An unknown number appeared on the screen of my phone which my initial thought was one of Nick's counterparts trying to reach me. I get unknown numbers a lot either soliciting freight information or simply seeking business opportunities from them. So, Nick bought me a new iPhone and a new number for that purpose, ignoring my specific request for a Samsung or Android phone and this annoyed me.

But this caller called my personal number, making me assume that it could be someone whom I know. I answered the call to find a voice of a man on the other line who spoke like he's no stranger to me.

"ZJ, you alright?" he asked.

"I'm good. You alright?" I responded warily, still trying to register who the caller is. "Sorry. Who is this, please?"

"Wow, you don't remember me?" his voice raised in surprise. "Am I being forgotten?"

"No, apparently I don't have yours in my contacts," I replied. "Probably it's on my old phone."

"It's fine," he sighed. "I guess you removed my number after what happened at Bijou."

I paused, trying to gauge him through the familiarity of his voice. "Abs?"

"Oh, you do remember me."

I dropped the call, too shocked to answer, still too painful for a reconnection. He rang me once more but I declined and immediately set my phone to silent mode, letting his call to ring endlessly.

I went back inside the parlour and ambled towards Nick who was resting on the reclining seat, while his trusted tattooist carefully injected the colours inside the floral circle on his chest, with a new tattoo template of my name in Arabic calligraphy under his mom's name.

"She's not supposed to be here," he said to his tattooist. "It was meant for her birthday surprise."

"Well, you've made a wise choice dragging her here," his tattooist replied. "At least she can approve it, otherwise you'll catch yourself completely by surprise if she happens to hate it."

"Either way I don't agree to the idea of having my name tattooed to his chest," I chuckled.

"No, you don't agree to the whole idea of me getting a tattoo," Nick smirked and playfully ruffled my Taylor Swift bob hair.

"Actually it's difficult to stop someone from having it. It's addictive, especially when you stand in front of the mirror and see a grand masterpiece with you as the canvas. But getting one is not exactly something you would want to do on the spur of the moment," the tattooist said. "A lot of my clients would come in and decide to get one without thinking through, especially when some came in drunk. So I tell them to come back when they're sober."

"So you don't plan to have one?" Nick asked me.

I shook my head. "My body is my temple." Both Nick and the tattoo guy laughed, like I'm a five-year-old who just spoke something darnedest.

"And you, are the temple to my heart," he gestured at the outline of my name imprinting on his chest, while the tattooist prepared the colouring for its shading.

We walked out of the parlour located at Oldham Street of Northern Quarter and headed towards his X351. He insisted that I drive the car by giving me the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard, "My chest still hurts from the needle."

"That's bollocks! You can if you want to."

"But I don't." He immediately got into the passenger seat after remotely unlocking the car so that I don't have to get in there first.

Since that 'shocking' incident at the warehouse, I became Nick's chauffeur, adding it into my JD which I unwillingly obliged. I went around the car and got into the driver seat, instantaneously trying to familiarise myself with the driver's console and gears like I was about to fly a plane. I lowered the rear mirror to my eye level and the adjusted height and depth of the seat to the steering wheel before taking my left shoe off.

Nick jacked up his iPhone with the car's audio system and selected Dominic Fike's '3 Nights'. It surprised me for a moment because that was totally off Nick's listening genre. Gingerly, I backed the car enough to give it some space to move to the right without hitting the white Škoda in front of us. Then, we headed for the main road and left the Northern Quarter.

  ************************************************************

Abs relentless texts came in like firing bullets from full-auto shotguns. I quietly read through the text one by one whenever Nick was not around. Most of his texts were apologetic and concerned but I replied to none of them. Not that I feared that it pings at Nick's presence, I just don't feel the need to reconnect and I don't want to remember him either.

But he finally prompted me with another text which I couldn't ignore, 'r u avoidin me coz Nicks thre?'

I stared at the screen of my S10 for a long time, reread the text numerous times, bewildered by his ability to discover us.

'Why do you need to know?' I typed back.

'So hes wit u?' he responded

'I don't need to answer that,' I replied. "I don't need to talk to the person who left me by the streets to save his own ass.'

'I shldnt hav dun dat' he responded.

'You shouldn't have. But it's okay, I'm happy you did' I fired another text to him before blocking his number.