Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“Keys,” he says, holding out his hand.

I swallow as I place my keys in his hand, still staring at his face. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” he says before stalking away, twirling my key ring which holds exactly two keys—my apartment and my car.

As soon as the door to the garage closes and the man is gone, it’s like the air inside the room changes.

“He’s something else,” she says to the computer screen, and I’m about to agree with her when her phone rings. She glances down, and her lips purse. “One sec.” She taps the screen as she lifts the phone to her ear. “Hey, Ma. What’s up?”

I move away from her desk, making myself appear to be busy studying the posters and artwork around the waiting room. I hate when people eavesdrop on my conversations, and I do my best not to do it to her.

“How bad is it?” she asks her ma and pauses. “Take off some of his layers and give him something cold to drink.” Another pause and a sigh. “Yeah, Ma, a popsicle works too.” Another pause.

I turn, seeing her listening intently, but also rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, you can take him in the pool. The water should cool him down. I’ll leave the shop in a few minutes to get him.” She raises a finger at me, and I feel bad about being caught watching her. “It’s okay. I’ll be there soon.”

She hangs up her phone and lets out a loud sigh. “Sorry about that. Sick kid.”

“Sucks,” I mutter, but I really have no idea. I can’t imagine having a kid and trying to work. Add in them being sick and it’s a whole new complicated ball game.

“I only need your name and number for your file. Mammoth will finish up everything else when he’s done checking your tire.”

“Mammoth?”

She smiles at me as she types away on the keyboard. “My husband. The guy who was in here before.”

The name is fitting, and I don’t know who’s luckier to be married to the other. “No problem. My name is—”

“Opal?” a woman calls out.

I spin around, finding the woman from the tattoo shop the night Jeff thankfully exited my life. “It’s me,” I say with a tight smile because, for the life of me, I can’t remember her name.

She marches up to me, her arms wide. “Oh my God. It’s so good to see you,” she says, throwing those wide arms around my body to hug me. “I’ve thought about you more than a few times, and Stone and I talked about you.”

Great. They’ve talked about me. What does that mean? No. Maybe I don’t want to know.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, because what else does someone say at a time like this?

“You’re Opal?” the woman asks from behind the desk. “The Opal?”

I don’t know who The Opal is, but now, I’m guessing she’s me. “I think so.”

The tattoo-shop woman releases me from her tight embrace and turns her head toward the woman at the desk. “Tam, this is her. Stone’s girl.”

Stone’s girl?

The woman behind the desk, who I now know as Tam, shoots straight up out of her seat. “No way. Un-fucking-believable. You’re Stone’s Opal?”

I shrug, confused.

“Gigi, this is crazy,” Tam says to the woman who walked in.

“Totally bananas, Tam. What are the chances?”

The women stare at me, beaming with so much excitement and joy it almost vibrates off them.

“You need to tell him,” Tam says.

Gigi shakes her head. “He’ll lose his shit.”

Stone called me a few times to check up on me, but nothing more has come from our talks. He helped me at a time when no one else would do the same. I liked Stone…liked him a little too much, but it was clear to me the feelings weren’t mutual.

It has been weeks since the last time he called. I figured he moved on and forgot about me, but clearly, these two women think otherwise.

“He won’t care,” I tell them. “It’s not a big deal.”

Two wide-eyed women turn their heads in my direction.

“What are you talking about?” Gigi asks, her eyes back to normal but her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He won’t care?”

I nod. “We’re friends.” I swallow, twisting my fingers together in front of me. “Or we were. He hasn’t called in a while, so…”

“Girl,” Gigi says, getting a little more animated. “That man is head-over-fucking-heels for you.”

I blink. “He’s head-over-fucking-heels for me?”

Tam laughs. “Never seen him so twisted over a chick.” She tilts her head, studying me. “But now that I’m seeing her, I get it. She’s got it.”

“What’s it?” I whisper, suddenly feeling like I’m under a microscope.

“The looks. The body. Everything is sheer perfection,” Tam answers.

“I’m sure Stone doesn’t have an issue with finding women who have good bodies and are pretty,” I tell her.

Tam laughs. “You’re not lying, but I never hear about them. You, though…” She shakes her head. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

Weird.

He may be talking about me, but he isn’t talking to me. “That’s…” I don’t know what to say. Is it nice? I guess it is.