But I didn’t need a book to know my answer, my only idea being one that had sat heavy on my heart for far too long. “A cross.”
“A cross? Where at?”
This time, it was me shrugging when I answered, “I was thinking behind my ear. Or maybe I should put it somewhere I can actually see it. Like my wrist, or my finger.”
“Whatever floats your boat, pretty girl. But once it’s done, ain’t no turning back. So you gotta make it count,” Levi coached as if I didn’t already know his words to be true; another reason on my list of reasons why I hadn’t already gotten it done.
A tattoo was a lifetime commitment, unless I somehow became rich enough for laser treatments later down the road. And even if it was church-related, I could only imagine the look of horror on my father’s face if he were to ever see it.
He wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t see me. If we were to ever cross paths again, it would be by chance; not by choice. And since there was no way in hell I was getting caught in that wormhole of thoughts, I turned my attention to Levi and asked, “If you’re supposed to make them all count, what the hell happened to your neck?”
He moved his hand to the exact spot I was talking about, running it against what looked like a spiderweb as he groaned, “Eh… I forget about that one.”
“Its the most visible one, Levi!”
“Yeah. I was… that was a bad night. I was on my Allen Iverson shit. But everything else is solid though,” he said with assurance as he closed one book and moved onto the next.
“So what are you getting then? Gotta tat my name on you if it’s real,” I teased as I decided to flip through the book of different fonts while we waited, reconsidering my idea as I imagined some powerful, life-changing word written in one of the options instead.
“Tat your name if it’s real, huh? Yeah, aight. I got you,” he replied as he abandoned his book to stand behind me, his arms straddling my body as I continued my search under his hovering gaze.
“I’m just joking. That’s stupid. Don’t do that,” I told him with a laugh as I continued to flip through the pages just as Levi leaned in a little closer, his cheek nearly smashed against mine.
And while his close proximity gave me warm tingles, it was his words that set everything on fire when he replied, “Nope. It’s happening. Find me a font.”
I turned his way, pulling my head back so that I could actually see his eyes when I scolded, “Levi, don’t! I’m serious.”
Sure it might’ve been flattering, but it was also… nuts.
Beyond nuts.
Though Levi didn’t seem to care either way as he said, “Alright, alright. I’ll just get your initials.”
“Levi!”
“Man, are you getting tatted or not?” he asked, reminding me of why we were here in the first place just as the tattoo artist emerged from the backroom with an obviously satisfied customer. The guy didn’t look to be in too much pain, didn’t look like he already regretted his decision. In fact, he looked thrilled about his new ink work that was already wrapped in a plastic bandage for healing as he shook hands with the artist.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so mad.
I closed my eyes and released a deep breath, feeling a little more confident when I finally answered, “Okay, let’s do this. I’m ready.”
“You sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah. I’m… I’m not ready,” I squealed just as the artist approached us.
Since it was clear I wasn’t as sure as I needed to be, Levi made himself busy dapping up the artist before turning back to me to say, “Fine. I’ll go first.”
He was already taking off towards the backroom, but I caught him by the forearm to remind him, “You don’t even know what you’re getting yet.”
“I already told you. J.G.,” he tossed over his shoulder.
And while I knew the whole tat-my-name thing was a joke, I couldn’t help myself in correcting, “But my last name is Tyler.” The least he could do was get it right for the sake of teasing.
At least I thought he was teasing until he finally turned back my way with a smirk to clarify, “Jules Graham.”
The reflex of a punch flew faster than I could’ve imagined, landing right against his shoulder and eliciting a laugh before he continued, “I’m just messin’ with you, girl. Relax. My mother’s name was Jennifer. Jennifer Graham. J.G. I know she’s always with me, but… I guess I wanna make it real.”
I honestly felt a little bad for being so self-absorbed, assuming he had really been talking about me the whole time. But since he wasn’t, along with the story behind it, I could only smile.
“That’s beautiful, Levi,” I said as he settled into the large leather chair while the artist worked to exchange his used equipment for fresh, sanitized stuff.
That was another thing that had kept me away from the tattoo parlor; the idea of catching something because some lazy ass tattoo artist didn’t use proper customer safety and health protocol. It would be just my luck that I’d be leaving with bleeding, bubbled over skin and an incurable disease.
“Yep. I definitely can’t do this…” I thought to myself just as Levi asked, “What’s with the cross though?”
I let out another heavy sigh, attempting to formulate my reasoning in my head before speaking it out loud. “I guess I… I believe in God. I follow His word in the best way I know how. But the way my father twisted His word to control me was… it was damaging. I need a fresh start in my personal relationship with God. I… I always want him with me.”
“So make it real then, baby,” Levi insisted as if it was suddenly a no-brainer, taking me by the hand and flipping it over before running his thumb along the skin of my left wrist as if he was giving me an expert suggestion for location.
I could only hope it was also the least painful.
Levi
Within the first ten minutes of Jules getting her tattoo, it was clear being super dramatic was really her thing. She was squirming, and screeching, and squeezing my hand so tightly you would’ve thought she was on the thirty-fifth hour of labor.
But, nope.
She was only on minute eleven of her tiny cross of ink.
“Jules, relax. It’s not that bad,” I told her in an attempt to keep her calm, though there was hardly any use. I suppose I was just trying to help the tattoo artist who was growing more and more annoyed with her antics, having to start and stop to ensure he wouldn’t ruin her design.
But Jules still had tight eyes and tighter lips as she hissed, “I can’t… breathe.”
“You’re almost done, pretty girl. Hang in there,” I insisted as I peeked at her tattoo, the shading almost complete which meant her misery was thankfully almost over.
But closing in on the finish line obviously meant nothing to Jules as she croaked, “I’m… gonna... die.”
The numbing buzz of the needle came to a halt as the guy gave her a little pat to the arm and said, “All done, mamas.” Turning around in his rolling stool to grab the bottle of ointment to cover her tattoo. And as he rubbed it into her skin, I wiped the single tear that had seeped out of Jules’s eye.
“Aww look at you. That’s so cute,” I teased, taking another peek at her now glossy ink.
Her eyes turned to darts as she shot them my way and spewed, “Shut the fuck up, Levi. I can’t believe you tricked me into this shit. Sat there looking all cool and collected during your shit had me thinking this was a piece of cake.”
“It looks good though, Jules. Fresh start, right? Maybe you should pray on it,” I teased again, reminding her of the purpose of this whole thing; a purpose I honestly admired as the artist wrapped Jules’s wrist in a plastic bandage.
While it would’ve been easy for Jules to hold ill-will towards God, confusing her faith with her relationship with her father, she was taking the first step in recreating the connection we all needed to succeed. And even if it was just a subtle reminder, the symbol represented so much more as it pertained to her future.
“
You really think you’re funny, don’t you?” Jules asked with a roll of her eyes as she peeled herself from the chair.
And I could only smile as I told her, “Sometimes. You did good though. The wrist is a tough spot to get tatted.”
“Is there anything that’s not a tough spot?”
“Wherever you have more meat, really.”
“So basically I should get your lips tatted on my ass next time?”
“As long as we get to do a few practice runs for accuracy first,” I answered teasingly as we headed back towards the front to pay.
While I hadn’t exactly budgeted for a tattoo coming into it, I also wasn’t so broke that I couldn’t afford it, even after paying Jules my half of the rent and utilities. I’d definitely be bringing my own lunch from home for at least the rest of the week though. And Jules was already busy pulling out her wallet until the artist stopped her to say, “Nah, mamas. It’s on the house. Just let me snap some pics of ya’ll for social media. Not every day we get a celebrity and his beautiful girlfriend in here.”
I damn near choked at his words, but Jules wasted no time snapping, “I’m not his … girlfriend. And he doesn’t deserve any special treatment. I’ll pay. You did the work. I owe you money. And he does too. Don’t let him have anything for free.”
I immediately pulled her to the side, keeping my voice low as I told her, “Jules, the man said he wants pictures. Save your coins and give him what he wants.”
Thankfully, she agreed even though she snatched away from me when she replied, “Well you better at least give him a tip, cheapie. And you still owe me tacos. Plus a drink.”
“I got you, girlfriend,” I teased before turning my attention back to the guy to ask, “Where do you want us to stand, bruh? Should I unwrap my ink to show off your handiwork?”
But apparently he had already had enough of us as he passed me his card and answered, “Nah, it’s all good. Just tag the shop in a pic once it’s all healed up.”
I accepted the card, sticking it in my pocket before I pulled out my wallet to leave a tip as Jules suggested. “Well I… we appreciate you, man. I’ll be sure to send a few of my boys your way.”
“Thank you, sir. You did great,” Jules added as she reached to stuff a handful of her own cash in his tip jar right after me.
And that seemed to brighten his spirits as he replied, “You’re welcome, mamas. Maybe next time won’t be so bad for you.”
“Oh, no. This is definitely a one-and-done situation. But I see you also do piercings. Maybe I’ll come talk to you about that another time,” she told him with a wink that made him nod approvingly, though it was obvious I had missed the memo.
“Jules, your ears are already pierced in three different places,” I told her as we stepped out of the shop onto the pavement.
And before I could wrap my arm around her shoulder, she fired back, “Who said I was talking about my ears?”
“Well damn. I’ll pay good money for that right now if you’re serious,” I told her, refusing to walk until I heard her response.
But instead of taking me seriously, Jules only laughed as she practically started skipping down the block, tossing over her shoulder, “Come on! I’m hungry!”
It only took a few strides for me to catch up to her, shoving my hands in my pockets as we approached our original destination of the taco truck. And while I looked at the menu plastered against the side of the truck trying to decide what to order, Jules let out a subtle, “Wow...” right next to me.
“What? What happened?” I asked, peeking over to see what had her attention.
And as Jules continued scrolling through her phone at whatever she was looking at, she answered, “Elizabeth just sent me this link, and well… I hate to say I told you so.”
Her words were enough to gain my full attention as she handed her phone over for me to see what she was talking about. And the second I saw the header - Layna’s Logic - I already knew it was trouble. But I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be trouble in the form of a fabricated story about the short stint of time we had spent together.
While she hadn’t used full names, it was clear she was talking about me as I skimmed the article full of only partially-true details focused on her finding out Jules was my roommate. But the way Layna painted it made it seem like I was just some lowlife, live-in bum using Jules for a place to stay.
“Man, this bi… woman is lying,” I hissed as I scrolled down to the comments that were filled with things far worse than what was included in the article. Some people were even taking guesses at who she was talking about though Layna only replied, “I don’t kiss and tell. Not too much at least. ;)”
“What’s the truth when the lie is so much more entertaining? I mean, at least she only used your initials,” Jules added a lot more calmly than I expected her to be as she focused on the menu the same way I had.
“Yeah, with pretty direct descriptors. Anybody with a brain and internet can figure out who she’s talking about,” I replied as she stepped up to the window to place her order. And I followed up by doing the same, paying for the tacos and beer I owed her before we found a seat at the picnic table nearby.
Jules cracked open her can of Tecate, taking a long sip and swallowing hard. “Well… what’s your move, L.G.?”
I thought long and hard, long enough to go pick our food up from the window and make it back to the table as I came up with a plan. And while I wasn’t sure if it would even do more good than harm, that didn’t stop me from telling Jules, “Come take a picture with me.”
“What?” she asked, grease already running down her hand from her first bite.
And as she sopped it up with a napkin, I repeated, “Take a picture. Capture the moment. Remind me how much fun we’re having.”
Jules smirked, shaking her head as she crawled from her side of the table to join me on mine while I pulled my phone from my pocket. And the second I opened the camera, she used it as a mirror to make a few quick adjustments before suggesting, “We have to do something cute.”
“So do something cute then,” I told her teasingly just as she wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek that caught me offguard. Thankfully I had also remembered to press the button to actually catch it.
She was still over my shoulder when she gushed, “That’s super cute. Take one more.”
This time, I took charge, grabbing her by chin with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and giving her a kiss on the cheek, the camera catching the perfect mix of bliss and annoyance she felt towards me. But it looked… cute. Relationship goals worthy. And definitely enough for me to use for my plan.
“What are you gonna do with that?” she asked as she returned to her tacos.
And I was already playing with the different filters when I answered, “I’m about to put this shit on the ‘Gram.”
Jules seemed tickled, taking another big bite of her taco and covering her mouth as she spoke. “You’re crazy. It’s really not that deep. The article will pass. Hell, I’m sure she’s already scoping out her next prospect as we speak.”
“Nah, I don’t like that shit. So if she wanna play hard, I gotta let her know what’s up.”
“By using me? Thanks, Levi. It’s so appreciated,” Jules said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes that honestly had me worried, thinking maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
Still, I tried to reason, “I’m not using you, Jules. I’m just… you don’t like her either.”
“You’re right. I don’t. Post that shit. And make sure you tag me in it so she knows it’s me,” she replied, before taking another sip of her beer.
My fingers hovered over the screen as I typed and deleted a bunch of sayings before deciding to ask, “What should I put as my caption?”
Jules shrugged. “I don’t know. Something shady without saying her name. The last thing you need to be doing is starting some real beef. Though I’ve been itching for a reason to lay hands on her.”
>
Since the last thing I really needed was Jules catching a damn assault charge, I told her, “I got it. I got it. I’m gonna put, “Little baby got ‘em big mad”. What’s today?”
“It’s Wednesday,” she answered as she licked the combination of salsa and sour cream from her fingertips.
“Perfect,” I told her before typing out loud, “Hashtag W-C-W.”
Jules burst with laughter, wiping her hands on her napkin as she squealed, “Oh my God. You are so damn corny.”
“What? You don’t wanna be my Woman Crush Wednesday?” I asked even though it was already too late considering I had just pressed the button to post it. Even if I were to go in and edit the caption, I was sure it had already been screenshotted for sharing.
But that was the least of Jules’s concerns as she put a hand to her chest, and gave a sarcastic, “What an honor. Do I get a trophy too?”
I laughed, putting my phone back in the pocket of my hoodie as I answered, “Nah. You get tacos.”
“Tacos are better than a trophy if we’re being honest,” she insisted as she started in on her second one while I inhaled my first.
And after wiping my face free of the condiments that had slipped out from my first couple of bites, I couldn’t help myself in telling her, “Well you’re better than tacos.”
Jules blushed instantly, peeking up at me with soft eyes and boring into mine as if she was trying to read into my soul. And I wondered what she came up with, wondered if she finally saw the me beyond her original assumptions, the me that was trying so hard to come up in every aspect of my life, the me that was becoming more and more fascinated with her by the day.
“We should’ve done this sooner. What took us so long?” she asked, keeping her eyes on mine as if she was trying to read a reaction instead of hear one.
But that didn’t mean I was going to give her one as I joked, “Couldn’t get you out of the bed long enough.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said with a little laugh of her own, going back to what was left of her taco.
And I did the same, damn near chomping off my fingers with the bite before chewing through my words. “You’re right though. We should’ve done this sooner. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed you.”
Accidental Arrangements Page 17