“I’m not asking to get married, Charlie. I’m asking if you trust me.”
Greyson has done nothing that truthfully warrants me not trusting him. Sure, he is an asshole who doesn’t think sometimes, but I’ve never been in physical danger when I’m with him.
“Alright.” Taking a deep breath, I hold it in and bite the inside of my cheek.
Greyson stands next to me quickly, and grabs my hand, pulling me into the kitchen. “Sit,” he instructs, pointing to a barstool. Still keeping silent, I nod my head and climb up, resting my forearms against the cool granite top.
Greyson flashes me a smile and disappears around the kitchen corner. He emerges a couple seconds later, carrying a large black case. He sets the bag up on the counter and unhooks the latches. I watch as he brings out his tattoo equipment, methodically placing everything in a precise spot on the counter. Grabbing a roll of what looks like saran wrap, he pulls off a large section and lays it out in front of me. Taping the edges down, Greyson then pulls some ink from the box and carefully fills each of the tiny cups with several vibrant colors.
“Give me your arm,” he commands.
Without hesitation, I lay my arm in his hand and cringe as he runs his fingers over the scars on my wrist. Greyson inspects my arm for a couple minutes, and then gently lays it down. Grabbing a razor, he quickly runs it down the length of my arm. When satisfied he tosses the razor in the garbage and flashes me a quick smile. Pulling a pair of blue gloves out of the case, he slips them on and grabs his machine.
“So, I know you still haven’t decided on what you want your first piece to look like, but I need you to trust me.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Greyson nods his head, and with the flick of the switch his machine turns on. The burn of the needle is hot on my flesh, starting its assault on my skin. This is a completely different feeling than cutting myself; but a similar satisfaction settles across my body. The only difference is the end result being a beautiful tattoo and not an ugly scar I try to hide. The pain is worth it, giving my mind and body the release I so desperately crave. I might be completely screwed up, but for once I think someone else can actually relate to my problems. Greyson is taking a huge part of my insecurities and transforming them into something positive. The only condition I have to get over is trusting him.
The cool liquid Greyson is wiping over my raw skin feels amazing. The entire time he was tattooing, I refused to let myself look at the piece. The pain of the needle almost put me in a trance like state, leaving my emotions on the table to try and slap back together before he broke the news that it was over.
“Are you ready?” he asks, still holding on to the sides of my wrist gently. My body starts to shake and I fight back the urge to unload another round of hysterics. Forcing my eyes shut I shake my head no vigorously.
“Charlie, open your eyes.”
“I can’t,” I ramble, catching my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Charlotte, open your eyes.”
Trembling, I take a deep breath in and then slowly exhale. Opening my eyes, my breathing stops as I stare at my arm. Small delicate lines swirl around the scars, leading into a watercolor style of flowers. The dark purples mix perfectly into the shade of blue and pink, with a hint of a green hue dragging into the curvy black lines. The deep scars are barely even noticeable as the design fits perfectly on my petite wrist.
“It’s amazing,” I express, bring my arm closer to my face to devour the design even more.
For once I won’t have to hide my wrist in disgust of what my past brought me. This tattoo gave me a clean slate, hiding the scars from the usual eye. The only people that will know they are there are the ones who have a firsthand experience with my past. To the naked eye, it’s a beautiful tattoo. To me, it holds a much deeper meaning.
“Do you trust me?” Greyson asks again, this time pulling his gloves off and resting his forearms on the counter top.
“Absolutely.”
Greyson dropped me off at my uncle’s house after he cleaned up. There were only a few words exchanged in the car ride over. Most of the time my eyes stayed glued to my arm, still in complete amazement that something so beautiful could cover something so dark and tragic. I left his truck with an instruction sheet on aftercare, a promise that I would try to have a better day, and a small smile on my face.
I can’t stop thinking about what he did for me as I get dressed for work. It’s like he looked into my head and pulled out everything I have been thinking of, the color palate, the different style of flowers, and the delicacy of the watercolor style, then arranged them in a fashion that my tattoos blend right into the amazing canvas on my wrist. I will forever be an alcoholic, who lost her mother to cancer, and turned to cutting herself to numb the pain of my screwed up past, but this tattoo is almost giving me a fresh start. Some things are never going to go away, but having a reminder of the past is a great way to stay humble.
The smile on my face is huge as I pull into the parking lot at work. Climbing out of my car, I shut the car door and keep my head held high as I walk to the back door. The cool fall breeze whips around my bare skin, as for once I’m actually comfortable wearing a short sleeve shirt without my bracelets covering my wrists.
“I bet you got laid, huh?” Jessica laughs as I stroll into the stockroom.
“No,” I gasp, trying to pretend I’m shocked by her accusation.
“Bullshit. I know that euphoric high you are riding.” Grabbing a couple bottles off the shelf, she shoves them in my arm and motions for me to follow. “Was it Greyson?”
“No comment,” I reply. My body instantly blushes from head to toe, making it painfully obvious that I am lying.
“Right.” Jessica laughs, looking back at me and shaking her head. I know I have been caught red handed, and trying to deny the deed only makes me stupid.
“Oh, I forgot, Will has been waiting at the bar for you.” Jessica smirks before turning the corner.
My body freezes and I almost drop the bottles I am carrying. My stomach starts to turn, instantly sending me into a panic mode.
“She’ll be right out,” I hear Jessica say. No one has a clue what happened last night at the restaurant, so hiding from Will is going to be harder than I had originally thought. Logically, I just figured we would never talk to each other since I basically told the cops that his story had been fabricated.
Holding my breath, I duck around the corner and head straight for the back shelf, pretending to busy myself with arranging bottles. It’s stupid to think that he can’t see me, but something inside tells me to give it a shot.
“Charlie,” his voice calls out, sending an ice cold feeling down my veins.
Turning around, I try and act surprised to see him sitting there. “Hi, Will.” Nodding my head I turn back around and brace myself on the counter.
“Can we talk?”
“I’m good, but thanks.” Keeping my answer short should give him a hint that I don’t want to do this now. Really, I never want to do this. It’s much easier to just pretend like we never met and move to the other side of the street if we see one another walking toward us.
“Charlie, give me a chance to explain.” If I hadn’t seen the side of him yesterday, nor did I hear what he did to Cameron, I might actually fall for that bullshit.
“I’m really busy with work,” I stammer quickly. Glancing over my shoulder, I give him a fake smile and shrug my shoulders.
“It’s slow right now, Charlie. Give him a moment,” Jessica yells from down the bar, obviously listening to our clipped conversation.
“I just want to apologize for last night. Please hear me out.”
Turning around, I brace myself on the bar top in front of me and bite my tongue. Anything this man is going to say is either a lie to get back into my good graces, or he is going to place the blame solely on Greyson, basically denying anything ever happened with Cameron.
“Really, Will. I’m good.” Forcing a tight fake smile, I push off the counter
and start to head back to the stock room.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” His voice rumbles with anger, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up.
“It’s none of your business,” I snap. Whirling around and narrowing my eyes at him, sheer disgust takes over my body as Will stands from the bar stool. How I believed any of the crap he told me is a complete shame on me moment.
“I really thought there was something special about you. Obviously you are nothing but another slut that Greyson will eventually get tired of.”
“Get out,” I seethe through my clenched teeth. This man has now struck my very last nerve.
“It’s a shame, Charlie. I could have really made you into something.” Will smirks, then walks away from the bar top.
There is no making me into something. I might be screwed up beyond some people’s comprehension, and sure I have more issues than the entire volume of Cosmo’s publication, but no one needs to fucking fix me.
“Do you feel big talking to people like that, asshole? Seriously, you need to get your ass beat again, because I’m absolutely positive that you, Will, are nothing special,” I shout as he heads for the door. Reaching over to the wells, I grab a bottle of beer and launch it at his head, narrowly missing him before crashing on the floor.
Will shakes his head in disgust, and then disappears out the front door.
“That son-of-a-bitch,” I scream. My arms are shaking as I narrow my eyes at the empty doorframe. How I ever believed his bullshit charm is another reason to hate myself.
“Charlotte!” Uncle Mark yells, standing in the middle of the hallway.
My eyes grow huge as I slowly turn around to face him.
“Go home, Charlie,” he threatens. Anger washes over his face, and it immediately makes me feel about two feet tall.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Mark,” I ramble off quickly, dropping my shoulders and hanging my head in shame.
“Clock out and go home. You are done for the day.”
Nodding my head, I turn to the register and begin to clock out, only to realize I had yet to actually clock in for my shift. Mouthing the words ‘sorry’, I grab my keys from my jeans pocket and slink around him. Quickening my step, I scamper down the hallway and burst out the door. Never have I been so angry and upset at the same time. I shouldn’t have thrown that bottle at him. Losing my cool in the workplace is not something I am proud of, but throwing a bottle at Will’s head did make me feel better.
Chapter 27
Greyson
The moment of tattooing Charlie, letting my machine glide across her pale pink skin, layering the color, shading the sections, and delicately placing the thin black lines, was probably the best moment I’ve ever had doing what I love in my entire life. The scars on Charlie’s arm will never be looked at again with the same amount of sadness, now hopefully replaced with the beauty I created for her. As much as I want Charlie in my life forever, I know we will be forever linked together in a stunning piece of art she will carry with her for the rest of her days.
Packing up my tools, I clean up the small mess made in the kitchen and place the equipment back in the garage. Most people will use their garages to park their vehicles; I use it as my home studio. This is my space that I can create without the fear of destroying anything. If paint spills on the floor, I don’t really have to worry about cleaning it up. All the colors mixed on the floor tell a story of whichever project I had been working on at that time. Even if I no longer had that painting, I would forever have the stain upon the cool grey concrete of the garage floor.
Grabbing a canvas from the storage cupboard on the far wall, I stand it up on the easel, and then take a step back. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I swipe it on and scroll for some tunes. A couple years ago, I had my garage wired for a sound system, complete with Bluetooth. Music instantly blares through the large speakers mounted on the walls, sending a relaxed vibe through my body.
Rummaging through the vast collection of paint I have stored on a work bench, I grab a couple jars and squirt some basic colors into them. Most of the time my artwork is darker, thus drawing on the cooler tones to bring my canvas to life. So, it doesn’t surprise me that after the high I got while tattooing Charlie, the color selections I’ve chose to work with are black, white, and a deep shade of crimson. Getting all the supplies laid out on the metal table next to the easel, I immediately dunk my brush into the black and let the brush drag across the stark white canvas. Immediately, I’m lost in the painting. The canvas slowly transforms itself from something very plain and simple, to a whirlwind of colors and movement. Without even putting too much thought into what is happening before me, my hands do the work while my mind slips off into somewhere entirely different.
“Greyson, I swear you zone out so bad that the world could be ending and zombie’s roaming the street and you would still be completely oblivious in your little painting world.”
Shaking the haze from my clouded mind, I whip around to find an irritated Cameron standing on the steps with her hands planted firmly on her hips.
“Yeah, so?” I comment back, setting my brush down on the counter and wiping my hands off on the sides of my jeans. Cameron scoffs loudly while stepping down the cements steps, her heels clicking each time her shoe hit the next one.
“Well, I called the station this morning, and they said you were released last night, and for some unknown reason you can’t seem to answer my texts or phone calls, so I had to drive my desirously tired ass over here to make sure you weren’t dead.” Cameron snatches my phone off the counter and puts a stop to the blasting music. “I really don’t know how your neighbors put up with that shitty music playing when you get in these moods.”
“Well, I’m glad you waited until this morning to make sure I wasn’t in jail. Real thoughtful.” Reaching over, I grab my phone out of her hands and shove it into my back pocket. Just like how quickly inspiration can hit me, it seems to vanish even quicker.
“Did you even think of how last night would affect me, Greyson? For fucks sake! Will beat me and I gave up my baby for adoption. You know I will do anything for you, but you seemed to forget how hard the past is for me.” Cameron’s voice is now raised, and her normally sparking eyes have taken on a darker tone. Without even opening my mouth to try and explain why, I knew this was a no win kind of situation for me.
“Cameron, I’m sorry.”
“Fucking sorry is all you ever say Greyson. When are you going to realize that everyone has feelings, and you can’t control anyone besides yourself? You knew getting me involved would bring back all this shit, but still asked me to help Charlie. You fucking knew that it would tear me apart, make me relive every single moment that I have spent the last couple years trying to erase from my daily memory, and you didn’t think about anyone other than Charlie.”
“I love her, Cameron.” Softening my voice, my shoulders slump and I take a submissive stance in front of her.
“You love the concept of her, Greyson.”
“No, Cameron. I love everything about her. I love the way her pale skin shows off the light freckles when the sunlight hits her skin. I love the way her long dark hair tickles my skin when she gets close to my body. The way her eyes stare straight through the bullshit I spew out, and yet she doesn’t seem to let it bother her. I love the way she guards her past, only giving me glimpses into it, then quickly putting her wall back up again. I love every little thing she lets me be a part of.”
Cameron’s arms drop limply at her sides; her jaded eyes have pain washed around them. I know hearing the words I just spoke probably hit a raw nerve deep down inside her, but I had to say something. Charlie really is my future, and as much as it kills me, I will let Cameron go if she can’t support what I’m telling her.
“I have been afraid of that,” she says meekly, dropping her head to stare at the floor.
“Cameron,” I say softly, extending my hands outward to pull her into me.
Cameron shrugs my touch off and tak
es a small step back. Shrugging her shoulders, she lets out a defeated sigh and silently nods her head. “I get it, Greyson. It’s just hard to completely accept it.”
“It doesn’t mean I love you any less, Cameron.”
“No, it does. But, it’s okay. I knew we were never meant for each other, but at the same time I always entertained the thought of it working out for some weird reason in the end.”
“Cameron……”
“It’s fine, Greyson. Just promise me you will treat her the way I know you can. No more of this bullshit, I don’t need anyone in my life kind of crap anymore.”
“I love you, Cameron.”
Cameron once again nods her head as a single tear escapes down her cheek. “We have a meeting tomorrow with the contractors, boss.” She flashes me a small smile before wiping the tear away and turning for the door.
“Don’t let this change us, Cameron,” I call out as she climbs up the stairs.
“It already has, Greyson. But, it will be okay.” Opening the door, she disappears into the house, and I’m left standing in the garage alone. Looking up at the ceiling, a large sigh escapes from my mouth while I lock my hands behind my head.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Charlie.” Her name rushes out of my mouth while I whirl around. The darkness that set in the room only seconds ago when Cameron was here instantly lifts, and as cheesy as it might sound the world feels like it’s a better place.
“Cameron let me in,” she says quietly, nervously fidgeting on the top step. “I’m sorry I just dropped by, I can leave if you want.”
“Charlie, it’s nothing.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Cameron just walked out of your door in tears.”
“We are fine. She just needed to air out some things that are bothering her.” Motioning for her to come down the steps, I once again wipe my hands on the back of my jeans.
Charlie takes the steps slowly, carefully judging the situation as she steps down on the paint stained concrete.
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