Page 16 of The Outline


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I turned to Pete, perplexed and incredulous. “I know I just met you, but can you please explain what the hell just happened?” This wasn’t really my business, but seeing Renn’s distress brought out my protective instincts. No matter what other confusing shit was going on between us, he was my friend.

Pete exhaled heavily, leaning back against the wall. Tapping his fist against it several times, he mumbled soft curses under his breath before kicking at the baseboard and replying. “It’s because I mentioned his dad. Since Thomas died, Renn doesn’t like to talk about him.” Tap. Kick. “He doesn’t like anyone else to talk about him, either.”

I replayed the exchange in my head, applying the new information that Renn’s dad had passed away. In all the hours we’d spent together, Renn had never mentioned his father, or really anything about his family.

I sympathized with not wanting to talk about your dead parents.

“If you’re aware Renn doesn’t like it, why’d you do it? Kind of a dick move.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve always been terrible at talking to Renn. I guess I got confused by how he was acting with you. I haven’t seen him much these past few months, and I mistook his enthusiasm for your project.” Pete tilted his head toward me. “It’s cool how you’re defending him, though. That must be some ink he’s giving you.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

I hmphed. “You pretty much forced me into this position. I wouldn’t have chosen to watch you argue.”

This type of exchange was the exact reason I’d been avoiding parties since Boston—too much potential for shit-stirring. But I cared about Renn so I wasn’t sorry to have this opportunity to stick up for him. He was still out of earshot but appeared more collected as he pretended to examine the baskets.

“Sadie, I meant what I said. I’m glad whatever you have with Renn is…special. He hasn’t seemed so happy doing a tattoo since his dad…” Pete stopped for a moment, and as he collected himself, I got a sense of his own grief, less raw than Renn’s but still there. “You know, his dad was also an artist. He taught him. Renn was only nineteen when Thomas died, but the kid had already learned so much. They were close…”

Pete trailed off and his features clouded. He looked the way customers at the bar sometimes did, like he needed to say this to someone—anyone—so badly, that it didn’t matter who it was. Talking to strangers offered a clean slate, no past history to color the conversation.

I had sympathy for Pete, but Renn was ultimately the one I wanted to stick up for.

“So why push? Why not let him grieve in his own way, let him decide when he’s ready to talk?” I had good reasons for getting my hackles up when people decided how childrenshouldgrieve their dead parents.

“Because it’s been four years!” Pete whisper-shouted. “Thomas isn’t Voldemort. Or Candyman. Fight Club. We should be able to say his name, talk about him, tell funny stories without having to worry Renn’s going to go apeshit, or shut down and walk away.” He gestured his hand in Renn’s direction. “I mean, fuck, Thomas was my big brother. I miss him too. But I also worry I’m letting him down because his son…” He exhaled. “Forget it.”

Holdupnow. What?“His dad was your brother? Wait—you’re Renn’s uncle?”

“It’s how we’re partners. Thomas and I started the studio together when Renn was a toddler.” Pete seemed defeated as he leaned against the loud wallpaper, eventually dropping onto his haunches, hands covering his face. It was curious that he’d referred to Renn as his business partner when we’d initially met, rather than his nephew. I also thought about how Renn had recoiled from his uncle’s praise.

“You know, even before you mentioned his dad, there was a weird vibe between you two,” I ventured.

“Caught that, huh?” Pete released a staccato laugh. “We generally do a better job masking theweird vibe.” Still crouching, he rested his hands on his knees. “It’s been difficult between us since Thomas passed, but he’s usually more easygoing.” Pete eyed me intently. “Although, I have an idea why he acted so defensive tonight.”

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand his insinuation. But I also wasn’t going to respond to it.

“I’m sorry, Pete. That you lost your brother. That it’s so difficult with your nephew. I still think you should have been less oblivious with Renn just now—” I stopped, reining in my judgment before exhaling resignedly. “But I get I don’t have all the history here.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Four years later, and I still can’t seem to get it right. It’s like walking around a minefield blindfolded. Always setting off bombs. I understand Renn’s an adult, but in my mind, he’s always going to be that kid drawing tattoos on his arms with Sharpies and getting his head stuck in his dad’s boot.”

“He’s not a kid, Pete.” The irony of my defense was not lost on me.

“I know.” Pete straightened and rubbed his forearms, rolling up the already-rolled-up sleeves on his plain white button-down shirt another notch. “And I can see why Renn likes you.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I thought I was just talking to a girl at a party, and then all this.” He waved his hand around absently. “Some game I’ve got.”

“Just so we’re clear, you and I won’t be playing any games.”

He laughed again, glancing significantly at his nephew. “I’m clear.” He leaned closer. “But it would be nice to be friends. Maybe I’ll see you around the shop.”

“Maybe.”

I looked over to catch Renn frowning at us. He appeared to have his emotions fully in control as he made his way back to my side, pointing toward the end of the table.

“Hey, check it out. Our donation is going for more than five hundred dollars.” Studio Obscurum had a basket on display with two logoed t-shirts, but the real prize was the offer of a small flash piece.

“That’s great, way beyond the value of the tattoo. Have you decided who’ll do it?” Pete’s question sought a truce.

“I guess it depends on who buys it and what they want. Either me or Archie. I’m happy to donate it, to support suicide prevention.” They shared a look before Renn turned back to me.

“Sorry, I had to step away.”