“Cheap prick,” I muttered, adding some notes from my own wallet before continuing out of the bar. As much as I’d like to pretend this was just another job, far from my first and not even the hardest one I’d pulled off…something felt different.
She made it different.
four
TRIS
The sex was beyond terrible. When John joked about my date—Chad—trying for a hole in one, I didn’t think he meant one minute. Goddamn. His attempts to get me off were almost laughably bad, too, as he frantically rubbed my left labia. Eventually I took the easy way out, faking it, then bailing out as fast as humanly possible. Thank fuck we weren’t at my house where I needed to kick him out.
“How was your date?”
The question nearly made me jump out of my skin as I tried to unlock my door well before midnight. I whispered a curse and spun on my heel to glare at my neighbor, Nelson.
“It’s not even eleven o’clock and I’m home alone. How do you think it went?” I retorted.
The old guy chuckled, rubbing a hand over his white-whiskered chin. “That’s what you get for using that phone app shit. No one is on there to find a relationship, Ivy-girl, only hook ups.”
I rolled my eyes. “Last I checked, I also didn’t want a relationship. Stay out of it, you old badger. None of your business.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Come over, I need your thoughts on a project I’m working on.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Give me ten minutes to shower and change.”
Nelson grimaced. “Spare me the details, kid. Come over when you’re sanitized, I’ll open some wine.”
I snorted a laugh at his phrasing, then let myself into my own apartment. I loved my home. The whole building used to be an old warehouse for something or other, but Nelson and his partner Hank bought the property years ago to convert into trendy open-plan units.
This top floor was just them and me, just the way we all liked it. Nelson was the closest thing I had to family, so I loved seeing him every day. Even if he was a sarcastic ass about my love life.
After showering, I changed into pajamas and wrapped up in a dressing gown before letting myself into Nelson’s apartment without knocking.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called out, making my way over to the kitchen island where a full decanter of red wine sat waiting beside some crystal wine glasses.
“Ivy, how was your date?” Nelson’s partner Hank asked, coming through from their art studio with his arms open for a hug.
I gave a dry laugh as he squeezed me, then accepted a glass of wine when I poured it. “It was forgettable,” I admitted. “Nelson said you’re working on something new?”
“Yes!” Hank’s grin spread wide, and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Come see.”
We poured an extra glass of wine for Nelson, then Hank ushered me through to their art studio, which was separated from the living area with an industrial-style roller door.
“Ooh, we’re working with jewelry this week?” I enthused, seeing the equipment and supplies out on their work benches. “You know I love sparkly things.”
Nelson stood up from his chair and gestured me closer. “That we do. What do you think of this?”
I moved around to take his place, peering down at the piece he was working on. Then I looked at his reference image, printed out and stuck on the tabletop beside his workstation.
“Hmm.” I placed my wine down, grabbing their jewelers’ loupe to take a closer look at the ring. “It’s good,” I told them, putting it back down.
Nelson narrowed his eyes. “Good?” he repeated. Hank groaned and ran his hands over his head, leaving his silver hair sticking up all over the place.
I arched a brow at Nelson. “Yeah. Good. Nice.”
“Nice.” He spat the word like it was the worst insult in the world.
“Christ, Ivy, just tell him what’s wrong with it,” Hank pleaded. “I don’t have the energy for this before bed.”
I bit back the desire to laugh, instead keeping my expression cool and calm. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a good attempt.”
Hank threw his hands in the air and Nelson’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
“A good attempt?” my mentor screeched.
“Now you’ve fucking done it,” Hank muttered. “Have I mentioned I hate you?”
Nelson was already storming out of his studio in a rage, muttering curses and gesturing wildly about the green around the gills, no-talent child giving him criticisms.
I grinned at Hank, but he just scowled back at me.
“Fix it,” he told me in a firm voice, pointing a scarlet fingernail in the direction Nelson had just gone. “You broke it, you fix it. Until you do, no wine.” He snatched up my glass before I could reach for it, and I gave a pout.
“You’re no fun,” I grumbled, giving a dramatic eye roll. “Nelson!” I called out, knowing full well he could hear me. “Your claws on the left side are thicker than the right. Even them out and it’s flawless.”
There was a moment's pause, then Nelson came stomping back into the studio with his glasses in hand. Tossing an indignant look my way—that almost made me crack up laughing—he pushed me aside and perched his glasses on his nose. Then he picked up the ring and loupe to check my observation.
“No, they’re not,” he snapped. “You’re wrong, they’re perfect.”
Hank sighed heavily, holding out his hand for the ring and loupe. He took his time checking them, then even fetched out a pair of delicate calipers to measure each claw holding the central pear cut diamond. No one spoke while he checked it, and I stole my wine back from where he’d put it down.
Yum. Hawke’s Bay Syrah.
“So?” Nelson prompted when Hank set the ring back down on the table.
His partner winced. “She’s right.”
Nelson let out a long, irritated sigh, then gave me a narrow-eyed look of respect. “You’re good, Ivy. That damn ring has been bugging me all week. I knew something wasn’t right but couldn’t put my finger on what.”
I grinned, satisfied that I’d been right. It was a test, of course; it always was with Nelson. “Always happy to be of service.”
“So, tell us about this failed date tonight,” Hank prompted, waving me back into the living room with him.
I yawned, taking one of the big comfy armchairs and tucking my feet up under me. “Nothing to tell, he was a self-involved ass who came in one minute or less.”
Nelson made a gagging sound, and I shared a grin with Hank. Nelson and I weren’t related, but he liked to act like my dad some days. The last thing he wanted to hear was the finer details of my crappy one-night stand.
“A better story would be to tell you about the insufferable bastard I met at Boles this morning,” I offered instead, speaking before I could use my better judgment to shut up.
Hank's brows rose in interest. “Oh? Do tell.”
“What’d he do to earn that violent look in your eye, Ives?” Nelson asked, already bristling in my defense. Fuck I loved him.
I drew a deep breath, blowing it out slowly then gulping my wine. “Alright. Let’s start from how he called my Literary Woman an awful and insulting piece of art.”