Indigo Sky

CHAPTER TWELVE

His name was Tyson Murphy. A mean-sounding name for a mean fuckin’ guy.

The cops came and slapped the cuffs on him. They didn’t even bother to ask what had happened after he assaulted Indigo and Saul. They just acknowledged us all with a nod and a, “We’ve got it from here,” then dragged the moaning fucker out.

Then, Sam made the decision to close the club early. He figured there wasn’t much point in staying open when Wendy was taking Saul to the hospital and Indigo was packing up to head home after being attacked. Ivy was already off for the night, and Crystal didn’t want to work the last two hours alone—understandably.

So, the club emptied out, and the rest of us scattered to get ready to leave.

Sam pulled his jacket on and addressed me, standing at the door, waiting to walk Crystal and Indigo to their cars.

“I’ll pay you for a full night,” he said, pulling his wallet out and removing a handful of bills. “Plus an extra hour.”

He counted the money and handed it over as I asked, “Are you sure?”

“Take it. You did good tonight.”

I nodded, not wanting to argue. “Thanks,” I said, tucking the money into my breast pocket with the tips I’d made earlier.

Crystal and Indigo emerged from the backstage hallway, both now wearing yoga pants, sneakers, and sweatshirts—their off-duty uniform. Indigo’s lip was swollen, but the bleeding had stopped. My jacket was draped over one arm, and as she approached, she passed it to me.

“Thank you,” she said, offering a weak smile, then grimaced. She touched her fingers to her fat red bottom lip. “God, this stings.”

Sam nodded sympathetically. “Take a few days, Indie. Feel better.”

She rolled her eyes toward him. “It wasn’t the first time I’d been slapped in the face. I’ll live. I can work.”

He twisted his lips, clearly wanting to argue. “I’m not gonna fight you on this because I know you’re gonna do what you want. But no dancing, all right? Take it easy. You might’ve been slapped in the face before but—"

“ I’ll decide what I can handle, okay?”

He looked like he’d been slapped now as he pressed his lips together and nodded. “All right. All of you, get out of here. Time to lock up.”

I held the door open and let the girls pass while Sam turned off the lights. Crystal’s car was closer to the entrance, and we watched her and waved as she got in and drove away. Indigo’s was farther, and I walked her over while Sam locked the door and headed to his truck, parked in the back.

Indigo was quiet as we approached her little sedan. She kept her head down, her hand wrapped tight around her duffel bag’s strap. I figured she was thinking about what had happened with that dickhead—Tyson. Granted, I didn’t know the extent of it. Didn’t know exactly what he’d done to her. It wasn’t any of my business. But the overwhelming urge to console her swept over me in a tidal wave of anger and empathy. Shit, I could only imagine the type of crap she’d been through over the years, doing what she did for work, and just the idea that men like that existed in this world … men who thought they had the right to take advantage of women—and even other men—for their own sick benefit …

I had never considered murder before, but thinking about men like that pushed me pretty close to it.

“Thank you again,” she finally said as we reached her car door. “For what you did tonight.”

“I was just doing my job,” I replied with a shrug.

“No, you weren’t. Holding him back and keeping him from hurting anyone else—that’s your job. But letting me kick him in the balls …” She turned to finally look up at me, her eyes soft and hurt and grateful and fucking sad . “That was for me, and you didn’t have to do it, but I’m glad you did. So … thank you.”

A thousand questions hung at the tip of my tongue, but all I said was, “You’re welcome, Indigo.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes to the sky above. “Don’t call me that. God, not when we’re out here.”

Out here … I assumed she meant when we weren’t inside the club, and I asked, “What should I call you then?”

“Kate,” she said before sucking in a deep breath and smiling almost wistfully. “ You can call me Kate.”

***

I got home that night, feeling weird. That was the only way I could explain it. Like my heart was ten pounds lighter and my stomach was practicing somersaults.

I kept replaying what she’d said on repeat.

“ You can call me Kate.”

You .

Me .

There was so much emphasis on that you . Like her name—her real fucking name—was meant for me and nobody else, and I felt like a giddy little kid on Christmas trying to figure out what the hell that had meant.

I wanted to see her again. I wanted to see her now .

I wanted to ask her for her number and go to sleep to the sound of her voice, which … yeah, that was weird, too, but holy fuck, I didn’t think I had ever felt like this before. Well, not since the first time we’d met and she gave me my first kiss, but I had understood then that I’d never see her again—or so I’d thought—and it was easy enough to accept that. But now?

We knew each other. We worked together. And I could call her Kate.

I thought about it while I was falling asleep, and I thought about it when I woke up. I thought about it while I was eating breakfast, and Mom asked why I was so quiet. Dad asked why I had a funny look on my face. They both asked if I was okay and if I was sure when I said yes. I just told them I’d had a good night, and funnily enough, apart from Tyson, I had.

Then, I went out to the driveway to work on Dad’s car. Since Roy had fired me, my parents no longer took their cars to his shop. They said they didn’t want to give him the business, out of solidarity.

Besides, they had me to do all the work for them.

Dad’s car needed an oil change. The thing had needed it for a few days, but I’d been waiting for some time off to get it done.

I thought about Indigo— Kate —while I did that too.

“So, is it a girl?” Dad asked casually when he came out to give me a bottle of water.

“What?”

He looked up at the sun and shrugged, curling his lips into a sly, knowing smile. “You know … why you’re looking all mushy-gushy.”

I laughed and shook my head. “ Mushy-gushy ?” I mocked. “Jesus, Dad.”

He tipped his head with another shrug. “What? I don’t know how else to put it! So, is it, or isn’t it?”

“A girl?”

“Yeah.”

I uncapped the water and looked into the crystal liquid before replying, “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Aha!” He snapped his fingers, then clapped his palms together. “I knew it. I told your mother that’s what it was. So, who is she? You know her at work? Is she, uh … one of the, uh …”

He didn’t want to ask if she was a stripper. He didn’t know how to refer to them without sounding disrespectful, and I didn’t know why, but I appreciated him for it.

“Dancers,” I inserted for him. “Yeah. I knew her, um … a long time ago. Nate and I had gone down to Midnight Lotus years ago, and I had met her then. I had no idea she still worked there, but she does, so …”

“ So ,” he replied, his voice teasing, “you got a crush on her?”

I might’ve been thirty-one years old, but I swore my dad would never see me as any older than ten. Sometimes, it annoyed me, but right now, it made me smile.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, peering up at the bright sun overhead.

He clapped a hand against my arm. “Then, she must be a pretty special girl,” he said. “She’d be lucky to go out with you.”

I snorted and turned back to the car, putting the water bottle on the roof. “Gee, thanks, Dad.”

“I mean it, kiddo. You’re a real catch.”

“Sure,” I said, shaking my head as I went back to work.

But, you know, as I changed the oil, I started thinking that maybe he was right. I was a decent guy. Polite. Respectful. Hardworking. I could’ve ended up way worse—that was for damn sure—and while I didn’t think I was really the greatest-looking guy on the planet, I sure as fuck wasn’t the ugliest.

I remembered what Scott had said about dating coworkers, and I started thinking, Hell, why not?

Maybe I wouldn’t ask her out right away; maybe I would test the waters a bit more before jumping in, but after some time, there was no reason I couldn’t ask her to get a drink with me or—

“Hey, Rev.”

The sound of Nate’s voice startled me, and I smacked my head on the hood of Dad’s car.

“Fuck.” I rubbed my forehead, knowing that would be sore for a couple of days. “Warn someone before you sneak up on them next time, okay?” I said, turning to look at my old friend.

He was dressed in a ratty gray T-shirt and torn baggy jeans. His hair was still in his usual buzz cut, leaving only a layer of stubble dotting over his scalp. He looked about the same as he had since we’d been kids, but now, he had let his facial hair grow into a cropped beard. It made him look somehow meaner, more … like someone to avoid, I guessed, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. He wasn’t the only one of us to grow a beard, but while mine made me look older, his just made him look more like a thug.

But he smiled at me in a warm kinda way, and I almost regretted feeling unsettled by his appearance or the fact that he’d shown up at all.

“Sorry about that,” he said and gestured loosely toward my head. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll live.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you going unconscious on my account.”

I forced a half smile. “How’ve you been?”

Nate stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at his beat-up, old truck, parked across the street. “All right, I guess. I was driving by and saw you out here, so I thought I’d stop by. You know, see how you’re doing.” He looked back at me and offered an unsure sort of smile. “It’s been a while.”

It had been a while. A couple of months, give or take. I never went out of my way to see him or even shoot him a text, and I could say the same for him. Which led me to believe he was busy—and that was good. Whether he was staying out of trouble or not was no longer my concern. I was just glad our paths had finally seemed to go in separate directions. Even if those paths crossed briefly in passing, I could deal … just as long as I didn’t feel like he was my responsibility.

"I'm good," I replied, awkward. Unsure of what to do with my hands, apparently. I tucked them into my pockets, pulled them back out, and placed them on my hips. What the hell was wrong with me? "You know, keeping busy."

"Yeah, same here," Nate said, looking beyond me at the house. "How's your mom and dad?"

"Good. Everyone's good. My, uh … my dad's looking to retire soon. Maybe in the next couple of years or so."

He crossed his arms, shifted his stance. "Oh, that's cool."

"He said he wants to get some work done around the house and whatever."

"I should stop by soon and say hi to them."

I gestured behind me. "They're home now if—"

"Nah," he was quick to say. "It's all right. I, um … I don't really have the time right now. But tell them I said hi, okay?"

"Oh, sure. I will."

I thought he'd leave then, thought he'd use his excuse of little time to get back in his car, but he stood there, sniffling and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. I had quit cold turkey when I moved back home, knowing damn well there was no way I'd get away with it while living with my parents. But seeing him pull out a cigarette now brought those old cravings back like it'd been two days since my last smoke and not two years.

He caught my gaze and held the pack out to me. "You want one?"

I gnawed at my bottom lip for a second, weighing out my options, then shook my head. "Nah, I'm good."

Nate looked doubtful. "You look like you're about to start drooling," he said, smirking as he placed the cigarette between his lips. "You quit or somethin'?"

"I quit a while ago."

"Because of your parents?" That smirk only stretched, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You know, your room is still open. If you wanted to come back, I mean."

He lit up and watched me carefully, peering through a cloud of smoke swirling from the end of his cigarette. I peered right back. Was that the whole point of this impromptu visit? To get me to move back in? I couldn't tell, but the suggestion left me bothered. I wanted to ask him to leave, but I still wasn't ready to make him believe I never wanted to see his unhinged ass again.

So, instead, I dropped my gaze and shook my head, feigning embarrassment. "I really can't, man. I'm still just trying to make ends meet, you know? Working odd jobs here and there. Nothing super steady."

It was a lie. I'd been working at the gym for several months now with no plans of quitting, and the job at Midnight Lotus was going well so far. I wasn't making quite enough to live comfortably on my own. With a roommate, however, it'd be no problem.

But there was no way in hell I was moving back in with Nate. Even if it was a good place at a crazy-good price.

"Hmm," Nate muttered, sucking at the end of his smoke and staring up at the sky. He pinched it between his pointer and middle finger and pulled it from his lips. "Yeah, I feel you. Well, I just thought I'd ask. I kinda miss you, you know. It hasn't been the same around the apartment these past couple of years."

"Yeah," I sympathized, nodding. But I said nothing else.

He released a forlorn sigh and dropped the cigarette to the asphalt. It was crushed beneath his boot, and he left it there as he clapped a hand against my shoulder.

"I'm sure I'll see you around though," he said, pulling me in for a one-armed hug.

"Definitely." I reciprocated. "Don't forget to stop by and say hi to Mom and Dad."

"Oh, I will," he replied, taking a step back and smiling in a way that made me almost miss him.

Then, he turned to walk down the driveway toward his car. Relief washed over me, and I returned my attention to Dad's Toyota. But Nate quickly pulled it back.

"Hey, you know, I was just thinking. We should go out soon. Remember that club we went to forever ago? The one where you jizzed in your fuckin' pants?" He cackled and wagged his finger at me. "Man, what was the name of that place? Midnight … Midnight something …"

I swallowed as unease swirled in my gut. I mustered a smile and laughed, pretending to be clueless. "Oh, uh … I don't—"

He snapped his fingers. "Midnight Lotus! That was it. We should go. Have you been there recently? Maybe that bitch is still there. God, can you imagine? What kinda sorry slut sticks around at a fuckin' strip club for that long?"

Then, before I could reply, he chuckled again and waved the whole topic away with a flick of his wrist. "Ah, anyway, I'll see you real soon, Rev."

He strolled casually back to his truck, his hands tucked deep in his pockets. He got in, slammed the door, and drove away without once looking back.

But I watched his every move, half expecting him to turn around at any second, point a pair of finger guns at me, and say, Gotcha!