“Yeah. I have a tattoo place.”
“I had no idea. That’s really cool.” He was always a talented artist so I shouldn’t be surprised he makes a living from it.
“It’s all right. So what do you do in Cleveland?”
“Hair. I’m a color specialist.”
“You enjoy it?”
“It’s a job.”
“That’s a no.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s fun. I hate being on my feet all day.”
“You could come work for me.”
“And what would that entail?”
“Answering the phone, keeping the place clean. Ordering supplies.”
“You’re serious?”
“I need someone.”
I shake my head. “You’re just saying that.”
“Wouldn’t ever lie to you.” He holds my gaze, and something tells me that no he wouldn’t. Roane is a good guy under that tough man exterior. We pull into a parking lot and he shuts the truck off and hurries around to open my door. He’s laying it on thick. Then again Roane was always sweet with me.
We go up a set of stairs connected to the back of a brick building. Roane unlocks the door and invites me inside to his apartment. It’s more like a studio apartment. Entering behind him, he shows me to the kitchen that sits off the left. All nice stainless-steel appliances. The living room takes up the center of the room, housing a black leather sofa, a flat screen Tv, and a black and white portrait of I am assuming his motorcycle. There’s some weights to the right along with two doors I assume lead to the bedroom and bathroom. It’s clean and nice. Not that expected it to be a shithole. I know that some guys tend to be pigs when living on their own.
“Make yourself comfortable. You can eat at the counter or on the couch. I don’t have room for a dining table. I’ve got to run downstairs to the shop. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Don’t you want to eat?”
“I’ll take it with me.” He grabs his sandwich and leaves me on my own.
I take my food over to the couch and switch the Tv on. I don’t know how long he’ll be down there. I settle in on the cushions. He said he had been married and that she cheated on him. I can’t imagine anyone doing that to him. She must be an idiot. I crumble my biscuits and pour the white gravy over them and dig in.
I stop flicking through the channels on HGTv. I love watching the flea market swap stuff. I throw my trash away, kick my shoes off, and get comfy on the couch with a pillow and throw that was hanging on the back.
“You like that shit?” Roane questions, startling me. I must’ve dozed off.
I sit up as he rounds the couch and pulls my feet up to slide in under them. Wiping my eyes, I whisper yawn, “Yeah, I do. I don’t know I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Decorate?”
“Yeah. Refurbish furniture, paint. I don’t know. It seems like it’d be fun to do.”
“You’re hired.”
“For what? Stop trying to make up jobs for me.”
“I need my place fixed up.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s bare. I don’t know I need some color. The touch of a woman.” His fingers strum my ankle.