3. Derek

CHAPTER THREE

Derek

" H APPY BIRTHDAY DEAR VIRGINIAAAAA!" Atlas bellows, grinning his big ass, stupid-as-fuck grin at me while I shoot him the most fatal of death glares. It has absolutely zero impact on the fucker. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO…." He inhales deeply, and as he's about to sing the last part, he does one worse and brings out a fucking kazoo. The noise coming out of the plastic toy is enough to make me decide I'm going to make Atlas' death a slow one.

I calmly place my backpack on my station and look him dead in the eye. "I want you to know that when Howard is of age and wants to seek revenge on me for your murder, I will not only understand, but I'll welcome his attempt." While Atlas tries to calculate my words, I hop over my table, running to tackle him. Atlas runs behind Fox, and I'm about to go through them both when a familiar set of black curls appears around the corner from the front of the shop.

"Oh!" Indy beams as she locks eyes with me, causing my heart to drop to my stomach and my palms to go sweaty. Why is she here? And why does she look so pretty? She has a fucking daisy in her hair, tucked behind her ear, and a soft pink eyeshadow that's glittering in the shop's lights. "Hi Derek!" Her voice is light and musical, like always, "One second!" She runs away before I have time to respond to her initial greeting. Glancing at Fox and Atlas, I give them a raised brow while gesturing to where Indy ran off.

"I thought she worked the night shift?" I mutter as Fox scratches his head.

"Stevie finally got her to give it up, thank god. I stayed up watching the cameras every damn night they were here. It's been exhausting." I nod in understanding. Waiting in the parking lot the other night threw me completely off. I'm still unsure why I felt the need to be here. I knew Brooks could handle it, but I felt restless at home and couldn't get comfortable until I saw them leaving safely that night, though what I saw led me to laying on my futon all night with a million questions circling my head. Brooks had to carry Indy down the steps. I know with her MS, she's not entirely steady, but I didn't realize she was so bad. It makes me wonder how she gets up the flight of steps at the bakery.

Indy comes back around, and… god damn it. She's holding a gift bag with a happy birthday balloon and what appears to be a fucking cupcake. Heat prickles over me, and I shift uncomfortably as she walks over, invading my personal bubble and filling my nose with her pretty scent. "Happy Birthday!" She beams while holding her arms out for me to take the items.

I glare over at the snickering Atlas and Fox. "Really?" I grumble. As if it's not bad enough, Atlas is over here with his fucking kazoo. Now they're conning Indy into pissing me off, too. "You fuckers know I hate this shit. I outta beat your idiotic asses; maybe then y'all would get the fucking hint. I mean, how dense are ya? Do I need to write it in crayon for y'all to take the hint and fuck off?" As I come down from my little rant, I watch both the guy's faces fall.

"Derek…" Fox grimaces, and I already know. I already know because, of course, this is how it's going to play out. Those two have nothing to do with what's in Indy's small hands. They're from her. I wince while turning my gaze back to her and fuck. Her smile's still there, but I've seen her real smile enough to know this one isn't genuine, and her eyes look glassy. I watch her hands shake slightly as she pulls the items back.

"In—"

"Sorry," she whispers, still smiling even though I can see it's breaking, and a massive ache forms in my chest. "I… didn't realize it was really a no-go on the birthday." She lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "I thought it was more of a joke." Her eyes don't meet mine as she backs away. "I'll just take care of this junk." She says before making a beeline to the back before I can say anything to stop her.

"Oh, my god." Atlas groans. "You're such an asshole!" Normally, I'd want to argue with him, but how can I? I am an asshole.

"Dude," Atlas turns to Fox. "Ash is going to kill him." Fox suppresses a laugh as I run my hands through my hair.

"Ash isn't who he should be worried about," Fox mutters while heading to his station. "I mean, Indy just walked into the piercing area where Torch, Ren, and Stevie are."

Atlas nods as he turns to me, face grim. "Yeah, Virginia, you're a dead man."

"Hey, Papa Fox." Janie kisses the large, bearded man on the cheek before sitting on his table. "I'm thinking of tacos for lunch. Sound good?"

"I mean," Fox's suggestive tone is cut short by Janie's warning stare. He clears his throat and nods. "Sure, babydoll, tacos would be amazing. Thank you."

"At! Tacos?" she calls to Atlas, who's in the back room grabbing ink.

"Six beef and a chicken!" He calls back. Janie walks up to my station, and I get ready to tell her I'm not hungry when I'm caught by surprise and thrown off my stool to the ground. Janie sits on my chest as I fight her ninja-like hands.

"Fox!" I yell as I try to hold her back without causing the girl harm. "Get your wom–OW! Janie, what in the fuck?" I scream in a less-than-manly fashion when she gets an iron lock on my nipple and twists.

"Listen here, Rowe," she grinds out through gritted teeth as she twists again, and this time, I think my nipple might be ripping off. Fox tries to come to my aid, but the glare he receives from Janie holds him back. She waits until he holds his hands up in surrender before returning her fiery gaze to me.

"Indy is fucking rainbows and goddamn sunshine. She spent all day yesterday at the hospital getting her infusion and then made you a fucking cupcake and got you a present. If you don't march your cranky old fucking ass back there and apologize for making her cry…" She roughly releases my poor nipple before standing up. "You'll only get the Sweaty Bettys and Stinky Petes from here on out."

I pale as I stare at her. Sweaty Bettys are our less-than-optimal hygienic clients who want something in their nether regions. Stinky Petes, well, that's a dirty dick.

"Fine," I grumble as I get up, still rubbing my abused pec. "I think you just about ripped my nipple off."

"The next time you hurt her, I'll wear your detached nipples around my neck like a goddamn trophy." She warns before spinning around and walking out of the area. I look from where Janie left to the speechless Fox and Atlas.

"Thanks, fuckers." I grumble, and they both burst out laughing.

"Derek," Fox says between his fits of laughter. "You think I'm dumb enough to get in the middle of her wrath?"

"You got your ass beat by a hundred-pound girl." Atlas snorts, and I punch him in the shoulder.

"It's not like I could've fought her. Fuck you both." I shove past them as I head into the back. I glance at the piercing area and decide not to listen to Janie. Mainly because if I go back there and get yelled at by Stevie, I'll snap. Why is it my fault she got upset? I didn't ask for anything. I don't want anything. And because I prefer to be left alone, I'm the dick? I open the door to the break room and walk in, wondering why it's so hard for everyone to just leave me be and deal with their own lives.

"Fuck." I groan out loud and then punch myself mentally for the slip. Indy sits on the couch, and I watch her flinch at my reaction to her presence.

"Sorry," she says, giving me that annoying ass fake smile. "Just let me finish this email, and I'll leave you alone."

"N-No, you're fine, Indy," I mutter and sit on the opposite end of the couch; my knees instantly begin to bounce. While she taps away on her phone, I take the opportunity to steal a glance, or three, at her. She's wearing checkered Converse shoes… with no socks; that's weird. Why isn't she wearing socks? Does she not know the importance of socks? She's ruining the insides of those shoes faster. Her slender, pale legs are bare and on full display with her light wash jean shorts that stop way too fucking high up on her thighs, and she has a baggy, off-the-shoulder shirt is white with a cartoon drawing of a green olive with the word "you" under it. I glance at the bracelet on her small wrist; it's blue today.

"What's with the shirt?" Why did I ask that? Why do I care? Indy stops typing and looks at me. Her fucking resting face is a smile. What the fuck? How is she that happy of a person?

"You like it?" She smiles as she looks down at the front. "Sunday got it for me."

"I don't get it," I mutter, staring at the shirt in confusion. Damn it, I don't know which is worse, the fake smile from before or this real one she's directing at me.

"Say it out loud." She wiggles her hips as she sits taller to put her shirt on display.

"You?" I state, and she lets out a laugh that does some weird fucking thing to my heart that I refuse to acknowledge.

"No, goofy." Goofy? I have been called many things in my life, none being "Goofy." Indy points to the olive and then to the word "you."

"Olive… you?" I say, and her whole face brightens.

"Olive you, too!" she giggles. Oh. Fuck, I got to get out of here.

"Oohhh," I let out a nervous laugh. "That's clever." I go to stand when I feel Indy's hand around my wrist, and my whole body is on fire instantly with just that touch. I stare at her hand before looking into her glacial blue eyes.

"Derek," Nope, nope, absolutely not. Do not say my name like that, or at all. Fucking damn it. I will the sensations coursing through my body to die and rot, but she continues to torture me with that sweeter-than-honey voice. Seriously, it's so beautiful and harmonious. I guarantee a fucking angel weeps every time she laughs or speaks. "I'm so sorry for earlier."

"Not your fault. I apologize for my abrasiveness. I just figured the guys were giving me shit."

She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, "Nope! Just me being way too much, as usual! At the burrito shop, you said I wouldn't be here on your birthday. So, I wanted to prove you wrong. Umm… your bag is over there if you want it. But please, don't feel like you have to take it or anything." Her phone rings, and she looks down and sighs before turning back to me and smiling brightly. "I have to take this. Happy birthday, Derek."

She walks out of the break room, leaving me alone. I look over at the small bag in the corner. I should just leave it there and walk away. Nothing good will come out of me opening that bag. Gifts are obligations. I'm required to look at it and pretend to like whatever it is, and then what? Display the damn thing for the rest of my life because, god forbid, the giver thinks I hate it? Gifts are stupid. To show someone generosity, but you're really giving them the responsibility of making sure they know how much you love that gift? It's a fucking scam.

Still, I groan before storming over and snatching up the stupid bag. I reach inside, pulling out the wad of sparkly tissue paper. Why is it so damn glittery? Did she sneeze fairy dust on it or something? I unwrap the white box and open it, pulling out a coffee mug.

"Fresh out of fucks," I read on the front of the mug. God fucking damn it, that might actually be a little funny. I go to put the mug back in the box when I see a small bag tucked into it. As I open the bag, I put the contents in my hand and frown in confusion. Is it a bracelet?

I look at the bracelet in my hand, brows furrowed. Did she buy me jewelry? I mean, the bracelet is cool, I guess. Black rough beads with a few reddish-brown ones scattered around. But why?

My thoughts are interrupted when Stevie walks in. "Derek." She says crisply, brushing past me.

"I talked to her. No need to be mad at me." I grumble, still looking at the bracelet.

"She did a good job considering how bad her night was," Stevie states while grabbing a drink from the fridge.

"What?" I ask, giving her my attention. She gestures to the bracelet in my hand.

"The bracelet she made you. She was bad last night after her doctor's visit. Not as bad as today, but not great. Still, she insisted on making you that cupcake and that bracelet."

"Wait, she made this?" Stevie nods, taking another drink.

"Lava rock and red tiger's eye. I think it's supposed to represent protection and strength. I'm not sure; she was researching and making it for you. I told her the mug she bought you would be enough, but she insisted on making that." I look back down at the bracelet, and anxiety fills me. I shake my head.

"No," I state firmly and hold it out to Stevie. "I don't… I can't take this. That's nice and all, but no." I watch as her face falls and her blue eyes narrow.

"Derek Rowe, Indy made—"

"I didn't ask her to!" I snap, causing Stevie to flinch. "All of you! You need to stop this shit. I'm not Fox, Atlas, or Ash. I don't want to be friends. I don't want to get close. I was fine with how things were!"

I rip the door open and storm back to my area, putting the mug on top of my station's table before quickly stuffing my belongings into my bag. I need the fuck out of here. This is too much, and I'm going to say something that will hurt someone if I don't get the fuck out.

"What's going on?" Fox asks, and I shake my head as Stevie huffs from somewhere behind me.

"You don't want us to be your friend, Derek? Fine, you don't have to worry about that. God, you're such an ass."

"I'm an ass because I have boundaries?" I call from over my shoulder. "I don't want friends. I don't want you to check on me." I point to Janie. "I don't want you fuckers to include me in your bromance." I glare at Fox and Atlas before turning to Indy, who's now standing by Stevie with a confused expression on her face. "And I don't want birthday cakes and gifts. I want to be alone." As I swing my backpack over my shoulder, I hear it connect with something before the sound of something breaking echoes through the area. I turn to see what I hit. Fuck

I see the mug Indy gave me scattered on the ground in several pieces. I stare at it in stunned silence. The feeling in my chest is like a vice grip on my heart. I glance up to see Indy's red face for only a second before she storms off.

"I'll get the vacuum," Janie mutters.

"No," I state firmly as I go to my knees and pick up the pieces. Indy's the first person to get me something in a long fucking time, and I just carelessly broke it right in front of her. Goddamn it, I am an asshole.

I gather up all the pieces I can find and hold them close to my chest as I stand up. Staring out at the silent group, I take a breath, trying to regain my composure. "I'm going to go grab some glue." I manage out evenly. "I'll be back. Don't nobody touch my table or station." I state and brush past everyone to head out to the craft store.

"Hey Virginia," Atlas says, his voice cautious as he approaches me cautiously, like I'm some sort of wild animal. I've been slowly gluing all the mug pieces back together, which has become a much more difficult task than I had initially thought. I look over at him with a raised brow. "I'm walking Indy and Stevie out and then going home. You good to lock up?" I nod before going back to the mug. It'll never be functional, but I have to fix this fucking thing the best that I can.

"Yeah, I got it. Night." I listen as Atlas and the girls leave out the back, and once the quiet hits me, I exhale and set the glue bottle down. I blew up at them earlier, and while they're all pains in my ass, none of them deserved that. Despite not wanting to, I do like them all—at least, as much as I'm willing to allow. But today has been too much. I've hated my birthday since I found my bitch of an ex-wife fucking my best friend on my birthday nearly two decades ago. It's not a time I like remembering and treating today like anything other than a typical day usually ends in me acting like this.

Leaning my head to one side, I stare at the drying mug while absentmindedly spinning the bracelet beads in my hand. Fresh Out of Fucks. And I lost my final fuck and broke the mug. Funny.

Tucking the bracelet into my jeans pocket, I groan while roughly rubbing my hands over my face in frustration. Fuck this day; I swear to Christ, I would've called off and stayed home had I realized this hell is what would be waiting. And now Indy is back to working days, and I fucking hurt her feelings.

I'm unsure how long I've been staring off. Minutes? Hours? It's unclear, but as I look at the clock, I let out a long sigh. My schedule has been thrown off for the third time in the last week, and it's probably another reason for my outburst. I cringe at the loud vibration of my phone on the top of my metal station. Who in the hell is calling me? Especially this late?

I see the contact, and my stomach drops as I hit accept.

"Stevie? What's wrong?" I hear heavy breathing and Stevie sighing loudly.

"Hey Derek, are you still at Hel's?" she asks between labored breaths.

"Yeah? What's wrong?" I ask again, with more force this time.

"Listen. Indy. Will you stop?!" she growls before coming back to the phone. "Derek, I can't get Indy up the stairs. I'm in too much pain, and she doesn't have the strength to do it herself. She's stuck."

"I'll be there in five." I rush out before hanging up the phone and heading out of the shop.