Tegan: Exotic Ink Series (Book Two)

by LS Anders

  Pulling free the elastic band from the nape of her neck, she noticed there was a single black hair wrapped around the elastic. Carefully untangling the strand, she held it up to the light marveling over the darkness of the color and at how the deep blue highlights would shimmer down the long length when she slowly twirled it between her fingertips.

  She had the ridiculous notion to keep it, seemingly special because it belonged to him. After all, it did hold all the information that made him who he was inside the microscopic DNA embedded within. If only she had some sort of scientific instrument, maybe she could decode the molecules and get some answers to her questions about the man.

  Placing the strand carefully in the top drawer of the vanity, she stripped down, cranked on the shower to get the hot water flowing and stepped inside the still humid glass enclosure. Tilting her head back, she sighed as the warm water flowed from her hairline to her heels, thinking how marvelous it was that Tegan had been completely naked in here just a few moments ago.

  Finishing up, she dressed quickly noting the morning was growing late. She was hoping to get to the store right as they opened to avoid the crowd.

  Crossing the road at 3rd Avenue, she quickened her pace as she past Andrea’s apartment. She'd nearly run into the girl a couple of times since Brent's death and had walked quickly away, not wanting to have anything to do with her. Once Andrea had tried to approach her, but she'd crossed the street practically running to get away from her. There was absolutely nothing that girl had to say that Rayna wanted to hear.

  Tegan stood stretching his arms above his head and rolled his artist stool out of the way, stowing it under the console table. It had been a long as hell day without Rayna there to keep him distracted at the shop, and his mind kept wandering back to all the unfinished bullshit with Tracy.

  He’d called and left a message with his lawyer’s receptionist but still hadn’t heard anything back. His court date was already set for the following month, but he was getting antsy to get on with it. He wanted to know if there was anything new about Tracy’s whereabouts. Just eighteen more days and he hoped to be done with her.

  It had felt natural that he should kiss Rayna goodbye this morning as if they were any other couple, but neither one of them had laid claim to the other, so he’d kept his lips to himself. Fuck him, but the expectant way she had looked up at him when he’d left had him cursing himself. He should have never assumed he could enjoy her for one night. That just one more taste would be enough to satisfy him, and she seemed to be growing attached to him, developing feelings the same as he was for her.

  He’d dropped his well-fortified defenses and allowed her to waltz around inside his cold heart. He was not boyfriend material. He was barely even friend material. But he was afraid the damage had already been done, and Rayna had set his thermostat to thaw. He knew he was only going to hurt her in the end.

  The deepest, darkest parts of himself were reaching for that warmth he saw in her eyes, and he wanted to bask in the sweet pureness of her soul, but he had done too many wrongs to deserve something as right as her. She would suffocate under the blanket of his guilt, and he would just disappoint her like he had everybody else that tried to love him.

  Evana was flipping off the lights in the reception area when he walked through. “Goodnight, T.”

  “G’night.” Tegan paused with his hand on the door, turning back to face her. “Hey, E? Is everything ok with you?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem a little more stressed lately.” That was like the pot calling the kettle black, he thought.

  “Well, you know… sometimes trying to manage the shop and keep my clients happy gets to be a little too much.”

  “I’ll bet it does. Anything I can do to help?” he offered.

  “Yes. Keep working here. Don’t ever leave Exotic Ink, I need you, T. I need all my artists.”

  He’d take a punch to the gut better than he could have those heartfelt words. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got nothing to worry about, but you should consider hiring some more help.”

  “Yeah. But what is the solution? I don’t want to give up tattooing all together, and I could never trust anyone with Kyle’s business completely.” Her purple eyes clouded over with indecision.

  “Then don’t. You could hire someone to be a manager and split up some of the office duties. That way you could do both like you are now with just less paperwork.”

  “I never thought of that. I was looking at it from an all or nothing perspective. T, you are brilliant.”

  “Occasionally,” he said, squirming around inside his own skin at the compliment.

  “You have anybody in mind that would fit the bill?” she questioned, searching his face.

  It was always daunting to have others look to him for answers, especially when he had no answers for his own troubles.

  “As a matter of fact, I do, my old boss, Jason Gales. He’s ran his own business for years and was commenting when I applied for this job about wanting to come out here and work.”

  “That’s great! Will you call him and see if he’s still interested? And, give him my number.”

  “I’ll do it as soon as I get home,” Tegan promised.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the lock clicked into place behind him. After turning for a final wave to Evana, he paused a moment to gaze up at the strip of night sky that wasn’t obscured by buildings before he began his journey home.

  Same sky, different city. It seemed the last time he’d remembered to enjoy nature’s overhead view was the morning he had followed behind Tracy in the back of a police car that had transported her from the hospital to the jail to be processed.

  Funny how you took for granted things that were around you instead of sparing a few moments to appreciate them. What would happen if one night he looked up and nothing? No sky, no moon, no stars. Tracy had recently experienced just that. Only it wasn’t the sky that was missing but him, her lifeline. He’d given up on her, taken for granted one too many times and now he was done. He’d bet she hadn’t seen that shit coming.

  Tegan had left the Boston City Jail that horrific morning feeling as if he had shed a monstrous burden. His relief, however, had been short lived as it was soon replaced by a heavy load of extreme guilt that was still weighing heavily on him. That pitiful look on his wife’s face was the cause. A look obscured by bars that he would not soon forget.

  He'd reached the end of his bullshit threshold with her a while ago. He'd hoped she was going to keep her word this time and stay clean, but the needle sticking out of her arm when he'd found her unconscious, jammed between their bathroom wall and toilet told him she had chosen otherwise.

  That memory, that crystal clear image got his feet moving down the NYC sidewalk towards home. His footsteps heavier than normal, taking some of his disgust with her out on the pavement.

  Tracy had been given chance after chance to change her circumstances, and she had pissed every one of them away. This last chance had been in the form of a compassionate judge that had believed her promise to get clean and stay that way by volunteering to check herself into Hope House, one of Boston's residential addiction treatment centers, in exchange for no jail time and one-year probation.

  She had lasted all of two nights and two days before he'd gotten a call at Gales Tattoo Studio, his prior place of employment, from one of the nurse's saying she was missing. He had finally located her at home and had called an ambulance to take her to the hospital where she was met by the police. It had taken her until the early morning hours to sober up, and then it was off to jail to await an arraignment for violating the conditions of her probation.

  Tegan had waited at the hospital all night and had followed the police car over to the jail where she was processed into the system. He could have bailed her out, and she would have been able to go home with him that morning, but he had decided that she needed to deal with the consequences of her actions for once.r />
  The last time he'd bailed her out, she had gift wrapped her good intentions and presented it to him as if it were some magnificent prize, but the wrapping was nothing more than a colorful lie hiding the emptiness of her intent.

  He was done being lied to, and he was done with her.

  Pfft, that was not the first time he’d had to deal with a junkie. His own mother had been the first. Both instances, he was at a loss as how to help either of them. There was only so much that could be done for someone. Only so much pushing and steering in the right direction one could do. If the person you were trying to help didn't want to help themselves, there wasn't a whole fuck load you could do about it.

  Boston had barely seen the month of October when Tracy had been locked away again and thank fuck for the unseasonable warmth, because Tegan had been using his vintage Harley as his only means of transportation since his car had been impounded back in September after her most recent arrest for possession of heroin. She’d had enough jammed under the seat that the DA had tried to push to have her charged with intent to distribute, but once again, she was let off lightly— and had fucked that up, too!

  He couldn't help but feel a little bit responsible for the quantity of drugs she'd been busted with since he'd cut off her allowance after discovering she was using grocery money to fund her drug habit. He had hoped that if he cut off her means to buy then she would give it up, but that hadn't worked, and she had proven to be craftier than he'd expected and had begun dealing to support her own cause.

  Tegan knew she was going to be serving a large jail sentence this time, because it was not her first offense and she had broken her promise to the judge. It was an Oscar winning performance, too and Tegan knew the guy had fallen for her poor pitiful me act, because he had done the same thing himself many times before.

  As he’d left the jail that morning, he’d appeared calm on the outside, but there was a war being fought within himself over leaving Tracy behind those bars.

  He had left the car behind, too. It would remain in the impound lot where the police had towed and parked it. He was never going to drive it again anyway. There was little doubt there was drug residue all the fuck over it. Pfft, that's all he needed was to get pulled over for a lead foot or a broken tail light and have some cop accidentally stumble upon something she had left behind and bust him for it.

  He had never had any run-ins with the police, but he didn't want to push his luck since the police tended to gravitate towards him based on his appearance. When you had long straight black hair reaching the middle of your back, a mean assed looking goatee, and thick black tribal tattoos on both arms, the cops assumed the worst about his character even though he had never been arrested for anything.

  Besides, he had originally bought the car for Tracy when she'd actually had a job. After she was fired for, surprise, surprise, drug use, the only time he knew when she drove it was back and forth to her dealer. She had no place else to be, and he had been the only one doing all the grocery shopping since he’d cut her off from accessing any money. It was a major pain in the ass to carry groceries in the saddlebags on his bike, but there was no way in hell he was going anywhere in that car.

  Rounding the corner at W 8th Street, the profile of Vehn’s building came into view reminding him of yet another reason why he didn’t need to get involved with Rayna. Hell, he didn’t even have his own place. Since his accounts were frozen, he was stuck rooming with his best friend like a homeless loser.

  Easily lunging up and over the front three steps, Tegan whipped open the vestibule door deciding to take the stairs. He was going to make it a point to hit the gym tomorrow. Exercise always seemed to drain away his stress, and he’d been doing a lot of stressing lately thanks to Tracy, but he’d been unable to nail down any type of routine. They were all working crazy hours at the studio trying to keep up with customer demand, which was another reason why Evana needed to hire another artist.

  “You’re a load your mama should have swallowed,” Vehn’s voice bellowed from the television’s tiny speakers.

  His exuberant laughter was almost infectious as Tegan stepped through the penthouse door. He knew the exact scene from the video Vehn was watching, had seen it many times over the past months.

  A rewind and another bout of laughter had Tegan’s lips twitching. Fucking Vehn always screwing up his shitty mood. Tegan bee-lined for the refrigerator and caught a glimpse of the guys back splayed across the 75-inch flat screen as the scene played through. Popping the top off his beer, Tegan could only shake his head as Vehn pointed the remote at the television to rewind the scene again.

  The stick figure next to grace the screen was Vehn’s ex-girlfriend and former bane of Vehn’s existence. She had nearly destroyed his and Callie’s relationship. A member of the paparazzi had been kind enough to gift Vehn with the footage he had gathered during his and Regina’s explosive breakup. Luckily, she and her lesbian counterpart had failed in their attempts to drag Vehn’s name through the shitter and were now asshole deep in a legal mess with Vehn’s PR peeps and high-priced lawyer.

  “I can’t believe you’re watching that again,” Tegan commented.

  “I know, but it’s so damn funny.”

  “Where’s Callie,” Tegan asked, looking around for any sign of the boisterous red-head.

  “She’s out with Avie and all the other bridesmaids doing some last-minute wedding bullshit. That means it’s you and me time, bro.” Vehn walked over and snatched the beer out Tegan’s hand, turning it up before he could object. “Thanks for the beer. It was like you were reading my mind.”

  “Pfft, I see how it is. I’m playing second fiddle to Callie, and that was my beer, dick.”

  “Don’t be butt hurt, T. You know you’ll always be my best buddy,” Vehn smiled, holding out the half empty bottle. “You can have it back.”

  “No thanks.” Tegan rejected the offer, turning back towards the kitchen. “I need a shower, and then we’re going somewhere to eat. I’m so hungry, I’m about to fall out of my own ass.”

  Vehn’s booming laughter filled the room. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

  Tegan just waved him off with a fresh beer in hand, heading downstairs to his room. Closing the door behind him, he took a long pull of the frothy liquid and fished out the cell from his front pocket pulling up Jason’s contact info.

  “What up, Tattoo Master of the Universe?” Jason drawled.

  “Funny, Jason. Fucking smart-ass.”

  “How’s it goin’ now that you’re working in the big leagues?” Jason asked.

  Tegan had worked for Jason at Gales Tattoo Studio since the age of nineteen and had grown rather attached to his boss and mentor over the past twelve years. Jason was the only thing he missed about Boston.

  The guy had done him a huge favor when he’d found and kept the ad for the artist opening at Exotic Ink. The job was a tattoo artist’s wet dream. Since the place had such a low turnover, it was damn near impossible to get a job there.

  Jason had joked that he’d thought of applying for the position himself, which seemed odd since Tegan had never heard him express any interest in closing Gales and going to work for someone else. He thought the man liked owning his own place and working for himself, but maybe he had his selling point and that point might be a chair at Exotic Ink.

  It had felt beyond disloyal when he’d applied for the position. Jason had been an excellent artist to apprentice under and turned out to be a good friend to him as well. The man was good at tattooing a little bit of everything and had the patience of a saint, which came in handy when teaching someone as hardheaded as Tegan.

  “Remember that favor I owe you?” Tegan asked, setting his beer aside and running a hand over his goatee.

  “Yep, you finally gonna deliver?”

  “How’s this? Evana Grey is looking for a manager-slash-tattoo artist. She needs an extra pair of hands running Exotic Ink. If you’re interested, I’ll give you her number.”

  T
egan heard some major shuffling in the background as if Jason had moved something out of his way and sat up, having gained his full attention. “Since when?”

  “Since tonight. She mentioned she needed office help, and I suggested she hire a manager. She thought it was a great idea and then asked if I knew of anyone, so I tossed your name out there.”

  “Holy f—, that’s a lot to consider. I’d have to sell my shop and move.” Tegan could imagine Jason running his hand through his short dark hair, something he always did when he was up against an important decision. “Yeah. Why the fuck not. Give me her number. It’s worth talking about. Holy shit, man. I never thought I’d have a chance to work there. A manager, huh? I’ve missed bossing you around. Shop’s been too quiet since you left my ass.”

  Tegan rattled off Evana’s cell number. “Let me know what you decide. I’ll help you find a place to crash until you can get one of your own.”

  “Thanks. Fuck man… thanks.”

  “Yep. Talk at ya soon.” Tegan rushed to end the call. He would be more comfortable dealing with a pissed off rattle snake than a sentimental Jason.

  “Yep.”

  Tegan clicked the end button and scrolled through his text messages, grinning when he got to a picture Rayna had sent. She had taken his advice and had gone shopping for new bedding. The picture was a selfie of her lying on a bed with a puffy, cream colored duvet trimmed in pink with sheets to match, and tons of girly pillows surrounding her. Ultra-feminine just like her.

  She had texted him several times throughout the day excited over her new purchases, but he’d been a total dick answering her in clipped replies. It was much easier to keep her at arm’s length when she wasn’t looking up at him, burning a hole to the depths of his rancid soul with those big doe eyes of hers. He’d sent her a lame ass thumbs up emoji in response to her selfie. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she was better off not getting involved with him and the less he interacted with her, the less likely she was of getting hurt.