by J. L. Perry
I grin when I see he’s heading towards the homeless man I saw him give food and money to the day we reconnected. I place my hand over my heart and sigh when he passes the old guy a takeaway coffee cup and a small paper bag. This is one of the reasons why I can’t help but love him. He has a beautiful, kind soul.
I wait until he’s entered the shop before I make a move. He’s a modest man and would probably feel uncomfortable if I made a fuss over what I just witnessed.
Jax is standing behind the front counter counting out the float when I walk through the door. ‘Morning,’ I say in a chirpy voice.
He looks up, and the beautiful smile that crosses his face takes my breath away. He always seems genuinely happy to see me. It’s surprising how one look from him can affect me as much as it does.
‘Morning. You’re here early. Did you wet the bed?’
I laugh ‘No. I came in so we could talk.’
‘About what?’ he asks, giving me his undivided attention.
‘Us.’
‘Shit,’ he mumbles as he walks around the counter, guiding me to the black leather sofas. ‘You’re not quitting are you?’
‘What? Of course not,’ I say, taking a seat on the sofa and tapping the space beside me. ‘I love it here.’
‘Thank Christ. Because I love having you here.’
I place my hand on his leg once he’s seated. ‘Jax, you know you’re my best friend, right? That will never change.’
‘I know.’ He sighs and looks at the floor.
‘I don’t want either of us to do anything that will jeopardise that. I don’t want to lose you again. I couldn’t stand it.’
‘Me either.’
‘Well, maybe we need to set some ground rules.’
‘Such as?’ he asks, and his gaze moves back to me.
‘I wasn’t going to bring up … you know … that night, but maybe I should. I think we need to clear the air and get it all out in the open.’
‘What night?’
‘The night you left.’ And crushed my heart into a million tiny pieces, I want to add, but I don’t.
‘Oh … that night,’ he says as he removes his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. ‘That’s one of the biggest regrets of my life.’
‘What do you mean? Walking away, or what we did?’
‘Both.’
I have to fight back the tears when he says that. I had contemplated telling him everything I went through after he left, but now I know there’s no point. It wouldn’t do any good. I don’t regret one second of that night. I hate that it tore us apart, but it was one of the best experiences of my life. I’ll never regret him being my first. It was everything I’d hoped it would be. There’s been nobody else since him. I was so busy with beauty school and helping Sophia with Maddie that there wasn’t time for men. To be honest, I wasn’t interested anyway.
Jaxson Albright owns my heart. I wish he didn’t, but he does. We need to be on the same page if our friendship is going to survive this. I was good at masking my true feelings for him before we crossed the line, and I’m pretty sure I can do it again.
‘I care about you, Jax.’ I pause, I’m afraid my voice is going to crack. I don’t want him to see how much he’s upset me. ‘A lot, but you’re right. What we did was a mistake.’ Those words taste so bitter in my mouth. ‘We’re friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. If I want to see other people, you need to respect that. And I’ll show you the same courtesy. Okay?’
He rises from the sofa and starts to pace, fighting some kind of inner battle. He pauses and goes to say something, but then thinks better of it. I sit there in silence as he continues walking back and forth. It makes me feel uneasy. When he eventually stops, his eyes meet mine.
‘Okay.’
Geez. All that for one word?
‘Great.’ When I go to stand, he holds out his hand and helps me up.
‘So, we’re okay now?’
I place a soft kiss on his cheek. ‘Yes. We’re okay, Jax.’
••••
Over the next few days everything goes back to the way it was. Well, kind of. Jax still isn’t coming over after work, for dinner. He hasn’t mentioned it, so I haven’t either. He’s been totally normal with me, but I get the feeling he’s trying to put some distance between us. Maybe it’s for the best. Pretending I’m not hopelessly in love with him all the time is hard work.
I’m sitting behind the front counter when a pretty brunette enters the shop. She’s dressed to kill and doesn’t look like the type who would be interested in getting a tattoo, but I could be wrong. We have a lot of clients who I wouldn’t have picked for the tattoo type. Last week we had a sixty-five-year-old grandmother come in to get her first-ever tattoo, a tiny dolphin on her hip. I thought it was pretty cool.
‘Hi,’ the brunette says when she approaches the front desk.
‘Hi. Can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Jax. Is he here?’
‘Do you have an appointment?’ Looking down at the diary in front of me, I see his next appointment is with someone named Matthew. It’s safe to say that’s not her.
‘No, I don’t. I just wanted to see him quickly … if he’s free?’
‘He’s with a client, but if you want to take a seat, I can let him know you’re here.’
‘No, that’s fine. I, um … I don’t want to disturb him. Can you give him this for me?’ She plonks her designer handbag on the counter and her perfectly manicured hands dig around inside before retrieving a man’s black leather wallet. ‘He left his wallet at my place last night. I found it this morning on the floor next to the bed. It must’ve fallen out of his jeans while he was getting dressed. I thought he may need it.’ She laughs nervously as she passes it to me.
I force out a smile as my already battered heart tears in two.
‘Sure. I’ll give it to him.’ What I’d really like to do is ram it up his double-standard hypocritical arse.
JAX
I follow my client, Brad, out to reception once we’re done. I’ve spent the last three hours putting the finishing touches on the large eagle that’s spread across his back. It’s taken me five sittings to complete it, but it was worth the time that I put in—it looks amazing. I made sure to get a photo before he put his shirt back on. I love seeing the look of satisfaction on my clients’ faces once the job is complete.
‘I wanna get my kids’ names on my arm next,’ he says. ‘I’ll need a few weeks to save up the cash though.’
‘No problem. Just speak with Candice, she can slot you in when you’re ready.’
‘Thanks again, mate,’ he says, extending his hand. ‘I’m in awe of your work.’
‘You’re welcome.’ When I let go of his hand, I turn my attention to Candice. ‘I’m gonna head out and grab something to eat. You want anything?’
‘Nope,’ she says without making eye contact with me. ‘Oh, you’ll need this.’ She slaps my wallet down on the counter.
I scratch my head as I walk over to pick it up. ‘I was wondering where I put that. Where did you find it?’
‘I didn’t.’ She looks at me briefly before lowering her eyes, continuing to flip through the diary in front of her. ‘You left it on the floor beside some girl’s bed last night. She dropped it off earlier.’
I hear Brad chuckle from beside me, but I’m not amused. I went out for a few drinks to drown my sorrows and ended up going home with some chick. Not because I was attracted to her—the total opposite. I just needed to forget Candice for a while. She’s consuming me.
The crazy thing is, I thought of Candice the whole time. I even closed my eyes and pretended it was her so I could blow, which is so messed up. But just like the others, last night was all in vain. My heart won’t stop pining for the one person I know I can never have again. I’m a lost cause.
Picking up my wallet, I leave Brad with Candice as I head out into the street. I hate that she knows what I got up to last night but there’s nothing I can say to undo
what happened. I shouldn’t be concerned about it, but I am. Candice made it quite clear the other day that we’re only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. But the last thing I want to do is rub my conquests in her face. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know I’d hate it.
When we talked the other morning, I almost professed my love for her. Thankfully I had the sense to shut my mouth before the words fell out—it would’ve only made this awkward situation worse. I could never give her what she wants. I’d only fuck it up and ruin everything we have. I refuse to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship.
Candice is quiet for the rest of the day. She’s still talking to me, but she’s not her usual bubbly self. I’m not stupid; she’s hurt, or maybe just angry. She probably thinks I’m a hypocrite for the way I carried on about Jason.
I’m cleaning up after one of my clients when she knocks on the door. ‘Hey,’ she says, ‘can I come in?’
‘Of course.’ Initially I think she’s going to bring up the wallet, but she doesn’t. She’s a better person than I am.
‘Sophia wants to know if you’re coming over for dinner tonight.’
I grin. ‘Do you want me there?’
‘I’m asking you, aren’t I?’
‘Okay, I’d love to.’ I’m relieved that we’re all right.
‘Great, I’ll let her know.’ She turns to leave, but then stops. ‘I’m right to get a lift home with you then?’
‘Of course. It’s pointless getting Sophia to come all this way when I’m going to your place anyway.’
She glances over her shoulder and smiles before disappearing down the hall. I’m grateful she’s at least trying to keep things normal. I pray in time it’ll get easier for us both.
It has to.
JAX
THE NEXT FEW DAYS ARE UNEVENTFUL. THAT IS, UNTIL I WALK out into reception one day to find Candice missing. Shane, one of my artists, is sitting behind the counter in her place. ‘Where’s Candice?’ I ask, thinking she may have stepped out for a minute.
‘She’s with Gus. He’s popping her cherry.’
‘He’s fucking what?’
‘Calm down, man. She asked him to ink her. He’s popping her tattoo cherry, not her, you know … cherry cherry.’ He chuckles.
I’m not amused, I can tell you. Like hell Gus is inking her. She never mentioned getting a tattoo to me, and there’s no way I’m letting anyone else put their hands on her. I’m confused. I’m her best fucking friend for Christ’s sake. Why wouldn’t she ask me to do it? I can’t even put into words how much that hurts. I spin around and storm down the corridor to his room.
I open the door without knocking. This is my business, so I can do whatever the fuck I like. ‘What the hell, Candice?’ I say, stalking towards the reclining chair where she is sitting. Gus’s surprised eyes meet mine. I’m relieved to see he’s still putting the transfer on her arm and hasn’t started inking her yet. Thank Christ it’s just her arm—if it was anywhere else on her body, I may have completely lost my shit.
Candice eyes me sceptically when I come to an abrupt halt next to the chair.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘What’s it look like?’ she replies. ‘I’m getting a tatt.’
‘Why?’
‘Um … because I want one?’
‘Don’t be a smartarse, Candice. Why didn’t you ask me to do it?’ I see red when she shrugs her shoulders. Is she for real? This may not be a big deal to her, but it is to me. ‘If you want a tattoo, then you’ll be getting it from me. End of fucking story.’
‘Easy there,’ Gus says, rising from his stool.
He’s twice my size and built like a brick wall, but I’m not backing down here. I can’t wrap my head around the fact she didn’t ask me. I give him a look, warning him not to push me—I’m already teetering on the edge.
‘Butt the fuck out, Gus,’ I snap when he opens his mouth to say something more, before turning my attention back to Candice. ‘I want to know why you didn’t ask me to do this?’ No, I need to know. I’m not good with rejection. I’ve had to deal with it from my family my entire life. I never thought I’d have to face it from her as well.
‘Because …’ She pauses before releasing a defeated breath.
I stand there and wait for her to continue but she doesn’t. Her eyes dart between Gus and me and I get the impression she doesn’t want to tell me her reasons in front of him. I reach for her hand. When she stands, I pull her from the room and towards my studio. I need to get to the bottom of this.
‘You can do my two o’clock appointment, Gus,’ I call over my shoulder, as Candice tries to tug her hand out of my iron grip.
As soon as we’re inside my room, I close the door and stand in front of it, blocking her escape. She’s feisty when she’s mad, and the look on her face tells me she’s about to let me have it. Bring it on, my little spitfire, bring it on. I’m angry too.
‘Why did you embarrass me like that?’ she says as she takes a step towards me, pushing my chest. ‘You had no right.’
‘Why didn’t you ask me to give you a tattoo?’
‘You can’t answer a question with a question, Jax.’
‘I can do whatever the fuck I like.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Fuck you too,’ I say.
What in the hell is happening to us? We’ve never been this volatile before.
‘You had no right to do what you just did.’
She’s right. I didn’t. I’m acting like an arsehole. ‘Fine,’ I eventually say. ‘I may have overreacted slightly, but in my defence, I’m hurt that you went to someone else.’
‘Slightly … huh,’ she scoffs. ‘Overreacting is where you’ve moved to apparently. What happened to the easygoing Jax I once knew? Who replaced him with this … this … overbearing, controlling … jerk?’
‘I’m supposed to be your best friend.’
‘So?’
‘So how do you think it makes me feel knowing you don’t want me to do your tattoo? That’s like me going to see someone else to get a stupid facial.’
When she laughs my anger spikes.
‘I can just imagine it. Your face covered in a pore-reducing mask, sliced cucumber placed strategically over your eyes.’
Like that’s ever going to happen. ‘Shut up and sit.’
‘What if I don’t want to?’ she says, folding her arms over her chest. ‘And don’t tell me to shut up.’
I sigh. ‘Please, sit.’
‘Fine,’ she says with a huff.
Fuck me. Wonders will never cease. I wasn’t expecting her stubborn arse to give in so easy.
Taking a seat on the stool beside her, I look over the large transfer of a hibiscus flower that Gus placed at the top of her arm. ‘What colour do you want the flower?’ I ask as I grab the equipment I’ll need out of the drawer beside me.
‘Pink,’ we say in unison, followed by, ‘Jinx.’ We laugh. We’ve always been in sync like that. It’s not unusual for either of us to finish each other’s sentences, or think what the other is thinking.
I can feel her watching my every move as I mix up the colours and get everything ready. I like that.
‘Ouch. That hurts,’ she whines the minute the needle connects with her skin.
‘You didn’t think it was going to tickle did you?’
‘I guess not,’ she says with a shrug.
‘Stay still.’ I use my free hand to stretch the skin tight. When my eyes dart up to hers I find her studying me intently. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
There’s a comfortable silence between us as I outline the first few petals of the flower.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you.’
‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.’ It was only because I was hurt, but I’m not going to tell her that. ‘Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come to me?’
‘Because we’re friends.’
What does being friends have to do with it
? ‘What the fuck is Gus then?’ If she says they’re more than friends, I’ll crack it.
‘A friend.’
‘Well?’
‘Well … Gus and I don’t have a history.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, oh.’
‘It’s just a tattoo, Candice, it’s not like I’m going to jump you or anything.’
‘Don’t I know it … been there, done that.’
There’s sarcasm in her voice, and her words sting. I wish she’d stop saying things like that. She’s nothing like the others—they don’t hold a candle to her.
I go back to working on her arm. ‘Next time just come to me, okay?’ I can’t stay mad at her. She had her reasons.
‘Okay.’ When I glance at her face, she smiles. ‘I wanna get my whole arm done, maybe even both,’ she says excitedly.
I’m not even finished and she’s got the tattoo bug already. She’s going to rock these tatts. As if she’s not already sexy enough.
‘Well, let’s tackle one thing at a time. I can’t do all that in one sitting.’
‘I kinda figured that.’
‘You know Sophia’s gonna freak, right?’
‘Probably, but it’s my body. There’s not much she can do about it now. It’s not like this thing is going to wash off.’
I chuckle. I’m sure I’ll get a lecture tonight when I go over for dinner. It’ll be worth it though.
I love that my Candylicious is going to be inked.
One month later …
As I’m approaching my shop early this morning, a car parked across the road catches my eye. It’s a classic, a red 1975 Holden Monaro. It needs a bit of work, but it’s a nice-looking car. It appears to be all original as well. You don’t see many of them around anymore.
After giving it a once-over, I notice the driver inside, resting his head against the steering wheel. He looks troubled, but I don’t think much of it. I’m not one to get involved in other people’s business. We all have shit to deal with. Turning away, I crouch down to remove the padlock on the metal shutter.
Minutes later, I find myself standing at the window, watching the guy across the street again. Don’t even ask me why I’m concerned about him, but I am. He’s now resting his head back against the seat. He’s young, possibly in his late teens, or early twenties.