Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (47 page)

“I’m glad you do amazing work for free,” I tease. “Or I’d be fucking broke.”

“You’re already broke, kid. I pay you slave wages and I only tatt you up when it’s slow.” The bell over the door dings, causing Rex to get an intensely serious look on his mug. He likes to intimidate the customers. I snort, sliding off the table, and head to the front counter.

“Ah,” my breath hitches in my throat and my feet stop moving but my body doesn’t know it. I fall forward a bit and catch myself on the counter. “Can I help you?” I breathless
ly say so Rex doesn’t get a clue. He’s my bodyguard during business hours- i.e. tattletale.

“May I look at the book?” Wil calmly says, and I can’t meet his eyes. I haven’t seen him since Daddy’s funeral almost seven weeks ago- not that I
’ve been counting the days or anything-
liar
. Just feeling Wil a few feet from me makes me giddy.

Numbly, I lift the book from beneath the counter, and then three others. Rex has been tattooing since he retired from the milita
ry, that’s decades’ worth of designs. I stare at Wil’s nimble fingers as they leaf through the pages. He doesn’t speak and I become obsessed with the sound of his breathing.

A fingertip reaches out and touches next to my new ink- electricity sizzles through my veins as I light up from the nanosecond of a touch. My eyes flick up to his face. Wil’s smiling, meaning his lips are curled a centimeter at the corners. Wil has hazel contacts in today and I want to scream at him to take the fuckers out. Then a thought hits me, does it annoy people that they can’t see my natural hair or eye color? I get a perverse sense of power from the thought.

“Can the artist design something if I describe it to him or draw a mockup?” My ears soak up Wil’s smooth voice. I shake my head yes, not able to speak. “May I speak with him?” Wil says, amusement thick in his voice because I’m acting like an idiot girl.

“Kid, what the hell? You need some juice after the tatt or something? I’ve never seen you act like this,” Rex taunts me, gripping my shoulders and shaking me about.

I roll my eyes at Rex and step to the side, still unable to speak.

“Go get a Coke and bring one for the customer
,” my boss orders me. I woodenly stumble to the backroom refrigerator. I keep one ear trained on Wil and Rex.

“Is this your first time?” Rex asks the standard questions. “I’ll need to see ID.” I hear no reply, so must be Wil is doing as requested. I quickly grab the sodas and book it back to the front.

“Wow, that’s a mouthful man. Whatcha want me to call you instead?” I try to sneak up on Rex and peek at the ID, but he’s as big as a brick wall. Wil winks at me as he grabs his ID before I can get a pin on his first name.

Mouthful, eh?

“Wil, sir,” he says, trying not to laugh.

“Well, Wil, happy birthday, son. Welcome to manhood,” Rex congratulates.

My eyes go huge- holy shit, today is Wil’s birthday!

“Thank you, sir. But I assure you, I became a man eight months ago,” Wil says in an arrogant voice from deep within his chest. I have to turn and face the wall; I’m blushing like a sonofabitch.

Rex chuckles. “I hear ya on that. But I didn’t become a man until I had my first kill.” I turn around to see Rex showing off his Army tatt. Somehow he pinned Wil as the militant type- Rex is partially right about Wil, in a deadlier sort of way.

“And I hear you on that, sir. Hoping to avoid that introduction into manhood, but sometimes it’s necessary,” Wil softly says. I no longer hear the longing in his tone. I’ve met Raymond and I don’t think I could take Ezra’s Daddy’s life. I pity Wil that he may have to do just that.

“Whatcha got for me,” Rex orders, hand waiting for the mockup design. He grips the paper and says, “Be right back in a minute. Wil, it’s a good idea that you start off small. Less chance of regrets.” Rex pointedly stares at me before going into the back.

Neither of us speaks- we have this weird silent conversation that could mean:
I miss your face. I hate you. Happy Birthday. I never want to see you again. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone before. The sound of your voice makes my ears bleed. Pretty sure I’m in love with you.
It could mean anything, really.

Wil silently laughs at me, his taut chest quaking up and down. No doubt expressions are flashing like lightening across my face for the first time in weeks. The only expression I’ve worn lately is amusement- false and real. Bianca makes it real, everyone else makes it fake.

“C’mon back,” Rex calls, saving me from mortification. I ghost behind Wil as he slips out of his t-shirt. I can’t stop myself. My eyes feast, they drink in every dip and groove and line of Wil’s muscular back. When he turns, my eyes latch onto his chest. My gaze must bore into his flesh. I slowly follow the ridges of his abs and the trail of light brown hair above the waistband of his jeans.

“Kid, put that tongue away and close your mouth
. You’re drooling on yourself,” Rex barks, never seeing me act anything but stoic before. “Wil’s a man, girl. You’re too young for men.”

“Oh, please,” I drawl, not giving a shit that the West Virginia is coming out of me. “Remember the ‘story’ I just told you while you gave me this tattoo,” I gesture to my forearm. “It was true… and that
boy
has only been a man for a few hours.”

Wil decides that real laughter is more fun than the silent kind. He
lies down on the table and gets comfortable. “I’m curious about this story,” he smoothly says while Rex preps a spot on Wil’s left pec.

“This
kid
thinks she’s a badass motherfucker. She makes me call her Syn and lies like I breathe,” Rex makes fun of me, but there is affection evident in his voice. I don’t get angry because Wil’s seen me at my worst. If Rex was pulling this shit with a complete stranger, I’d kick his brawny ass.

Rex gets chatty while he
works and Wil concentrates on Rex’s words instead of the tattoo. It makes me pleased that I can take it better than Wil. Lord knows I’ve had enough practice.

“Syn made me outline a scar on her arm. It was teeth marks. She probably bit herself or some shit. She said a boy bit her- the one that took her innocence. She was immortalizing the event. Oh, and here is the clincher, she said she was bitten when she was trying to kill him by asphyxiation. Jesus, can you believe this kid? A little killer at sixteen. She don’t know shit. In my day, you got drafted and became a man. Now girls are enlisting like it’s a tea-fucking-party.”

“You’re a sexist ass, Rex,” I growl, smashing both cans of soda down on the table with such force that they pop open and spray everywhere. “A girl can do a lot because she’s unassuming. And I told you it wasn’t a lie.” My voice turns glacial, “You don’t want to know the real me, Rex, that’s why I lie.”

I stomp out of The Black Death
and I wish that I smoked. I lean against the outside of the building, taking up the stance I’ve seen Roman use billions of times. I hate knowing what people really think of me. Daddy wanted a girly girl- which I ain’t. He raised Fate to be soft.

Soft women are
the only type of women that Rex thinks should exists- the rest of us are just whores and hard women that don’t deserve respect. It really pisses me off. We’ve lived hard lives, but we’ve lived. Anyone can live in a gilded cage and remain pure- what about being spineless deserves respect? Men, like all the men in my life, respect my attributes in a man and disrespect them in a woman- hypocrites.

I hate knowing that Stanton is trying to make me the type of girl that Fate is,
the kind we’re raising Bianca to be: cultured, soft spoken, pure, chaste, seen but not heard- a beautiful arm ornament that dances and sings. Stan has a surprise coming; my baby sister has a backbone and a brain in her head. Grant loves that fakery. It’s what’s holding him back from Regina. I can see it in his face.

Having these sexist men shoved up my ass has been a brutal crush to the ego. I see them look at me with disgust, like my piercings and tattoos take away from my beauty, not make me who
and what I am. It’s making me regret my choices- it’s making me feel bad about myself. But when has a man ever made me feel
good
about myself?

It doesn’t help that the majority of these men either love or hate my mother. They all see Gwen when they look at me. The ones who hate Gwen
, hate that I transformed myself to spite her. The ones that love Gwen, hate that I transformed myself because they think she is the epitome of beauty. I’m just damned if I do, damned if I don’t, now aren’t I?

I lean my head back and close my eyes. I pretend that I don’t ache to the pit of my very black soul. This life I’m living is temporary and I can’t make plans for the future. What future? Hell, I want
to quit The Black Death after how Rex spoke to Wil- how he disrespected me to my face. I’ve worked here almost eight months and Rex spoke of me as if I am worthless and have nothing to offer. But I guess I don’t. Anyone can make change and sweep the floor.

Where do I fit in?

The only value I have is when my hair is blonde and my eyes are blue and my legs are spread- that’s all the men in my life see as my value.

“Breaks over,” Julio says out of nowhere, breaking into my concentration. I have no idea where he materialized, but ten bucks
says that he is stalking the outside the entire time I’m inside. It makes me wonder if Stanton fears for my safety because I’m me or because I’m a pivotal piece in the game. If Stanton loses me, he loses the game. Is it too much to ask, just once, that someone would actually give a fuck about me?

Julio:
Stanton gave me the huge twenty-three-year-old gay guy as my bodyguard because I can’t seduce him. Boy, if that doesn’t prove that’s all the value they place in me, I don’t know what would. They look at me like I’m a predator, not the grown man that would take the sixteen-year-old girl up on her offer- hypocrites. It’s always the girl’s fault while the men take no responsibility for their actions-
she was just too pretty. I couldn’t resist
.

I ain’t pretty now, now am I?

“Alright,” I sigh. I take a fortifying breath to get the courage to go back in there. My feet don’t move.

“What’s up?” Julio asks, knowing I won’t say shit.  Our conversations revolve around fitness and weaponry
and asking me if his ass looks fine. Julio doesn’t see women as walking vaginas because that would turn his gay stomach… and that’s why I like Julio.

“Rex is being a sexist asshole,” I growl, pushing off of the wall to stand as tall as my four foot eleven frame will allow.

“What’s new, there,” Julio snidely says. “You need some real friends, Syn. Friends that don’t pigeon hole you.”

“True, that,” I agree. “Let me know when Stanton gets off my ass so I can find some,” I say over my shoulder as I re-enter The Black Death.

I stalk to the back of the parlor, quietly seething to myself on so many levels. But what makes me the angriest is that I just want to cry it out. I’m glad Wil is here to see me on his birthday. But it hurts that we have to pretend we don’t know each other- worse, my boss’ disrespect as he talked to Wil like they belonged in the same good ol’ boys’ club. A club my vagina excludes me from.

Wil catches my eyes and winces when he sees the expression on my face. Rex turns to me and his smile disappears. “You ragging it, kid?”

I stare, open-mouthed, in shock that he just fucking went there.

“You know what, Rex? Fuck you!” I shout, fists clenched at my sides, knuckles turning white. “Fuck you just because you were born with a dick. What you just said makes me glad that I hate men.”

“You forget your place,” Rex warns me.

“You mean the place where I lay on my back and take it like a good little lady or the place where you say I’m still a kid and shouldn’t say such shit. If I were a good woman or a real sixteen-year-old girl, you wouldn’t disrespect and trash me in front of a client. Maybe it’s you who forgot their place as a gentleman and businessman or as my mentor. But it could be my vagina making me not think clearly. I better go check and see if I’m bleeding from my snatch,” I snarl.

Wil closes his eyes as if the scene is too painful to watch. Rex slowly rises from his stool to his six-five height. He walks towards the front of the store and I hear the bell ding. “J U L I O!”

“Jesus, Pixy, what the hell?” Wil breathes.

“Yeah, it’s always my fault isn’t it, Wil?” I ain’t backing down on this one. I don’t give a fuck if I have to scrub the toilets with my toothbrush.

“I didn’t say that,”
Wil tries to pacify me.

“Yeah,
but you were thinking it… and you’ve thought a lot worse of me,” I bitterly hiss. “I’m worthless, that’s all men think.”

As Wil moves to get up off of the table, I notice his tattoo. I gasp in shock.

“Wow,” I say in awe, not being arrogant enough to think it’s for me.

“Do you like it?” Wil doesn’t look at the tattoo over his heart because he tries to read my unreadable expression. A pixy, clothed in black, with vibrant purple hair is on his chest. “I’ve only seen your tattoos once, last Christmas day.” I blush in humiliation for the shame over stripping half my clothes off and throwing a fit during Christmas dinner.

“Like I could forget that day,” I mumble.

“I saw some on you that were definitely about me,” he softly says. “I wanted the same, but I had to wait ‘til I was legal.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling humbled. “Happy Birthday, Wil,” I affectionately say. “Listen, we only have a minute or so until Julio comes in here and punishes me. So if you have anything you wanna say, you better make it quick.”

“Are they going to hurt you?” he asks while hurriedly walking towards me.

“No,” I admit, “Stanton’s more diabolical than that. And since I’m a woman, it will be woman’s work. Sexiest asses,” I growl under my breath. I take a step forward and whisper, “I’ve missed you.”

“I saw you with Ezra, I figured he’
d keep you company.” I smile because Wil sounds jealous, but my smile fizzles.

“The only people under thirty that I see are my baby sister and my babysitter- who you’re gonna meet any second. I’m dubbed a seductive fiend with sexual issues.” I try to hide the hurt, but I fail.

Wil brushes a lock of hair off my cheek and just looks at me. An envelope is pressed into my hand, fingers wrapping tightly around it. I quickly shove it in the cup of my bra beneath my breast for safekeeping. 

“Syn, what did you do this time?” Julio exhaustedly asks, his voice preceding him. Wil and I step apart, with Wil settling back on the table.

“Rex disrespected me in front of a customer,” I sound just as exhausted- defeated even.

“I did not,” Rex growls,
as he snaps on a fresh pair of gloves and retakes his seat on the stool.

“What exactly happened? I can’t mediate between you two if I don’t know
, and Stanton will want a play-by-play. We all know we can’t believe a word out of Syn’s mouth.”

“Fuck you, too, Julio,” I snarl, lips peeling off my teeth.

“Syn, you know it’s true,” he sadly replies. “And you know I wouldn’t fuck you even if you had a dick.” Julio rolls his eyes and waits for Rex to explain.

“Syn’s being a bitch, so I asked her if she’s on the rag,” Rex rapidly explains, leaving a whole heluva lot out.

“In front of this guy?” Julio asks, pointing at Wil.

“Yeah, why the hell not?” Rex deludedly says.

“Rex, you’re just asking for it,” Julio cautions. “Sorry, girl, but you’re screwed. It doesn’t matter that you’re right. Stanton will see this as disrespect of your boss. Apologize to Rex,” Julio orders like I’m Bianca’s age.

“Not on your life,” I quietly reply, turning my back to Rex. I close my mouth
- enjoy the quiet, asshole, ‘cuz this mouth is closed
.

“You won’t?” Julio says in disbelief.