It was time to clear the air. I didn’t want to be a
pawn in their twisted love story. I hailed a cab.
“Seriously, Sarah,” Ashley called after me, “you
don’t have to be so sarcastic.”
Sarcastic? “And I don’t need your ‘luck‘,” she
continued. “Mark will always love me, no matter
what. I don’t have to lift a finger.”
I glanced back. “Well, then, little sister wishes
you a happy second marriage.” I smiled,
stepped into the cab, and left her speechless, standing there in the fading light.
- 13.
The city lights blurred past the taxi window. “Clocks Go Backwards” played on the radio. The driver, sensing my mood, said, “You know,
they say if you listen to ‘Clocks Go Backwards‘
a thousand times, you can go back in time.”
“Really? You believe that?”
“Gotta believe in something, right? Keeps you
going. Try it.”
“Okay,” I said, though I’d listened to that song
nearly two thousand times. I wanted to go back
more than anyone, back to when Jake was
alive. Back to our first meeting.
- 14.
After my stepmom arrived, I felt like an outsider
in my own home. I’d wander around after
school, avoiding the house. That’s how I
stumbled into Jake’s tattoo shop, “Old Harbor,”
tucked away on a quiet side street. Two walls
were lined with bookshelves
―
novels,
magazines, graphic novels. There were small
wooden tables. I thought it was a study spot, so
I sat by the window and started my homework.
A shirtless, tattooed guy emerged from the
back, making me jump. “Whoa, easy there! I’m a
nice guy, see?” he said, clutching his chest
dramatically.
“Dude, put a shirt on,” a smooth voice called
from behind him. A t–shirt sailed through the
air, landing on the guy’s head.
The man who followed was tall, broad-
shouldered in a black t–shirt. He had a cool,
striking presence.
“Sorry,” I stammered, gathering my books. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…whatever you were doing.”
He blocked my path. “Hold on, kid. Did you misunderstand something?”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I mumbled. “You don’t
have to explain.”
