Haunted

by Merrill, R. L.

  The man looked over and nodded at me. His shoulder was touching the window giving me a perfect view of his profile once he turned away continued to stare out the window from an angle. My line of sight was immediately drawn to his mouth, his perfect lips that were held in a barely perceptible pout. Beneath his tattoos, his skin was very fair making his black hair that much more dramatic.

  I had to tear my gaze away from this D guy to say hello to the others. They all greeted me as Marcus had and I went through the motions with my head spinning. Damn. Too much male presence and cologne can make a gal heady.

  Mage was around six feet with long curly brown hair, exotic looking cafe au lait skin and pale green eyes. He and Jade were similarly built, but Jade’s jet-black, straight hair hung down to his waist and he had the same hazel eyes as his brother, Marcus. Star was the lone blonde in the group with hair that stuck up all over, tan skin and dark brown eyes. He was a little shorter than the others and leaner. He moved like a boxer, quick and dangerous.

  “It’s nice to meet you all. Do you have reference material or ideas?”

  They all looked at each other uncomfortably. Mage and Jade actually put their heads down. D was rubbing the heel of his palm against his chest. The air even felt heavy.

  Marcus spoke up, “Actually, we had something a little unconventional in mind.”

  I frowned. The artist in me was intrigued. “How unconventional are we talking?”

  Daryl laughed out loud. “Chère, don’t you go worrying your pretty little head. These boys are harmless.”

  Marcus made a show of giving me his most innocent smile, complete with fluttering eyelashes. My eyebrow rose even higher, although why I was surprised this manchild would resort to juvenile gestures is beyond me. Daryl put his arm around Marcus’ neck and pulled him into a headlock.

  “Let me put it to you this way, if they don’t behave I’ll tear them limb from limb. I don’t care how many millions those limbs are worth.” The guys laughed nervously, all except Mr. Mysterious who was still staring out my window with a thoughtful look on his face. Double damn.

  Daryl pushed Marcus away and Marcus ran a hand through his hair and chuckled.” Now Uncle Daryl, would I ever be anything other than a gentleman?”

  Daryl narrowed his eyes at him and the others snickered.

  “Alright, would I ever be anything other than a gentleman with a woman you had under your protection? No, absolutely not. I value all my, ahem, body parts.”

  They all laughed at that, including me. I suddenly thought about Mackenzie and turned to see her talking animatedly with Star over at the other counter. He was looking at her trays of body jewelry. It appeared Star was intimately familiar with a piercing needle. He had wide gauges in his ears, a stud through his bottom lip, a ring through his nostril, and one ear was speared with a barbell. As he smiled and spoke to her I could see light glinting off a tongue stud, a fact Mackenzie seemed to be studying seriously.

  “So what do you think, Miss Charles?” Marcus was smiling at me expectantly. It was obvious he was the singer and voice for the band. “Are you willing to work for us? We will pay you generously for your time away from the shop.”

  I started at his words. “Away from the shop? I’m sorry, just where do you expect me to work?”

  Marcus looked questioningly at his uncle. Daryl put his hands out.” I hadn’t told her yet, son.” He turned to me with a serious look on his face.” These boys will be staying at the St. Germaine house for the next few weeks. They’d like you to come and stay with them, hear their stories and help them design their pieces.”

  I’d been by the St. Germaine house, it was on one of the haunted tours Mackenzie and I had taken a few months ago. I had been utterly entranced by its beauty and the chilling stories the tour guide had told us. One of my favorite authors was rumored to have tried to buy the house as it had inspired her writing.

  Shaking myself, I questioned Daryl, “And how am I supposed to be gone from my shop for that long?” I’d never denied Daryl anything, how was I supposed to say no? But our shop was only in the black because I worked my ass off five, sometimes six days a week. “I’ve got appointments scheduled.” I looked over at Mackenzie for help, but she was too busy making eyes at Star.

  “I had our attorney draw up a contract for you to look over, Miss Charles. Please, if you would be so kind, take tonight to look it over and we’ll be in touch tomorrow. I really do hope we can work together. It would mean a lot to us.”

  I could sense a profound sadness from Marcus when he said this. He looked over at Mr. Mysterious who had taken off his sunglasses and was looking at me with the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. His beanie covered all but the very front of his black hair, which was pushed back from his forehead. The bottoms of his ears were visible and both were adorned with thick silver hoops. My breath caught in my chest and I couldn’t help but stare as he moved gracefully over to stand next to Marcus. He looked to his bandleader, who he towered over, and just above eye level to Daryl who patted him fatherly on the back. He swallowed and spoke in a low, quiet voice.

  “I understand you are very busy, Miss Charles. But we need the right person if we’re going to do this. It’s time, and we really need to move on. So please, think about it?”

  Such sadness. My mouth went dry as his blue eyes held mine. “I will. Think about it. I’m sorry, this is just not something I’ve ever done.” I glanced again over at Mackenzie and this time she looked over at me, nodding excitedly.

  “Can I call you tomorrow evening? I just, I need to figure out if it’s even possible.” I glanced down at my appointment book. I was booked solid this weekend and most of next week. I gulped. That money would get us through the slower months until the weather cooled and the tourists poured back in.

  Marcus appeared relieved I wasn’t just shutting them down and showing them the door. “That would be just fine, Miss Charles. We’re getting settled in over there so here’s our manager’s card.”

  He handed me a grey card with an embossed black skull taking up the entire left side. It had the name Sherry Jordan on it with a Los Angeles area code.

  My gaze traveled from Marcus to D, who was looking down and nodding while Daryl talked to him quietly. He looked up at me and the faintest of smiles lifted his lips. He looked to Daryl, embraced him, put back on the sunglasses and walked out to the car to wait for the others. Mackenzie batted her glittered lashes at Star who seemed ensnared and had to be physically removed from the premises by his band mates, one hand dramatically over his heart.

  The men filed out. Daryl followed them to the door, shut it, then turned on me as the Hummer blasted to life and pulled out onto Frenchman street. He smiled at me, confident he was going to get his way. He might have also noticed my gaze following the men out. They looked as good leaving as they did coming in. Well, shit. More than my artist was intrigued.

  “So what do you think of my boys, eh? Their music is a bit screamy for my tastes, but their hearts are good. They’ve had some heartache, them. You can help them heal, Jaylene. You know you can. Working with them might send your business into the big time, these rock stars they all be comin’ to you then.” I smiled at his assurance. Daryl somehow sensed I had daddy issues and did his best to subtly play the part for me. “What other reservations you got there?”

  “And who’s got the Master’s degree here? Geesh, I think you make a better therapist than I ever would have.”

  He laughed deeply. “Dahlin’, what do you think my job is? All I deal with is head cases!”

  He was right. Daryl’s club was full of men and women who were all damaged and derelict but they paid complete allegiance to him. During their time with him, they all worked toward becoming upstanding members of society. He didn’t get to be their president by shying away from a challenge.

  Not like me. I’d graduated Magna Cum Laude from California State University, Hayward, with a Master’s degree in Counseling Psychology, ready to begin my career. Life had
other plans for me, and now my place was here. I knew I’d made the right choice for me, but echoes of others’ expectations made me question my decision regularly. Not Daryl, though. He believed the best work was done on the front lines and he considered my chosen profession as reputable as they come. Gods bless this man. Again I was faced with the dilemma of how I could get out of this situation without damaging my relationship with him, a relationship that went beyond professional to more like family.

  “Daryl I can’t just walk away from my business for weeks! I’m booked almost solid and I need the money to get through the summer. Not to mention some of my appointments are friends of yours!” He nodded, a smug look on his burly face.

  “You just be sure to read that contract. I think those boys will take care of everything. And if anyone gets upset, you just tell them to come and see me, y’hear?”

  Sigh. Daryl could just snap his fingers and things were taken care of? He probably could, but I didn’t like being beholden to anyone and as much as I trusted him, I could never ask anyone to bail me out. And it wasn’t just me that was a part of this decision.

  “What about Mackenzie? I can’t just leave her!”

  Mackenzie put her arm around me. “For that, Jay? You better leave me! I will never forgive you if you don’t leave me for them. You must go stay with that fine looking bundle of male specimen!”

  Leave it to her to be ruled by her hormones. I shrugged her arm off. “Kenzie! I can’t base my business decisions on a bunch of hot guys!”

  She looked at me like I was a slower younger sister. “Um, duh! Yes you can, and you better!”

  I glanced at the contract, it read like legalese blah blah. I peered up at the Metallica clock over my station, 7:30. I still needed to clean my flat and do laundry before I could even get to bed, not to mention I needed to clean myself up. Shit! I needed a haircut, I probably still had yesterday’s eyeliner on and my nails were a mess, and don’t even mention my feet! I pulled back my long blonde and black streaked hair and blew my bangs out of my face. I made my excuses and told Daryl I’d see him soon. He reminded me to read the contract and he stepped out the door. Mackenzie locked it behind him and then turned on me with a challenging stare.

  “You’re thinking up reasons why you shouldn’t do this. Well, unthink them! Do you even know who they are? Maggie’s Bones are HUGE! They toured with Avenged Sevenfold! Remember when I went to that show? They totally rock!”

  Mackenzie and I shared a love of rock music. but mine was entrenched in music pre-1995 and hers started about that time. I was forever trying to school her and she would bring stuff in to play for me that was ok but lacked the soul I found in the older stuff.

  “That’s great, Mackenzie. Why don’t you go tattoo them?”

  She crossed her arms over her generous cleavage. “Girl, be real! You know this is a great opportunity. Go read that contract and if it’s for enough money to get you by, then do it! Even if it’s not, hell, it’s enough eye candy to get you by for a lifetime. Damn, they are fine looking men.”

  I shook my head as the number of appointments swam in front of my eyes. It had been a long day and this proposition had me overwhelmed.

  “Go upstairs and get your head together! Read that contract!” Mackenzie was doing her best to wear me down.

  I shook my head at her and waved good night, reminding her to set the alarm and turn out the lights after she did her orders and answered shop email. She and I both had our own flats upstairs, a perk to this shop space. We were sort of roommates but had our own space as well. And I needed my space tonight. I checked the back door, found it locked and then trudged up the stairs. I had been going since eight this morning, worked through lunch and then ate a protein bar around four. My stomach was growling so I heated up some leftover spaghetti and sat down at my little dinette with this contract.

  Contract of Temporary Employment between

  Jaylene R. Charles and Maggie’s Bones, LLC.

  Period covered: from April 13, 2012 to May 1, 2012

  Place of employment: St. Germaine House, Rue Royale New Orleans, LA.

  Description of Duties:

  Embed with members of the organization and work with them to design a memorial tattoo to Margaret Boudreaux. Conduct interviews and planning sessions with each member individually and as a group. When the design is agreed upon, complete memorial tattoos.

  Amenities: Room and board will be provided on the premises. Wi-Fi, computer, drawing station, table, and all other necessary items for work will be provided.

  Restrictions: No visitors allowed. Personal phone calls will be limited by work session schedule. Employee may not discuss the nature of this arrangement, nor the memorial with anyone in the press or anyone not deemed on a need-to-know status. All drawings will be approved by the members of the LLC and will become the property of the LLC upon completion of the contract. No alcohol or controlled substances will be allowed on the premises, nor is the employee to partake of said substances for the duration of the contract.

  Compensation: Employee to be paid a sum of $17,000 with a separate payment for each of the completed memorial tattoos TBD by the employee.

  Any questions or issues with the contract may be discussed with the LLC representative Sherry Jordan.

  What? The? Hell? Isolation? My art would become the property of the LLC? No controlled substances? Well, that wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t drink much, especially not while I was working. Never did drugs; they had no appeal for me. And it sounded like I’d be working ‘round the clock. I picked up the phone and started to call Daryl and realized I probably shouldn’t discuss any of this with him in case he wasn’t on the ‘need to know’ list, although he probably was. But how much did he know? If he trusted these guys I assumed I could too, but holed up with them for two and a half weeks? And $17,000!!! That was a hell of a lot of money, more than I’d make in the shop. And that wasn’t including the actual pieces I tattooed! Damn. That would go a long way towards keeping us afloat. It would be a safety net.

  I blew my bangs off my forehead with a huff and read over the contract again. So many things could go wrong with this situation. What if these guys were all assholes and I wasn’t inspired to draw anything up for them?

  But then inspiration hit. Mr. Mysterious, or D, whatever his name was. Something about him spoke to me. I picked up my pencils and opened a sketchbook lying on the shelf next to me. From memory I drew him as he was standing in front of the window. It was amazing how I could remember so many details! From my perspective at the counter, I could see his profile behind his sunglasses. His lashes curled back against heavy eyelids and deep, furrowed brows. Wasn’t there a scar in his left eyebrow?

  I stood up quickly and stepped back from my drawing. He was staring up at me. I’d drawn him looking out the window with his shades on but his reflection faintly showed those sad eyes. I traced my finger over his face and wondered what could have made him exude so much sorrow. The memorial must be for someone he cared deeply about. They had all seemed so uncomfortable talking about it.

  “Well, those counseling skills I paid so much for just might come in handy,” I said to myself as I walked over to my window.

  Things were just starting to get moving outside. With the window open I could hear a guitar playing soulful blues. The music was pouring from the doors of the club across the street and it sounded sweet to my ears so I left it open while I ran a bath. I figured after I soaked for a bit I could attack the house and get it in decent shape for my visitors. It would never meet their standards, but then hey, what about me did?

  My stepmom and grandma loved me dearly, but my tastes had always crossed the border of what they found acceptable into completely out-there territory. A lot of folks couldn’t understand the draw of tattoos and I gave up trying to explain it to them. I had them because they were pieces of my life, my experiences, people who were important to me. I was into drawing from the time I could remember. I shirked art classes in favor of do
ing what I wanted to do, the one area I could be myself and not conform to what others thought I should be doing. I spent so much time trying to please others that my drawings were the one place I could please myself.

  The summer after my freshman year at Cal State I walked into my first tattoo shop and walked out with a sun tattooed on my lower back, to light my way. Unfortunately, when tattoos went mainstream and every other girl was coming out with the lower back tattoo, it was dubbed the ‘tramp stamp’ and I was once again trying to dig my way out of others’ expectations. Guys thought tattoos meant easy access. A few well-placed punches put an end to that reputation, and I was considered unapproachable from then on. All because I didn’t want to be groped. Perfect, I didn’t need that kind of attention.

  That first trip not only branded my skin, it landed me a job that I absolutely loved. I was a shop girl for the rest of college. Eventually I showed my boss Stephen my drawings, which led to him insisting upon me becoming his apprentice. I was leading two lives: college girl by day, tattoo artist by night and weekends. My coursework was tough, but I somehow managed to get through a bachelor’s and then a Master’s degree. I’d always wanted to help people, loved being a sounding board for others, but I pushed forward with the degree because my family insisted I’d starve if I depended on tattooing for a living. Never mind that my boss was very well-known and respected, and made a comfortable living with his art. The thought that I was letting my family down nagged at me so much that I decided I’d leave the tattoo world and throw myself into an internship. A professor hooked me up with one of his colleagues, who gave me his undesirable clients, and I soon grew to loathe it.

  My father was pleased, though, and all I'd ever wanted was his approval. But then I got the early morning call. Grandma asking me to come. Me dropping everything. My father in ICU with more tubes in him than I could count. A horrific week of watching him, waiting for a sign he would make it. And then saying good-bye. That was it for me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I found a place to rent in New Orleans, a city I’d fallen in love with during a Spring Break trip I’d taken with some folks from the shop, and I bailed. I hadn’t been back since and didn’t plan on it. Shannon and my Grandma said they understood, but were shocked and frankly a little pissed I was “running away from my problems.” As far as I could tell, I was running away from a life I dreaded and running to a new start. My father’s shadow was always there, making me doubt myself, but the longer I was in New Orleans the easier it was to put those doubts in a lock box and hide them away. Real healthy for a therapist-in-training.