The Mad Tatter

by J. M. Darhower

  "Sounds hot," I say, "but no."

  "I bet she's a total cougar, though."

  I laugh. "Cougars go for the young guys, Ellie. I'm pushing thirty here."

  "So she's not an old broad?"

  "No, she's young."

  "Oh God, she's not, like, high school young, is she?" Ellie looks at me with horror. "Please tell me she's not a teenager."

  "She's not," I reply. "Although, she is a student."

  Ellie stares at me for a moment. "Huh."

  "What?"

  "She almost sounds normal," Ellie says. "What's wrong with her?"

  "Nothing." I drop my feet to the floor. "Absolutely nothing."

  Ellie regards me cautiously. "Where'd you meet her?"

  "Here at the shop," I say. "She came in with a friend."

  "Ha, I bet it's that chick that got her septum done. Oh, or that one with the bows on her thighs! She was all over you.... no, wait… Lexie didn't like her, right? Uh… damn, who does Lexie like?" Ellie's eyes widen. "No way, pink dress girl? The one who showed up here and said she didn't know what she wanted from you?"

  I merely smirk.

  "You fucker! It is!" Ellie balls up a piece of paper and launches it at me. "How did you pull that?"

  I clutch my chest in mock offense. "I'm hurt."

  "And I'm shocked," she replies. "I mean, you're you, and she... well... let's be real here. Miss Pretty in Pink? No offense, Reece, but she's totally out of your league."

  My expression falls. This time I am kind of hurt.

  The phone rings, garnering Ellie's attention once more. Sighing, I stand up and swipe a cigarette from Ellie's desk before walking away.

  I light it as soon as I step outside, inhaling deeply, the smoke scorching my lungs. I exhale slowly, glancing around the busy neighborhood, and freeze when I see her standing damn near right behind me. "We've really gotta stop meeting this way, Aphrodite."

  "Tell me about it." Avery waves the air as she steps closer, her nose scrunched up. "Thought you didn't smoke."

  "I don't," I say, taking another puff, the smoke soothing my nerves. "Thought you had class in the mornings."

  "I do," she admits, "but midterm recess started today."

  "Ah, like spring break?"

  "Sort of, but it lasts two weeks."

  Two weeks? "You going anywhere?"

  "Nope," she says. "Well, not unless here counts. I'm sticking around town to work on my choreography for the show, so I thought I'd come here and maybe, you know… watch."

  "You want to watch?"

  "Yes," she says, shrugging.

  Smirking, I take a drag of the cigarette. "Sounds kinky."

  "It could be," she says playfully. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

  Looking over at her, I slowly exhale. "Not fair. You've already seen me tattoo. I haven't seen you dance."

  "No, but you saw me, uh, twirling, and bending, and gliding, and bouncing…"

  "Doesn't count. The lights were off."

  She rolls her eyes, blushing, before immediately breaking out into a lazy dance, twirling around as she shakes her ass.

  I laugh, taking one last short puff before tossing the cigarette down and stomping it out. "Nice try, but that's not going to work. I need to see some pointy toes and pirouettes and nobody puts baby in the corner kind of shit."

  "With or without clothes on?"

  "Huh." That question stumps me. "Let me get back to you on that one."

  The door behind me opens, the jingling sound drawing my attention that way. Ellie appears, scowling, clutching the appointment book. "Reece, your two o'clock called and—" Ellie glances up, stalling mid-sentence when she sees Avery standing there, a smile creeping up on her lips. "Hey there."

  Avery smiles politely. "Hello."

  "My two o'clock called?" I raise an eyebrow at her, snapping my fingers in her face to get her attention. "And? Please tell me they didn't cancel."

  "Nah, they asked if you could squeeze them in any earlier," she replies, straightening her expression out as she jots something down in the book. "I told them to go ahead and come in, you know, since you're not doing anything right now, but if you want me to call them back…"

  "No, it's fine," I say, turning to Avery. "Guess you're in luck, voyeur. You get to watch, after all."

  Jay Brandon, six feet tall and built like a bear, burly and hairy and a downright fucking brute, is a living billboard of what never to do. Ink and piercings cover him, from the top of his shaved head to the tips of his toes, a walking disaster of mistakes.

  I've been working on him for a while, gradually covering his old homemade jailhouse tattoos with something the man can be proud of. It isn't easy, but if there's anything I love, it's a challenge.

  I think the girl across the room proves that.

  Avery sits in a chair out of the way, visibly recoiling when Jay ambles in. I greet the man with a nod as I finish working on the stencil. I get right down to business preparing the area, hiding my abhorrence at having to shave part of the man's brawny chest, and carefully position the hooded grim reaper silhouette over a trio of faded blue dollar signs.

  "You know the deal," I say as I get my ink ready, kicking the cassette box. "Pick your poison."

  Literally. Poison. I stick the tape in the boombox and pressed play, Brett Michael's voice instantly wailing through the speakers. I settle in on my stool, moving closer to the table as Jay stretches out, and set right to work. The buzzing of the machine melds with the loud rock music, surrounding me, sending me into a trance as I focus on the tattoo. I damn near forget Avery is even there, perched quietly in the corner, until Jay clears his throat. "So, who's the broad?"

  I glance over when Jay motions that way, seeing Avery grimace at the term. "That broad would be Miss Avery Moore."

  "Pretty little thing, huh?"

  "Oh, most definitely," I agree. Gorgeous.

  "Never seen her around here before."

  "Yeah, she's sort of a new development."

  Avery waves her hands in front of her face to garner our attention. "I'm sitting right here, fellas."

  I smirk, while Jay lets out a hearty laugh, somehow managing to remain still despite his amusement. "I know, sweetheart, and don't worry… I ain't got a bad thing to say about you. You working with him now?" Jay's attention darts to me. "You get an apprentice?"

  Before I can respond, a sharp laugh rings out from the doorway as Ellie approaches. She pauses there, leaning against the doorframe, clearly eavesdropping. Nosey fuck. "Definitely not. She's more partner than trainee, if you catch my drift. Less work and more play."

  I pull the needle back as my eyes shoot straight to the receptionist, scowling.

  "Ah!" Jay says, turning back to me. "Didn't realize you had a girlfriend, man."

  Ellie grins with satisfaction, staring right at me, as she echoes that word. "Girlfriend."

  "Uh, guys, again… right here." There's a hint of urgency in Avery's voice as it raises an octave. "I can hear every word you say, you know."

  I can't turn to her, can't look at her, as I feel my face heating. Jesus Christ, I'm blushing like a little bitch. I shoot Ellie a stern look instead. "Do you need something, Eleanor?"

  "Nope."

  "Then go away."

  Ellie narrows her eyes at me, sticking out her tongue, before turning around and walking away. I let out a deep sigh, shaking my head, as I turn back to the tattoo.

  "So," Jay said. "How long the two of you been—?"

  "How about we take a quick break?" I suggest, cutting him off before he can finish that question. I switch the power off to the machine and wheel my stool back. We aren't even a quarter of the way into the session, not nearly long enough to need a break, but I need a moment to clear my head so I can focus.

  Jay doesn't argue, lugging himself down off the table and strolling out of the room.

  "Sorry about that," I mutter once we're alone. "I swear it's like a fucking high school cafeteria around here with the w
ay these people gossip."

  "It's okay," she says. "I didn't know you told them about us."

  "I didn't." I turn around, looking at her, taking in her questioning expression. "They just assume things and have no idea what they're talking about." I step closer to her, smiling softly. "Well, except Jay. He was definitely right."

  "About?"

  "About you being beautiful."

  I pause in front of her, one hand grasping the corner of the table while I tilt her chin with the other and lean down to softly kiss her mouth. I like kissing her.

  "That's not what he said," she murmurs against my lips. "He said I was a pretty little thing."

  I kiss her again. "You are."

  "He called me a broad."

  Another kiss. "He did."

  "He said I was your girlfriend."

  I kiss her once more, this time deeper. "I heard."

  I start to stand back up straight but Avery grasps my arm, halting me. "Am I?"

  I stare at her for a moment. "Do you want to be?"

  She doesn't answer right away, her stare burning through me, as the question lingers in the air around us. I don't know what else to say, so I don't say shit. Within moments, Jay comes strolling back in, a sly smile twisting Avery's lips when the man takes his spot back on the table.

  "Huh," she says, her voice low as she lets go of me, her hand slipping from my skin. "How about I get back to you on that one?"

  I laugh when she turns my words back around on me.

  The day wears on, the hours flying by. I immerse myself in my work, forgetting Avery is even in the room until she moves, hovering and watching, the scent of her perfume filling the air around me. Those moments, time seems to stop, each second an eternity as I inhale deeply, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every sound, every breath, until she backs away again. I work on my outlines with precise detail, expertly shading what needs to be shaded, coloring between the pre-made lines, but not feeling even a stitch of what I feel emanating off of her.

  Intrigue. Passion. Lust.

  I miss those sensations.

  Painting used to stir them up inside of me.

  Clients come and go, a monotonous schedule… after the chest reaper is an upper thigh revolver tucked into a tattooed garter belt, a flowery tramp stamp, and a second session on a massive snake winding around a bulging bicep, strangling the arm, venom dripping from its fangs. In between sessions I grab a few moments for myself, ordering pizza so Avery has something to eat, grabbing slices on the go while I work.

  Night has fallen, closing time slowly descending upon us, when I switch off the machine for the last time. My fingers ache as I flex them, a pain in my back from being hunched over all day. After the man pays me and departs, I hit stop on the boombox, silencing the sound of some heavy metal band just as it starts giving me a dull headache.

  "Thank God," Avery mutters, lounging in the chair, her feet stretching out in front of her. "I don't know how you work with so much noise."

  "It's not so bad," I say, shrugging as I discard my gloves. "You can learn a lot about a person by paying attention to what music they listen to."

  "Is that why you let them pick?"

  I nod. "Most of the time, I've only met them once, if even that, before I tattoo them, so it's hard to get a grasp on their personality. But music, you know… music tells me what they don't. They choose loud, angry music, and it makes for a loud, angry tattoo. It influences the work I give them."

  "In that case, shouldn't you pick, since you're the one doing the work?"

  "No. It's not my art. It's theirs."

  "Do you ever get to do yours, though? You know, just given free reign to do whatever you want?"

  I slowly shake my head as I gaze at her. "Not all of us are as lucky as you, Aphrodite. I've had some in the past give me some leeway, but they always have an opinion, or suggestions, and ideas, little things they want… and that's the way it should be, I guess. It's their body. They want something specific commissioned… they don't come in asking for originals."

  Avery is quiet as she gazes at me, a frown tugging her lips. I turn away from her, realizing how pathetic I must sound, whining. Glancing around my workspace, I let out a deep sigh. "Let me clean up and we'll get out of here. You must be bored as shit from sitting here all day."

  "Bored?" She scoffs as she stands up. "Hardly. I could sit here all day, every day."

  Avery doesn't stay all day after that, but she wasn't exaggerating about every day. Over the next week, I no sooner get into work and set up for the day when Avery appears, quietly taking a seat in the folding chair. She hangs around the shop all morning, watching as I tattoo, before we have lunch brought in. We eat, chatting for a while¸ just stealing a few minutes in the middle of the afternoon. She hangs around for a bit afterward, until I start my next tattoo, and then she jets to work on her choreography.

  After closing, as usual, I meet her across the street for drinks before heading to my place for sex.

  A lot of fucking sex.

  Day after day; night after night. We fall into a comfortable routine. She seems to always be there, burrowing her way under my skin as she infuses herself into my life, filling a void, like there has always been a place in it for her.

  Friday morning, I'm sitting in my room at the shop, working on a tattoo design for a client as I wait on my first appointment. I glance at the clock—a few minutes until opening—when my phone rings. I pick it up, my eyes drifting to the screen, and tense.

  Lexie.

  Not Lexie, per se, but close enough. Rebecca never calls me unless it's about our daughter. I answer it quickly, on edge as I bring it to my ear. "What's up?"

  "You need to keep Alexis this weekend."

  "Uh, what?" My brow furrows. "Why?"

  "Richard unexpectedly got called out of town."

  Richard, her perpetual boyfriend-slash-boss, the head of the firm where Rebecca is a secretary. Lexie calls him Rich, but I can think of a more fitting nickname for the asshole. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "It's for work," she says. "I'm going with him."

  "Why? He can't answer his own phone?"

  "I do more than answer his phone, Rhys."

  "I know." You blow him, too. "But you're not the only one with a job here."

  "Oh, give me a break," she says. "You piss around at that little shop all week long while I take care of her. You can't give your daughter a day? You're too busy? What kind of father doesn't want his kid?"

  "Of course I want her," I bite back, turning around on my stool, startled to see Avery standing in the doorway, listening. "It would just be nice to have a little notice."

  "Yeah, well, here's your notice," Rebecca says. "I'll drop her off at three o'clock."

  The phone beeps as the line goes dead. She hung up on me. Groaning, I toss my phone down on the desk and run my hands down my face in frustration. Fuck.

  "Problem?" Avery asks, stepping into the room.

  "Yes." I hesitate. "Well, no. Nothing I can't deal with, anyway."

  Avery takes her usual seat as Ellie strolls to the doorway to give me my morning report, chewing on the cap of her BIC pen and staring down at the appointment book. "So you're booked solid all day, Reece. Four consultations and three back-to-back sessions. Plus there's a guy who just walked in that—"

  "No walk-ins."

  Ellie continues as if I hadn't interrupted. "That wants to talk to you about covering up an old tattoo."

  "I'll talk to him, but he'll have to schedule an appointment like everyone else," I say. "And I need you to try to shift my appointments around tomorrow, reschedule as many of them as you can for another day."

  Ellie grimaces, scanning the appointment book. "That's gonna be tricky."

  "Yeah, well, I'll have Lexie this weekend now, so I don't really have a choice. She barely survived one session last time she was here. There's no way she'll sit through an entire Saturday at the shop with me working without tearing the fucking place
to pieces."

  Ellie taps her pen against the book before jotting something down.

  Avery clears her throat. "I could watch her."

  Ellie and I skeptically turn to her.

  "What?" I say.

  "I could watch her," Avery says again, shrugging. "I don't mind."

  "I, uh…" I don't know what to say. "I don't know."

  "We could just hang out here, you know, if you'd rather us, or we could go to the museum, or do whatever she wants to do, so that way you can get your work done."

  "Are you sure about that?" I ask.

  "Yeah, no problem," she says, smiling, but her expression falls quickly. "I mean, unless you'd rather me not… you know, if you don't trust me to…"

  I don't usually trust anyone with my kid, am suspicious of everyone, but most of it is out of my control. I can't pick Lexie's teachers, or her nannies, or whoever the hell Rebecca gallivants through her home, and I fucking hate it… but I've trusted Avery enough to bring her to my place, to introduce her to my girl. I trust her, yeah, but that isn't really the problem here.

  "She's not gonna like it," Ellie mumbles, still searching through the appointment book, her thoughts going the same way as mine. "She'll probably raise hell."

  "She will," I agree.

  "I can handle her," Avery says. "We'll have fun."

  I stare at her for a moment. She looks genuine, and I most definitely can't afford to cancel my sessions. I need the money now more than ever, especially if I hope to get the hell out of the neighborhood I've been living in when my lease is up at the end of the year.

  Sighing, I nod, waving toward Ellie. Fuck it. If ever there's a test for whether Avery and I have any sort of future, it'll be how long she can survive dealing with my little spitfire alone. "Keep my schedule as it is, then. We'll work it out."

  Ellie shoots me a surprised look, letting out a laugh as she mock salutes me. "Whatever you say."

  She walks away, to consult with the others, as I turn around in my stool to face Avery. "You don't have to do this."

  "I want to," she says. "She's your daughter, she's important to you, and well… you're important to me."

  Those words are spoken casually, just flowing from the tongue naturally, but they strike a deep part of me. When was the last time somebody said something like that to me? I can hardly remember.