As I stumble out of Sloan’s apartment, my head filled with memories of last night and a goofy smile plastered on my face, I turn to Ollie, finding a matching knowing grin on his. His grin tells me he’s just as thrilled about what he walked in on as I was to be a part of it. Not to mention the whirlwind of crazy that was Lotte. That woman is a force to be reckoned with, and even from that brief interaction, I can tell she’s not someone I want to be on the wrong side of.
“Well, that was interesting,” Ollie says through a cackling laugh, throwing his arm over my shoulder and attempting to pull me into a headlock.
“That’s one word for it,” I chuckle, throwing off his hold and shoving him away. He stumbles back and almost falls flat on his ass in the gutter as he trips over the curb, sending both of us into another round of laughter, leaving us each wiping tears from our faces as we catch our breath.
“So, how was your night, Romeo?” he asks once we settle down again, his tone dripping with amusement.
I roll my eyes playfully, unable to hide my grin. “Let’s just say it was memorable, my friend. But enough about me. Do you have any appointments free today?”
Ollie nods, his eyes twinkling. “I can fit you in, no problem. What are we working on?”
I lean in closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Remember the back piece you did for me? The one with the Spirit of Hops logo? Well, I want to add something to it. Something that will be a little surprise for Sloan and hopefully blow her away.”
Ollie’s eyes widen in excitement, and he claps me on the back. “Ah, you hopeless romantic you. I’m in. Let’s make it something she’ll never forget.”
With a spring in our step, we head down the street to Ollie’s shop. The familiar buzz of tattoo machines fills the air, and the scent of ink and antiseptic hits me as soon as we enter. Doc, the older artist that works here with Ollie and his apprentice, Dolly, are back in his station working on some jock-looking kid from the college across the river judging by his hoodie.
I follow Ollie to his station and plop myself down in his chair as he rummages through the drawers in his cabinet for some pencils and his sketchbook.
“So, Kendric, my man, the woo-er of the rainbow force of nature that is our dear Sloan, what did you have in mind?” he asks once he settles on his stool and turns to face me.
I give him a quick rundown of my idea, but leave a lot of the creative details up to him. I really only hatched this idea as we were leaving her apartment this morning, so it’s not like I have a concrete plan in mind. Still, I know Ollie can take it and run with it to make something amazing.
“She’s gonna love it, man,” Ollie grins as I finish my explanation.
“Alright then, Ollie, let’s see what magic you can conjure up,” I saw, grinning like a fool.
As Ollie starts working on a sketch, Donnie, yet another of the Larson boys and Ollie’s older brother, walks into the shop. Donnie is the town mechanic with a larger-than-life personality, always ready with a joke or a witty remark.
“Hey, little bro,” Donnie booms, clapping Ollie on the back. “What’s cookin’? Or should I say, what’s getting inked?”
I greet Donnie with a nod and a smile. “Hey, Donnie. Just adding a little something to my back piece. You know how it is. Wanted a surprise.”
Donnie grins, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes as he takes a seat, joining our impromptu gathering. All the Larson boys share that look, and damn if each one isn’t more terrifying than the last. “Ah, surprises, huh? Speaking of surprises, you won’t believe the car I just started working on. A classic beauty with so much potential, it’s practically begging to be brought back to life.”
I chuckle, my mind immediately drifting to Sloan and her lack of wheels. “You know, Sloan doesn’t have a car yet. As far as I can tell, she’s been walking or relying on delivery apps so far.” She moved to town three months ago and still hasn’t settled her car situation. It may not be the biggest deal in the summer months like it is now, but come winter, she will be hurting if she doesn’t have something reliable.
Donnie leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Well, you can’t just go out and buy her a car, man. From what I have heard of Sloan, she wouldn’t accept it. She’s got too much pride for that. But maybe there’s a way to help her without making it a handout.”
I nod in agreement, appreciating Donnie’s insight. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. I want her to have the freedom and convenience of having her own car, but I want her to get there on her own. I want her to know I’m here to support her dreams, not just bulldoze and handle everything for her.”
Ollie joins in the conversation, his artistic hand pausing momentarily. “Maybe we could help her save up for a car. You know, make it a joint effort. We’ll set up a jar at the brewery, a ‘Sloan’s Car Fund’, and our customers can contribute. I’ll put one here, and Donnie, you put one in your shop, too. Sloan can see the progress herself that way.”
A smile tugs at my lips as the pieces fall into place. “I love that idea, Ollie. It’s not just about the car; it’s about showing Sloan that we’re in this together and she belongs here. Getting the town behind her and showing that we all support her.”
“That’s quite a change from what you said only a few weeks ago, man. Does Luka share your convictions about this? I thought y'all wanted to get your hands on her place,” Donnie asks from where he’s sitting on the counter next to us.
“I’ll handle Luka. But really, we both gave up on the expansion idea, at least the way we had been planning it, after that first run-in with Sloan. I think our new plan, with her running the bar and us supplying her, will work out better for everyone involved in the long run,” I explain. The brothers both nod their acceptance, and we all move on from the memories of the hell Luka and I put her through those first few weeks.
As Ollie resumes his sketching, Donnie and I engage in playful banter, discussing his latest projects and sharing ridiculous stories from our past. He and I are the same age, so we came up together through school and share most of our childhood friends and memories. As we talk through a particularly ridiculous incident from our senior year, I’m reminded of Donnie’s other skills outside of working on cars.
“D, man, do you still do your metalworking on the side?” I ask, cutting his story short.
“Yeah, of course. I just finished a couple pieces for a restaurant in The Cities. Why, what’s up?”
I give him a rundown of my idea. Ollie quickly joins in and offers his two cents on the design and idea. Before long, both the brothers have sketchbooks out and are bouncing ideas off one another as their furiously scribble in ways my non-artistic brain can hardly follow.
And in that moment, surrounded by ink and laughter, I can’t help but feel hopeful. I may not have all the answers, but I know one thing for certain–Sloan is worth every challenge, every surprise, and every tie that binds us together.