by Sara Cate
I lost a bet to Murph, hence why I’m stuck with the dolphin, and he gets to take the next walk-in. The shop was slow for a minute, and I bet him that the next customer to walk in would be a frat guy on a drunk dare. It’s past 8:00 p.m. on the first night of spring break. Getting a stupid tattoo is like a rite of passage. But when we heard the door bells ring, we both peaked our heads around to see two girls walk in. One looking like she was ready to fuck the coat stand if someone didn’t step up. And the other...was her.
I never thought I’d live to see the day she’d actually walk into the shop. She spent the last five years watching from afar. Which made sense. She didn’t belong here. With her white chucks and a pink skirt that hung from her barely there hips, this girl couldn’t look more out of place if she tried.
“Ha ha,” Murph teases. “You’re up.”
“Okay, go get them signed in. Let me grab a smoke, and I’ll be right up.”
“Fine,” he bellowed. Then his hand lands firmly on my shoulder. “A smoke.” He narrows his eyes into mine, and I nod back. I know he’s just worried about me, but I hate being treated like I need to be babysat. Whatever I want to do behind the shop is my business.
Although I am working in his business, so maybe I will just wait until after my shift to do anything other than smoke. The little plastic bag in my pocket feels like it’s burning a hole through my pants and into my skin. I wish it would.
He says I have no self-discipline, but look at me. Waiting until after my shift to get high.
The girl up front is being obnoxious. I can hear her through the back door. When I come back in, I do the usual routine. Wash my hands, sanitize the seat and everything in my station. I have to appreciate how clean and righteous Murph runs things here. I wouldn’t work anywhere else.
When I come back around to the front to greet the customer, I stop in the lobby when I see the girl again. But this time, my eyes aren’t on her squeaky-clean sneakers or pastel pink skirt. I’m drawn to her eyes, nearly as blue as mine. Why haven’t I ever really looked into those doe-eyes? They are round, bright, and there isn’t much sign of makeup, not that she would need it. Every line of her face is delicate.
I have to snap out of it before I make a fool of myself staring at this beautiful mystery girl.
After I call the girls up, the client, Natalie, is babbling on about a dolphin, and it takes every ounce of resolve in my body not to groan.
I don’t know why I tease the blonde about getting a tattoo. I think I want to see her smile, and it’s perfect. This girl is not my type, but I still want to look at her, hear her voice, swim in those perfect blue eyes.
Natalie straddles the chair and immediately pulls down her shirt where she wants the dolphin. I make small talk while I clean the area and draw the design onto her skin. She chatters on about coming to Wicked every spring and how she loves getting down with the locals. I fake my laughter through her story, and then my eyes slide up toward the quiet girl sitting in a chair in the corner.
“What about you?” I ask.
She lifts her eyes expectantly.
“Do you love to get down with the locals?” I tease her. Natalie giggles until I remind her to hold still.
“She’s not really the get-down type,” Natalie whispers.
“That’s okay.”
“I love coming here. Not to get down with the locals,” she answers, mimicking our tone, “but just because people are nicer, and I can breathe here.”
Glancing up again, I smile because I know exactly what she means. Wickett has always been like that for me. Quiet. Comfortable. Every other week of the year.
“Boring,” Natalie mumbles against the seat as I hold a mirror up to show her the sketch on her back. “Yes, I love it,” she says. I ready the ink and listen to the girls talk about their plans after the tattoo. They’re going down to the bonfire which is a spring break guarantee. They do it every year, and it’s always packed down there with tons of rich college kids. A real kickoff to the week.
I don’t like the idea of this girl going down to the bonfire. It’s notorious for heavy drinking and rowdiness. Every year some douchebags end up going a little far, and it becomes town gossip quick. The cops don’t do much with the pressures from the investors. A little insider scoop I get from my brother’s best friend on the force, who hates this week even more than I do.
They let the kids have their fun but try to keep it under control.
And they usually do. Until I show up.
When I press my foot on the pedal, Natalie jumps from the sound of the gun. I can already tell this is going to suck. She will cry and squirm, and it will turn out like shit. And I fucking hate when it’s not perfect.
“Is this going to hurt?” she whines.
“No, it tickles.” I answer dryly.
Two seconds into the tattoo, she’s crying. I didn’t even get a full outline before she turns stark white, and her skin goes cold.
“I’m going to throw up,” she says.
“You need fresh air.”
“We can help you to the door. Can you walk?” the girl asks.
“I think so,” Natalie mumbles.
God, I fucking hate fainters. Every once in a while, I get the pukers and the fainters. I pull off my gloves and help Natalie to the back door. Never out the front. Bad for business. She sits on one of the chairs we have back there for this exact reason.
“Put your head between your legs, honey. Deep breath in and deep breath out.”
“It smells back here,” she whines.
“Yeah, it’s an alleyway behind a tattoo shop, and we’re fresh out of candles.”
The blonde girl laughs to herself as she pats Natalie’s back. I lean back against the cool bricks and reach for my cigarettes, but then she looks at my hands reaching into my pocket, so I stop. It’s weird for me, but I don’t want to smoke in front of her. I smoke in front of everyone, and I normally don’t care who knows it.
Her eyes meet mine, and I feel myself get lost again in her soft features. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” I ask, wanting to fill the silence with her voice.
“I’m sure. There’s nothing I want on my skin forever. Nothing that means that much to me.” She says as she shrugs her tiny shoulders.
“That can’t be true. There must be something you love.”
The corners of her mouth lift into a tricky smile.
“Let me guess,” I say, feeling more flirtatious than normal. “You like music. You play the piano…” she shakes her head. “Okay...tennis?” Her face twists into a scowl, like I’ve offended her. “Cheerleading?”
“Okay, you’re terrible at this,” she teases me.
This small talk banter between us feels natural but also strange. Like we’re both ignoring the fact that we’ve seen each other from afar for years, but this is the first actual encounter between us.
I laugh back. “Sorry.” Looking at her another long moment, I take another guess. “I bet you love to read.”
“There you go. I do love to read.”
“A-ha. I knew I’d get it.”
“You’re a little harder to guess,” she says, squinting her eyes at me.
“Not really,” I say, wanting a cigarette again.
She’s about to say something else when Natalie sits up. She has a little more color than before. “I think I can do it this time. I promise.”
“Let’s try this again.” I lead the two of them back into the shop, but I don’t miss how Blondie has a shy smile on her face as she passes me through the doorway.
Logan
The shop quiets down a little after midnight. Murph is still working on an arm piece, but there haven’t been any new walk-ins since the girls. Natalie actually sat through the rest of her dolphin but not without crying and whining the whole time.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I sweep the floor around my station. I already know who it is.
Step outside. Let’s chat.
My shift is technically ove
r, so I sneak out the back door without Murph even noticing. Hale is already out there, leaning against the wall across the alley, seemingly playing a game on his phone. Hale doesn’t look like your usual drug dealer. Maybe that’s how he’s gotten away with it for so long. He’s a trust fund brat like the rest of them, but instead of pursuing stocks and bonds or whatever it is that these kids do for money, he found something much more lucrative.
His shaggy blond hair is hanging over his eyes as he stares down at his phone.
“Spring break, bitches,” he jokes in a high-pitched voice. “There’s a crowd at the bonfire now. I figured you might want to go check it out.”
I pull out a cigarette and light it. The small bag in my pocket is still burning itself into my skin, but I don’t want to touch it. It’s not something I’m comfortable doing in front of Hale. Considering I still owe him over four hundred, it feels like a punch in the face to smoke my debt right in front of him, so I settle for a cigarette.
This is how he corners me into selling for him. It pays off my debt, and it keeps his image clean. And in a small community like Wickett, it’s pretty flawless. Well, not for me. I tend to wrack up my debt more than I pay it off, and he knows that. Hence why he sticks with me. That and the fact that I have a way with these kids, especially the girls.
No, I’m not proud of myself, but these punks show up once a year, trash our beautiful beach, use and abuse us, then leave. What the fuck do I care if they get a little kick while they’re here. At least they can afford to get hooked. Unlike the rest of us.
“I’ll have to go down there and say hello,” I say with the cigarette hanging from my lips. I can barely smoke it. I’m just in a funk tonight. I agree to go to the beach, but my heart isn’t in it. All I can think about is that Sandra Dee blonde with her perfect white shoes and soul-piercing blues, and I just don't give a shit about smoking or bonfire bitches. I suddenly wish I was the kind of guy who could cozy up to her on a night like tonight. And I’ve never thought like that before.
“I figured you would want to. They’re just getting started, so you might want to hustle. And you know...hustle.” He laughs at his own lame joke, and I’m reminded that this kid is still clean as fuck.
“Yeah, let me just clean up around here, and I’ll head down there.” I reach my hand out toward him, keeping an eye on the alley way to make sure there isn't anyone watching or walking by. He hands me a plastic bag full of smaller bags. It isn’t much, but with what these kids will pay, it doesn’t need to be much. I shove it into my pocket and clap his hand before turning to walk back into the shop.
“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he calls to me as he walks away. I don't think he looked up from his phone once during our entire conversation. But I don’t really care. I’d rather not have a relationship with him. Or anyone for that matter.
Sierra
There’s a crowd around the fire, and they're all getting so drunk it will be a miracle if they make it through this night without anyone falling in. I’m sitting on the wooden log that acts as a bench. Natalie is showing off her tattoo to anyone that will listen. She's already pulled off the plastic even though Logan told her to keep it on for eight hours.
“The boys will be here soon,” she says as she sits next to me. She hands me another beer, but I’m not even half done with the one I’m holding. I don't bother to tell her that there are already a hundred boys at this bonfire, but apparently she’s waiting for two specific boys. One of them I know she hooked up with last year and apparently he was into it, because he wants to hook up again.
And she said he’s bringing a friend for me. Or I guess it sounded more like she needed me to come with her because he said that she needed a friend for his friend. Whichever way it went down, I’m not feeling really into it. It’s past midnight, and I don’t know where two guys could be up until midnight that doesn’t sound shady and two-timing, but I don’t think she really cares. That's what spring break on Wicked is all about. Bang as much as possible, no repercussions. No hang ups. Start on Sunday. End on Sunday.
I haven’t told Natalie that I have not and will not be hooking up with anyone at any point this week. She may be okay with losing her virginity to a drunk frat boy under the docks or in the back of dirty truck, but I am not.
“Hey baby!” a voice bellows from behind as he practically lands on my lap. This must be Natalie's friend. He has his arm around me as she jumps into his, and I can’t get him to let me go as he starts kissing her. When he pulls away, he looks at me, and all I can smell is the beer on his breath.
“Oh my god, you whores. Who is this?” he says as he leans in toward me. I lean away, trying to fake a laugh, as Natalie tries to pull him off of me.
“That’s Sierra. Where is your friend?” she asks.
“Oh! Tyler!” he screams across the crowd of people around us.
God, I just want to go home. This is the definition of pure hell.
“Grant, get up. I want to show you my new tattoo,” Natalie whines at the drunk boy still hanging on me.
He stares into my eyes as if he thinks we’re actually making some deep connection. It’s disconcerting, but I finally stand, just to get him to back off a little bit.
Tyler—I’m assuming—comes up behind Natalie and high fives Grant. “Hey man, this party is lit.”
“Yeah, man. This is Sierra,” he says putting his arm back around me, and I sigh feeling more and more frustrated. Just by the way he says my name tells me that they’ve been talking about me already, and the thought sends chills down my spine.
Tyler looks at me and winks although he’s so drunk it makes him teeter to the side and nearly fall into the fire. Please let him be the idiot who does it, I think to myself.
“You have a drink?” he slurs as he leans in toward me.
“Yep,” I answer, holding up my beer.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he says as he closes in. His hands caress my hair but he’s actually kind of pulling it when I think he means to just brush his fingers through it.
“I’m good here,” I answer. Grant and Natalie are fully making out on the log behind me now, so it’s just me and drunk Tyler.
“Come on,” he says and his hands snakes around my waist and pinches my hip. He’s leaning in, and although he’s not quite as drunk as Grant, he still reeks of beer and something skunky.
He pulls me toward him, and he’s surprisingly strong so that I sort of stumble. I didn’t expect it so when he’s not balanced enough to support himself or me, we both fall. I manage to catch myself before I completely hit the ground, but he doesn’t and he lands in the sand spilling his beer.
“You fucking whore,” he says with a laugh.
“I’m gonna go,” I answer and turn to walk away.
As soon as I turn, I spot a familiar face across the fire. Piercing sky blue eyes and wavy brown locks. Even in this dark night, I can see the colorful designs on his skin, and they are the only beautiful thing in this scenario, like they truly do not belong here. I stop in my tracks as our eyes meet. His expression is harsh. Every feature of his face seems tight and laser focused on me.
Just as I’m about to take another step around the fire, I feel an arm around my waist again and warm breath in my ear. “You’re mine tonight.”
I shove away from Tyler, and again he pulls me closer, this time trying to pull me out of the crowd and toward the darkness of the beach. A moment’s panic sets in when I realize that if no one helps me, he might actually be strong enough to pull me away. He’s twice my size, and even drunk he’s far stronger than I am. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to squirm out of his grasp.
“Where are you going?” he slurs as he pulls harder.
I’m about to scream for help, but the panic makes me freeze up. What if no one cares? What if they’re all so drunk or just so used to this kind of behavior that they do nothing at all? What if this guy actually pulls me into the darkness and has his way with me?
But before I can ev
en react, there is a hand fisted in Tyler’s collar. It forces him away so quickly, that he lets me go instantly. I watch as Tyler crumples to the ground like wet rag. It happens so fast that I don’t even notice who the angry fist is attached too. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the buzz from the beer, the crackling fire, and the noisy thrumming of my pulse in my ears.
“She doesn’t want to go with you,” the voice booms as I turn to see Logan standing next to me, a furious sneer on his face.
Tyler jumps up surprisingly quick to face Logan. “Who asked you, bro?” he says, huffing his wide nostrils in Logan’s face.
“I see you push around any girl here like that again, I’ll bury your ass in the fucking sand.” Logan isn’t as heated as Tyler. In fact, he seems cool, yet stern. The look of sheer intensity in his eyes is enough to make Tyler hesitate.
“You’re just a piece of local trash,” Tyler argues.
Logan ignores Tyler’s lame insult as touches the back of my arm and says, “Let’s go.” I turn my head to look at him, still surprised that he’s here, that he defended me and possibly saved my life.
He must notice my frozen hesitation. “You don’t want to stay here...” He says it like a question, and it doesn’t take me long before I’m silently shaking my head.
“I’ll give you a ride, let’s go.” His hand is touching the back of my arm again, not grabbing or pushing, but protecting me. Guiding me through the crowd in a way that says, “She’s with me.” And even though I was just in what could have been the worst scenario of my life, I can’t help but feel almost excited about his subtle touch.
“You’re going with him? Then you must be a piece of shit too!” Tyler calls after us.
“Keep going,” Logan whispers as we walk.
Natalie is nice enough to come up for air long to ask me if I’m okay as I pass her. I don’t even answer. She must notice Logan because she breathes a surprised “hey” toward him.