Locked (11 page)

Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been working out with Mark. Taking my anger out on the punching bag has helped tremendously. However, the vehemence is still there. Lurking.

I remain quiet as I inject the ink into my client’s calf. It’s a piece I’ve been working on a while. I’ve completed the outline and today he is getting it filled in. This piece is one of my favorite designs. It’s a large noose with the number two in the middle of it.

Typically, I don’t ask my clients what their tattoos mean. Each tattoo is personal, unless you are getting one just because it is the ‘thing’ to do. This client’s tattoo speaks to me. I need to know what it means to him. “Do you like the tat, man?”

I’ve tattooed him before. I like this guy. He’s quiet and you can see him thinking before he speaks. “It’s one of the best you have done for me, Caydon.”

“What’s it mean?”

“The noose is an obvious symbol. But the number and the symbol together represent the pain and humiliation of falling in love twice and losing the battle. I want to be reminded of the pain and love I am capable of feeling for someone.”

It’s not the answer I was expecting. In fact, the explanation has touched me more than my client will know. Poor bastard has been in love twice and lost both times. “So, I guess you’re done…with love.”

“Nah, man. I’m getting married next week. I’ve never been more in love than I am now.”

Crazy bastard.

“What the fuck?” I ask.

He laughs. “I know. Every time I tell someone this story, they think I’m insane.”

Yep.

“So, I’m sitting in this coffee shop and my fiancée, at the time, is telling me how she’s unhappy. Blah, blah, blah. She continues to tell me how Fred, yeah, his name is fucking Fred, makes her feel like a woman. Fred is some douche she works with. To make a long story short, she leaves me.” The dude is fucking laughing as he’s telling this story. I’m searching for the humor in it. “I’m sitting at the table, letting my coffee get cold. My heart was just ripped out of my chest in a public place. The waitress that served my fiancée and me approaches the table. She says that she’s off her shift and thought I could use someone to talk to. The waitress saw the whole thing go down. For four hours, she lets me pour my heart out. Every week, I visited the same coffee shop because I just needed the waitress. She didn’t talk much. Sometimes, we just stared at each other.”

I fill the gun with more ink and listen closely. “And?”

“She is the best thing that ever happened to me. The waitress is ‘the one’. We’re getting married. If it weren’t for my first fiancée, I would have never met my current fiancée. The noose is my dependency on love. Two people have had the power of taking my heart. It took the first to lead me to the second.”

I smile to myself. Yeah, I think the guy is fucked up but I envy him for having hope and belief. For the next hour, I pour my heart and soul into the piece because he deserves it. Hell, I may have become a believer myself.

No sooner does he leave; I hear the bell on the shop door jingle. Shorty is in the back prepping a stencil for his client so he asks me to assist the next customer.

I look over the privacy wall to see Summer.
Fuck.
I haven’t seen her since my birthday. And I’m thankful I haven’t. The rumor is that I went down on her and then proceeded to puke all over her naked body. Not my finest moment. So, this conversation could go a number of different ways.

“What’s up?” I ask casually.

Summer takes a strand of her fake blonde hair and twirls it through her bogus fingernails. “I haven’t heard from you. I was getting worried that you might have lost interest.”

I was never interested in the first place.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy. Sorry.” It’s a sorry ass excuse but I don’t have anything else to go on.

“You disappeared that night. I did come back to the room but you were gone.”

I stifle the chuckle that is creeping from my throat. I don’t remember a lick of anything about that night before I ended up at Reece’s house. However, what I have been told about it is fucking hilarious. I doubt Summer will feel the same way. “Yeah, about that night, I’m sorry. I was wasted.”

The apology works for Summer. A huge smile spreads across her made up face. “I was so mad for a few days. I’m totally over it now.”

Oh, fucking hell.

I kind of wish she was still upset. I don’t want Summer to think another hook up is in the future. “I guess we’re cool, then.”

Summer struts up to me and rakes her plastic nail down my chest. Her blue eyes trail from mine down to my feet. “Yeah, Caydon. We’re whatever you want us to be.”

Nothing. I want us to be nothing. Think, asshole. Get her out of here.

“Summer, I had fun that night,” I begin to explain. “But I’m not looking for a girlfriend. Hannah and I just broke up.” Hannah has nothing to do with Summer becoming my girlfriend. I wouldn’t date Summer in a million years. Date, no. Fuck, yes. Hell, fucking her doesn’t even appeal to me anymore. Anytime I think of someone to fuck, usually Reece pops in my head.

“Cay,” she uses my nickname. “Until you find the right girl to be your girlfriend, you are going to need company in the bedroom. I volunteer.” She is not going to allow me to let her off easy.

“I’ll think about it, Summer. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Why did I fucking ask?

Her lips curl around her whitened teeth. “Yeah, I want a star right above my hip.”

Fuuuuck.

“Alright, hop up on my chair and unzip your jeans. You only have to push them down to right above where you want the tattoo.” Summer obliges pushing them down a little farther than I asked her to. I prepare my area and get to work.

I’m almost done when the damn door jingles again. I don’t look up because I hear Shorty greet Maria. She’s not alone. “Hey, Reece,” Shorty says.

I look up and my eyes meet Reece’s eyes. We haven’t seen each other in days. Damn, she looks good. Her tight, little tank top is riding up, showing her belly. Her flannel covers the sides of her stomach but hang over her jeans. As usual, her dark hair naturally hangs, reaching the middle of her back.

I must be gawking too long. Summer’s screech brings me back to reality. “Caydon? How does it look?”

She must have noticed me looking at Reece because she looks from me to Reece multiple times.

I answer quickly. “You’re done. It’s what you wanted.” I do anything to get her out of here right now. “It’s fifty.” I put my hand out.

She must get the hint because she slaps the money in my hand and storms out the door.

“You can vomit on her and shit on her.” Maria laughs. “And she keeps coming back for more.”

I don’t say a word because it’s true.
            Reece hasn’t said a word to me. Shorty picks up on the tension. “Reece, this is Caydon. Caydon, this is Reece. Say ‘hello’ to each other.”

“Hey,” I muster out.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Maria and I have some things to do in the back. Can we trust you two to be alone together?” Shorty jokes.

“She’ll be fine,” I grind out.

Reece nods and watches Shorty and Maria disappear.

“You know that she’s going to be back there for a while, right?”

Reece rolls her eyes. “She said she had to pick something up quickly. Dammit.”

“Did you drive?”

“No.”

“I’m almost done. I can give you a ride home.”

“No, I’ll just hang out. I might coerce Shorty into giving me a free tattoo for making me wait.” She smiles.

Fuck that. The thought of another guy branding her skin makes me sick.
Mine. She’s mine.
“What do you want? I can do it.”

Mine.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“I want a quote by Bob Marley.”

“Okay.” I hand her a piece of paper. She scribbles a few words on the paper. The paper is put back in my hand. I read the words and unexpectedly I see Reece. I mean, really see her for who she is.

Immediately, I begin to make the stencil and give it to her to approve. She smiles to herself and reads the words aloud.

“‘You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.’”

“Where do you want it?”

“Here,” she points to the inside of her right arm.

“It’s going to be big. People will see it,” I advise her.

“That’s the point.”

Good girl.

Within minutes, she is in my chair.

I should be on top of her. Dammit. Stop.

I sit in front of her with a lamp shining down on both of us. The needle touches her skin and I expect her to flinch. She doesn’t. In fact, she looks serene.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

I continue marking her skin, sketching the words that mean something to her and only her. She closes her eyes as if the act of me tattooing her is lulling her asleep. I’ve never seen anything like it.

She’s so damn beautiful.

* * *

Pain is relative. Everyone has a different tolerance to pain. Physical pain doesn’t compare to emotional pain. I’d rather feel a razor or needle against my skin than feel the pain I have felt in my heart. At least, once the cut is made, the wound begins to bleed. Then the healing process begins. With emotional pain, there is no cut. No release. No healing.

I have heard getting a tattoo is painful. Strangely, to me, it feels good. I am just focusing on the vibration of the pen.

The rush of endorphins is inducing a mild euphoria that's just... lovely. The sensation is giving me such a high that I can’t focus on Caydon. I need to close my eyes. Caydon is so very close. The whole vibration is going through every part of me, and my skin. I have to remind myself to breathe as normal as possible.

The experience is cathartic and entirely worth it. It is symbolic to me because I believe nothing good comes without a little pain. The ritual is almost spiritual. I now see why people get multiple tattoos. It’s an addictive feeling. Sure, it hurts, but it is a good hurt.

As Caydon works, the endorphins and adrenaline begin to wear off. However, I still feel amazing. The words I have chosen to wear mean so much to me.

Caydon peeks up, looking into my eyes. He wipes some of the ink away. “How’s it look so far?”

I give the piece a quick look. It’s beautiful. The deep black writing is curvy and romantic. “It’s beautiful.” He gives me a lopsided grin, like the one he used to give me when we were kids. “Caydon?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his work.

“Did you fix things with Summer?”

He snorts. “There was nothing to fix.”

“Oh.”

He is almost done. I don’t want him to stop. The act is so intimate. I’m afraid I will never feel anything as real as this.

My hair is dangling in my face and it begins to itch my nose. I have no choice but to get it out of my face. I ask Caydon to stop for a minute to put my hair up in a ponytail. Caydon takes the opportunity to fix some of the items placed on his tray. When he is done I expect him to continue, instead he gapes at me. His eyes go wide, like he has seen a ghost.

“Cay? You okay?” I touch his arm.

“Holy shit! It’s you.” Caydon finally realizes I’m the little girl from across the street. Originally, I thought I would jump into his arms. Instead, I’m frozen, waiting for him to say more. “It is you, right? You know who I am. Say you do.”

I nod, trying to hold back the tears. “I’ve known for a while now, Caydon. I’ve just have been waiting for you to figure it out.”

The shock takes over his face. “What? You knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Nash told me the night of Thanksgiving. I didn’t know what to do. We were kids Caydon. I never thought you would remember me. I thought it was something I imagined when I was a kid. You know…to cope?” I confess.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair. He’s struggling for air. “Remember you? Christ, Reece, I’ve had your image in my head for the past decade. Of course, you didn’t look like that!” His arm flies out pointing at my body. “Why didn’t you fucking say something?”

I panic. ‘Mean’ Caydon has returned. I don’t like when Caydon’s angry. I jump out of the chair. I don’t care that the work on my arm is not done. The need to get out of here is stronger.

I get up and look at Caydon. He’s still hunched over in his chair mulling things over in his head. It pisses me off. I had to deal with the same news…only by myself.

“What’s the matter Reece? I can see you want to say something to me. Say it,” Caydon orders.

Caydon is pushing me. I feel it. I can’t shake the feeling that he is reliving something through our interaction. Whatever it is, I’m paying for someone’s mistake.

“Caydon…you’re mean. Mean people suck. Every time you utter a word, my middle finger has to fight from popping up.” I bite my bottom lip in frustration.

Caydon’s big, brown puppy dog eyes focus on my lip. “Stop doing that. Now.”

“What?” I bark and bite my lip harder.

Caydon moves in front of me. I don’t know why but his action takes my breath away. He inches closer and closer until his face is in front of mine. “This.” Caydon takes my bottom lip in to his mouth and gently pulls at it with his teeth. His tongue grazes over it in attempt to soothe it. I wish he hadn’t done that. I realize I enjoy feeling the sting of his bite...in more ways than one.

I let out a moan. Now, his tongue is in my mouth. His mouth is covering mine. His body is pushing mine back onto the chair I was trying to escape. I don’t push back. As I lie on my back, I allow Caydon to settle between my legs. I wrap my arms around his waist, running my hand under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.

He rips his lips away from mine. Breathing heavily, he looks at me like he wants to say something. I don’t want to talk right now. If this is the only moment he is going to give me, I don’t want him to ruin it with words. I grab the back of his head and bring his lips to mine.

My tongue parts his lips and I explore his mouth. He likes it. He whimpers and his lower half begins to move against me. I meet every jab he gives me. His lips move to my neck and his tongue glides up and down my neck in a slow, methodical motion. “Uh,” I whine.