by A. A. Davies
“How about we take a break and you go outside and get some air. If you decide you’re done, then we’ll leave it as is, okay?”
I would hope that she wouldn’t want to walk around with a half-drawn butterfly, though I guess in some circles it could be seen as an abstract piece.
Personally, I see it as unfinished business and it makes me cringe.
The last thing I want is someone walking around with that telling people that it’s my work when word of mouth goes far in this business.
But I guess being kind would go further.
The tiny brunette agrees and wipes the sweat from her brow with the palm of her hand. I chuckle and shake my head; if only she knew this was the worst of it, she’d sit still and let me finish.
I take the gloves off my hands and toss them into the trash can under my desk. Reaching for the energy drink I opened before I started working on her, I take a swig before I get to my feet then walk out of the room with the can still in my hand.
I follow the sound of the loud metal music and poke my head into Carter’s room. He looks up and gives me a nod, so I take it that it’s alright for me to check on the design he’s working on.
I head over and stand next to him, tilt my head to the side and lean down slightly.
“That’s bad ass, man,” I tell him, and I mean it.
He’s working on a back piece that’s taken him a few sessions to finish and now there’s just the color left to do.
It’s a massive lily with a koi fish on either side and I clear my throat as he sits back and sets his gun down.
“Alright, go take a breather and we’ll finish it up when you come back in,” he tells his client. She nods as she reaches for her shirt and holds it against herself on the way out.
I wait for her to get up and leave before I close the door and run a hand over my face.
“Why do you always get the easy ones?” I grumble.
Carter chuckles as he pulls his gloves off and shrugs, “You’re a bastard; karma likes to kick you in the balls sometimes.”
I grin at him.
I can’t respond to that because it’s the truth, I just wish that karma would give me a fucking break once in a while is all.
About twenty minutes into energy drinks and bro-chill, Carter’s client walks back into the room and gives me a sympathetic smile.
“You okay?” I ask raising an eyebrow.
“Your girl ran off. She said she couldn’t take it anymore.”
I grit my teeth as I close my eyes for a moment. There’s no way in hell she’ll get her deposit back now, but it would have been nice to have been paid for the work I did on her.
“Sorry, man,” Carter says, his tone echoing his client’s sympathy. I open my eyes and look at them both before I shrug.
“Just another day in the life of karma.”
I crush the can between my hands in frustration as I walk out of the room, the sound of the tattoo gun firing up and taunting me.
At least one of us will get paid for a full appointment slot today.
Chapter Two
The shop closed about an hour ago, but instead of going home right away, I decided to take a walk. I need to blow off some steam from the loss of income fiasco or I’ll explode when I walk through the doors.
The only thing that I’ve ever loved in my entire life doesn’t deserve the wreckage that my foul mood would cause.
My outbursts of rage have become a point of contention in our relationship and I do my best to be a better man for her because that’s what she deserves.
I let out my breath as her favorite trinket shop comes into view. I know it’s closed for the night, but I decide to make my way toward it.
I can do some window shopping before Virulence and Vanity opens for business tomorrow. Maybe I can get her a gift that I know will make her smile.
That’s something she hasn’t done in a long time and I still have trouble reconciling if it’s because of me. I treat her as best as I can and have stopped taking out my frustrations of unfinished pieces and lost wages on her, which I had hoped would have fixed everything.
Verbally, of course.
I’ve never struck her.
She’s had enough of that in her life from people that have claimed they love her, whereas I honestly do.
I catch a hint of my reflection in the large display window when I finally arrive. My reflection stares back at me, a banal expression on his face, yet somehow cautiously optimistic.
My thoughts immediately go to my darling Snow. A name I never did like but because her mother was something of a moron, naming her for the first thing she saw through the hospital window after giving birth.
Snow has always been so proud of her name, though. When she was a child, she would say that the winter flurries were named after her and not the other way around. As a teenager, she took to dying her hair white and maintained the spectacle well into her almost twenties.
Even now, I take special care to keep her hair white as she always had been so fond of doing. Coincidentally, it helps to set off the ice blue color of her eyes and make her seem otherworldly.
Since I’ve always had a thing for vampire lore, it works out.
But as my eyes focus again, and I still see my reflection slightly, I think about how different we look and wonder what the fuck she ever saw in me.
Kenji Miura.
Heavily tattooed arms and legs, light brown, almond-shaped eyes, straight black hair, and a semi-permanent half-scowl always on my lips.
We look so different yet we’re so much alike, that I honestly believe that the only opposite of our attraction is our physical one.
Her skin is pale and flawless; mine is naturally tan and covered with colorful artwork.
Her mother gave birth to her here; mine gave birth to me in Tokyo.
She likes quiet nights in; I like drag racing and having a few beers with the people from work.
And somehow, in a world where things don’t make much sense to me anymore, she does.
I reach up and push away a stray strand of hair from my face before I force myself to rebuff my reflection and do what I came here to do—pinpoint something that might brighten her day tomorrow.
Once I’ve homed in on just the thing that will hopefully bring a smile to Snow’s face, I reach into the inside pocket of my denim jacket and pull out my pack of cigarettes.
I retrieve one, set it between my teeth and dig the lighter out of the pack before putting it away, then light it, the fire reflecting in the window.
I look up at my reflection one more time before I shake my head and decide it’s time to turn in for the evening.
“I’m home!” I call out after I’ve locked the door behind me.
She doesn’t respond, though. She hasn’t in months and it’s all I can do to not lose my mind over it.
Snow has given me the cold shoulder since the last time I let my temper explode all over her and I guess I deserve it.
I said some horrendously unsavory things to her and no matter how much I’ve begged for forgiveness she’s decided to punish me with silence.
The only reason I’ve decided that it’s okay is because I’ve also decided to punish her in my own way.
I shrug my jacket off as I head into the living room and hang it in the small closet, before I glance around the room and smile when I see her.
In the corner.
On all fours.
Naked with the exception of a pair of white, cotton panties that I allow her to wear.
Face to the wall and waiting for permission to be able to curl up and go to sleep.
Like the good little girl that I’ve been training her to become, I think with a wistful sigh.
The one that will talk to me again one day. The one that won’t be ashamed of us. The one that will love me as much as I love her.
It all starts with making her smile again.
And tomorrow will be that day.
“Good night, Snow,” I whisper as I wa
lk out of the living room and head toward my bedroom.
Chapter Three
After I left the trinket shop and secured Snow’s gift under the station in my room, I wandered back into the reception area.
Leaning against the desk, I grin at Carter when he waltzes in and we knuckle bump before he disappears into his station.
I always liked him.
He’s the one that turned me onto Snow having a thing for me and he’s been helping me with her when I need him to.
Carter gives some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten from anyone other than myself and he makes sure that shit gets done in the best way possible for both me and her.
As I go back to flipping through the latest copy of Inked Magazine, the phone rings. I glance up at the wall clock, pick up the phone, then replace it back down on the receiver without so much as a word.
We aren’t open yet and I don’t get why people always insist on trying to call for last minute appointments before business hours.
I stifle a yawn with my fist when the doorbells that Carter wrapped around the front handle chime and look up, ready to tell someone that we aren’t open for another hour or so but break into a smile instead.
Sariah, the shop’s receptionist, walks in and hip bumps me out of the way once she gets behind the desk so she can sit down.
“Morning, Kenji,” she greets me distractedly as she attempts to open the desk drawer that my legs are blocking.
“Morning,” I echo as I scoot to the side, allowing her to place her purse into the desk. I use my shin to push it back in place, coming dangerously close to catching her fingers inside. She looks up at me with a frazzled expression on her face, but I grin at her and all is forgiven.
I wouldn’t have hurt her intentionally but sometimes, I’m not in control of my own thoughts and little close-to-accidents like this tend to happen.
“Sorry, kid,” I say as I reach over to ruffle her hair. She swats my hand away and giggles, but immediately reaches into the top drawer for her hand mirror.
Sariah has to be the vainest person that I’ve ever met, but I guess she kind of has a reason to be.
She’s tall—for a girl, anyway, has huge silver-colored eyes, and bright blonde hair that she likes to wear in dreadlocks. Her arms are still half-sleeves, but Carter and I work on them when time allows. Sariah has her septum pierced, as well as a Medusa and Monroe piercing.
She’s definitely something to look at but she’s never really been my type—our relationship has always consisted of nothing more than older brother and annoying little sister.
Besides, I’ve got Snow at home and I’ve never even thought of being unfaithful to her.
“We have to finish those soon,” I say nodding at her arms, and she mumbles in agreement as she leans back in her chair and stretches them high over her head.
“Whenever you say, boss,” she replies with a smile.
With a chuckle, I flip the magazine closed then walk around the desk and place it back on the small, wooden desk that displays mine and Carter’s portfolios as well.
“Hey, Kenji?” Sariah suddenly asks.
“Yeah?”
“Carter was telling me the other day that the two of you were chatting about maybe hiring another artist …”
Her voice trails off and I sit on the black, chaise leather couch just in front of her desk as I clasp my hands behind my head.
“Uh huh.”
I figure the prod, while menial will probably cause her to finish her thought.
“Well…” Sariah’s face turns crimson as she begins to nervously pick at her fingernails. I sit up, now rife with curiosity, and wait.
“Well?” I echo, arching an eyebrow.
She blows out her breath and looks up at me. “My brother gets out of Irongate next week and he’s been doing some tattoos on the inside. I was hoping—”
I raise a hand to stop her.
“Just tell him to swing by when he’s out,” I tell her with a warm smile.
Everyone deserves a second chance no matter how horrid a deed they’ve done, and I’m hoping that maybe by giving Sariah’s brother one, karma will push Snow to give me one too.
I get to my feet and begin to walk back toward my room when I linger for a moment at the front desk. Sariah looks over at me with that damn thankful smile still on her face and I decide it’s best not to ask.
Irongate is reserved for the worst bastards alive.
She’ll tell me what he did to deserve a stint there when she’s ready.
Or maybe he will.
“Hey, Stranger,” I greet the tiny brunette as she knocks on my door.
I’m currently in the middle of working on a client, but neither of us seems to mind the intrusion.
“Um, do you have a sec?” she asks in a timid tone.
“I don’t know,” I say as I remove my foot from the pedal and glance down at my client. “Do I?”
He nods and tells me he’ll take the opportunity to go have a smoke, so I set the tattoo gun down. As soon as he’s out of the room, I get to my feet, take my gloves off, then cross my arms over my chest after I’ve tossed them into the trash can.
Brunette closes the door, lingering with her back to me for a moment before she turns around and begins to wring her hands nervously.
“What’s up?”
“I wanted to say that I was sorry for running out the other day…”
“You mean yesterday?” I correct with a chuckle.
She nods, licking her lips nervously as she reaches into her handbag and fiddles around inside, retrieving her wallet.
“I just couldn’t take it anymore so I ran, but I wanted to pay you for the full appointment time we had booked,” she explains as she holds out a couple of hundred dollar bills in the same timid manner as her tone.
Huh.
“Thanks,” I say as I reach forward and take the cash. I put the money into the wooden box I use for safekeeping until the day is over, “I appreciate this honestly.”
“Maybe I’ll get brave enough to finish this one day,” she jokes with a nervous laugh.
“Maybe.”
“Okay, well, hopefully you’ll be able to fit me in when the time comes.”
“Maybe,” I state, repeating my prior sentiment.
I’m not entirely sure I want to deal with all of the bucking and crying again but since she was nice enough to come back and pay me, I might set the aggravation aside to help her out.
“What’s your name again?” I ask as I reach for another pair of gloves. The door has been opened and my client has reentered the room so it’s time to get back to work.
“Hazel,” she replies shyly.
“Just like your eyes.” She blushes and I have to fight to roll my eyes. It wasn’t a flirtation or a compliment—it was merely an observation. “See you around, Hazel.”
With a nod, I dismiss her from the room as I prepare to get back to work.
“See you,” she replies softly.
Maybe karma is coming around sooner than I had hoped for.
Chapter Four
It’s always a great day when your customers tip well. Not that I ever require it because I think they pay enough, but everyone today added a little something extra to the pot.
As I walk into the front door of my home, I find myself in a good mood knowing that I can get more little keepsakes for Snow because of today’s generosity. I also find myself nervous and excited to give her the gift I bought for her.
My darling gal loves animals and I thought that this would be a great way to continue my needing to be forgiven for how I treated her.
I almost always greet her before I walk into the living room to let her know that I’m home, but I think that since I have a surprise for her, maybe she won’t mind me not announcing myself.
But when I enter the room, she’s not in the corner on all fours like she’s supposed to be. She’s still curled up in the same ball from the night before and it makes me wonder if that’s what
she does when I’m out busting my balls to provide a good home for her.
“Snow!” I bark at her.
She gasps, instantly scrambles to her hands and knees, turning to face the wall.
I take as deep a steadying breath as I can and count to ten. I do my best not to throw away her gift. Knowing that I could so easily close my fist around it and crush the bag like the energy drink from yesterday probably wouldn’t impress her much.
Not to mention that it would show my obvious frustration and that doesn’t work with her since she would know that I’m angry about her disregarding her lessons.
Anger isn’t the way to get to her; I should know this by now, but it hurts me that she seems to do whatever the fuck she wants when she knows that I’m not home.
I run a hand over my face before I walk over and sit down behind her. Reaching forward, I grip her by the hips and pull her back against me, then place the giftbag into her hands.
I’ll do this as kindly as I can and hope that she doesn’t reject the gesture because if she does, I’ll be at a complete loss as to what to do with her.
“I got you something,” I tell her softly as I nuzzle her neck with my lips. Her body begins to tremble under the weight of my touch, and it fills my heart with joy. It’s been so long that Snow’s reacted this way to my touching her and maybe it means that we can fix this after all.
My gal nods as she opens the bag as she cautiously slips a hand inside. I’m nervous that she won’t like it, but it’s not complete yet. Hopefully, she’ll see the beauty in the simple base and accept it.
“Do you like it?” I ask shyly as she pulls it out of the bag and holds it up. She uses her other hand to grip one end and the other gives it a firm tug.
“Thank you,” she replies in a soft tone.
My heart catches in my throat as, to my surprise, tears start to form. Not of joy, elation, or sadness. It’s more my body’s reaction to hearing her voice again for the first time in months and it’s dripping in gratitude.