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appear innocent but they really aren’t. I’m hip to this game.
    “Janelle.” She smiles at me.
    This is a business transaction, plain and simple. “So what are you thinking?” I ask, tearing my gaze from hers. She’s one of those man-eaters, and I’m staying the fuck away. Wouldn’t touch that shit with a ten-foot pole—or an eight-inch dick.
    “I just got a divorce,” she tells me, twisting a long lock of hair around her finger, turning those eyes up towards me again. “I’m thinking a butterfly, because I’m breaking out of my cocoon.”
    Fuck me. This shit always happens to me. I always get the women who are finding themselves . Ten bucks says she wants it on her back, right in the middle.
    “Alright,” I tell her, nodding, trying to keep the judgment out of my voice and off my face. “Where are you thinking about getting it, and what size?”
    She turns, presenting her back to me and tilting her ass up. Shit. I watch as she lifts the edge of her T-shirt up and points to her lower back. I owe myself ten bucks.
    “Right here, so when I look in the mirror, I can see it,” she smiles.
    Or if some guy is fucking you from behind he’s got a focus point, I want to say, but I don’t. Instead I give her a smile of my own. “Is this the one you want?” I ask, as I point to the book that’s sitting in front of her on the counter.
    “Yes!”
    “Let me go get gloved up and ready.” I give her another smile.
    When I turn and see Trix gazing my way, I mouth fuck me . She laughs, because she understands and gets it. These little jobs do help pay the bills, but they aren’t what I love to do. Custom work is my bread and butter, and it’s what feeds my soul. This is tedious, but I try to give it my time and the same attention as a custom piece.
    I walk into the back to grab some more color and pull my phone out of my pocket when it vibrates against my leg.
    Devin, this doesn’t have to be this hard, but I’m not arguing with you over text. If you want to be an ass, you can be an ass to me in person. I get off work in an hour, expect me.
    I do. In fact, I can’t wait. I know it will only infuriate her more that I don’t answer. She can see that I’ve read it, and I know she’ll sit there and stew. By the time she gets to the shop, she will be breathing fire, and her nostrils will be flaring.
    Grabbing everything I need, I make my way back to the main floor. “C’mon, Janelle, go ahead and follow me.”
    I bring her back to my station and start setting up. Her eyes are burning a hole into my back, and I can almost hear them moving around my area.
    “Is that your wife?” she asks, gazing at one of the pictures I’ve kept up of Nina.
    I took a lot down, especially in the very beginning when my anger was at a slow boil, and every time I looked at it, I was reminded of the hurt I felt watching her drive away. Now, it doesn’t hurt so much to look at her from the happier times. What does hurt is knowing that at some point I’m going to have to sign those papers. But I refuse to do that until I have the answers to my questions.
    “It is.” I hope my tone tells her I don’t want to talk about this, but she presses on.
    “You wear a ring; you have a picture of her in your station. You must love her a lot.” Her voice is wistful.
    This is what I’ve always wanted Nina to see. That no matter how busy I’ve been, no matter how many hours I’ve spent here, she’s never too far from my mind. Everything I’ve done is for her. For us. I give Janelle a self-deprecating grin. “I do, but like you, I’m going through a divorce.”
    Janelle turns to face me, her mouth so close to mine all I have to do is lean forward and I can capture her lips with my own. “Then that bitch doesn’t know what she’s losing. My husband never wore a ring, he never had a picture of me, and he sure as hell didn’t keep it on after I filed.”
    A throat clears, but I don’t bother to look up, people come through here all