Even Lines: A Slowburn Romance Story

Part 6: Keep It

I felt weird about putting my shirt on. One of us should make a joke, I thought. Something small or stupid like so there was your tip. Instead we searched in silence for our clothes, and it was a pain in the ass trying to find everything. My button-up ended up somehow mysteriously shoved into the corner of the room under a clipboard. I ended up holding it in my hands, looking at it. I didn't want to put it back on.

Finally I took off his t-shirt and offered it to him. "I suppose you'll be wanting this back."

"Keep it," he said, "I have spares."

"Right," I said and took a step towards him, so I was finally close enough to see the single picture on the counter. I found what looked like a lighter, less brooding version of him and a woman smiling broadly back at me, like they were in such a happy bubble they'd be willing to let anyone in. She was the dead center of the picture, beautiful in a breezy way, with more piercings on her nose and ears and eyebrows than I'd ever seen, like adornments on a deity.

"Hey," he said and reached for me, but then the door chimed open and a different female voice called, "Did you forget I existed?"

I ducked towards the door and fled down the hall past the wide-eyed woman from the picture. Her piercings glinted at me.

"Sorry," I muttered, though I made sure not to bump into her as I passed. Over my shoulder, I called, "Thank you for your work." I left and I didn't look back.

I had it all mapped out in my head by the time I'd gotten off the highway. They were a husband and wife that owned the parlor. It'd been a slow day, and she was dying to go out on the town for a date night and he did her a favor, offering to close down, saying he'd meet her shortly while she had the first round, and then I'd walked in and he thought he might as well make easy money to pay with later and then when I'd all but thrown myself at him, he thought he might as well make easy work of that too. It was a little habit of his, the reason he kept so many spare t-shirts here, for all the customers that walked out with it like a badge. Maybe he kept count. I left it rumpled in the car. It had a little ink on the hem that I knew wouldn't come out anyways even if I tried.