Sketch
Authors: Laramie Briscoe
A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance
Laramie Briscoe
Copyright © 2015 Laramie Briscoe
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. The author recognizes and acknowledges the copyright of Godsmack. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Edited by:
Lindsay Gray Hopper
Cover Art by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs
Proofread by: Dawn Bourgeois & Monica Holloway
Beta Read by: Keyla Handley & Danielle Wentworth
Formatting: Paul Salvette,
BB ebooks
The Heaven Hill Series
Meant To Be
Out of Darkness
Losing Control
Worth The Battle
Dirty Little Secret
Second Chance Love
Rough Patch
Beginning of Forever
The Rockin’ Country Series
Only The Beginning
One Day at A Time
The Price of Love
Full Circle
Hard To Love
The Red Bird Trail Trilogy
Flagger
Collision
In Tune
Coming Soon
Sass – March 2016
Heaven Hill #9 (Mandy’s Story)
Thank you to April, Allison, Dee, Heather Anne, Carian, and Ash who told me that I wasn’t crazy for taking a chance on something new!
My name is Devin, but everybody calls me Sketch. I opened my own tattoo shop two years ago, and I’ve finally gotten to the point where I’m going to be able to give my wife everything she’s ever wanted. I’m going to be able to take time off and spend a day a week with her. In fact, tonight, I stopped and grabbed some wine, got her flowers, and those chocolates she likes.
What I wasn’t prepared for was to be met at the front door by her carrying her shit out.
She loves me, but she’s not in love with me anymore.
What kind of bullshit excuse is that
? I’ve left her alone too often, I’ve been completely focused on one goal, and apparently she’s sick of waiting.
So here I stand. Half the man I was, pissed as fuck, because while I was busy making a better life for us, she was under the impression I was leaving her lonely. I know one day she’ll see what I’ve been doing has been for us, and when that day comes…
She
can damn well come crawling back to
me
.
SKETCH
“I
love you,
but I’m no longer
in love
with you, Devin.”
The words echo off the hardwood floor I had paid to have put in our home, they bounce off the walls Nina and I had painstakingly painted yellow. I remember the argument we got into about the trim color; an argument I won by tackling her to the, then carpeted, floor and fucking her into submission.
What had happened to that couple? When had that changed?
“I don’t even know what to say.” And I didn’t. Shock and something akin to anger boil in my gut. I want to scream and punch, ask what the fuck is wrong with her, but those words won’t come. I can’t push them past my lips.
She sighs. “That’s precisely the problem, Devin; you never know what to say. You never know when you’re going to be home, you never know what your schedule is going to be. I can’t do this. When was the last time we had sex? When was the last time
you
told
me
that you love me? Devin, I’m done.”
There it is again. My real name. For the past seven years I’ve been Sketch. Through my apprenticeship and now at my own shop. Most people don’t even know my real fuckin’ name, and here she’s used it twice in one conversation.
“You’re done?” I sound like a parrot, but I can’t help it. This shit is coming out of left field for me. I’m standing here like a chump, holding a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a box of chocolates. Following her out to the driveway, I watch as she walks awkwardly, holding duffel bags in each arm.
“Yeah, Devin. Done.” She rolls her eyes and continues putting her stuff in the car. The car, I might add, I bought her with the first profit that my shop turned.
“Do you even see what I’m holding, Nina?” I ask, thrusting my hands towards her.
“It’s too late,” she tells me, finally showing some emotion.
There are tears in her eyes and I wonder why. It’s not like I’m the one leaving her. I still have no idea where any of this is coming from. “Too late? This is me telling you that I finally have the time. Babe, we’re gonna live our lives.”
“I’ve
been
living, Devin.” She stomps her foot. “It’s you who’s had your head up your ass at that goddamn tattoo shop.”
That’s it. My stomach drops, and I see for the first time the ungrateful bitch she’s become. I feel anger overtake me. “That goddamn tattoo shop has provided you with a good life, Nina,” I yell.
Throwing the stuff down I have in my hands, I let it smash into a million pieces and watch it roll towards the car. Just like my life, it’s a jumbled up mess of shattered hopes and a river full of broken dreams.
SKETCH
Six Months Later
T
he pounding of
my feet against the pavement is a constant I’ve had in my life for the past six months. The rubber soles of my shoes give as my legs eat up the miles. I breathe deeply and calmly, allowing myself to find my rhythm. In my ears, Godsmack pierces my quiet with heavy drums and blistering guitars. I mouth the words as I continue on my now three-mile journey.
When I first started this route six months prior, it had been because I was so pissed off, because I was so crippled by the grief of my wife leaving me. Today, I do it because it makes me feel good about myself.
Turning into the driveway and running towards the garage, I run around the back and go in through the kitchen, off the deck. So far Nina hasn’t asked for the house, and I don’t think she will. It’s too much upkeep for her, and I’ve made a few changes. Falling into that black hole wasn’t an option, and it still isn’t.
Gone is the cheery yellow that had once been our living room color; in its place is a neutral gray. A new TV is now on the wall, and the frilly couch she had picked out is gone too. Now, there’s a sectional that allows me to kick back, relax, and play games, watch porn, whatever the case may be.
I’m breathing heavily as I walk back into the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, and grab a bottle of water. Popping the top, I lift the mouth to my own and drain it, gulping down the cool liquid before I put the empty bottle to my forehead. Grabbing my cell phone off the counter, I see that I’ve missed a call and have a voicemail. Dialing, I put the phone on speaker as I walk towards the bedroom where the master bath is, taking off my sweaty clothes.
“Hey, Devin, I know you don’t recognize this number, but I had to get a new phone since you cut me off our plan.”
It’s the voice of my soon-to-be ex-wife. I grin to myself at the thought of removing her from our cell phone plan. She left me high and dry, and as petty as it sounds, it gives me a little thrill to do the same to her.
“I have a few things at the house I would like to come and get,” she is saying. “Please either text me or call me back with a time that’s convenient for you.”
So proper. Even when we first started dating, we hadn’t been that proper. I swallow roughly, realizing how far the two of us had drifted from one another. It isn’t like I hadn’t realized it within two weeks after she left, but this is a stark reminder. Glancing at the clock, I see I only have an hour to take a shower and get to the shop. Grabbing my phone, I think long and hard about the text I want to send her.
I work today. Shop closes at ten, be here at ten-thirty?
I don’t hold much hope she will text me back, but I carry my phone with me to the bathroom anyway, putting it on the counter as I let the water warm up. Just before I step under the spray, my text beeps. Nina.
Typical. Put the shop first. I’ll see you at ten-thirty.
*
“Hey boss!”
I look up as Jackie, my front counter girl, welcomes me into my shop, also called
Sketch
. This place, it’s been my home, my salvation, my reason for living for the last six months. I love everything here.
“You’re here early,” I tell her. Usually I’m the first one here, and she’s dragging ass through the door with five minutes to spare.
Jackie scrunches her nose at me. “I had an early class. Figured for once I would be early.”
“I’m gonna head over to the coffee shop before I get started. I need caffeine,” I tell her as I do a quick sweep of the shop. It’s a habit I have; making sure everything is in its place. I have worked my ass off to have it. I want to make sure I keep it.
“Can you grab me something too?” she asks, bending over to pull money out of her purse.
There’s a reason Jackie is my front counter girl. She’s built for sin, and she dresses for it too. There have been a few times, especially in the last few weeks, when she’s looked at me like she’s interested, but I won’t do that. I value my shop, and there’s still too much to deal with when it comes to Nina.
“Yeah, whatever you want, I got it,” I tell her.
“Thanks.” She gives me a flirty smile. “Do you want the agenda?”
I always want the agenda. Being on top of things here allows me to forget that my personal life has gone to shit. “Hit me.”
