Love and Tattoos

by Matthews, Lissa

  “What have you been discontent about?”

  “Being friends,” she answered honestly. “The first time I saw you when I came home, I knew I didn’t want to be friends anymore. I wanted to be your girlfriend, your lover, whatever was more than friends. I didn’t think you —”

  “You didn’t think I felt the same way? Well, now you know I do. What do you mean that what’s in your notebooks isn’t the whole truth, that I’m wrong about your art? I need to understand.”

  “What I wanted to do when I came home was so cluttered in my head. I didn’t know. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I only knew I wanted art. I didn’t know how or in what form. I thought about asking Joe to take me on as an apprentice, to teach me how to tattoo, but the more I watched, the more I realized that I didn’t want to. I wanted something else. I’ve been trying different things, different techniques in my sketches and drawings, looking for what would scream “this is it” at me. But you and Joe… God, y’all are the nosiest guys in the world. Always trying to look over my shoulder.”

  “So you planted some bland, lifeless drawings to throw us off?” Annie blushed, then nodded and let her gaze fall away from him. “You little… And I took it seriously. I took it that you were broken and sad and needed help finding your way.”

  “I’m sorry. The thing I hate worse than showing art that isn’t finished yet, is having someone looking over my shoulder.”

  “I didn’t know that about your work. The not showing it, thing. Have you always been that way?”

  “No but in the last few years, it kind of crept up on me and it’s become a thing. Now when I draw, I can’t let anyone see it until it’s done and even then, I get nervous and tense. I doubt every line, every curve, every shaded inch.”

  “Why?”

  “During my second year with the ad agency, I was put on some bigger projects that required more elaborate concepts than what I’d been used to with them up to that point. My art would be flawless, brilliant even and too much.” Annie heard the let down in her voice, a mirror of the feelings she used to have during those times. “I remember my boss would peer over my shoulder, correct things, comment, and it got to where I couldn’t do anything without checking with her all the time. She was forever telling me that I had to make things simple, easy. Just make it bold and bright, Annie. No one cares about the details.” She mimicked her former boss’ voice and did her best to laugh it off.

  “That frame of thought sunk in and took over? Is that what you’re saying? Is that what you can’t shake? Annie, life isn’t like that. Art, while it can definitely be like that, your art is not just one way or another. Yours is both bold and elaborate.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “What you’ve interpreted as my lack of artistic intensity is not what’s been going on with me. I think I’ve found my way or I’m starting to, at least. But then, there’s the real thing you figured out about me.”

  “Which is?”

  “I went along with your little challenge because somehow you figured out I wanted you. Aside from me telling you a few minutes ago and of course earlier from the second you kissed me the first time. I don’t know how you figured it out. I never told you before tonight. I never told anyone.”

  “It wasn’t all that hard to figure out.”

  “How was it easy?” She wanted to know, and continued, “I didn’t stare or flirt or make passes at you.”

  He gestured with his hand, as though waving off her bewilderment. He didn’t seem fazed. Not that she was surprised. Nothing much seemed to ruffle him. Except… Her.

  She was the ruffled one, the one with her hackles up around him. God, he’d been so fucking right about her treating him different.

  “It was that whole avoidance thing and how vehemently you denied it.”

  Annie turned that over in her mind. “So you didn’t know before I started acting that way?”

  “Before?” He was the bewildered one now and she counted that a small victory. “Nope. How long?”

  “Since Joe brought you home for Thanksgiving my sophomore year in high school.”

  Brax’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. He closed it rapidly, but then…“You were what? Fifteen, sixteen?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, giving her hair a tug. “Naughty girl. Good thing Joe never found out. I’d have never been allowed to come back.”

  Annie laughed. “I know. What do you think he’s going to say now?”

  “As stated before, he’s going to want to kick my ass.”

  “Are you really okay with that?”

  “As also stated before, you’re worth every right hook. Look, Annie…” His tone changed and his serious expression, with no hint of smile or teasing, had her barely breathing. “What I know about you… I guess it seems superficial, but it’s all part of who you are as a person. I didn’t have to be around for every moment of everyday to know who you are inside. I only had to pay attention during those few times we did spend time around each other.

  “I didn’t think you knew I existed.”

  “You were a teenager. You weren’t supposed to exist to me. But, you did.”

  “Joe would talk about you sometimes, too.”

  “Oh yeah? You should’ve listened.”

  “If I had, I wouldn’t be here now. He would talk about you being a player, not serious about any woman you went out with.”

  “He was right. I went out with a lot of women. Hell, I love bars. Picking up one night stands here and there. Picking up a girl at a rock concert. Yep. Tattoos are catnip.”

  “Yes, they are.” Annie would be the first to admit falling under their hypnotic spell. While some shun ink, others gravitate toward it.

  “Are you wondering if I’m still like that? If I’m still picking up women in bars and at shows, aren’t you? Is that what you think you know about me? What you were alluding to earlier outside Jamie’s?”

  Annie started to shake her head, denying it for the truth it was, but something must have given her away because Brax was there, pressed against her. He urged her over until he could frame her face in his hands again. His lips covered hers in a brief, hard, heartfelt kiss.

  When he pulled away, he took a breath and she thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He just kissed her again. Light, fluttering kisses that turned her inside out. “No,” he said firmly. “No. I’m not picking up women. The one I want is you.”

  “How much?”

  “More than words can say.”

  “You’re a romantic.”

  “I can be.”

  “Can you be a gatherer, too?”

  “Huh?”

  Annie smacked a kiss to his lips before pushing at his shoulders. “A gatherer. You know, food?”

  “You’re kidding? Right now? We’re having a moment and you want food?” Brax fell over onto his back in dramatic fashion, clutching a hand over his heart. “I… I can’t believe it.”

  “Hey now. It takes a lot to keep these curves round and shapely,” she teased.

  He reached out, lightning quick, and wrapped his arm around her hips. He drug her to him and kissed her when she was pressed to him. “And I certainly want those curves.” He sighed. “All right.” He rolled away and stood, offering his hand. “Let’s get you something to eat before you starve so I can get some more sex before I… Well, I don’t know what, but I’m sure some disastrous fate awaits me if I don’t have sex again soon since it is so freeing.”

  *

  “You really should’ve let me take you back to my place tonight.” Brax leaned heavily on the refrigerator door in their closet sized break room. Not the walk-in size either. No, this was nothing more than a bi-fold closet with a fridge, a microwave, and a set of free standing cabinets

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s nothing to eat in here.”

  “Nothing at all?” she asked, peering under his arm.

  “
Nope.”

  Annie backed up and opened the cabinet doors “Nothing in here, either. This is sad. Who’s the designated stock person in the shop?”

  “We don’t have one.” He slammed the refrigerator shut and braced his back against it. “Jamie’s is closed too.”

  “Wait.” Annie bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands together in rapid succession. “Do we have more water bottles?”

  “Yes.” Brax’s tone was wary at best. Annie understood. She did seem a little too excited.

  “Grab a couple. Do you know how to pick a lock?”

  “Breaking and entering? Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my staid and stand-offish Annie?”

  “Yep. Joe’s desk.” Annie fairly skipped into the office. “Joe always keeps a package of cookies in the back of the bottom draw.” She stopped and faced him. “What do you mean staid and stand-offish? I have not been that way with you tonight.”

  “Not since you had to get naked. And what do you mean by Joe always keeps cookies in his desk drawer? I’ve never seen them.”

  “I know. They’re behind the hanging files. He about killed me the first time I found them.”

  “What if he ate them all?”

  Annie shook her head. “He never does that. He always makes sure there’s a full package.”

  “Okay.” Brax wagged his finger in her face, but pulled it back when she made to bite it. “If we get in trouble for it…”

  “I know. I know. I’ll blame it on you.” She barely made it out of swatting range.

  She had her shirt and panties back on and he had his pants on and for some reason they hadn’t left. He hadn’t pushed about taking her to his place and she hadn’t invited him to hers. It was fun in the tattoo shop in the middle of the night. It was familiar, but not. It was like being somewhere they shouldn’t be, but not for any reason she could think of.

  He knelt on the floor at her feet, with two metal files; one that looked like a pick, and one that looked like it had a flat blade at the end. She wasn’t paying as much attention to the illegal activity of lock picking as she was to the man committing the act. She stared to her heart’s content at his body. “Did Joe do the wings on your shoulders?” she asked, tracing the edges with her fingertips. He was warm to the touch and small freckles dotted his skin.

  One wing was white, spread over his right shoulder. The other was black with red tips, spread over his left shoulder. Annie had admired them all night, since he first took his shirt off, she’d just been distracted by other pieces of his ink, other parts of him.

  His hands stilled and he lowered his head to let her explore. Ink stood out and he had so much of it. He wasn’t afraid to be who he was. He never had been. His bosses told him to keep his tattoos covered, her bosses never had that chance. She never let her guard down long enough for them to see her. Maybe that had been a good thing. Maybe not.

  “They’re beautiful. Who designed them?”

  “I did. Joe did the ink.”

  Annie opened her palm over the black wing and spread her fingers, the ends just touching the edge of the red tips. Her hand looked small and fragile against the dark shading. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I hadn’t either. Angel’s wings didn’t seem to fit me. I looked through hundreds of drawings and images and photos of other tattoos. When I couldn’t find what I wanted, I drew it. Took me several weeks to get it right. Good, and evil.”

  “Which side were you listening to tonight?”

  “Both.”

  “They were in agreement?”

  Brax looked up and captured her gaze. “The good side said go with my heart. The evil side said go with my baser instincts. I did both.”

  If she could’ve melted into the floor, she would have. Brax would be her undoing before the sun rose. “Cookies,” she said. “My evil side is saying cookies.”

  Brax shook his head. “My evil side is saying forget the cookies and eat the girl.”

  “After cookies,” she promised.

  “After cookies,” he grudgingly repeated.

  “Does it feel weird to you?” The question came out of nowhere, one she hadn’t realized she’d planned to ask. But as she eased herself onto the surface of Brax’s desk, she wanted an answer.

  “Does what feel weird? That I feel like an idiot for thinking your art was all stifled and shit?”

  Her heart ached. She hadn’t meant that at all and she regretted, not for the first time, the way she’d lashed out at him. “No, I —”

  “Ah-ha!” he exclaimed. Metal clicked and slid against metal and soon Brax had the drawer open. “Well, I’ll be damned. That sneaky son of a bitch.” The package of iced oatmeal cookies appeared and Annie grinned.

  “Told ya.”

  Brax pulled the packaging open, joined her on his desk, and offered her the first cookie. “Yes, you did.”

  “Do you really feel like an idiot?” She hoped not.

  “No. I’m not sure how I’m feeling about that whole art thing I thought you needed help with, but no. Did you use me for sex?”

  “No, but if it makes you feel better, I can.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Does what feel weird?” he asked again.

  “Being with me.” The cookie was good. She hadn’t had one in months. It was their favorite, her and Joe. They’d grown up eating iced oatmeal cookies, three to be exact, with a glass of milk before bed.

  “No. But if we ever got to this point, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t feel anything other than great. Why? Does it feel weird to you?”

  “A little. Going from friends to lovers isn’t always a smooth transition and being here, locked away from the world, from people, and in the dead of night… The spell will be easily broken once we venture outside or go home.” She snagged another cookie. “You were that sure of me?”

  “No. Artists are kind of fickle.” He nudged her with his shoulder, smiling at her when she nudged back. “I was just waiting for you to come home.”

  “You could’ve come up to me.”

  “We’ll call that the not so sure of you part. I didn’t know how a visit from me would’ve been received. I know my own corporate experience with how I look, or at least once they saw the tattoos, was not all that bad. I didn’t know how your friends would take to someone covered in them.”

  “That’s why Joe didn’t come visit me a second time. My closest friend thought he was cute, except for all that unsightly ink. Her words, not mine.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have been seen any different. You can’t change your brother. A friend or boyfriend looking the same way would have been worse. A brother you can’t do anything about. But a lover? You can choose him and if it had been me…”

  Annie dropped her head against the wall and groaned. “I don’t know why I was so sure I needed to fit in. I always went my own way, did my own thing before. Why did I need to fit in so much?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we all want to feel part of something, feel that we connect and fit in the boat rather than do anything to rock it”

  “I think women are like that more than men.”

  “It’s possible,” he agreed. “Most of us Neanderthals see a man with six pack abs, good looks, fancy car and we might want that for all of a second. But then we grab another beer, turn on the game, and forget about it. Women? Y’all obsess.”

  Annie laughed. “We so do. About weight loss, what we drink, how we dress, where we shop. It all matters.”

  “To some guys maybe, but it’s never mattered to me. Maybe it was just that you were in a new city, far from what you were used to.

  “Philly was different than western North Carolina It was fast-paced, going all the time. There was always so much to do, so many things to see, places to go. There was light and noise and constant motion.”

  “And you didn’t want to feel left behind?”

  “No. I didn’t feel free either. I felt stifled. I didn’t feel creative. It was an ad agency. It
was about creation, or supposed to be. I could see you fitting in in a place like that, especially since you’re from California. Looking at you, you and Joe, both should be out of place here, but you’re not.”

  “I think with the college kids and the artsy area, we have a niche that works. Did you visit any tattoo parlors in Philly?”

  “No. I visited art galleries instead.”

  “How do you feel being home? Is it different now than when you were growing up? Is it different being around us all again, being in the shop? Do you prefer the tattoos to the art gallery?”

  “It’s personal here, much like when I was in college in Savannah. The area is small and intimate and means something to the people that live here. Being with Joe, with you… Being in the shop and seeing people of all ages want ink, want art…” Annie smiled. “I haven’t felt this inspired in a long time.”

  “Most people need to get away to find themselves, Annie. You’re not the first. I had to do it too. What’s important is to know where you belong or at least where you want to go and maybe even what you want to do when you get there. You found the ad agency wasn’t it. Corporate America wasn’t it. A tattoo shop may not be it either. Could be Love and Tattoos is just a stop along the way to wherever you are meant to be.”

  Cookie forgotten. Hell, breathing forgotten, Annie stared at Brax, dumbfounded. When she was able to shake herself free and form coherent thought, she said, “Careful. You’re ruining your street cred with all the philosophical insights.” The exact issues with her art, or what he thought were the issues, weren’t, but what he’d just revealed told her that he did know her, he did know more than that she wanted him. He did know who she was and what she was going through.

  “Street cred? I have street cred?” Brax laughed around a bite of cookie. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he conspiratorially whispered.

  “Not a peep,” she agreed. She closed her eyes, wanting to savor every second possible. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opened up to someone, not like this. She’d shared feelings, thoughts, disappointments, pleasure. The pleasure made her smile. Brax was an incredible man. He was beautiful to look at and gorgeous to make love with and amazing to listen to. He understood her. He might not know exactly where her art was taking her, or where she wanted it to take her, but he’d shown her that he cared enough to try. “Do you still want to ink me?”