Zip, Zero, Zilch
Page 35

“You sure this is a good idea?” I ask Paul.
“No.” He slams the cabinet door where he’s pulled out a bottle of ink.
“You can put him on when I’m here, too.”
“Thanks.”
Paul is being short, which means he’s thinking.
“You going to get Friday to find out his story?” Friday can pull information from just about anybody.
Just then, the door jingles and Friday walks into the room. “What’s wrong?” she asks. She’s dressed in her retro gear with bright red lipstick and heels.
“We just hired one of Pete’s foundlings to tidy up the place,” I tell her.
She presses up onto her tiptoes so she can see him better and whistles. “Oh, he’s handsome.” Then she notices the wheelchair. “What’s his story?”
“We don’t know,” Paul says. “And you are not to get involved.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right.” But she’s already walking toward Josh.
I know why Pete brought him here. It’s because we don’t see disabilities. We never have. Living with a brother who’s deaf has taught us all to look beneath the surface. The wheelchair this guy is in doesn’t bother me at all, although I’d love to know what happened. But not nearly as much as I want to know why he got that tattoo on his cheek.
“I’m going to spank her ass when I get her home,” Paul mutters.
“Dude,” I say, pretending to gag, “I do not need that much information.”
Some military men come in and they’re waiting in the lobby area. “I’ll take one of them,” I say.
Paul nods, and he goes back to stand beside Friday. He puts his hands all over her, almost like he’s peeing a virtual circle around her. Finally, she takes his hand and drags him into his office, shutting the door behind them.
Matt goes and bangs on the door. “No getting lucky in the office!” he calls out. He bangs again and again until the door opens and Friday comes out. She’s fixing her makeup because Paul has apparently kissed it all off. Paul is wiping his smile as he comes out behind her. “You could have given us a minute,” I hear him say to Matt.
“That’s just gross, Paul,” Matt scolds.
“As gross as it was when you did it with Sky last week?” Paul chuckles. He points to the cameras. “They catch everything, man.” He claps Matt on the shoulder.
I want what my brothers have. I’m dying for it. I just wonder if I’ve found it in Peck. I think so.
I set up my station and start doing tats. It’s getting late when I realize that Peck might be at home. At my house. Waiting for me.
I try not to rush my last tat, but it’s fucking hard. I still need to run by the store to get ingredients for dinner. But it’s all worth it, because I get to see Peck at the end of the day.
Peck
It’s late when I get back to Sam’s. It’s almost midnight, and I’m worried that I’ll wake him up. I turn the key and tiptoe into the room. I’m startled when I see that Sam is asleep on the couch. He lifts his head when he hears me moving around.
“Peck?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering. It just seems like the thing to do. “Why are you s-still up? It’s l-late.”
“I was worried about you.” He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. Then he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs.
“I’m s-sorry I w-woke you.”
“What took so long?”
I shrug. “It’s always a long d-day when we’re recording.”
He gets up and I see that he’s walking. He shuffles over to me and pulls me against his chest, then kisses my forehead. I wrap my arms around his waist, because this feels so right. I take a deep breath as he drags his fingertips up and down my back.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I should I have c-called.”
“Have you eaten?” He sets me back a little from him and I miss the heat of him immediately.
“We ordered a pizza around five. Why? Did you cook?”
He takes a plate out of the oven and uncovers it. Now I feel bad. He went to a lot of trouble to cook for me.
He sets the plate on the table and gets me a bottle of water. He holds a chair out. “Sit. I’ll keep you company.”
“Have you eaten?” I ask him. “We can share.”
He props his chin in his hand. “How was recording?”
I groan. “Grueling. We spent hours recording and re-recording.” I point to his foot. “You got your walking boot.”
He smiles. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice not being on crutches.”
“How was your meeting this morning?”
He tells me all about what happened, and I’m so glad for him that it wasn’t worse.
I look down and see that my plate is almost empty. Crap. I wish I could keep from scarfing down food in front of him, but it’s just so good.
“You like the chicken?” he asks.
“It was like having sex.”
He jerks. “Beg your pardon?”
“Awesome. Breathtaking. Surprising. Comforting.” I grin as he shifts in the chair.
“You’re comparing my food to sex?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Cupcake, I can guarantee you sex with me will be a lot better than some chicken dinner.”