Spencer Cohen Series, Book One (The Spencer Cohen Series 1) Read Online Free Page A

where the clients waited their turn, or went through ink magazines, which had become a Sunday morning brunch tradition with us. Well, I was having my usual green tea, they were having coffee, and I was getting the typical interrogation after I started a new job. What’s he like? Is he a creeper? Does he have a rubber doll fetish? You know, the usual.
    “He has artwork on his living room wall that he did himself,” I told them. “It was done with pencil but then the background was watercolour ink. It was freakin’ art.” I nodded toward the tattoo books on the coffee table between us. “Better than anything I’ve seen in those.”
    “Yeah?” Emilio asked. I knew as a tattoo artist he’d appreciate what I was saying. “But he draws cartoons?”
    “He does those visual boards that go to the animators,” I explained. “It’s really very cool. And he has a grand piano in his living room.”
    “So, no life-like, synthetic sex dolls hiding in his closet?” Daniela asked. She sounded disappointed.
    Emilio scowled playfully at her. “Not everyone’s a pervert like you.”
    She grinned at her husband. “Thanks, babe.” It made me laugh. Emilio and Daniela had become very close friends of mine. Landlords yes, but Emilio had become like a big brother to me, and his beautiful wife a sister by association.
    “So, he’s cute and completely normal?” Lola asked.
    I shrugged. “I don’t know him that well, like I haven’t seen his sex-toy drawer yet, but yeah. If there’s any such thing as normal. And I’m tellin’ ya, it’s a nice change from the last guy.”
    Gabriel snorted out a laugh. “Oh come on,” he said. “What’s wrong with a twenty-something-year-old guy having spoon collections and plastic covered sofas?”
    I shook my head, remembering when I first walked into that guy’s place. It made me shudder. “That was the least of that guy’s problems. He was creepy as hell.”
    Lola laughed. “Or the asshole super-rich guy before him. Who thought his boyfriend was a commodity to be acquired and couldn’t understand why the poor guy ran for the hills.”
    “I told that guy to run for the hills,” I said. “I preferred the guy who covered everything in plastic and Clorox over that arsehole.”  I could cope with the creepiness of Raymond, but Gerard the self-entitled, self-made millionaire thought his money could buy him whatever he wanted, including people. And that shit didn’t fly with me.
    “So when’s Piano Man getting here?” Emilio asked.
    We always had nicknames for my clients. Clorox Man, Arsehole Super Rich Guy, Dog Hair Guy, Butt Man. There were made up names for all of them. But for some reason, I didn’t like the idea of labelling Andrew with a name that made him less than he was.
    “His name is Andrew,” I told them. I ignored the looks they gave me and the way Daniela’s mouth fell open. “And he’ll be here any minute.”
    Right on cue, Andrew, looking all nerdy-proper-handsome in his argyle sweater and dress pants, stopped out front of the store. He looked up at the name of the shop, completely oblivious to the five people watching him from inside. He shook his head a little, mumbled something to himself, and put his hand up to knock, second guessed himself, then put it down. He took a deep breath and quickly rapped on the door, probably before he lost his nerve and walked away.
    “Go save him,” Lola said, nudging me with her high-heeled foot.
    I realised then I was sitting there like an idiot just watching him. “Right,” I said, quickly heading for the door. I unbolted it and swung it inwards. “Hey,” I said in greeting.
    Andrew gave me a half-smile. “Hi.”
    I stood aside. “Come in, meet my crew.” Andrew stepped inside, smelling all sorts of good, and I locked the door behind him because technically the shop didn’t open for another hour or so. He stood there, looking lost and out of place, staring at everyone staring back at him. He looked like he