Dahlia

by Tabitha Barret

  Pressing down the transfer, I mentally ran through my checklist and decided where the different shades of red, orange and yellow would go and how I wanted to outline the words. This was an amazing design that would challenge my skills for sure.

  “I’ll do as much of the design as I can, then we can finish off the details and the shading during the second session.” I bent my needle and slid it into the gun. Looping the rubber band to keep the needle in place, I hit the pedal to give the gun some juice. Listening to the hum, I adjusted the speed until I got that glorious humming sound. “Let’s begin.”

  Seeing his hopeful face, I somehow felt like I was a part of his transformation. I liked memorializing important moments in people’s lives. It helped me feel like a therapist of sorts. I listened to their reasons for wanting the tattoos, or experienced their emotions first hand when they asked me to design something special just for them. It was silly that a tattoo artist could get a rush from helping people express their emotions in ink, but I couldn’t help it.

  For some reason, I felt good about helping Ian work through his divorce and motivate him to start his life over again.

  Touching Ian’s chest was distracting as hell, even though I’d tattooed hundreds of male chests. Hell, I’d tattooed guy’s asses and dicks before, but I’d never been so interested in a client’s firm, broad chest before. I once had to tattoo a guy’s scrotum with a peace sign, which was weird.

  Normally, I focused on the outlines and color saturation, not how much I wanted to run my tongue across someone’s naked chest.

  I distracted myself by humming top 40 radio hits and lost myself in the design.

  Ian winced a few times, so I took things a little slower. After a while, he relaxed and took steady breaths.

  We chatted about normal things like the weather and current events. Being around Ian felt easy so I wasn’t compelled to fill all the silent gaps in the conversation.

  Pushing away the stray hairs that had fallen out of my clip, I sat back and stretched my neck. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 2:30 PM. My Italian sub was calling my name. “I’m at a good place if you want to stop here and take a break from the pain. I’m sure you’re hungry too. We can finish the rest next time.”

  Ian moved his neck around and peered down at the colorful bird emerging from a faux tear in his chest.

  “Unbelievable. You captured so much of the details already. It’s lovely.” He looked like he was tearing up a bit, which always made me feel more confident in my work. Thank yous from clients were great, but their tears told me that I had surpassed their expectations.

  “I’m having fun with it.” I wiped his chest down again and quickly covered it with a transparent bandage. “Here are the instructions on how to care for your skin and the best cleaning solution to use. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call me. We’ll have to see how quickly you heal before we can finish it up, but I’m happy with how it’s coming along. I want those words to pop when we’re done, so don’t worry if they look a little bland right now. Everyone who sees it will know exactly what they say.” I pulled off my gloves and put on a new pair so that I could help him out of the chair.

  He took a second to move around and get out the kinks from sitting still on and off during the session. Turning, he looked in the full-length mirror. His hand hovered over the plastic bandage. “Not that I had questioned your talent, but I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to capture the lifelike flames Eva had created.”

  During the session, I had learned about Eva and her passion for art. “Thank you. All I ask is that you don’t send her a photo until it’s done. An artist doesn’t like revealing their masterpieces until they are complete.” I was only half kidding, but I had so many tweaks that I wanted to make to the tattoo that I didn’t want to disappoint his daughter with a half-finished bird.

  He looked over his shoulder with such a serious face that I laughed. “Oh, no. I won’t show anyone until it’s ready. I promise.” He looked back at the mirror and puffed out his chest until he winced a little.

  “Take it easy. You need to heal. Let me get your clothes.” I ducked around him and headed back to my office.

  Picking up his jacket, I heard something hit the ground. I looked around and found a wallet sitting halfway under my desk. The flap was open so I could see inside his wallet. I was surprised that he had left his wallet in his jacket, but he might have been too nervous to notice. Or he hadn’t wanted to sit on it, which happened a lot.

  I bent over to pick it up but my stomach twisted and I had to grab the desk so that I didn’t fall to my knees. I tried not to groan but the pain was bad. What the hell? I hadn’t had tacos in a week, yet it felt like I’d eaten an entire bag from that place a few streets down who always gave us extra guacamole instead of salsa.

  Breathing through my teeth, I waited for a second wave of cramps to subside. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I prayed for death.

  “Is everything okay?” I heard Ian behind me, standing in the doorway.

  I opened my mouth to tell him about the pain, but it quickly went away. Embarrassed about my gas attack, I pointed to the wallet. “It fell out and I was afraid to pick it up. Don’t ask me why, but I felt weird grabbing it.”

  Taking a step back, I let him think that I was a weirdo for not handing him his wallet.

  He let out a small laugh. “I forgot that it was in my jacket.” He walked in and bent over to pick it up. Holding it in his hand, he showed it to me. “While I appreciate you not wanting to infringe upon my privacy, I really don’t have much of interest. I removed my wedding photos and anything related to the places my wife and I had frequented, so all that remains are the credit cards she maxed out before she left me, and my driver’s license.”

  I bit my lip ring and looked away, embarrassed that my strange behavior had made him feel self-conscious enough to show me his life.

  “Well, you have room for new memories now.” I wasn’t really sure if that was the right thing to say since I hadn’t looked into his future to see if things would improve or not.

  His eyebrows lowered into a frown and he seemed upset for a second. I swore under my breath when I realized that I had overstepped my bounds after our chats. Sometimes the bond I felt with my clients ended as soon as their tattoo was done as if a spell had been broken.

  When his eyes suddenly lit up and his lips curled into a smirk, I relaxed a little.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Thank you, Dahlia. You have certainly made my day in more ways than one.” He took my gloved hand and pulled it up to kiss the backs of my knuckles.

  Flustered by such a sweet gesture, I shoved his clothes at him. “I’m glad I could help, Mr. Foster.”

  “Please, call me Ian.” He quickly buttoned his shirt, slipped his jacket over his shoulders and dropped his wallet and tie into his pocket.

  “Ian.” I breathed out his name like a love struck teenager. I was definitely experiencing some kind of hormonal overload today.

  His eyes roamed my face for a few seconds before he nodded and headed out the door. He immediately ducked his head back in and frowned. “The comment about the credit cards was a joke. Despite my wife’s attempts to bankrupt me, I assure you that I have very good lawyers preventing that as I speak. I can still pay for your work of art.”

  I laughed and let out a nervous breath. “I’m glad that you have people watching over your accounts. Let’s get you checked out.”

  Fanning myself, I grimaced. No sex with clients. No sex with clients, Dahlia. Chill the fuck out! I had never needed to repeat my primary rule before but I figured that I needed to do it today.

  Heading over to the register, I quickly created an itemized list for the work I’d done, while Ian glanced at his phone and moved his shoulders around to adjust to the pain and the tightness of the bandage. I called it the dance of remorse or the dance of joy depending on the client’s experience in the chair. Some people were so excited once we were done
that they forgot about their discomfort. Others wouldn’t be excited until the shock of it passed.

  “I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask, but would you like to have lunch with me? It seems that my afternoon lunch appointment canceled. I’m sure you have some policy against it, but I do hate to eat alone.” His genuine smile broke my resolve into a million pieces.

  I was about to say that I was booked for the afternoon, but Gray suddenly ducked her head out of her room. “Boss, your next appointment canceled. I didn’t want to disturb you. Something about breaking a toe while tripping in high heels. She’ll reschedule once she’s healed.” She winked at me before returning to the client in her room.

  I gaped at him as I debated what to do. I wanted to go to lunch with him but I didn’t want to set a bad example for everyone else.

  Milo nodded as he plunked down on the couch. “Gray’s got things under control. Go have some lunch, Boss. Anything goes wrong; Gray will kick the shit out of it and call you once the body is hidden.”

  I shook my head at Milo’s attempts to help get me laid.

  Looking back at Ian, I shrugged. “I guess I have the afternoon free.”

  Ian took out his wallet again and glanced at the invoice. “Perfect.” He reviewed the invoice for the work I’d done. “Actually, I wish to pay for the entire tattoo in full. I know you have the option of partial payments, but I assure you that I will return for the rest of the work. I have faith that you will make this phoenix burn brightly.”

  His voice dropped an octave when he said burn brightly, sending shockwaves through my lower regions. I swore that my core actually clenched in anticipation. Wow! This man with his quiet unassuming demeanor knew how to lure a girl in and strike at just the right moment.

  “I appreciate your confidence in me.” I quickly adjusted the invoice and handed him a new copy.

  Smiling, he laid down the full payment in cash. “I can meet you at O’Malley’s if you want. It’s close by so you can get back to work on time.”

  I nodded like a love-struck teenager. “Okay.” My response was more of a giggle than an actual word.

  He waved to Milo and smiled at me as he walked around the counter and out the door.

  Gray was on me in a second. She probably smelled the pheromones in the air. “Did you just fucking giggle? You only giggle when you want to get into someone’s pants. Since when does the suit and tie crowd make you swoon? I thought I was the only one who fell for their shit. I’ll bet he’s married.” She tucked a stray lock of soft gray hair back into the clip holding her messy bun in place and stared at me. Her nose ring was practically twitching as she sniffed the lust in the air.

  “Divorced, or rather getting divorced. He has no love for his ex-wife.” I turned to look into her intense blue eyes that made men fall to their knees or run for their lives. “Sorry to hear about Gerald. We can get a drink tonight and talk about it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nah, he’s not worth the hangover. Besides, I’m already on to someone else. If I were you, I’d ask to see the signed divorced papers before you blow him.”

  I poked her side, which she hated and glared at her. “Shh. We are trying to be classy here.”

  She snorted. “Sorry, Boss. My door’s closed because my client needed a breather.” She wiped her forehead with her arm. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re an ugly crier. Like, it gets messy. You’ll be depressed for weeks and I don’t feel like baking comfort food when I’ve just started a diet.”

  “Boo. I was looking forward to eating lava cake surprise.” I appreciated how Gray mourned the loss of a relationship by stuffing her face with baked goodness. “Who’s the new guy?”

  “He’s in my room right now getting a tribal tattoo. His name is Jack. Before you say anything, I knew him before he made his appointment and he had already asked me out once before. This time I said yes.” She bit the edge of her pierced tongue and raised her eyebrow as if she were picturing him naked.

  “Okay, well make sure he pays before you break up with him.” I rolled my eyes at how easily she found men.

  “Will do.” She suddenly leaned closer. “What’s up with the new guy?” She pointed towards the back room.

  “We needed help.” With Gray, less was more, so I didn’t want to raise her suspicions about my rash decision.

  “Hmm. He’s weird. I’ll keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the corner where Aiden was dusting the employee photos on the wall.

  I shook my head at her. “Go finish your tribal tattoo. You can have my Italian sub in the fridge.”

  Distracted by food, she licked her lips. “Will do. Thanks, Boss.”

  She sauntered across the studio and closed the door on room #2.

  Looking over at Aiden, I wondered if I had picked up on his hunger pains again. I hoped that eating something would settle my stomach.

  I wasn’t sure what I was missing when it came to Aiden. Both Gray and Milo were good judges of character in general, aside from when it came to Gray’s love life. And Daire clearly had his reservations about Aiden. Still, despite the warning signs, I wanted to give him a chance.

  Sensing that I was staring at him, he gave me a quick wave and went back to his dusting.

  Chapter 8 Ian

  Sitting across from Dahlia, I couldn’t stop fidgeting in the booth. Though this wasn’t a date, this was the first meal I had shared with a beautiful woman I wasn’t married to doing business with since my college years.

  Dahlia sat back in the booth appearing both comfortable and tired. I felt bad that my tattoo had taken so long to outline, though I knew it would be well worth the effort.

  “Have you always lived here? I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before.” I creased my napkin for a fourth time on my lap, nervous that my questions were boring her.

  Crunching into a French fry, she nodded. “Yes, I’ve lived here my whole life. I think I remember seeing you when I was about seven. My mom dragged me to some meeting. If you have kids, it might have been a PTO meeting or something.”

  I cringed when she implied that I was old enough to have children her age. “I was too young to have children when you were seven, so it must have been someplace else, if it was me.”

  She leaned forward. “Maybe it had something to do with her work. No, I know. It was some charity event. I remember you making some kind of speech. I’d forgotten about it until just now when I walked in and saw you sitting at the table. You had the same nervous look on your face. Maybe it was an auction. I don’t know, but you were probably in your early twenties. I felt like your mother was forcing you to speak.”

  My mind flashed back to the auction for the Silver Springs orphanage hosted by the YWWA, the Young Witches and Wizards Association. My mother was chairing the auction and expected me to oversee the teenagers in charge of gathering the items to be auctioned. I had to step in to greet everyone when the teenager who was supposed to greet the crowd, showed up inebriated. I had been in my early twenties at the time. How had she remembered that night so long ago? Moreover, why had a human been at a coven event?

  “Ah yes, I recall that event. I wasn’t very good at public speaking at the time, so I was upset with my mother.” Concerned as to why Dahlia was there, I erred on the side of caution. “I’m surprised you remember that night. Was your mother part of the event?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just remember peeking into the room while you were talking. You were sweating so badly. I felt terrible for you. I think my mother was there to drop off a vase.”

  Nodding, I still wasn’t sure if her mother was part of the caster or conjurers covens, or just a close friend of someone in the witch community.

  She took a large bite of her brisket sandwich and dripped sauce down her face. Embarrassed, she laughed though I thought it was adorable. Madeline would have never eaten anything that would cause sauce to touch her face. How had I stayed married to such an uptight woman for s
o long?

  Dahlia wiped her face, but left a spot of sauce on her chin.

  “You missed a spot.” I motioned for her to lean forward so I could wipe it off.

  She smiled and leaned her face towards me.

  I wasn’t sure why I was so excited to touch her face, but I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. I’d had a difficult time remaining still in the chair for so long. While the tattoo had caused me pain, I had been more concerned about Dahlia’s hands touching my chest and her face so close to me. I was afraid that she would notice how embarrassingly my body had reacted to her. I had acted like a sixteen year old with my tented pants. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed or had been polite enough to ignore it.

  Just as I was about to touch her face, she pulled back and wiped the spot with her napkin.

  I immediately sat back, angry that I had let my emotions and my imagination run wild. What was wrong with me? I was acting like an uncivilized caveman who expected this beautiful woman to feel the same as I did.

  “My apologies.” I looked down at my salad and quickly shoved some lettuce into my mouth.

  She sighed. “No. It’s not you. I’m having a really weird day.” She blew a piece of hair off her glasses and leaned in. “Can I tell you something strange?”

  Eager to learn more about her, I nodded. “Of course. I’ve told you all sorts of strange things about myself.” I laughed when I remembered how I had joked about my divorce to her, a complete stranger. Many of the coven members didn’t even know I was getting a divorce, unless Madeline had recruited them to her side of the friendship spectrum.

  She quickly looked around and lowered her head. “I don’t like to touch people in general. I get vibes from them or flashes of images. So when I pulled away, it wasn’t that I didn’t want you to help me get something off my face, it was because I was afraid of what would happen.”

  Dumbstruck, I sat back to assess Dahlia. She was a psychic, which was why her mother had been at the coven event. Dahlia’s mother had been a witch, though her father wasn’t. Only half witches had those kinds of talents.