One Kiss With a Rock Star

by Amber Lin

  If it ever got started…

  The bells above the entrance tinkled as Maddy trailed in behind him. “Where are all the little pictures? I expected…I don’t know, more Ed Hardy. Skulls and hearts. This is like a spa.”

  “You’re thinking of flash. Most shops would have it, but Zen does her own thing. All her work is original.” He pointed to the watercolor paintings covering the walls. The canvas work mirrored the fluid style she used on skin. She inked masterpieces, and not one damn thing she did was customary. “Look, these are all hers.”

  Maddy wrapped herself around him from behind, slipping one hand under the hem of his shirt, trailing the other up his bicep. “And these?”

  He sucked in a breath as her cool fingers stroked blindly over the inked skin she could reach while he stood fully clothed. “Yeah. Mine now.”

  He didn’t tell her not to touch him, not just because it would be an admission of defeat, but also because he didn’t really want her to stop. She’d stop if he asked her to stop, and then she’d find some other way to torment him.

  “They’re all beautiful, but how am I supposed to decide what I want?”

  “If you don’t already have an idea before you walk into a shop, you shouldn’t be getting tattooed.”

  “I have ideas.” She pouted. “I just thought I’d be able to find my idea and point to it.”

  He ground his teeth. The pout, her touch, the forced banter…all of it too much. “I brought you here to watch. You are not getting tattooed today. Zen books new clients months in advance.”

  Zen’s laugh—low and familiar—startled him. She parted the velvet curtains separating her more clinical workspace from her lush reception area. “I’d make an exception for Madeline Fox.”

  “Eavesdropping on your clients now, Zen? That’s tacky.”

  “How else am I supposed to make their wishes come true?” Zen looked more like an alternative model than a fairy godmother, but she did grant wishes. She’d take the broken, half-formed image a client could hardly put into words and make it real in flesh.

  She winked and took Maddy’s hand from his stomach. “Tell me your ideas and maybe we can work something out. I’m a huge fan, Ms. Fox.”

  Krist snorted. He’d never pegged Zen for a star fucker, not in all the years he’d been coming to her, but maybe he’d been wrong. Her playful expression turned icy, then warmed as she cut her eyes back to Maddy, still shaking her hand. “I saw you at the Trib last year, really stripped down and stunning.”

  “You played the Trib? When?” Krist twisted around in Maddy’s grip to face her. The Trib was like the Opry of pop and rock. Booking a gig there was a huge honor. He’d tried to imagine Maddy doing an intimate, acoustic set—stripped down and stunning. An ache pinged in his chest. How had he missed it?

  She nodded and jutted her chin. Proud. “Last fall.”

  He tried to remember where he’d been last fall, what he’d been doing, the tour schedule a haze. Why would he have paid attention anyway? Because he’d followed her career a little. More than a little. It was hard not to when she got so much coverage. And when he couldn’t seem to look away whenever she appeared on-screen. Playing the Trib was big though and on his own personal list of musical goals. The secret one he hardly let himself think about. His mind raced. Maddy played the Trib. Tradition demanded a cover song, a tribute. “Who’d you cover?”

  “You should YouTube it. Her take on ‘Blackbird’ broke me.” Zen grinned, and her Monroe piercing bobbed, a dazzling glint above her blood-red lips.

  Jesus. He needed to see Maddy on that small, spotlighted stage. Needed to hear her croon the words to Blackbird. Because she’d be fucking gorgeous. Admiration filled him, and he fought it. Because God, he couldn’t admire her. Couldn’t like her. Couldn’t let himself feel anything for her except raw, angry lust.

  Maddy smiled at Zen. “You’re so sweet. Thank you. That song is really special to me.”

  “Krist, you’re giving her your appointment. I’m inspired.”

  Zen pinched him, tweaked the spot over his ribs where he’d planned to get new ink, and he jerked. It hardly hurt at all and was far too brief to do him any good. No endorphins. No sunburn. No release. “The hell I am.”

  But he knew there was no arguing with an inspired artist. The velvet curtains swayed as Zen vanished into the back to sketch a transfer. And maybe it would go a little ways toward patching things up with Maddy.

  “Am I getting a tattoo?”

  “You gave her a song. Except for the album art, it’s how she designs most of my work. I give her a song, and she carves out its heart.”

  She ran a finger down the face curved over his shoulder. “What song is this?”

  “That one isn’t a song. It’s a wish.”

  “Don’t tell me then. It won’t come true.”

  Zen came back with a sheet of paper and laid it out on the small reception desk. “This is just the idea of it. Mostly I’ll work it up on your skin. You see this wing? We’ll do the feathers in black, blues, maybe a little teal to make them pop. Very watercolor. And I’ll run a thread of ruby red through it.”

  “The break?” Maddy asked.

  “Yeah, but open. Flying.”

  “It’s beautiful. Where will you put it?”

  Zen laughed. “That’s up to you, babe. It’d look great on your shoulder, maybe your ribs.”

  Krist’s stomach dropped. “Maddy, I don’t think the label will like you getting a visible tattoo.”

  “Then I’ll put it somewhere they won’t see it. What about here?” She touched a spot low on her belly, near her hip.

  Zen nodded. “I’ll flip the design, make it a little smaller, but yeah.”

  Maddy turned to him. “Will it hurt?”

  “Yeah, princess. That close to the bone, it’s going to hurt. But anything worth doing hurts. You know that.”

  *

  Maddy closed her eyes and breathed deep. She was really going to do it.

  “Nervous?” Krist asked.

  “A little,” she admitted. But not like he thought. Not because she was afraid of permanent ink. Zen’s work was beautiful. Which was good, since odds were it would appear on magazine spreads and tabloids around the world.

  No, her nerves were about something else entirely.

  “You don’t have to do this now.” He spoke in low tones and glanced toward the back, where Zen was getting ready to start. “She’ll understand.”

  “Ha! You just want your spot back. Not gonna happen.”

  His lips quirked. “The thought crossed my mind.”

  She knew he’d only brought her here because of what he’d said at the club. This was an olive branch in Krist’s world. It was an honor.

  “Hey,” she said. “Thanks.”

  He looked away. And met her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

  She figured it was as close to an apology as she would get.

  And maybe it would be good enough. Hell, if the label canceled her contract because of this, it would definitely be good enough. Maddy, I don’t think the label will like you getting a visible tattoo. He had no idea. Whether it was visible didn’t matter. She wasn’t allowed to mark her skin. No ink. No scarification. They’d expressly forbidden that in a contract with a fourteen–year-old. She hadn’t even known what it meant. She’d looked it up online and gotten quite the education.

  Krist’s voice dropped an octave. “I just want to make sure you’re serious about this. It’s not like a threesome where you can forget about it in the morning. This is forever.”

  “Is that what you did, Krist? Did you forget?”

  Something hot flashed in his eyes. “Not even close.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He may not think much of her singing. He may not think much of her, but they’d get one thing straight. “I know serious, Krist. I work serious. I live serious. I pound it out on the treadmill ten miles a day and rehearsals and still manage to be a firecracker in the concert at nigh
t. There may be paint and glitter over the top, but you’re looking at the most serious woman in this business.”

  “Fuck,” he breathed.

  Satisfied, she turned toward the back rooms—and squealed. “Oh my God.”

  The smallest kitten she’d ever seen wandered around the corner and just stood there, hugging the doorway with its tiny furry body.

  Okay, so she might have undermined some of the serious stuff she’d been saying, but this cat… She bent to pick it up. It immediately started purring, rumbling in her hand like a surprisingly powerful motor.

  “That’s Kitten Number Four,” Zen said, pulling aside the curtain. “Once you’re done cuddling, you guys can come on back.”

  Maddy held the little fur ball to her chest. “Kitten Number Four? Aren’t you supposed to be super creative?”

  “If I could tattoo names on them, maybe. But it helps me keep my distance. She’s a foster.”

  “A foster kitten?” Maddy’s gaze flew to Krist.

  “Absolutely not,” he said.

  She giggled. “But honey, it can be our first joint responsibility. You know, as a couple.”

  Krist made a face. It shouldn’t have hurt, considering the couple thing was pretend. Shouldn’t have hurt after all the horrible things he’d said about her. But it did, and she buried her face in the warm, furry body.

  Zen cleared her throat. “How are you on pain tolerance?”

  “How does it feel?” Maddy asked, genuinely curious.

  Zen nodded toward the kitten. “Kind of like a cat scratch. Over and over again.”

  Maddy took the kitten’s paw and ran it over her skin. “Ouch.”

  “There’s some topical analgesic. And I can get you an ibuprofen before we start.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m tougher than I look.” She set down the kitten, who wandered away.

  “Oh, you look pretty tough.” She shot a look at Krist as she snapped on some black latex gloves. “I guess anyone who can take him on would have to be.”

  “Hey,” Krist said halfheartedly.

  “Just calling it like I see it. Now get in here.” Zen positioned Maddy where she needed her on what seemed like a massage table and wiped Maddy’s belly and hip with something strong smelling. “I’m going to draw a few broad strokes first, to lay out the perspective. This is freehand, so you’ll have to trust me a little.”

  Maddy raised her eyebrow.

  “Okay,” Zen conceded. “Trust me a lot.”

  Maddy looked at Krist and winked. “I do trust you. After all, I’ve seen what you can do.”

  Zen smirked. “I try not to gloat, but really, he is glorious.”

  “He’s in the room,” Krist muttered, cheeks turning pink.

  The hum of the needle drew all their attention. Without hesitation, Zen began to work, drawing a line from Maddy’s hip to her bottom rib, claiming the space. It did feel like a cat scratch—if the cat was seriously pissed off. Nothing like the still-soft kitten claw.

  “Hurts?” Krist asked.

  She smiled, almost drowsy. “Yeah. Jealous?”

  “Like a motherfucker.”

  The noise and feel formed a kind of cocoon—one with bristles. It closed her off from everything around her. All the worries and pressure, blocked off. There was only feeling. Only pain. No wonder Krist loved to come here. No wonder he was so covered in ink. And somehow, Krist being there only heightened the effect. He watched her, and she basked in the regard.

  She must have fallen into a daze, because the ring of a cell barely registered. Krist’s phone.

  “Don’t answer it,” she murmured at the same time as Zen said, “Take it outside.”

  Krist checked the screen. “It’s Ward. I better take it.”

  Maddy’s eyes snapped open. “No, better not. At least, not until we’re done here.”

  Krist was silent a moment, staring at the black ink on pale skin. “This is a bigger deal than I realized, isn’t it?”

  This was a beautiful piece of art. This was a gift from a man she cared about far more than she should. And yes, this was also a shit storm with major legal and financial ramifications. Such was her life.

  *

  Krist switched off his phone. Whatever trouble gathered on the horizon, they didn’t need to deal with it until later. He pulled up a chair to watch Zen work. No, to watch Maddy. He watched as beads of sweat prickled her brow, and yet she never flinched. He watched her lips go pale and thin with tension. He watched her eyes drift closed.

  “If you need a break, just say the word. There’s no shame.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The outline isn’t so bad, but the shading can be a bitch.”

  She jutted her chin toward Zen. “How much longer do we have?”

  Zen mopped over her skin with a paper towel, soaking up blood and ink. “About twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes is nothing. Twenty minutes is a period cramp. A back spasm. A long kiss good night. Keep going.”

  Zen smiled, admiration plain on her face, and Krist smiled too. Maddy didn’t do anything in half measures, and she didn’t hide from pain. One tough customer. Pride and possessiveness flooded him—threatened to pull him under. He didn’t have any right to feel either, not after the way he’d treated her last night.

  They’d have to talk about that, eventually.

  “I had a kitten once.” She sucked in a breath, her belly tightening as Zen worked the ink deep into her skin. “I think I was three—maybe four. I hadn’t done Jamby’s yet. Ah, shit. That hurts.”

  “Almost done.” He squeezed her hand. “Tell me about the kitten.”

  “We were still living in the crap apartments with the broken slide. I heard him crying in a pile of trash under the steps. Such a sad little mew mew mew.”

  Zen looked up from her work. “Another rescue. I bet you had a great name for him.”

  “Mister.” She hissed over the buzz of the tattoo machine. “Kitten.”

  Zen huffed. “That’s nearly as bad as numbers.”

  “I was—oh, oh—three. What’s your excuse?”

  Krist squeezed her hand again. “Probably not a good idea to taunt Zen when she’s permanently marking your skin.”

  “I hid Mister Kitten in my little play purse to get him into the apartment and tucked him into my blankets. One of his eyes was all goopy, so I got a tissue and cleaned him up. I was trying to pour milk into a cereal bowl when Mom realized I was up to something.”

  Krist’s stomach twisted.

  “I could’ve hidden him too, except for the flea bites. We’d been cuddling for hours and I guess I hadn’t really felt them, or maybe I didn’t care. Itchy red welts covered my arms and belly, around my neck. Mom was pissed. I don’t remember spilling it, but there was milk all over the kitchen. I was good at fixing cereal—careful, a big girl—so it doesn’t make sense. I wouldn’t have spilled it.”

  “What happened to—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. I had a kitten once. He knew there was no way the story ended happily. He’d never had a pet. Pets didn’t really do well on tour, but he’d never had a pet taken away.

  Maddy gritted her teeth, against the past pain or the pain of the tattoo, he wasn’t sure. Maybe against all of it. “I shouldn’t have brought such a filthy, ugly thing into the house. It made me ugly. That’s what she told me before she threw him away.”

  Zen worked the red break into the wing design curving over Maddy’s hip, and Krist tried to shake the image of a tiny Maddy snuggling a mangy kitten, her heart full of so much love she didn’t even notice that it was hurting her.

  When Zen finished the tattoo, she coated it in antiseptic and analgesic goo, covered it in a temporary bandage, and went over the printed aftercare instructions. “If there’s anything you aren’t sure of, you ask this lug head or you call me.”

  “S-sure.”

  “You okay, princess?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Just a little chilly.”
r />   “Or a little in shock. Here, put this on.” He draped his jacket around her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, ducking into it. The sleeves hung down past her fingertips. The waistband brushed the top of her knees. She looked ridiculous and adorable, swimming in soft leather. “Smells nice.”

  “Okay, we need to get you back to the hotel. Get a little sugar in you.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? My candy boy.” She hummed, snuggling deeper into his jacket.

  She sounded drunk. He tried to remember how he’d felt after his first tattoo, how long it had lasted, but he’d spent endless hours under the needle since then.

  He nodded to Zen. “Bill me.”

  “That beauty is on the house as long as she tells everyone where she got it.”

  “I’ll shout it from the rooftops.” Maddy’s knees buckled. She grabbed his arm to hold herself up.

  He studied her face, still pale, eyes glassy. “Did you take something?”

  When had she had the chance? She’d refused a break. Zen had offered her ibuprofen, but she’d shrugged it off. They’d been together the whole time.

  “No, baby. I didn’t take anything. I let something go. It’s just hitting me right now, that’s all. We’re past the point of no return.”

  “Oookay.” He shook his head. She wasn’t making much sense. They could talk more once they were back at the hotel. He’d tuck her into bed and order her room service, and she’d be fine in no time. Hopefully she wasn’t having second thoughts about the tattoo already. Fuck, he shouldn’t have let her do it. He should’ve talked her out of it, made her wait a few days. Live with the idea a little.

  “I want the kitten.” She leaned into him, wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing her face into his side. Nuzzling him, almost like a kitten herself.

  He petted her hair, smoothing the damp strands at her forehead. “Another bad idea. Don’t you have enough to take care of already?”

  She sighed. “Not for much longer.”

  “Come on, I’m taking you home. You. No cat.” He ushered her out of the shop and into the limo. She kept her head on his chest the whole ride but didn’t say anything. Not for much longer echoed in his mind. What was she giving up? He helped her out at the hotel, led her into the elevator and up to the suite. Back in the room he peeled his jacket off her and directed her into the bedroom.