Ink for the Beloved

by R C Barnes

  Todd looked at the stacks of programs we were reviewing. He nodded his head like a dictator approving the work of the masses. “Good, good. Those look good.” He handed me my bag. “Keep it in the back on the top shelf. We don’t need a lawsuit if someone trips on it and smacks their head.” He moved away from us.

  “WE?” I said. “WE…when did you…?“I started after him, but Dusty held me back.

  “Don’t, she said. There’s a lot to do, and I don’t need you going off at the slightest thing.”

  “How come he is giving orders around here?” I asked. “He’s telling me where I can keep my stuff!” I was fuming and reached into my backpack to pull out a hot sauce packet and suck it down.

  “Who the hell does Todd think he is?” I demanded. “Luther never did that.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Dusty agreed. That was the first time I heard Dusty make a comment in Luther’s favor. Most of the time, she was noncommittal.

  Dusty was getting ready to leave and pick up Annika’s costume. We needed to have it tonight, so Annika could try it on after closing. The Beloved ceremony was in two days. My mother had already gone home to look after Echo and work on her script.

  “Can you finish these?” Dusty asked, pointing at the programs. “I want to pick up the Cher dress and be back for my five o’clock appointment.”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  But fifteen minutes after Dusty left, a messenger showed up with the dress. Apparently, the information had gotten confused, and the dressmaker had the gown delivered. I called Dusty to let her know the dress had arrived, and she could turn back.

  “UGH!” she said over the phone. “I didn’t want her to do that because I wanted to check the costume over before taking it away.”

  I finished proofing the programs around the time Dusty returned. She stomped in on her cowboy boots and went straight to the gown. Dusty aggressively removed the plastic covering and shouted, “Where’s the headpiece?” She held up the hangar and flipped the dress back and forth. “Do you see a headpiece?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t have time for this!” Dusty shrieked. “Bess, I need you to go get the headpiece. I can’t leave now; I have a client coming at 5:00, and Annika will be here at 6:30. I’m calling you a ride to take you there and bring you back.”

  “I’ll take my bike,” I offered.

  Dusty shook her head. “The piece is too big. You can’t shove it in a backpack.”

  Dusty ordered the ride and told me to go outside to wait. “Make sure there are green stones in the tiara,” she said. “Not white, green.” I picked up my backpack and went out the front. “I’m taking my backpack, so you don’t have to worry about falling on your stupid face,” I yelled to the back where I knew Todd was hiding.

  “Good,” he hollered back.

  I. HATE. TODD.

  DUANE RODRIGUEZ - MAN OF ACTION

  Night lights from the boulevard illuminated the quiet interior of the tattoo studio. Duane Rodriguez entered through the rear door from the back alley and flicked on his flashlight. He used the code he had been given to deactivate the alarm. He kept the beam low so he wouldn’t attract attention from the outside.

  Rodriguez was nervous, and he felt a line of sweat drip down his back. This was the first time he was entering the shop alone. He knew Mackey had to keep his hands as clean as possible with minimum exposure to the product. Besides, Mackey’s main job in all of this was distraction. Duane was told the stash could be found in a dark bag in the storage area. A bag like a book bag or a backpack. The product was in there and should be kept in there to remain portable.

  The shelves in the back were filled with boxes, jars, and tubes. Rodriguez ran his flashlight over the area, hoping he wouldn’t have to go through these boxes. He was already worried about time and getting back to the party before people noticed.

  It was Mackey’s idea to have Duane leave the dinners and announce he was having a cigarette. “They’ll get used to you being gone,” he said. “But make sure you smoke a cigarette, so you smell when you return.” Duane hated when Todd Mackey talked to him like he was an idiot.

  Mackey’s cue for him to leave was the story about his German Shepherd. Rodriguez loathed hearing this story, so he was glad Mackey had used it as the informal signal for him to leave the premises and move the product. Wolfie, the dog’s name, was the code word. Mackey said it was always easy to find a way to bring the story into a conversation. There were many elements to the Wolfie story: old girlfriends, pets, loss, and everyone liked how Mackey showed how he honored the dog with a photo-like tattoo on his left shoulder blade. ‘Close to his heart,’ he would say.

  Wolfie had initially belonged to Mackey’s old girlfriend, Lucy. She and Mackey had dated for a year or so, and Mackey had moved into her place in Hayward. Wolfie was Lucy’s dog, but all the activities the couple did together involved taking the animal out. There were hikes up in the Oakland Hills and excursions into San Francisco. They were a trio, and Lucy lavished a lot of love on the dog. Which is why Mackey was confused when Lucy walked out on him but left Wolfie behind. Mackey was positive; there had been a mistake. Lucy would never leave Wolfie. But she didn’t come back. The way Mackey tells it, he couldn’t afford to keep the apartment on just his salary, so he had to find a smaller place for him and the dog.

  And this was the part Rodriguez hated. One day Mackey came home and found Wolfie dead on the front landing inside the apartment. Somehow the poor animal had strangled himself on the doorknob of the front door with his collar. He had gotten caught, and in his struggles, his body weight tightened the collar around his throat. Todd was heartbroken and had the tattoo done of Wolfie’s image. He had used a happy photograph of the animal from one of their hikes on Mount Tamalpias. It hurt Rodriguez, thinking about that poor dog dying because his collar had hooked itself onto a doorknob. He shuddered. What a horrible way to die.

  Rodriguez pulled several items down from the shelves. They were heaped around on the floor. None of them looked right. But then Rodriguez’ flashlight picked up a dark book bag on the top shelf. There it was. He stretched up to pull it down and then went back out the side door leading to the alleyway.

  He hurried down the street and went to his truck to toss the book bag in the cab. He wanted to have people see him coming from his vehicle when he returned, so he could use an errand as the excuse for his absence; aspirin, gum, something like that. Gum felt right, there had been a lot of garlic in the fat man’s spaghetti sauce.

  Rodriguez forgot to reset the alarm. He remembered that after he was already back in the house and laughing with the chubby chef about getting the gum to clean his garlic breath. He also took the wrong bag, and he would realize that later.

  BOOKBAGS AND BREAKINS

  It was early in the morning on Saturday, and I was tossing the shelves in the back room at Cosmic Hearts. I was pretty sure I had left my backpack at the shop when I came back to assist with the Cher focused Beloved ceremony. I didn’t have much to do at the event except check the guest list and hand out programs. But I did want to see Annika in the green sequined dress and feathered headpiece I had made a special trip to retrieve. When Annika finished her first song, I snuck away to make a pit stop at Luther’s auto place. I know I left my backpack on the high shelf, where Todd told me.

  I hadn’t taken my bag when I went to see Luther because I could accidentally leave it there. I made that mistake once already and really needed my books for a test. I had to contact Luther secretly and arrange for Ollie to pretend he had an errand and retrieve it down the street. My mother would have asked too many questions if I had taken my bike at night.

  I noticed Todd fed her questions to ask me. I swear the guy was trying to trip me up. For instance, I’d say, “I’m going out for a bit.” My mom would respond, “Okay,” but then Todd would be like, “Ask her where she’s going?” And then I would get indignant and say, “why do you need to know where I’m going?”


  He would look at me with an innocent expression and say, “well, if you’re going to the drugstore, I could use some deodorant. And I could give you the money to pick some up for me.” The idea of getting Todd’s deodorant was repulsive.

  But then my mother would pipe in and go, “Oh, yeah, where ARE you going?” And then I would have to come up with an answer when I never had to before.

  “Uhh, I’m going to the store.”

  “The grocery store?”

  “Yeah.” Thinking that was it, I would head for the back-porch exit.

  “Oh, can you get some ice cream?” And then my mother would run up waving a ten-dollar bill and giggling “Todd’s buying. Get peppermint for Echo.”

  Todd this. Todd that. The man was a home invasion.

  I knew one of the reasons fueling my frustration surrounding my missing bag was I had placed it where Todd told me to. Maybe if I had left it on the bottom shelf where nobody could bend down to reach, my bag would still be here. I can’t imagine anyone would walk off with a kid’s backpack. Dusty was also at the shop. She was early as she wanted to finish cleaning up from last night’s ceremony. After the Beloved service was done, and the client and guests left, people came back to the house for a celebratory dinner. Ollie made spaghetti, and there was a lot of wine flowing with toasts to the success of the event.

  Dusty was seeing a new client this morning, another recommendation from Glenn, and she didn’t want any feathers on the floor. The Future People Alliance (the name I bestowed on them) was starting to use Cosmic Hearts as their place to get their tattoos, so working with Glenn had been a good investment.

  I was standing there staring at the shelves, willing my backpack to come forward when Duane came in with Todd through the back door. I hated the fact Todd and his buddies used the back door as an entrance. The back door was for employees and family members, and this action implied they felt they were in that category.

  Duane had a book bag on his shoulders using the one strap method, and for a second, I thought it was mine.

  “Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” I said, a little too sharply. But the moment the words came out of my mouth, I realized it couldn’t be my bag.

  Duane quickly stepped back, and Todd threw up a hand to block me.

  “What are you talking about?” Duane said. He held onto the strap of the bag protectively. Odd.

  I felt stupid, but clearly, I had to explain. “I’m looking for my backpack. I can’t find it. I thought you had it for a second.”

  “Why would he have your backpack?” Todd asked. He was smiling, but there was something weird about his smile. It was like he was overly interested in my answer. Todd was excessively interested in a lot of what I did. I was used to having a parent who was barely invested in my comings and goings. But now with Todd I had someone who continued to quiz me as if he had authority over me, and when it was pointed out to him he didn’t, he would go to my mother and comment on the fact (as if it were an innocent observation) that as a teenage girl I had too much freedom.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. I was getting flustered, and I could feel the heat of embarrassment on my face. “I just can’t find it, and I have a paper due on Monday, and if I don’t find it soon, I’m going to have to start all over.” I stomped away from Todd and Duane because I really wanted to place some distance between us.

  “Maybe you left it at the house?” offered Dusty.

  “I DIDN’T!” I screamed. And yes, I know it was said with too much volume. Way too much volume.

  “Don’t yell at me, Missy. I didn’t take your backpack.” Dusty was giving me a warning look, and I didn’t want to have a conniption fit at the shop, so I left quickly.

  Well, I tried to leave quickly and headed for the front door to avoid Todd and Duane, but I forgot it was early morning, and the front door was still locked. Dusty’s early morning client was going to knock for her to let him in. So, after trying to open a locked door, I had to maintain my composure and head for the back door out to the alley. I shouldered my way past Duane and Todd, stomping the entire time, so people understood I was angry. (And, no, I am not too old to have a tantrum.)

  I finally took a breath when I was on my bike, and I had cleared the alleyway. I don’t know why I was so upset. Later, and I mean really later, the question flitted through my head as to why were Todd and Duane even at the studio that early? My mother is a late sleeper, and she would never schedule anything before 11am. Dusty will take a 10am, and she was making an exception for the new client by seeing him at 9 for a consultation. So why were Todd and Duane there?

  My backpack was not at the house, and I knew it wasn’t. I swung by Luther’s shop, but he wasn’t there yet, and the place was locked up. I sent text messages to both Joanie and Rueben on the outside chance they had picked it up. No Luck. To say I was pissed does not begin to describe the situation.

  At two o’clock, I headed back to Cosmic Hearts. I wanted to look one last time before I threw in the towel and recreated my notes from memory and banged out a new draft. I’d be able to get some assistance from Rueben, but I hated starting from scratch like this – especially given all the work I had already done.

  When I came through the door, both my mother and Dusty were talking to a woman with short hair and silver highlights. She was Latina, and her round figure did not mesh well in the policeman’s uniform she was wearing. She was the type of woman who should be sporting bright colored blouses and floral skirts and sandals.

  The officer was taking notes while my mother stood with her hands on her hips, and Dusty answered the questions. Dusty’s hands were gesturing all over the store as she spoke.

  I had been standing there for a while before Dusty noticed me. “Wait. Here is Bess. She can give you more precise details. She was in the backroom for a while.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  My mother had her lips pressed firmly together. Her eyes were tight and hard. In fact, her whole demeanor was tight and hard. ‘It looks like we’ve been robbed,” she spit out.

  “What? How much?”

  “Not the cash. There wasn’t much there anyway. I made a deposit on Friday night. The supplies in the back. They seem to have been tossed about, and I’m sure stuff is gone.” Dusty pointed behind me at the stock room. She then gestured under the sink near the station she now shared with Annika. “And I think stuff is missing from here, but I can’t be sure until Annika shows up.”

  I moved over to the office phone, but Dusty waved me off. “I’ve already called her. She wasn’t home, but I left a message on her machine.”

  “She will be in at 3:00 anyway.” My mother was talking. “We have a Beloved ceremony at 4:00.” She leveled her eyes on me. “The Kaufman sisters.”

  I remembered that one. I booked it last month. Two sisters who were getting matching tattoos to honor a younger sister who had died in a boating accident. She had been a Lord of the Rings fan, and the surviving sisters were getting elfin symbols of eternity on their arms. During the ceremony, the soundtracks to the movie trilogy were set to play while they were getting the ink work done. Annika was set to perform the song done by Annie Lennox in the movie at the end of Return of the King. Annika was very proud of the accomplishment as she claimed it was a tough song to learn. Since it had been a personal request, she was getting a high commission on it. But compared to last night’s ceremony, this was an easy one. The sisters were keeping the event private.

  “Bess,” my mother was talking. “This is Officer Lopez. Can you take her through what you noticed from this morning? Dusty said you came in after her and saw the state of the supply room.”

  “Yes, my backpack was missing. That was the first thing I noticed. While I was searching, I noticed many items on the shelves had been knocked over and moved around.”

  The Officer found this interesting. “What kind of backpack was it”

  I shrugged. “Just a Northface. Dark blue. All my school notebooks were in there.”
/>   “Any textbooks?”

  “Yes, but who would want to steal a physics book?”

  “There’s actually a market for textbooks. You’d be surprised.” The Officer smiled and winked with her right eye. “eBay. Amazon. But I don’t think that’s why your backpack is missing.”

  “Do you think it was stolen?”

  “At the moment, I’m just listing everything being reported as missing from this shop.”

  I looked at both my mom and Dusty. “What’s going on?”

  “There have been some break-ins in the area. Increased activity. More robberies. Smartphones being snatched. Needles found in the alleyways.” My mother’s tone implied this was an everyday occurrence.

  “And there have been some complaints,” Dusty added.

  “About what?” I asked.

  “About us,” Dusty answered.

  “Us?”

  Having the tattoo shop be a focal point for problems, was a sore spot with my mother. “It’s the usual bullshit where if there is anything bad going on, folks look at the tattoo place as the scourge of the neighborhood,” she threw in. “You should be talking to the restaurant that supposedly opened its doors two months ago,” she said to the policewoman. “I never see it open for business, and I never see people going in there. What’s up with that? Huh?”

  The policewoman swiveled her gaze around the interior of the shop. Her eyes took in the sparkly moon lanterns and the silly skull lights hanging over Dusty’s station. “I don’t think it is because you are a tattoo shop,” she explained. “Not so much that. There are complaints of increased activity at night.” She looked directly at my mother and smiled. “I have a tattoo.”

  My mother was surprised. “You do?”

  Officer Lopez opened the buttons at her wrist and pulled back her shirtsleeve to reveal a bio-mechanical inked design with gears and blood vessels on her forearm. “I also have something like this on my hip.”