Page 8 of The Outline


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CHAPTER

Two

Late November 2014

By the nightbefore my second appointment with Renn, the tattoo outline had reddened, crusted, itched like hell, and finally healed over.

The month between the sessions had allowed me to gain a fresh perspective on my attraction to Renn. It was going to be fine. We didn’t have to actuallydoanything about the vibe between us. Hell, we didn’t even have to acknowledge it. It could just…be there.

Besides, I didn’t know Renn’s romantic situation. At twenty-three, it was unlikely that he was emerging from a near-decade-long smooshed cow patty of a relationship like I was. He was hot. And an artist. He probably had a line of young women waiting to date him. That heated look he’d given me as he’d kneeled down by my leg—an image I’d been unable to banish from my thoughts—maybe he’d already forgotten it. Or maybe I’d imagined it.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

Zach remained unconvinced.

I’d given him the full rundown of the situation after my first appointment. At first, he’d teased me about Renn being twenty-three, calling me a “cradle-robber” and threatening to pullMoonstruckoff the dusty DVD shelf. As I’d elaborated, he’d grown more serious.

“I don’t understand why you’re writing this off so quickly, doll. Why just automatically dismiss your feelings?”

We’d been sitting on the couch to that point, talking, and I stood up in exasperation, catching the reflection of my tattoo in the glass door of the balcony slider. “Zach, there are too many reasons to list.” I held up my hand as I started ticking them off for him. “I am still getting over an awful eight-year relationship.” I put my pointer finger down. “I’m still in therapy dealing with the fallout from said relationship.” Middle finger. “I have no idea what I want to do for a career and need to stay focused on finding some actual life goals.” Ring finger. “I’m literally paying him to do a job for me, so there’s ethical ambiguity there.” Pinkie. “He’s twenty-three.” I curled my thumb in, completing my fist.

Zach came over and closed his hand around it.

“Okay, Sadie, I understand everything you’re saying, but I also think you shouldn’t just ignore the fact that your tattoo appointment basically sounds like the best first date ever. Amazing conversation with no weird lulls. No discovery of any psychopathic tendencies that had been undetectable through messaging. And a swoony eyes-locking moment at the end—”

“Which was kinda inappropriate, since I’m his client.”

“Okay. I’ll allow that.” He released my fist and pulled me into his arms. “But you won’t always be his client, right? And you deserve to be happy.”

I didn’t argue, and Zach didn’t push. He wanted me to be okay, and I wanted that too. I supposed we were both grateful that my desire for Renn proved Henri hadn’t broken me completely. But there was an enormous gulf between “not broken” and “ready for a new relationship.” Or even just a new possibility.

For my secondappointment, I’d been able to schedule on a day I didn’t have a shift at Hal’s, so Renn and I met at the reasonable hour of four p.m. When I got there, one other person was working. This man embodied more of who I’d imagined when I’d started reaching out to artists. Older than Renn by at least a decade, a leather cord held back his long hair. He wore weathered Doc Martens, along with dark-gray skinny jeans and a black t-shirt emblazoned with the Studio Obscurum logo, a design that looked like a giant heart melting over the earth. He glanced up at me as I entered, tilting his head in hello. I recognized him as the artist who’d been tattooing a pineapple on someone the first time I’d come in.

“That’s Archie,” Renn said, taping up my shorts. “He’s here full time, so you might see him around while we’re working.” I nodded back at Archie and laid out on the folding table. This time, I knew where to place the pillows, wrangling my body into position with minimal stumbling.

Archie pulled off the gloves and plastic covering his arms, clasping his hands together above his head, inviting his client to take a stretch break as well. He came over to examine my leg. “So, this is the piece Renn was so excited about he was willing to get here before noon on a Sunday. That’s looking awesome.” I startled at the last bit because it sounded more likethas-lewkin-ahhsum. Archie spoke with the fast cadence and distinct accent of a Bostonian. “I mean, it’s not as great as my work, but still pretty good.”

“Don’t mind him.” Renn held the buzzing tattoo gun above my leg. “He’s lived in Cali since he was ten years old, but still insists on speaking like he’s inGood Will Hunting.”

“Fuck off, Renny. You west coasters wish you sounded thiswicked pissa.” Archie shoved his colleague playfully on the shoulder. He then gave my thigh another once-over, nodding approvingly at me before sticking his middle finger up at Renn and heading back to his own workstation, once again out of earshot.

I grimaced as their teasing exchange dredged up a memory. My mind raced as it recalled an embarrassing dinner party that had begun with everyone offering their opinions on politics and ended with Henri yelling at me for acting like an “ignorant, liberal west-coaster” in front of his co-workers. Good times.

Renn sensed my tension as he began sinking the needle into my skin. “Something up?” he asked. “Is it the pain? I’m working close to the back of the knee and that bothers some people.”

“No, no. Just the mention of Boston reminded me of something crappy. No big deal.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine. How could you have known?” I twisted my neck around to look at him, so he could see in my face I was sincere.

“I’m still sorry you’re upset.”

“Seriously, it’s cool. We all have our shit, right? It just so happens my biggest flaming pile of poo happened in Boston.”

He huffed. “That is very…vivid.”

“Trust me, it’s accurate.” I grinned. “I know logically that Boston is a perfectly lovely city, with perfectly lovely historical landmarks and lobsters and crazy baseball fans, and millions of perfectly lovely people who all participate in a mass conspiracy not to teach their children about the letter R.” Renn chuckled and I knew I’d never tire of making him laugh. “It just wasn’t a lovely place for me.”