by Mells, J. C.
This time it was me who rolled my eyes at him.
I moved behind the counter and picked up the phone.
“Reston Tattoos. How can I help you?” I put on my best Mad Men secretary voice. I thought it sounded quite good.
“Hi there,” a breathy female voice said. “Is Thatch Reston available, please?”
“I’m sorry, he’s not here right now,” I answered, as Rufus gave my shoulder a squeeze of appreciation and headed back to his client.
“Oh,” she breathed out disappointedly as I sat down on the office chair behind the counter. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Not until next week. Can I take a message or set you up with an appointment?”
“No, that’s okay. I saw him on T.V. and just wanted to know if he wanted to… work out… together or something.”
“Ah, I see,” I answered. “Maybe try back next week then?”
“All right. Thank you.” She hung up.
I swiveled the chair round to face Mo and Rufus.
“Are all the calls like that?”
“Pretty much,” Mo chuckled.
The phone started ringing again.
Thirty minutes later and I’d fielded six calls from love-struck females looking for Thatch, as well as two from guys. In between calls, I managed to find the appointment folder on the computer and had fiddled with it until I found today’s date.
I stood up and addressed the five people still sitting in the waiting area.
“Is one of you Billy?” I asked.
“That’s me,” the skinny guy with the magazine answered.
“Okay, great. I see you have an appointment with Mohammed at two.”
“Yeah, I know I’ve been here a while, but I got here early,” he said sheepishly.
“Sorry for the wait. How long until you’re ready for Billy, Mo?”
“Just finishing up now. Give me five minutes, Bill.”
“Great. No problem,” Billy smiled.
The next appointment in the file wasn’t until four. The people waiting must be walk-ins.
That left the stripper, the two giggling girls, the two bikers outside smoking and the preppie.
“Do any of you guys waiting have an appointment today?”
They all shook their heads at me.
I walked over to the door and stuck my head out.
“Do you guys have an appointment today?” I asked the smokers.
“Yeah, I have one at four. We drove in from Arizona and are here really early and we didn’t want to leave our bikes,” one of them answered, gesturing to the two Harley Davidson’s parked out front.
“Okay. They’re running a little behind today and while they might have caught up by four, why don’t you guys go check out the casino up the street where you can smoke in some air-conditioning. Leave me your number and I’ll call you fifteen minutes before they’re ready for you. I’ll keep an eye on the bikes for you.”
“Sounds good,” the other guy said with a toothy grin. “I’m sweating my balls off out here.”
The first guy, named Dave apparently, handed me his business card of all things, and they both took off down the street.
The phone started ringing again.
I completely understood now why the two artists were so pissed off about answering it. Thatch had quite a fan club out there now. If I wasn’t so currently preoccupied, I’d be jealous.
Three calls later – all the same – I had a mini-meltdown.
“Okay everyone,” I said in an annoyed tone, having just dealt with a complete bimbo on the phone looking for Thatch. “If there is anyone, and I do mean anyone,” I looked specifically at the two giggling girls, “who is not here for a tattoo and just is hoping to catch a glimpse of Thatch Reston or any of his friends, get out of the shop now. No one is lying about the fact he’s away for the week. He’s not going to unexpectedly come breezing through the door at any minute. Deal with it and stop taking up valuable space in the store.”
The giggling girls stopped their giggling and looked at each other hesitantly.
“Trust me,” I continued in a stern voice, “you can Instagram and post on Facebook from the coffee shop next door just as easily. I heard they serve up a mean cup of Joe with an extra shot of dignity thrown in for free. Now… get the fuck out.”
The two girls picked up their bags and stormed out. A minute later, they were followed by the stripper.
Now the preppie was the only one sitting in the waiting area.
“Are you actually here for a tattoo?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he replied a little nervously.
“Well, all right then. One of these guys will be with you as soon as they can.” I said with exaggerated sweetness and my brightest smile.
When I turned around to face the desk, both Mohammed and Rufus were standing next to it looking at me. There was a pause before they both broke into a round of applause.
“You are so hired,” Rufus laughed. “Please tell me you can fill in for more than just a few hours. Didn’t you say you were here for a few weeks?”
“I’m so giving you my first-born,” Mo added. “Please say you’ll at least stay for the rest of the day.”
“All right, all right. Get back to work,” I fake-bossed. “I’ll think about helping you out for a few days, if you really need me to.”
“I love you and want you to be the mother of my children,” Rufus stated dramatically, hand over his heart, as he turned back to his client.
“I’ll second that one!” Mo added, as he did the same.
By five o’clock, Biker-Dave was already sitting in Rufus’ chair and Mo had already finished with the preppie. The phones had let up for a bit and Mo showed me how to switch them over to the answering machine service that they used after five. He sat on the edge of the desk as we both navigated through their computer appointment system.
“Why not put the answering service on during the day?” I asked him.
“Do you know how long it would take to wade through all the damn messages? Also, people sometimes call just to see how busy we are and then run over to get some work done,” Mo answered.
“I get it.”
“See the two doors at the back of the shop?” Mo asked. “Those are our private rooms for when someone needs a sensitive area worked on. Bellamy pretty much has one of them in constant use in the early mornings for his breast reconstruction tattoos. Here’s his appointment schedule and note he only does one to two a day starting at nine in the morning. When someone calls for an appointment, it’s important to ask what area of the body is to be worked on. Then, check this color-coded chart. It will let you know if there will be a private room available on that day and at what time.”
“You get a lot of private room requests?” I asked.
“I would say a good eighty percent of our work is out here. There’s usually at least one room free, as Bellamy doesn’t do long shifts anymore. Thatch sometimes will use one if he has an extra-long sitting. He likes the quiet so he can focus.”
“Got it,” I smiled at him. “It’s been quite a day for you and Rufus, eh?”
“We’re only backed up because Thatch is out of town for another week. He doesn’t usually do walk-ins these days, but will always jump in and help out if we have a day like we did today. Of course, that damn television show has turned everything upside down. Bellamy is usually around to help pick up the slack,” Mo added.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
I looked up and my breath caught in my throat for a second. The man in the door couldn’t be anyone else other than Thatch’s father.
He was tall, muscular for his age, and had a distinguished smattering of grey at his temples. His skin was tanned, a little on the leathery side, with deep creases around his eyes – like someone whose wild lifestyle had aged his skin a little bit before its time. I already knew he was a recovering alcoholic, so this didn’t surprise me. It didn’t make
him appear any less handsome either. Now in his late fifties, he’d obviously been drop-dead gorgeous in his prime.
That’s not what caught my eye though. What I homed in on immediately was the little boy who walked into the shop through the door now being held open for him by his grandfather.
Thatch’s son, Thaddeus.
The child was absolutely beautiful. It was really the only way to describe him at first glance. He was wearing an aviator hat, despite the heat outside, and you could see tendrils of golden-blond hair peeking out from underneath it. His eyes were large and blue and had an almost haunted quality to them. He was a little blond, angelic-looking version of his father. My heart completely melted on the spot.
The kid walked over to, and around, the reception counter and stopped to take a look at us.
“Hello, Mo,” he said in a serious tone before he turned to face me directly. “Are you the new Lisa?” He asked curiously.
“I’m Cali,” I answered him with a smile.
“Hello Cali,” the little cherub replied. “I’m Thaddeus. It’s not short for anything,” he added as an afterthought.
“My name is short for California,” I told him in a loud whisper.
This made him giggle, and out of nowhere his face lit up and I felt my heart flutter at his utter adorableness. “California isn’t a name, silly. It’s a place!” he laughed.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed in mock horror. “It isn’t is it?”
“Yeah, it is,” he laughed some more. Then his face got serious. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” he whispered.
“Okay, thanks,” I whispered back.
“Cali’s a friend of Thatch’s,” Mo interjected, looking at Thaddeus’ grandfather. “She stopped in for a visit and ended up staying to help us with the phones. She said she could help us out for a few days while we look for someone to replace Lisa. What do you think, Bell?”
Bellamy Reston leaned over the counter and took a good look at me.
“A friend of Thatch’s, eh? I wasn’t aware he had any friends I didn’t know about,” he said a little suspiciously.
“Friends might be too strong a word, to tell the truth,” I admitted to him. “We met a few months ago when he came to do a tattoo for my friend Max.”
“Max Rivers?” Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Yep, that’s the one,” I smiled.
“Honestly, Bell…” Rufus’ voice came from the back of the shop. “…Can you blame him for trying to keep her a secret from the likes of us?” He laughed heartily at his own joke.
Bellamy looked at me for a minute without saying anything. He appeared to be thinking something over. Meanwhile, Thaddeus had climbed up onto my lap and was touching my hair as if it was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day.
“I’ve seen you before,” the little boy whispered.
My heart jumped into my throat. Did the kid mean on T.V.?
Bellamy finally spoke, interrupting my thoughts and preventing me from asking Thaddeus what he meant.
“Would you like to join Thad and me for dinner? You must be starving after dealing with all this riff-raff for the last few hours,” he smiled.
The invitation surprised me for a second. But, then I reckoned he must want to know a little more about me before he allowed me to man the phones in his shop.
“I’d be delighted, Bellamy.”
“Yay!” Thaddeus beamed up at me from my lap.
“Good. It’s the least I can do after all the help you’ve given these two degenerates today.” He winked at Mo before turning back to smile at me. “Thad and I have had a long day though, so I’ve promised him Chinese take-out. Hope that’s okay.”
“Sounds great,” I answered.
“Perfect, because I put the order in on the way over and it should be here any minute. I ordered enough for everyone,” he added, addressing the rest of his staff.
“I gotta head out now, Bell,” Mo said apologetically. “Promised Amina I’d cook dinner for her and the kids tonight.”
“No problem, Mo-Mo,” Bellamy replied. “Flip the ‘Closed’ sign over when you leave. Let’s have an early night tonight, shall we? Sorry for the long shifts this week. I promise to find another artist to add into the rotation soon.”
“It’s all good, Bell,” Rufus called up from the back.
“Call upstairs when the food gets here, Ruf.”
“Will do, man.”
“Now, Thaddeus, why don’t we take Cali here upstairs and get her something to drink?”
“Okay, Pop-Pop,” the boy answered as he climbed down off my lap and pulled me by the hand to follow him.
I picked up my bag off the desk, said my goodbyes to Mohammed, and allowed myself to be led upstairs and into Thatch’s home.
{9}
Thatch
“We got a new Lisa today, Daddy,” Thaddeus said in a surprisingly animated tone.
“Oh yeah? Is she nice.”
My son thought about this for a few seconds before answering.
“Yeah, she is. She’s weally pwetty too,” he added shyly.
“Oh, she is, is she?” I chuckled. “What’s her name?”
“She has a really funny name, Daddy,” Thaddeus laughed.
Then, he suddenly became serious.
“But, I can’t tell you because it’s not nice to laugh at other people,” he said, quoting back a line he’d picked up from me. “Also, she’s here having Chinese food with us. Pop-Pop and her are in the kitchen.”
The new receptionist-come-store-manger was having dinner with my family?
Go Dad.
“Also,” my son added breathlessly, his sentences streaming together as one, “can I go swimming in her pool? And, she has a fwend called Hayley who’s six and she can play with me. Can I Daddy?”
I’d taught my son to swim just as soon as he was able to walk, but I didn’t know how I felt about Thaddeus going to a stranger’s house.
“Can you wait just a few more days until I get back so I can go with you? I want to meet the new Lisa first, okay.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Thaddeus sighed.
“Now tell me what else you and Pop-Pop did today. You went to the park after school, right?”
Cali
I could hear Thaddeus on the phone with Thatch in the other room and felt a small wave of anxiety rush through me. What if Thatch found out I was here, in his house, with his family, and demanded I leave?
“You look worried, Cali,” Bellamy interrupted my thoughts. “You’ve barely touched your Singapore noodles.”
“I’m so sorry, Bellamy,” I answered, “I’m not really that hungry, I guess. The food is great though, thank you.”
“I think you might have something else on your mind? Something troubling you perhaps? I know that I do, anyway.”
I looked at him nervously. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I’d like to know why the daughter of Brock Huntington has volunteered to answer the phones in my tattoo shop. I’d also like to know why she has taken such an interest in my son.”
“Oh. That.” Apparently Bellamy Reston knew exactly who I was. Shit.
“I’d also like to know why my son has taken an interest in you, too,” he added quietly.
“He has?” I blurted out in surprise. “What makes you think he has an interest in me?”
“This isn’t a large place,” Bellamy smiled, “and among other things, I heard him asking Max Rivers for your number.”
“Oh,” I repeated. “What do you think he wanted to say to me? I wasn’t there when he called.” I hesitated before I continued, deliberating on what I should or shouldn’t tell the father of the guy I couldn’t get out of my head. “I didn’t get the call because I was in the middle of a three month-long stay at the Blaire Institute and Recovery Center.”
“So, you were in rehab then?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your poison? I don’t believe half of what’s said on the Internet
, and would prefer to hear it from you, if you don’t mind. I’m also an AA member and sponsor.”
“Food. My issue is with food. After a binge, I dull the guilt and shame with drugs and alcohol, but it’s still food that’s the issue.”
“Ah,” Bellamy said thoughtfully.
Then, out of nowhere, I just opened up.
“I used to have it completely under control in the beginning. Everything was fine. I only purged the bad stuff like cookies and candy bars. I used markers when I ate – you know, like carrots or corn. When I started seeing orange or yellow I stopped the purge. But then last year, something traumatic happened to me and it all got way out of control and I started getting these nightmares – all the time at first – and I turned to food when they happened, and then they didn’t stop… and the binging and purging got worse and the absolute self-loathing set in and the only thing stopping the never-ending cycle was to get high… or drunk… or both.” I paused here as I couldn’t stop the sob forming at the back of my throat, nor the stream of tears running down my face.
I took a deep breath and rubbed the back of my hand over my cheeks to wipe the embarrassing wetness away.
“I did some bad things when I was wasted,” I added. “My stepsister manipulated me into doing them, but I can’t blame anyone but myself. I think I just sort of numbed the care right out of myself.”
“Been there, done that,” Bellamy said in a consoling tone.
Poor man invites me over to dinner and ends up with a hysterical, sobbing lunatic in his kitchen.
“Thatch and I really… hit it off… when we first met. I mean, I was a little high but I’m pretty sure it was the same for him, too. Then he found out a little about my… indiscretions… and he stormed out of there. I went into rehab for three months and came out realizing I had to get away from the lifestyle I grew up in. I jumped in my car and ended up here.”
“I see,” Bellamy said thoughtfully again.
“I’ll understand it if you want me to go. I guess all I really wanted was a chance to explain myself a little to Thatch. If you think it best I just disappear, he doesn’t even need to know I was here at all…”