Shaking his head, he left to tend to the client that he was neglecting so that he could poke fun at my misery, and I began to get to work. He didn’t believe me but what I’d said was true. I was definitely done with the ‘fly-by-night’ chicks. From then on, I was going to be on my grown-man shit, find a good girl, marry her, and have a family. The American Dream, I guess was what they called it. I wanted that life. The celebrity life was whack.
Outside of being able to effortlessly get my dick wet, being considered a so-called celebrity was bullshit and, during times like that, I felt more disgusted with it than others. I’d never meant to be famous. Doing tattoos was a skill that I had learned during the two years of my life that I spent locked up after a chick lied on me about something stupid. Now that it was over, I didn’t feel any kind of way about having to do the time because I’d learned a lot while I was away. To be honest, I’d expected to get locked up at some point in my life. I was guilty of doing a lot of things in my past except the one thing I got locked up for.
Focusing on my business kept me out of the streets, which kept me out of trouble. But what I hadn’t expected was for the success of my business to lead to me getting what Kale liked to call ‘fans’ and that’s where all the drama in my life began.
In the beginning, I figured if I could stay out the club unless for paid appearances, I wouldn’t get caught up in no bullshit, but those hoes were smart. When thirsty chicks couldn’t get at me in the club, they would make appointments to take up space in my shop, praying that a nigga would pay them some attention. I could always tell which ones were around for tattoos and which were coming in to fuck with me based off what they chose to get. My work started at $1,000 and went up from there. If a girl was willing to drop that much on a small ass butterfly tatt, I knew right then what she was really there for.
The entire time I had done the tattoo on Brisha’s thigh, she sat there with her legs open, dick-teasing the hell out of me in a short-ass dress with no panties on. To be honest, she wasn’t even my type and, outside of her doing that, I wouldn’t have given her the time of day. Plus, I had a rule about not messing with clients.
When I was finished, she followed me in the back and grabbed my dick through my pants. Another reason why she wasn’t my type; she was too bold. After she dropped to her knees, I let her know that I wasn’t trying to be nobody’s man and when she replied with ‘and I’m not tryin’ to be nobody’s bitch,’ I thought we had an understanding. Obviously, I did but she didn’t. My head was so messed up from dealing with that broad, I didn’t want to put up with another woman for the rest of my life.
“Hold still,” I said to the chick in my chair.
Though she hadn’t tried me yet, I suspected that she was one of the thirsty chicks that came in to swing pussy. She hid it well, though. She wasn’t half-naked, was avoiding looking in my direction, and her body language said she wanted to be anywhere but sitting in my chair. However, the fact that she was about to drop a grand on a tattoo that was smaller than the palm of her hand gave her away.
Sighing heavily, I grabbed my marker to begin the sketch. As soon as the tip hit her skin, she flinched like I’d pricked her for blood.
“Oh!”
Pulling back, I then waved the marker in front of her face.
“It’s just a sketch. I haven’t even started yet.”
I leaned over to start and then stopped to address her again.
“Sorry, this is my first tattoo.”
“Obviously.” I snorted.
She snapped her neck in my direction and narrowed her eyes.
“The only reason I’m even getting this tattoo is because it’s my best friend’s birthday, she made me promise so cut me some slack.”
For a few seconds, I froze. No lie, I wasn’t expecting that one. Shorty had attitude.
“Chill, ma. It’ll be quick. And it ain’t that bad, I promise.”
She didn’t seem convinced but didn’t bother to respond either way. With her jaw tight, she focused her eyes away from me, her lips forming a slight pout. Part of me found the shit funny. It was definitely attractive. Physically, she was bad to death and the fact that she didn’t come off like other chicks that came in there piqued my curiosity.
“I’m about to start again, a’ight?”
A slight nod was the only indication that she’d even heard me speak.
“I’m armed with a marker. Brace yourself,” I said.
She sucked her teeth. From her peripheral, I saw her roll her eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The more I pissed her off, the funnier it was to me.
Leaning in, I made my first mark on her wrist and the more time that passed, the more her staggered breaths became normal. The rise and fall of her chest called out to me and, after fighting my curiosity for what I figured was a respectable amount of time, I glanced at her chest. The smooth, ebony cleavage of her perfectly round breasts greeted me. Her nipples pebbled out the front of her shirt, a telling sign that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I fought the urge to lick my lips.
Finish this tatt and get her ass out of here. Brisha ain’t taught you shit?
Apparently not.
4
Ink
* * *
Inhaling, I continued to work, forcing my eyes away from her chest. Her skin had a scent to it, something fresh and fruity. Women didn’t understand how much perfume, lotion, and that body spray shit intoxicated men. There was nothing better than a woman who smelled good. It let me know that she took care of other things when it came to hygiene.
“That kinda tickles…”
She squirmed and her thighs parted slightly with the movement, drawing my attention.
And that’s the same shit that got you caught up with Brisha.
The voice of reason was echoing in my mind, but it was my dick that needed the reminder. She had me on brick.
Refocusing, I quickly finished up my sketch, working with quality but also speed. Obviously, my body wasn’t cooperating with my mind. The sooner I got her ass out of my chair, the sooner I would be able to lay to rest the battle between the head on my shoulder and the one in my jeans.
“Check out the sketch and tell me what you think.”
She first looked at me and then bent her head to look at her wrist. Her brows furrowed, then softened, and her tense lips slowly curved into a smile.
“I love it.” She raised her arm and gave it a closer look. “It’s perfect.”
Tears shined in her eyes when she turned to me. “I wasn’t expecting to like it.” She paused and then added, “I mean, no offense.”
“I’m not easily offended.”
She nodded and then dropped her head, staring into her lap. I could tell her thoughts had gone to something else. Most likely whatever had tears come to her eyes.
“This design mean something to you?” I couldn’t help but ask, wondering if I’d misjudged her. I was so used to women coming in for silly shit to be able to sit in my seat that I’d assumed she was the same.
“Yes,” she replied quietly and dropped her head. “I wanted it in honor of my father. He died two years ago. This is…was his favorite bird. I wanted it green because that’s his favorite color. Sage… like my name.”
She brushed away a tear with her free hand and then went silent. I grabbed my machine in hand, dipped it in ink, and prepared to make her dedication to her father into my latest masterpiece.
“You need tissue?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No, I’m fine. But thanks.”
I couldn’t resist looking at her again.
She was beautiful by anyone’s standards; kinda reminded me of a young Gabrielle Union but was lighter on the eyes. They were hazel, the most vivid of colors being the green. Her eyes were a perfect match for her name.
“He died about a week before I was about to graduate. He was so proud about it. I wanted to surprise him with the news that I was the Valedictorian. My plan was for him to find out on gradua
tion day when I stood to make my speech. But…”
She didn’t finish her sentence and I knew it was because she was trying to hold back her emotions. I wanted her to keep talking but not about anything that would make her cry. She didn’t seem to even know it yet, but I had already started on her tattoo. Talking provided the perfect distraction.
“Valedictorian, huh? Where did you go to school?”
“Princeton.”
I stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. “Real shit?”
When she glanced at me, there was a smile on her lips.
She nodded and said, “Yeah…” Then she shrugged. “But I went to a prep school that is known for getting students into Ivy League colleges so I kinda had a leg up.”
“Nah, don’t do that,” I said, starting back on her tattoo. “Don’t discount your achievements. Not only did you get in, but you rocked that shit and came out as the Valedictorian. Motherfuckers out here didn’t even want our Black asses in that school unless we were mopping the floors and you gave them your ass to kiss. Shine, shorty. You deserve it.”
She paused and, though my head was down, it was like I could feel her smile.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Hell yeah, I’m right. I might put your pic on my wall. Right next to Michelle Obama.”
She gasped. “Oh my God! You did a tattoo on her?”
When I looked up, she was squinting at the wall display with my previous clients, searching for the one of the First Lady. I laughed so hard that I had to cut my machine off for a second.
“Nah, I wish! She ain’t on that wall, ma. If Mrs. Obama got some ink, best believe it wasn’t in here. You would know if I did it because I’d clear that whole damn wall off to get a poster board made to commemorate that shit. She’s right there.” I pointed behind me to the photo I’d printed, framed, and hung on the wall.
“Outside of my daughter and my moms, she’s the only other woman that I love.”
Sage smirked and then rolled her eyes. “Mr. Obama might have something to say about that.”
“He can say what he wants. She still gon’ be bae,” I joked with a smile.
“Ink, you over here disrespecting that man’s wife again? Didn’t I tell you ’bout that?”
The voice was none other than Indie who, as usual, was acting like she ran things.
“Sage, have you met Indie, the mama of the shop?”
She laughed and nodded as Indie rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have. She tried to keep me calm while I waited for you.”
“Shit didn’t work,” I teased, cutting my eyes at Indie. “I don’t know what I pay her for.”
With one hand on her hip, Indie narrowed her eyes at me, playing like she was mad while trying to hold back the smile on her lips.
“You pay me to keep this shop in order. Which I do very well.” I lifted my head and gave her a doubtful look, then she continued. “Anyway, is it okay if I leave now? You don’t have any more clients and neither does Kale. I have to pick up Davin from the sitter.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. Everything alright with lil’ man? You need to bring him ’round here to see me. It’s been a minute.”
She released a long and heavy sigh. “Yeah… I do. He’s been asking a lot of questions lately that I can’t answer. I think it may be good to have him come around and chill with you and Kale for a little.”
I glanced up, trying to read her facial expression. She was guarded, didn’t talk much about her personal life, but all of Indie’s emotions could be seen in her eyes. Even now, I could tell that there was something she was holding inside and trying to deal with on her own. She was the strongest and most stubborn woman that I knew.
Her son, Davin, was born as a result of a rape. Now he was older and asking about his father and the other side of his family. She was a great mother and Kale and I were the father figures that he needed, but nothing could take the place of a dad. If anyone knew that, I did.
“When I leave, I’m going to give you a call so answer your phone. If you ignore my call, just know I’ma pull up.”
She sucked her teeth. “Whatever!” she said over her shoulder as she walked away. Indie stayed acting like she didn’t want Kale and me to look after her but I knew the truth. She appreciated it.
“I’m done,” I said to Sage, releasing her wrist. “Check it out.”
Lifting her arm in front of her face, she looked at the artwork, observing the details. When she turned to me, her smile was bright enough to light up a whole neighborhood.
“It’s perfect!”
I checked it out again myself. I had to admit that it was dope.
When I looked up, I caught her staring right at me. For a moment, we said nothing as our gazes locked. Her eyes were alluring; so packed full of emotions that they pulled you in. I wasn’t sure if that was the effect that they had on me or if the shit worked on all the men that she met. I would gamble on the fact that she had them white boys tripping over their feet to get with her when she was at Princeton.
And now she was in the ATL where men more of her caliber where everywhere. Brothas out there were stockbrokers, bankers, doctors, and lawyers. I’m sure her daddy wouldn’t have been proud to see her bringing a nigga from the streets like me home. I wanted to shoot my shot with her, but I wasn’t even about to put myself out there to get dissed. So, I decided to stick to business.
“Let me show you how you need to take care of it for the next few days,” I told her, holding a tube of ointment and spray. “Pay attention. You don’t want it to get infected. That’ll fuck it up and I’m not in the business of fixing shit.”
5
Sage
* * *
You deserve love, Sage. You’re looking for it everywhere and you’re willing to accept it from everyone but the person who should be giving it to you. You need to learn how to love yourself and how to accept the love that comes from you. You can’t expect someone to make you happy and fulfilled when you can’t even do it for yourself.
But I do love myself.
No… you don’t love yourself. You hate being alone. You take medication because of how sad you are when you’re forced to deal with yourself. You have to find happiness in yourself. You have to learn how to not need anyone else.
When I opened my eyes the next day, my head and my heart both ached with the same pulse. I groaned and hugged my pillow, stretching my curvy frame out across my queen-sized bed, and then ran my hand through my hair. It had been such a task to even get myself in the bed the night before that I hadn’t tied it up and, thanks to the tossing and turning I’d done through the night, my thick coif was strung out all over my head.
I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling.
You deserve love. You deserve love.
I had money, beauty, and freedom. I was a young woman in my mid-twenties with no children so I wasn’t tied down and, according to what the world told me, I should’ve been happy. But I wasn’t. I wanted a husband. I wanted kids. I wanted to not be alone.
I had no siblings, no mother, and my father was dead. I couldn’t even spend the holidays with my dad’s side of the family because my stepmother wouldn’t let me. I was the love child born to him and his side chick. His only child because she hadn’t been able to conceive. She wanted nothing to do with me.
Though my daddy said the decisions to always send me away had been made for my own benefit, I didn’t believe it. She was the one who wanted it that way. She hated having me around. My stepmother had stolen my father from me. Had it not been for her, I would have spent his last days and all the time before by his side. I would have lived in his home, under his roof, instead of spending most of the year away at boarding school. She couldn’t stand to look at me and, to keep her comfortable and happy, he had distanced himself from me.
Lola had become my family but now we were on two different paths, leading two separate lives. I missed her and she had only been gone a week.
You deserve love, Sage. You
’re a beautiful girl. You’ll be a beautiful woman. You’ll make a wonderful mother.
Another thing I craved… the endless love of a child.
As a little girl, I had always fantasized about the day when I would have children of my own to take care of. I had cradled my baby dolls in my arms and pretended that I had daughters. After braiding their hair, I would tie ribbons on the end and whisper my love for them in their ears, hugging them tight in my arms while promising to give them what I never had. I didn’t have a mother; I had a host. She had given birth to me in order to gain possession of a man. When she failed at that, she no longer wanted me. I was left in front of the gate of my daddy’s mansion for the help to find.
You’re not a victim. Your past doesn’t control you. You control your own destiny.
My head throbbed and the more sunlight that hit my eyes, the worse the pain became. Reaching on my nightstand, I grabbed two pills from the bottle there and swallowed them dry. With my eyes closed, I repeated the phrase in my mind, hoping that it would work its normal magic and help me pull myself from the bed. The opposite happened. Time crept on and drowsiness settled in.
You deserve someone who loves you. All of you.
6
Sage
* * *
“Your boy is going to be out and about in the city tonight. I saw the promotion on his Instagram page.”
“Stalker much?”
The sound of Lola loudly sucking her teeth in my ear made me flinch. I pressed my thumb to the side of the phone to reduce the volume.
“I wasn’t stalking him. I was trying to find out if the other one, Kale, had an Instagram page. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing, but I’ve been thinking about him ever since. I may have to fly down during a break to find his ass again.”
I rolled both my eyes and my body, turning over in the bed so that I was staring at the ceiling. After sitting alone in the waiting room of Official Ink for Lola to get her tattoo done, I learned once she appeared that Kale had spent about thirty minutes doing her ass tattoo and spent the rest of the time doing her. I wouldn’t have been as pissed about having to wait during her ‘THOTivities’ if I hadn’t been made to do it alone. Once he was finished with my tattoo, Ink ran out of the building before my signature had a chance to dry on the receipt. I’d thought we had a connection but obviously I’d misread something. It was weird.
Addicted to You Page 2