was obviously pissed with me, and probably rightfully so. “What did you do that for?”

“I was kind of hoping he did recognise me. I think he did, I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But what I did was just pretty much guarantee us a reaction from him.”

Truth be told, I was making things worse. I knew that. Eli was either going to push harder to get Andrew back, or he was not going to care at all. That selfish part of me was hoping for the latter.

And it had been a long time since I’d hoped for anything.

I was tempted to give him excuses and apologies, but I didn’t. I needed him to speak first. It took eight long and heart-racing seconds. “And?” he asked.

“And what?”

“What did you think of him?”

I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see. “He seemed nice.”

“God, you really suck at lying.” He huffed into the phone. “And considering you do it for a living, I would expect better.”

“Ouch.”

He laughed. “Well, it’s true.”

“I can lie convincingly to other people,” I admitted. “Just not you. For some stupid reason.”

I don’t know how I knew, but I was pretty sure he was smiling. “Well, for that, you can buy dinner tomorrow night.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. Pizza and a movie. Seven o’clock.”

“You’re so bossy,” I said. I’m surprised I could actually talk with how much I was grinning. “And anyway, how do you live on takeout and have the body you do?”

He laughed quietly. “I told you. I work out for an hour every morning before I go to work.”

“Do you wear tight gym shorts and muscle tops? Because I would totally get out of bed to see that.”

He chuckled into the phone. “See you tomorrow at seven.”

“So you told Eli no to the date tomorrow night?”

“I told him I couldn’t,” he answered. He cleared his throat. “You know, treat ’em mean to keep ’em keen.”

I couldn’t stop the stupid smile on my face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just was picturing you wearing tight gym shorts and a muscle top. What were you saying?”

He snorted. “Good night, Spencer.” He disconnected the call, but I was still smiling at the mental images of Andrew in his gym clothes.

* * * *

Friday dragged. Like
really
dragged. I helped Emilio and Daniela in the shop for a while, made arrangements for when and where to see my next client on Monday afternoon. I cleaned my apartment, I read, I ate, I did all those things, and then I spent a good few hours getting ready and picking out clothes while the clock ticked down like its battery was dying. Because I was losing my mind.

But, like a good boy, at seven o’clock, holding a pizza as requested, I knocked on Andrew’s front door. I heard what sounded like him coming down the stairs, the rattle of the lock on the door, and then he swung the door inward and smiled.

And like some cosmic shift, time was good again. “Oh good,” he said. “I’m starving.”

“Hi, not bad. Yourself?” I joked at his complete lack of greeting. “Cab here was okay, but I don’t think the cabbie appreciated the smell of pizza in his car.”

Andrew laughed. “Sorry. Hi, how are you? That’s good. How was your cab ride here?”

I handed him the pizza box. “You’re welcome.”

He walked through the living room, slid the pizza onto the table, and went straight into the kitchen. “Beer or soda?”

“Beer’s good.”

“Yes it is,” he replied, came back out, and handed me one. He was wearing jeans and an old button-down shirt that looked well-worn and soft. Jesus. His feet were bare. I couldn’t remember ever telling him that I found jeans and bare feet hot, but damn.

“They don’t smell bad,” he said, wiggling his toes. “Promise.”

God help me. I totally got caught staring at his feet. When I glanced up at him, he took one look at my face and a slow smile spread across his lips. “Oh.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled and clinked his beer bottle to mine. “So? Pizza? Or do you wanna stare at my feet a little longer?”

Ignoring him before I died of embarrassment, I rolled my eyes and sat at the table. I opened the box and took a slice. “So? Anyone at work giving you a hard time about the photo we posted on your Facebook?”

He almost bit into his first slice but stopped before it got to his mouth. He groaned. “It’s been painful,” he said. “All week.” He took a mouthful and hummed appreciatively. “Mmm, this is good.”

He devoured four slices to my two. “Didn’t you eat today?” I asked.

He shook his head and washed his food down with a mouthful of beer. “Nope. I’ve been avoiding the lunchroom because, well, because the latest game around the department seems to be ‘Let’s ask Andrew 101 questions about his new boyfriend.’”

“New
boyfriend
, huh?” I smiled. I liked that way more than I should have. “What’s he like? Bet he’s handsome.”

A rush of heat coloured his cheeks and crept down his neck. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

I picked at the label on my beer bottle. “I’ve been called worse things.”

His smile faltered. “By jealous ex-boyfriends?”

“Actually, more by the client,” I admitted. “The guy who I’m trying to help. Clearly I’m not their type, and they find my boredom at city gala openings or nights at the opera a little uncouth.”

“Really? You had to go to gala openings and the opera?” He frowned. “And they belittled you for it?”

“You’d be surprised,” I said softly. “They’re paying me to do a job, I guess. They treat me the same way they treat the people who dry clean their clothes or wash their car.”

Andrew nodded slowly, and there was a brief look of hurt on his face before he replaced it with a tight smile. He cleared his throat. “You must think it’s terribly boring to have a Friday night of pizza and a movie then.” It wasn’t a question. More like a confirmation to himself. “I’m not much into going out.”

“Are you kidding me? This is perfect. Pizza and a movie is my kind of night. Sure, getting all frocked up in a suit is cool every now and then, but that shit gets old.”

He smiled somewhat more genuinely, but it was still a little forced. “Frocked up?”

“You know, dressed up?” I shrugged. “I swear, everyone I know should take a lesson in Australianisms so I don’t have to keep explaining these things.”

“Or I could just book myself in for an elective lobotomy…”

I gaped at him. Literally. My mouth fell open. He roared laughing and put his foot up on the table. “Here, look at my bare foot.”

“Fuck you.”

That only made him laugh some more.

“You suck.”

He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Yes. Yes I do.”

I groaned, in part because his pun was lame, and in part because now I was thinking about him sucking dick.

“Shut up and put the movie on.”

Still chuckling to himself, he took the pizza box into the kitchen, then he joined me in the living room. He handed me a full beer and was still smiling as he put the DVD in.

“What are we watching?” I asked. He tossed the cover to me. It was
How to Train Your Dragon 2
. “Seriously? We’re watching a cartoon?”

He stood up, looking honestly offended, his smile well and truly gone. “I um, well, I, we don’t have to. I just thought…”

“Did you have that lobotomy already?” I asked with a smirk.

Now he glared. “You’re an ass.”

“Thank you.”

He collected his beer from the coffee table and planted himself on the sofa, not right next to me, but not at the other end either. He stretched out his legs and put his feet on the coffee table as the movie began, so I did the same.