“Well, I’m sorry for how disappointed you are in one of America’s great cities, but it’s good you have a sense of humor about it.”
“Meh. One person’s good humor is another person’s ability to deflect difficult emotions using jokes and sarcasm. Semantics.”
He chortled again, and I heard the buzzing above my knee as he went back to work.
I appreciated he hadn’t pushed for details, but still felt oddly compelled to give him some. Renn had been so accepting of my uncertainty throughout this process, making me feel at ease every time I worried I was acting like a weirdo. I wanted him to understand at least some of where that self-doubt came from. I could convey the basics while leaving out the gnarlier specifics.
I took a deep breath, considering, before finally… “I don’t mind telling you a little…if you want to hear.”
He nodded at me, expression communicating that he was willing to listen, but also that I had no obligation to tell him anything.
I exhaled. “The short version is that I lived in Boston. It was just after college, and I didn’t have real career plans, so I went there on a whim, looking for adventure.”
“Why Boston?”
“No real reason. Too many episodes ofAlly McBealmaybe.” I smiled. “I’d been in Los Angeles my whole life, worked at Hal’s since I was twenty-one. Figured I’d travel around the country a bit, have some fun, support myself tending bar.”
“Apparently that didn’t work out?”
I barked a laugh. “Hardly. I seriously underestimated how far my savings would go and sort of got stuck. I was miserable bartending in this sad little townie place where folks came to mind their own business and drink bottom-shelf liquor. It made Hal’s seem like a trendy club in comparison. I was trying to save enough to move on, but then some stuff happened, and I ended up just staying in Boston.”
Renn motioned for me to face forward again, breaking our eye contact. “I get the sense ‘some stuff’ might be the biggest part of that story.”
“It is.” I exhaled as loudly as my stomach-lying position would allow. “But it’s same-old, same-old… I met someone…and he, um, turned out to not be a very good guy…and it ended badly.”
“Oh…shit.” Renn’s gloved hand stilled by my side, softly grazing my thigh.
“No. No, it’s alright,” I said hurriedly. “He wasn’t physical with me or anything… Just extra toxic.” I rested my chin back on the pillow, but as he stayed quiet, I wondered if I’d said too much. “I’m not trying to barf out my life story on you or anything. I just wanted you to know why the mention of Boston got to me, why sometimes I stress about beingawkward.” My air quotes broke some of the tension.
When he responded a moment later, it became clear I hadn’t said too much. Renn was simply treating my admission with the respect it deserved, thoughtful in his reply. “Thank you for telling me, Sadie. I’m sorry you went through something like that. No one should ever have to. But selfishly, I’m glad that—whatever happened in your past—it brought you to me now.”
I felt his sincerity, that he sympathized without condescending to pity.This is what it’s supposed to feel like when someone likes you. They’re supposed to treat you with care.He really was an amazing guy. I wasn’t prepared to serve up any more details about Henri, but I didn’t regret giving him something. “I’m happy I’m here too,” I said. “I’m glad you put up with all my quirks.”
Renn frowned. “Don’t say it like that. I don’t ‘put up’ with you. I enjoy spending time with you. A lot. Like I said, I haven’t felt this way about doing a tattoo in a long time. And for the record, there’s nothing you could tell me about your past that would change how much I like you.” He paused and turned off the tattoo gun. I swung my head around in time to see him gulp hard. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, occupied with scrutinizing my thigh.
How was I supposed to ignore our attraction when we were in this zone? Needing to steer us back to neutral ground, I gave him a teasing half-smile. “I don’t know, Renn. Some of my flaws are fatal. I can get pretty stabby in traffic—I’ve flipped off an old lady or two. I’ve also been known to retaliate against handsy customers at Hal’s by making sure their beers were extra warm and foamy.”
Renn put his hands up, taking the out. “Hey, you’re allowed to look out for yourself at work. And who hasn’t been inspired to road rage by someone’s grandma? We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”
I laughed. “Even you?”
He smirked. “I once tattooed the lyrics to an entire Taylor Swift song on an eighteen-year-old woman’s back.”
I shook my head and grinned in reply, turning my neck to rest it on the cushion again as Renn picked up his tattoo gun. Of course, he was correct that everyone had done things they weren’t proud of. But there were very few things in my life Iwasproud of. My friendship with Zach was the only stable, longstanding thing I’d ever achieved. Permanently inking T Swift lyrics on impressionable young women aside, Renn was a business owner. He had a passion for his art. I couldn’t expect him to understand my angst over my lack of direction.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own shit. He’d told me twice now that my tattoo had ignited his creativity again. But why had he lost his inspiration in the first place?
Renn was bent over my leg, concentrating on his work, when he began speaking quietly. “Look, I know it’s hard to move on from the past when things are…haunting you.” He paused, looking faraway for a moment. “But I meant it earlier when I said that whatever happened before won’t change my opinion of Sadie-right-now. I may have only known you a few months, but I think I know enough. I know you’re humble…and funny…and so damn smart, like, clever, not just in a school way. I know you’re the kind of person who answers messages and shows up on time to appointments. I know you have good taste in music. But mostly, I know you’re here on my table, outside your comfort zone, because you’re looking to symbolize strength and starting over, and that’s pretty fucking cool—no matter what went down before. Okay?”
Okay? Okay. Jesus.
I was grateful his “okay” was rhetorical. Closing my eyes, I placed my chin on the pillow and just…revelled in the knowledge that Rennsawme. No one besides Zach had seen me in years. The hum of the tattoo gun provided the soundtrack to this revelation. Also, the Metallica on the speakers.
Later, as Renn worked, occasionally loud-talking amiably with Archie across the studio, I thought about my time in Boston. How not-okay I’d been made to feel.
Darling, no one will ever love you as much as I do. You don’t need to work in this shithole bar, not when I have plenty of money. I want to take care of you.
I had accepted so little from Henri, confusing control with caring. I’d met him at a low point, directionless and miserable, spinning my wheels at age twenty-five. Henri had been twenty-eight but already had the type of job where a well-cut suit was the expectation. If not for an inopportune flat tire, he’d never have come into my bar. At the time, I’d had roommates I sort of liked in an apartment I sort of hated, but that was about all I had going on. I’d thought Henri was my savior. I was such an idiot. Such a cliché of a girl who got taken in by a pretty face and slick words, missing all the red flags.