Beautiful Ink

  I was discussing last night’s date privately with Ginger when Billy rudely interrupted and stayed to listen to the entire story. Well, except the part about glass houses.

  “Yeah, but I haven’t heard from him. Should I be worried?” I can’t believe that I am telling them all of this like a girl would. This is so out of the norm for me.

  “No, not yet. I think his wanting to know about your tattoos is extremely sweet,” Ginger says.

  “I don’t know about sweet,” I tell her.

  “Oh, come on, Keller. Your secret past just about kills me and we aren’t even dating. Poor guy. You need to cut him some slack,” she says, shaking her head.

  We all turn toward the front door when it opens and a large bouquet of hot pink, blue, and yellow Gerbera daisies arrives. The flowers are so out of place in the tattoo parlor.

  “Any of you ladies named Keller?” The delivery guy scans the three of us and asks, shifting the flowers in the vase to the other arm.

  My mouth drops open, and anticipation overloads my internal circuits. I have to physically restrain myself from jerking the small white envelope off the flowers. I nod, and he hands me a clipboard to sign.

  “Have a nice day,” he says, transferring the flower arrangement to me before walking out the door.

  “Holy hell! Would you look at that?” Ginger jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

  Billy snags the card, before I can.

  “Hey!” I yell, sitting the vase down on the counter. “That is mine,” I say, grabbing the envelope back. I tear it open. It has a small printed card inside.

  “Read it out loud. Please,” Ginger begs.

  I loudly clear my throat. “There are so many things that I want to say to you and can’t. You’ve changed my life. Made colors more vibrant. I don’t look at anything the same way I used to. You make me happy. Let me do the same for you.” I can’t hide my cheesy grin.

  “Slick bastard, isn’t he?” Billy leans over to smell the flowers.

  “Shut up,” Ginger says, playfully slapping her arm. “This is Keller’s first real boyfriend since she moved here.”

  “Whoa. He is not my boyfriend,” I say, turning to look at the flowers.

  A group of girls comes through the door, thankfully interrupting us.

  “Ginger, I’ll leave these up here with you today.” My station doesn’t have the space for them, but I instantly regret not making room.

  “Yay me,” she says, turning from me to the client.

  I walk down the steps to my area, glancing over to see Malik staring at me.

  “Pretty flowers,” he says, closing his laptop.

  “They are.” I stop to answer him.

  “Are they from the guy you’ve been seeing? The same one you tattooed that day?” He stands to walk forward.

  “Yeah,” I say, putting my hands in my back pockets.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Malik stops directly in front of me.

  “Sure.”

  “You move here and you don’t know a soul. It takes months for you to even warm up to Ginger, much less me. And over the last year you’ve opened up a lot, but nothing like the last three months since he has magically arrived. I’m just curious what the change was?”

  His words shock the hell out of me. What is this about and why does he even care? I am stunned.

  “Listen, don’t be mad. I am not stupid, Keller. I know you weren’t a hundred percent honest with me when you moved here. Yeah, you were running, but not from who you told me,” he says, lowering his voice.

  “Who do you think I’m running from?” I ask quietly. My heart seizes in my chest. I look around suspiciously, not wanting anyone to hear our conversation.

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that you drove into town with your piece of shit car, one suitcase, and your tattoo equipment. That is an act of desperation that speaks louder than words. It says you are running from people who don’t make idle threats. Don’t get complacent. That will make you stupid. When people who are running get sloppy, they make dumb mistakes, like trusting the wrong people,” he says, leaning down to speak into my ear. “I worry about you and I sure as hell don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t know him,” I say, resenting his words.

  “And you do?” He looks down at me and I stare back defiantly.

  When I don’t answer, he shakes his head before turning away from me. I move to my station, swallowing back the tears. He doesn’t know what he is saying. But the truth is, neither do I. Vin obviously has his own secrets and I have mine, and for now, that is the way it has to stay.

  “Let the clutch out slowly. Slowly,” Hold yells, as I once again pop the gear, stalling the car.

  “Sorry,” I say, grinning at him.

  “What are you smiling about? You are never gonna be able to drive this car I bought you,” he says, throwing his hands in the air and hitting the car’s ceiling.

  My sixteenth birthday gift was a complete surprise. I had gotten my learner’s permit last summer, so I still have a while to go before I can get my actual driver’s license. My main goal has been to save the money I make tattooing to buy a car. When I found out that Hold bought the bright blue Volkswagen Beetle, I about died. I offered to give him all my savings toward it, but he wouldn’t let me. I have learned to take what I can, when I can. That is what this life is teaching me.

  The only negative is the five-speed manual transmission. It is taking me forever to get the hang of it, but I have to admit, I am having fun learning. And Hold will not say it, but it’s the only activity other than sex that we enjoy doing together lately.

  “Okay. Okay. I am serious now,” I say, turning the ignition again. It doesn’t take me long to be back in the same position with a dead car. Ugh.

  “That’s it for today,” he says, frustrated. He gets out of the car to come around and open the door.

  I step out, pouting. The wind whips my hair around. It’s a cool fifty degrees, cold for us Floridians. I look around at the empty school parking lot where we are practicing. It’s early for a Saturday morning.

  “Do you want to come back to my room?” he asks, leaning against the open car door. His eyes plead for me to say yes.

  Ever since the first night I spent with him, things have turned even more awkward with our… relationship. When we have sex, everything is fine between us. In fact, it is perfect, but that doesn’t mean we have a lot of it. Just because I gave it up that first time doesn’t mean we do it all the time. I am still conflicted about my feelings.

  I don’t love him, but I absolutely love what we do together. Love it. I love the way it makes me feel, like I am in control when in reality I have none. My touch makes him completely helpless. The pleasure we both experience is too immense for words, but I have to deal with all of his questions afterward. Why can’t you love me? What is wrong with me?

  “I don’t know, Hold,” I say, kicking at the concrete ground.

  My body reacts to the closeness of his. A lot of the kids at school smoke, some drink, and more everyday become addicted to some drug. I hear them talking about it, craving their next sip or hit, and I immediately understand. At night, I dream of being with Hold and all during the day, my mind constantly drifts to memories of his touch. His kiss. My desire for his body scares me, and I am terrified of myself. Am I a whore because I hunger for his body and not his love? I start feeling dirty and it’s easier just to stay away from him.

  It’s been over a month since we had sex, the last time ending in a huge fight where I didn’t speak to him until my birthday two weeks ago. Plus, between school and working nights including weekends at Hard Ink, I barely have time for anything else. And I like it. When school started up after summer and kids found out about my part-time job, I became popular overnight. Half of the senior class—at least the ones over eighteen—has become my clientele. It’s crazy cool and much better than tattooing the roughnecks who frequent the shop who want all naked girls and devils tattooed on
them.

  “I’d better get to the shop. I have several tattoos scheduled for today.” I watch him clench his jaw, his anger evident.

  “Tell me what I am doing wrong. Please, Hels. I can’t change if I don’t know what it is that you want.”

  Here we go again. Usually, I just let him ask these questions, ignoring the answers screaming inside of me, and sleep with him. Diamond’s advice from long ago reminds me to take my pleasure and use him. Let him have my body and enjoy the perks of it. That is what I have been doing, but I am losing myself in the process. I can’t bide my time here like this, because eventually I am going to corner myself in it, one way or another.

  “What I want? Is that what you need to know, Hold?” The calm inside of me snaps. This façade falls away. I slam my hands against his chest, pushing him back against the car. “You know what I have always wanted. To leave here. To forget this life,” I yell in his face. “Can you give me that?”

  “Anything but that,” he whispers, looking at the ground.

  “Look at me,” I scream at him, but he continues to stare at his feet. “Look at me! See what you are doing to me, what this life is doing to me.” I step back, stripping my sweatshirt off, leaving only my plain white bra. My body overloads with the anger consuming me. It is hard for me to fill my lungs with air when my chest is crushing me from the inside out.

  His eyes lift slowly, running over my exposed skin. My arms and chest are covered in colorful ink. I know what he sees, tattoos beginning to cover a good part of my flesh: intricate pictures, quotes that speak to me, and actual dates that have defined my existence. I know without asking that he doesn’t see the story, carefully and lovingly tattooed on my body that I can never speak of: my life history that is slowly eating me up on the inside, killing me quietly.

  “I don’t understand, Hels,” he says, his eyes finding mine. “Are you saying it’s my fault that you tattoo dandelion seeds across your chest or fireworks scenes? You’re the one that keeps puttin’ more shit on your skin.”

  “No. No, I now decide what is inked on my body, not like your mark on me!” I step back, screaming at him.

  “You want me to pay to have it removed? Is that what you want, Hels?” He moves away from the car, coming closer to me.

  “No! You are not listening to me. I wouldn’t have it removed for anything now. It’s an everyday reminder of what this life is capable of and things I can’t talk about.”

  “If you need to talk about things, then talk to me,” he says, reaching for me.

  “No,” I say, stepping away from him. “I hide what is in my heart!” My hand slaps my naked chest, the sting lingers on my skin. “You know what I want and do nothing about it. You refuse to see how the MC is killing me.”

  “You know the rules,” he says, shaking his head.

  The thought of asking for the unthinkable crosses my mind. Can I take a chance to ask and sacrifice even more of myself for a chance of a life outside the MC? I take a deep breath before opening my mouth.

  “Let’s go. Right now. Let’s get in the car and drive away. We can get married and you can have all of me,” I say, moving to stand before him. I slide my arms around his neck, my fingers grasping his warm skin. My body shivers, the cold finally penetrating my naked flesh. I close my eyes as his hands glide around my waist, pulling me against his body heat. My eyes open to silently beg him.

  “We can’t. The MC is our life. You and I were born to rule it. I will give you everything you want, Hels. Anything,” he says, bringing his mouth to mine, brushing over it. “But not that. This is our family. And there is no escape.”

  I lean to press my own lips to touch his before pulling back all together from his arms. “And this is the reason you will never own my heart.” My arms tremble as I place my sweatshirt back on. I don’t look at him again. The wind catches my tears as I turn to walk away.

  His cursing gets louder the farther I walk. The sound of him kicking the car and calling my name doesn’t slow my steps. I hear the sound of the car engine, not knowing what I’ll do or say when he comes for me. The sound of it getting farther away instead of closer surprises me. I glance back to see the blue bug turn onto the main road and disappear around the corner.

  With every step I take, the tears fall freely. I silently cry. The thought occurs to me that I could go directly to the bus station. I have almost three grand saved from tattooing. It blows my mind how much people will pay. The way Hard Ink works is that I have to turn over a percentage for use of my chair to Badger and then because it is considered a club business, the MC gets its own cut.

  It’s not even a choice to try and run now. I have nowhere to go, no one to run to. To be surrounded by family, as Hold calls them, I am utterly alone. Diamond is the only person I can really talk to, and the truth is that I can’t. I am smart enough to realize that the information I know can get people killed.

  I stop to sit on some bleachers that overlook the practice football field. This conversation had to happen between Hold and I. All of the lies between us can’t continue. It is driving us both crazy. If I am honest, I hate the thought of him with someone else, but I can’t keep him for all the wrong reasons. He has to let me go as well.

  “You okay?”

  My stomach flips at the sound of the voice behind me. I turn to see Jake Carrity standing with a football in his hand, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. Great. Really? He has to see me looking like this?

  “Yeah,” I say, sniffing my nose while wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “I couldn’t help notice what just happened in the parking lot,” he says, looking embarrassed. He tosses the ball between his hands.

  My cheeks have to match my red eyes. Kill me now. I bury my face in my hands.

  “He didn’t hurt you or anything? Did he?”

  “No,” I answer, not looking up. My voice is muffled by my hands. I plan on hiding in plain sight until he goes away.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  The sound of the bleachers creaking, alerts me to him stepping up to sit down. I glance up to confirm that he is next to me.

  “What?” I ask, baffled by his actions.

  “Did getting all those tattoos hurt?” Now his face turns a slight pink. “Wow, sorry. I should be honest and say that I also saw the part where you took your shirt off. I guess the gentlemanly thing would have been to turn away, but I was concerned that you were in danger.”

  I shake my head at his confession. “Um, yes. They hurt like hell.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I thought so. You keep them covered at school. I’ve heard some of the seniors say that you tattooed them at that place downtown and you are a really good artist.”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  “I plan on getting one when I turn eighteen. My parents aren’t cool with tats so I have to wait until then. Maybe you can hook me up with one,” he says, smiling at me.

  “Maybe,” I answer. I wrap my arms around myself as the wind continues to steadily blow.

  “Are you cold? Here,” he says, taking off his jacket to place around my shoulders.

  “Thanks,” I answer.

  “So I guess he is your boyfriend.”

  “Who?” I glance over at him. He tosses the football while staring out at the field.

  “Hold Dawson,” he says, giving a funny laugh. “I don’t want to get my ass kicked. You know I have been warned since you were little to not even look your way.”

  “By Hold?”

  “Nah, he didn’t have to. Everyone. Guys.” He glances over at me. “I’ve heard you live with him.”

  “I live with his parents. They took me in when my dad died because I don’t have any other family. Hold doesn’t live there now.”

  “But he is your boyfriend, right?”

  “No,” I say, reaching to pull his jacket off. “But it doesn’t matter.” I hand it back to him. “Thanks. I should get going.” The roaring sound of an approaching motorcycle catches my attention. I
watch it ride around the school, the rider looking for something or someone.

  “Looks like your ride is here,” he says.

  I don’t say anything as I start walking toward the sidewalk.

  “Hey, Helen.”

  I turn to see him standing behind me.

  “I don’t think you should cover them.”

  “Cover what?” What is he talking about?

  “Your tattoos,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “I think they’re beautiful. Like you.” He grins at me.

  Oh my God! This is Jake freaking Carrity. Did he just say that I was beautiful? He is my biggest crush ever. I am at a loss for words as we stare at each other. He is so cute.

  The rumble behind me tells me that the motorcycle and its rider has found me. I turn to see that it isn’t Hold, but Mikey. So, he sent his lackey. He stops behind me, killing the engine before removing his helmet. Mikey has filled out in size like Hold. I swear they get bigger every time that I see them. Mikey stepping off of the motorcycle is an imposing sight. I glance over to see Jake standing his ground. Now would be a good time for him to walk away. I make my legs move toward the motorcycle.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Mikey’s menacing voice gives me a slight scare. I start to answer when I notice that he isn’t even looking at me.

  “Playing some ball.” Jake nonchalantly throws the football in the air.

  My head volleys between both guys. They are similar in build: tall, wide shoulders, blonde hair, but it ends there. If you were betting on a fight, you wouldn’t hesitate to put your money on Mikey. No doubt he is clearly the badass he thinks he is. And he is all about being a Hell’s Highwaymen. The MC is his life. He wears it with pride by his clothes, on his skin, and in his fuck-you attitude.

  “Playing ball, huh? I think you need to take your balls and go play somewhere else, man. Do you know who she fuckin’ belongs to?” Mikey steps forward, while cracking the knuckles of both his hands.