When Perfect Meets Crazy

28 - My long distance boyfriend

"What," I spat, all but pouncing on my sister. "The. Hell."

"You can yell at me later," she said dismissively, hurrying me towards where our mom's car was parked.

From my peripheral vision, I noticed Masked Idiot smirk lightly. I was preoccupied enough with Olly to bother with him.

"I can yell you later?" I hissed. "I'm going to kill you later! What the hell were you thinking!"

She flinched, shrinking away.

Unfortunately, I was already on a roll. She had crossed one too many lines for me to even try to keep my anger in check.

"Mom's car!" I yelled, highlighting her transgressions. "You spoilt Mom's car! At a tattoo parlor, Olly! A fucking tattoo parlor! Are you trying to get me killed? Have you lost your--"

"I know!" she snapped, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I know," she added softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't think..." She let out a sigh, sniffling quietly as she raised her head skyward to keep from crying.

I swallowed the 'clearly' on the tip of my tongue and sighed.

Masked Idiot who had, till now, smartly stayed out of my line of sight stepped forward, flashing me a 'what's the plan?' look.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let my eyes drift shut for a moment while I mentally regrouped.

I drew in a deep breath, opened my eyes and faced the problem; my mom's car.

Olly mustered a wobbly smile. I returned the smile as best as I could but it came out forced and more grimace than smile.

I turned away to survey the surroundings, taking note of; the purple tinge to Olly's hair tips -how I missed it priorly was beyond me-, the two pierced boys leaning against the wall, blatantly eavesdropping -not that I had made any efforts to be quiet in my rage- and the middle aged man smiling sympathetically at Olly.

"Hey." Masked Idiot broke the stiff silence that had descended with a crooked smile.

I rolled my eyes to heaven and back, stifling the urge to sigh.

Olly, finally getting a hold of herself, stepped in to handle the introductions.

"These are Max, Trevor and Greg," she said, gesturing to each one as she called out their name. "And this is my sister and..."

"Ian," he slid in smoothly.

She arched a brow, throwing a curious look my way.

I pretended not to see it.

"Greg," I said, turning to the middle aged shop owner. "What does my sister do here?"

"I help with the designs," she piped up. "I sketch them on paper," she quickly added before my mind could go down the 'you tattoo people?' rabbit hole.

I arched an eyebrow, wordlessly communicating, 'Did I ask you?' to which she pouted and averted her gaze to the floor.

Greg smiled. "She pretty good at it too," he chipped in, holding up some of what I assumed were her sketches.

She was pretty good but I knew that as soon as she told me what her job description was.

Olly had always been artistically gifted.

So I moved on, suspiciously eyeing the two boys I placed to be somewhere in their late teens or early twenties. "And you guys...?"

Trevor pushed off the wall and came to stand before me. "I design. Like Olly. I also tat. Max tats and handles the books." He stretched out a hand.