by Mark Carver
“Cameron! Come on back.”
Cameron followed Ivan’s invitation, warily scanning the shop for his rival. He felt pretty foolish. He’d only seen the General once in passing. So why did he feel threatened?
Two other clients were being tattooed, and from their twisted expressions, they were in too much pain to notice Cameron’s arrival. He weaved his way to the back of the shop to Ivan’s station.
“Looking good, man,” Ivan declared as he shook Cameron’s hand and peered closely at his face.
Cameron’s cheek began to feel hot, and echoes of the excruciating agony reverberated through his skull.
“Yeah, it healed up well,” he said. “I took really good care of it during those first few days.” Though I did get my cheek stuck to the pillow when I got home and fell asleep.
Ivan nodded his approval. “Good stuff. Let me take a picture.”
Before Cameron could agree, Ivan whipped out his phone and snapped three rapid photos.
“I’ve been hearing your name quite a bit,” he said as his fingers flew over his phone’s touchscreen.
There it was again, that warm flare of pride. “Oh really?” Cameron said in his best nonchalant voice.
“Yeah. Chucky’s been tweeting a million photos of you and a bunch of people holding up swords and making faces and stuff. What’s that about?”
So much for pride. “Um, well, it’s kind of a marketing thing. I make surprise visits to hobby shops where they sell swords and I just connect with the fans. You know, taking pictures, signing autographs, that kind of thing.”
Ivan looked up and his eyebrow arched. “Fans, huh? Sounds pretty heavy.”
Cameron didn’t exactly know what to make of Ivan’s comment. He scratched the back of his head and mumbled, “Yeah, kind of. I…they’re not really my fans…well I guess they are.”
“Hey man, no need to be modest. I’ve got fans too. There’s no reason to be ashamed of your popularity.”
Cameron nodded with relief, and then said, “Oh, speaking of fans, I ran into another one of your satisfied customers.”
“Oh yeah?” Ivan’s attention was back on his phone.
“Yeah. A girl who works at Inkling Magazine. Name’s Cherish.”
Ivan perked up. “Cherish? You met her?”
“Yeah, she interviewed me for the magazine. They’re doing a feature with a photo spread and everything.”
Ivan’s body went slack. “No way, dude.”
Cameron couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across his face. “Way.”
Ivan stared blankly for a moment, then reached out and slapped Cameron’s shoulder.
“Dude, that’s awesome! Way to go, man. That’s a quality publication, too. They were a big part in helping me get where I am now.”
“I’m hoping it will do the same for me. The fantasy fans already know who I am, but I want to reach a larger audience and let people see that what I do isn’t just for nerds and collectors.”
“I’m sure you can make it happen,” Ivan said sagely. “There’s probably no one like you in your line of work.”
The compliment was like gasoline thrown on the fire. Cameron felt his cheeks flush. “Thanks man. It’s nice to hear that.”
Just then, the back door opened. The General and the girl who worked the front desk came in, trailing fumes of marijuana smoke after them. The General looked as calm and stone-faced as an Indian chief, but the girl was red-eyed and giggling. Ivan shook his head with disapproval as he turned towards his station and began packing his needles.
Cameron watched the General march into the shop, craving a better look at the mysterious man that had inspired his drastic choice. The man seemed larger than life, just a hulking mass of muscle, leather, and tattoos. He was like testosterone incarnate.
As if sensing Cameron’s eyes sweeping across his broad back, the General stopped and turned around. He locked eyes with Cameron, then smiled.
“Nice ink, cowboy.”
Cameron blinked. The man’s voice was as deep as he expected, but it wasn’t gravely and rough. It was clear and surprisingly friendly, with a bit of a Texas drawl.
“Thanks,” Cameron replied. He felt like he should say something else, but his mind went blank.
The General took a couple steps closer. “Ivan do that?” he asked, motioning with his hand.
Ivan nodded proudly. “Yep. Came out clean as a razor.”
The General studied Cameron’s face for a moment, then stuck out his hand.
“I’m Neil. People call me the General.”
Cameron shook his hand. “Cameron McConnell.”
The General nodded, then frowned. “Do I know you from somewhere? Your name sounds familiar.”
Cameron hoped he wasn’t beaming too brightly. “Well, I’m kind of well-known in some circles. I create specialty weapons for collectors.”
“Specialty weapons?”
“Fantasy swords, axes, things like that. Handmade.”
“Sounds intense.” The General seemed genuinely impressed. “You ever do anything for the movies?”
“Well, actually I did design a special sword for – "
The doorbell chimed merrily and the red-eyed girl behind the desk turned and hollered, “Frank, your appointment’s here.”
Cameron and the General stepped aside to allow a middle-aged woman to pass. She glanced curiously at the two men, smiled politely, then sat down in Frank’s chair.
It was hard for Cameron not to stare at General’s mesmerizing face. His tattoos were simply incredible. A combination of Polynesian geometry and modern tribal curves covered his cheeks, forehead, brow ridge, and jawline. The rest of his exposed tattoos were done in a broad assortment of styles, but they all seemed to flow together into a unified whole.
This is the barbarian, Cameron thought.
Ivan snapped the clasps shut on his suitcase containing his tattooing equipment. “All right, I’m out,” he announced.
Cameron looked around. Ivan had told him that there were a few friends that he wanted him to meet, but there was no one else around except a few other artists engrossed in their work.
“Um, Ivan,” he said, unsure if he should mention it, “I thought you said you had some buddies here that wanted to see the tattoo.”
Ivan nodded. “Yeah, but they’re not here.”
“Where are they?”
A devilish gleam twinkled in Ivan’s eye and he glanced at the General. “We’re going to a party.”
Cameron’s stomach tightened and he took a step back. “Whoa, whoa, I don’t think I can go to a party.”
The General glared at him with disapproval. “Why not?”
Cameron looked out through the tinted shop windows. It was still the late afternoon, and parties that start this early were usually epic events.
“Well,” he said, regretting how whiny his voice sounded, “I...I was planning to...”
He instinctively felt for his phone in his pocket. Mindy still hadn’t returned his message, so technically his plans weren’t set in stone. Why hadn’t she called?
Ivan and the General watched him like frat boys staring down a pledge, waiting to see if he would crack.
Cameron set his jaw. “You know what? Screw it. I’m down for a party.”
Ivan’s craggy face broke into a wide smile, and the General nodded like a guru approving of his student.
“Awesome,” Ivan declared with a clap of his hands. “Let’s roll.”
Cameron followed the pair of tattooed men to the door.
“Don’t be a stranger,” the girl at the front desk sang out. Cameron glanced over his shoulder and caught her dazzling smile. Her pink-hued eyes shone like jewels.
Cameron, Ivan, and the General stood outside the shop, squinting in the late afternoon sun. Cameron just now realized how quickly his heart was beating. He didn’t get excited like this too often.
“So where are we heading?” he asked.
The General motioned with a thick
hand tattooed from the wrist all the way to the fingernails.
“Follow us.”
Ivan got into a custom late ‘70s Thunderbird. It roared to life with a throaty bellow, and was joined a moment later by the demonic roar of the General’s chopper. Cameron could feel the rumble in his bones, and he felt almost embarrassed to fire up his motorcycle. It was fast and had excellent torque, but it didn’t have the swagger of the American machines.
You’re not in high school anymore. Hold your head high like a man.
He shoved his helmet down over his head and brought the bike to life, revving it a few times. The General, who defied the law by not wearing a helmet at all, grinned at Cameron over his shoulder. He signaled forward and rumbled out of the parking lot with Ivan close behind.
Cameron could hear his heart beating over the roaring engines. He felt like he was at the top of a roller coaster, hovering a moment before careening into a wild unknown.
CHAPTER 15
They drove out to a sprawling estate several miles outside of town. The General led the procession down tree-lined roads and around swooping hairpin turns until they arrived at a gate that looked like it belonged in front of a plantation in the Deep South. The wrought iron gates were open and there was no one in sight, although several cars were scattered across the lawn. The General roared up the driveway and parked his motorcycle on the lawn next to a cluster of trees. Ivan drove in between a pickup truck with a lift kit and a pearl-white Cadillac and cut the engine. Cameron lurched to a stop on the driveway, unsure of where he should park. The General spotted him and gestured to the patch of grass beside his chopper. Cameron complied, a little hesitant about leaving his helmet on the seat. He hoped the people at this party were honest folks.
He looked up in amazement at the Colonial-style house that loomed over them as they approached.
“Who lives here?” he asked.
Ivan grinned. “He does,” he said and jerked his thumb towards the General.
Cameron’s jaw fell open. The General just shrugged.
“Just because I look like a freak doesn’t mean I can’t make money in the stock market.”
“The stock market?”
“Yep. Amazon, Apple, Alibaba... The letter ‘A’ has been pretty good to me.”
Cameron whistled under his breath and stole another peek up at the house.
This could be you someday. Someday soon.
A smile crept across his face.
Even before they reached the door, he could hear music pounding the walls like angry fists. The General opened the double doors and gestured humbly for him to step inside. Cameron’s ears were immediately bombarded by ferocious heavy metal chords, but his eyes were drawn to the opulent foyer. A colossal chandelier hung above the entryway, and an original Matisse hung on the left wall, opposite a mirror with a gilded frame.
A swooping double staircase circled like arms reaching out to embrace the guests. Everywhere was marble and limestone and silk and velvet. Cameron had to wonder if he was really here and not asleep on his workbench at home. It was impossible to believe that this was where the General lived.
“Nice place,” he said loudly, though his voice was barely audible over the sonic assault.
“Thanks,” the General said as he stepped inside. “Come on in, I’ll get you a beer.”
Cameron followed him into the depths of the house, and he could hear the sounds of laughter, merry voices, and occasionally playful squeals.
And then he heard the splash.
He followed the General and Ivan to the back of the house where a carnal feast was splayed out around a massive infinity pool. There were about thirty partygoers, and at least two-thirds were women. Extremely attractive women wearing extremely small bathing suits. Some wore no bathing suits.
Cameron’s eyes popped out of his head. The General came up beside him and shoved an ice cold beer in his hand.
“What do you think?” he asked, slapping Cameron’s shoulder.
Cameron took a sip of beer to lubricate his parched tongue. “This is incredible.”
The General nodded proudly. “Out here, I can be me. No one judges me; no one cares what I look like. We’re all freaks here.”
He was right. Nearly everyone sported multiple tattoos and piercings, and several heads of hair blazed with multiple colors. It looked like a party after a rock concert in Vegas.
The General fixed Cameron with a serious expression. “You ever regret getting that thing?”
It took a few moments for Cameron’s ears to process the question. His mind was occupied at the moment.
“What, this?” He pointed to his face. “Maybe a little at first, but not anymore. It’s changed my life.”
The General laughed heartily and clinked his beer against Cameron’s bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”
After swallowing a large gulp, he motioned to a petite girl walking past.
“Rochelle,” he called out over the music.
Rochelle turned and faced the two men. She looked like she was still in college, but her dark eyes flashed with intelligence and wisdom beyond her years. She was wearing a yellow two-piece that complimented her olive skin, though it competed a bit with the streaks of pink that practically glowed in her black hair.
“Come meet my friend,” the General said, extending his hand like a pastor inviting a member of the congregation.
Rochelle walked over to them. She seemed like a vibrant blend of feminine grace and combustible energy. Her smile revealed perfect teeth.
“Is this your younger brother?” she asked playfully.
The General laughed. “No, this is Cameron.”
“Nice to meet you, Cameron.”
Cameron was amazed at how dainty her fingers felt in his rough workman’s hand. “Likewise.”
The General finished his beer in one large gulp and shook the empty bottle. “I’ll let you two chat. Tell Rochelle about your sword,” he said with a wink.
Rochelle turned to Cameron with a sly smile. “Your sword?”
Cameron silently cursed the blush spreading over his face. “Swords. I make fantasy weapons.”
“Really? Like the kinds they use in the movies? Like Lord of the Rings and stuff?”
“Well no, not specifically. I’ve designed some weapons for movie studios before, but I usually make things for collectors. Usually they’re based on books or graphic novels, but I have my own designs as well.”
Cameron clutched the beer, bracing himself for the moment Rochelle’s eyes would glaze over and she’d excuse herself in search of less nerdy company.
He was very surprised when her smile grew even wider.
“That’s so cool!” she exclaimed. “I love things that are sharp and dangerous.”
The flash in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Let me introduce you to my friend,” she said as she waved to a tall blonde girl in a black bikini top and billowing beach skirt. “Melanie! Come here and meet this guy. He has the coolest job!”
Cameron’s heart was thundering louder than the music.
****
It could have been the tequila shots. It could have been the four or five beers. It could have been the massive joint that Melanie made for him.
It was probably all of the above.
Whatever the reason, Cameron’s head was swimming. The parade of flesh, the endless barrage of heavy metal, the incredible house… His senses were overloaded. And he loved it.
As evening fell, the party moved indoors, and several couples (and a few trios) escaped to quiet corners of the house to have their own private parties. Cameron found himself on a massive sofa in the living room with a very drunk Rochelle. She was curled up next to him, aimlessly tracing her finger over the tattoo on his face.
The General emerged from the bathroom with a tall redhead in a skimpy black dress. They were both laughing through their teeth as if they had a secret that no one else knew. The girl gave the General’s tattooed ear a playful nibble and t
hen scampered off.
With a loud, satisfied groan, the General sank down onto the sofa next to Cameron. He shoved a warm beer into Cameron’s hand and tapped it with his own.
“Enjoying yourself, my friend?”
Cameron nodded slowly, or perhaps quickly. He couldn’t really tell. Numbness was starting to creep through his nerves, though Rochelle’s finger caressing his skin felt like soothing fire. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.
The General smiled, then looked down at Cameron’s leg.
“You’re vibrating.”
Cameron burst out laughing, then stopped. His phone. In his pocket. It was vibrating. Which meant someone was calling.
Mindy.
He clenched his teeth as he pulled the phone out and held it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Cameron? Where are you? I called you like five times.”
“What?” He looked at the display screen. In the corner was a little phone icon and the number “5.”
Crap crap crap…
He jerked his head away from Rochelle’s seductive fingers. “I’m so sorry, Mindy. I didn’t hear my phone.”
“Where are you? I can barely hear your voice.”
“Me? I’m…um…”
“Are you at a party?”
Cameron licked his lips. “Kind of.”
“Well, what about tonight? Our cookout?”
“Yeah, that. Um, listen, can I take a rain check on that? I didn’t really mean to stay here so long and…”
“Who are you talking to, baby?” Rochelle cooed, leaning forward to lick his tattoo.
“Who’s that?” Mindy demanded.
“No one,” Cameron said as he shrugged Rochelle off in annoyance.
“Didn’t sound like no one.”
Cameron sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Listen Mindy, I know I’m a jerk for forgetting about our dinner. But this isn’t a good time for me right now.”
“Oh, sure, fine, enjoy your party!”
“Min – “
The line went dead. Cameron closed his eyes and left the phone fall to his lap. Rochelle scooped it up and held it at arm’s length and began taking photos of herself.
“Give me that,” Cameron growled, snatching the phone away. Rochelle made a face at him and left the room.
Cameron rubbed his aching temples.
“Lady trouble?”
He turned and looked at the General, who regarded him with amusement as he chugged his beer.