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Gerard's POV. A couple of days passed. I spent my days being harassed by my co-workers at the tattoo parlor including Frank who'd had another argument with me yesterday
A couple of days passed. I spent my days being harassed by my co-workers at the tattoo parlor including Frank who'd had another argument with me yesterday about the bruise I had on my face. It's not my fault that the guy I was fighting that morning hit me over the head with a saucepan. I wouldn't tell Frank how it happened and he got angry with me, asking me how the hell I was supposed to be liked around the place if I couldn't even tell the concerned people how I'd gotten hurt. Pfft, concerned? About me? I think not. Nosy was probably a better word to describe it.
Today wasn't much better. So far, I got blasted for being late and Frank made Erica and Mimi put foundation and concealer over my bruise so that the clients and customers wouldn't get turned off by my face. Erica and Mimi weren't nice about it either. They were rough and the make up made my bruise sting. And now, I accidentally set fire to one of the pieces I was supposed to have completed an hour ago. I was gonna get in so much shit.
"Gerard, where's the tracing?" Frank demanded, walking over to the desk. He saw the burnt paper in my hands. "Fuck! How many times have I told you to stop playing with your lighter at your desk? Why do you keep setting everything on fire?" he asked. I couldn't truthfully answer that.
"I don't know," I said, putting my hands under the desk and looking away from him.
"I'm surprised you've not set any buildings alight. Now I'll ask again. Why do you keep setting everything on fire?" he asked.
"Because you make me angry," I screamed back at him, drawing attention from the other tattoo artists and clients.
"Oh, so because I make you mad, because you cause me to yell at you foryouturning up late, you decide to get your revenge and make me behind on my clients. You know, my client has already been waiting an hour and a half. And now it's gonna take me longer and I'm gonna have to tell them that it's not ready and look stupid in front of the--" he said, sniffing the air. "What's that smell?" he asked. But the damage was already one. Fire had escaped my fingers under the desk and set the table alight. "Holy shit!" Frank gasped, running to grab an extinguisher upon seeing the flames. I jumped up and moved out of the way of the fire. He extinguished the fire only to reveal that a massive hole had been burnt in the table.
I looked at my shoes, put my hands in my pockets and waited to be yelled at some more. I knew I was in deep shit for this mistake. I knew it could cost me my job.
"Wait in my office. Close the door and sit in there. I'll speak to you after I've gotten someone else to do the tracing," he said angrily. Sighing, I walked over to his office and closed the door behind me like he'd instructed. I sat in a chair opposite his and waited for him to come in and fire me. I was upset. Tears had found their way down my face and I hastily wiped them away. I didn't want to show Frank my moment of weakness.
Soon enough the door opened and slammed. I looked up only for my eyes to meet a very fuming Frank.
"Right in front of me. You had the hide to fucking light the table up in front of me. What was that supposed to achieve, huh?! I should fire you on the spot. But I'm not going to," he said, sitting down and putting his elbows up on his desk, resting his head in his hands.
"You're not?" I asked, shocked.
"I should. But no. I'm not. When you don't burn shit, you're a good tracer. Why do you think I ask you to trace everything for me and none of the other artists? But you've got some issues that you need to sort out. What the hell was that shit out there? Were you trying to scare the customers? Are you a fire addict? A pyromaniac? Because that was not normal. Now tell me why you did it," he said.
"It was an accident. I got angry and I couldn't control myself," I said carefully making sure there were no slips of the tongue.
"Well from now on you had better start controlling yourself. And back to that bruise. I thought Mimi and Erica covered it up? Don't fucking wash the make up off next time," he said. He constantly nit-picked at me. "Now how did you get the bruise?" he asked.
"Got mugged," I lied. The less information I gave, the better.
"Why didn't you just tell me that before? You know, I don't understand you. You're so confusing. You're so anti-social. I try to make an effort to understand you and you just put up barriers. You constantly turn up late and thank fuck that the owner only ever turns up at the end of the day or I would be in the shit for you turning up late. So you know what? From now on you will work in here, away from everyone else. You will be forced to sit at my desk where you will get your work done. No one will be allowed to talk to you and you won't be allowed to talk to them. If you do, I know this whole place will burn down one day and people will die because of your stupidity. Now sit here and think about everything I just talked to you about," he said angrily, walking out of the office and leaving me sitting there stunned and pissed off. How dare that fucker be allowed to insult me like that. I sighed. At that moment, I thought about how much I wanted to get a hug from The Skeleton. He always knew how to cheer me up.
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