When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 29

“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 but I was too preoccupied with Olly to bother with him.

“I can yell you later?” I hissed, disbelief at her nerve on my face. “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 glittering with unshed tears. “I know,” she added softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would happen.”

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. She really was born to test my limits.

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 sighed again, 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 it 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 so far 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 directed at our audience.

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 notice.

“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’s pretty good at it too,” he chipped in.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was obvious she was good otherwise, why else would he have hired a seriously under-aged freshman? Besides, as her sister, I knew better than he did how artistically gifted she was.

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.

I eyed it distrustfully and readied myself to deny the proffered hand. Before I could though, Masked Idiot next to me shook the proffered hand. 

I just wasn’t a fan of unnecessary and avoidable skin contact.

“Nice to meet you,” he slid in smoothly.

“Yeah.” Trevor nodded, sizing him up.

Trevor had the tall lean build of an athlete. It worked with his delicate features to create an appealing look. It gave him a lazy artsy vibe. Unfortunately, Masked Idiot moonlighted as a boxer so he was more built and -luckily- tall enough to escape coming off as stocky. Bottom line, Masked Idiot won but it was a close match. Trevor’s cobalt eyes almost put him in first place. Almost.

I, however, barely spared either boy a glance.

“What have you done so far?” I faced Olly, gesturing to the car.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“Smart.” I nodded in approval.

“She wouldn’t let us even take a look at it.” Trevor chipped in, closing the distance between us. “We could’ve got her started,” he added gesturing between himself and Max.

I ignored his comment, catching Olly’s eye.

“Good call,” I mouthed soundlessly.

If they’d so much a touched the inner workings of the car, our mom would know the way mothers always seem to know things. It was an annoying and seriously inconvenient superpower but there was nothing Olly or I could do about it. It was a good thing she waited for me to arrive so I could make sure everything was put back exactly how our mum left it when the repairs were finished.

“Open her up,” I ordered.

She complied but not before exaggeratedly rolling her eyes me.

“You sure you can fix it?” My question was directed to Trevor.

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation.

I was completely sure he didn’t take the question seriously. He had no reason to. Olly and I, on the other hand, had a lot riding on this. I bit my lip nervously, contemplating the pros and cons of letting him have at it.

“Hey,” Masked Idiot nudged me, drawing my attention his way.

I arched an eyebrow.

“I can help,” he revealed.

The brow went higher. He rolled his eyes.

“I used to rebuild old cars with my dad when I was younger. I still do actually.”

“Of course you did.” I shook my head. “Rich people crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure normal people do that too,” he defended.

“Maybe,” I acquiesced. “But you said old cars and we both know what you really meant was vintage. Which translates to expensive. I’m sure normal people don’t mean that or order fancy pricy spare parts from Vermont.”

“Vermont isn’t really a car--”

“You get my point,” I interrupted, waving his rebuttal off. “But, yeah, sure. Have a go at it. And please don’t screw this up.”

I took a mental picture of everything under the bonnet while Olly took several literal ones before we both stepped aside to let the boys who were wondering why we were being so fussy get to work.

Greg and Max returned to the shop. Since there wasn’t much else Olly and I could do about the car problem -I was really hoping it was just a displaced plug or something easily fixed-, I placed both hands on my hips and faced my sister.

“A tint?” I hissed. “Really?”

She had enough sense to look sheepish as she fingered the ends of her hair.

“It’ll wash out before she gets back and I won’t let dad see. I promise.”

I started to tell her how stupid a risk it was but sighed and gave up before I got the words out.