A toothpick of a man came to his feet like he was under attack. He stared us down, one eye squinting and twitching. Thayer didn’t seem surprised at all. “Hey boss,” he declared, smooth as silk.
Face softening, the man slapped a greeting in Thayer’s outreached hand. Cigarette dangling, he leered my way, asking Thayer, “What have you brought for us?”
“Us?” I thought, wanting to huff it out loud but pursed my lips shut.
“Metal, this is Onyx, I mean, X, my,” oh God, he hesitated, “friend.”
Metal was the word for him since he had loads of it piercing his wrinkled flesh. Spotting the dirt under his nails, I waved instead of offering my hand.
Thayer added, “She’s a virgin.”
“A virgin?” Metal echoed, his disbelief mocking me.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but blush as the other five male heads in the place whipped around at the word.
“We can’t go having that.”
Now my regrets’ legs got weak.
Metal nodded toward an empty chair. “My boy, Slayer here will take care of you.”
Did he say, Slayer? I stifled a laugh, and my nerves lifted a bit.
Metal went back to tattooing what looked like Dante’s Inferno on a bloated man’s belly. All eyes off us now, I looked to Thayer who gestured for me to have a seat.
“Is that a smile? Something funny?”
I straightened my face. “Slayer?” I whispered. “Isn’t that an eighties hair band or something?”
He squinted, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His hands landed on my hips, and I jumped. “Settle down. Slayer’s my road name.” I opened my mouth to ask what in the world that meant, but he moved to put me into the chair. Fighting my flipping stomach, I eased into it myself.
Thayer pushed a clipboard into my hands. “You need to sign.”
I read the form, saying something about parental permission. Without question, I signed I was eighteen even though I wouldn’t be for another eight months. As soon as I felt comfortable, the chair suddenly flopped back. I pipped loudly, embarrassing myself.
Big bellied laughs echoed throughout the parlor.
Thayer loomed over me. “Nervous?”
“No, not at all,” I lied, remembering the conversation that led me here in the first place.
When Thayer told me he apprenticed at a tattoo shop and asked me to be his canvas, I was flattered. Anyone would be pleased to hear a hot guy thought they had beautiful, flawless skin, but those hadn’t been the words that intrigued me.
Parked at Valkyrie Park across from my new high school, I watched my rearview mirror, waiting for Angel’s car to pass. You couldn’t miss it, a big, black Escalade with illegally dark tint. I realized being the new girl in a boring town, I was a curiosity—but come on. The girl who sat in the back of my history class had been following me home for weeks although she lived on the other side of town. Yeah, I’d googled her.
I turned up the radio, singing and thinking of home… “All the leaves are brown…”… “I’d be safe and warm…”
That’s when he rode his motorcycle into my view. If his bright sleeves of tattoos hadn’t caught my eye, the whitest puff of blond hair would have. Not to mention the fact he wore only ripped jeans, wore the hell out of them, too. His muscular torso glistened with sweat in the early March sunlight. Yes, March and as chilly as ever. A chill ran up my spine for more than the thought of the cold air hitting his bare skin. Tilting my head down, I looked over my sunglasses to take in the full effect, wondering if his nipples were hard. My tongue hit the back of my teeth, imagining licking them. My lips curled into a dreamy smile. He had bad boy written all over him. My father would scream—if he were home.
The black gas guzzler sped by, so I forgot the guy and backed up, aimed at getting home. In my haste, I bumped something—someone. I hit the brakes and jerked forward. Fuck. Out of my side mirror, I spotted his blond hair on the pavement and rushed out of the car. Thankfully, the hunk wasn’t hurt. But his bike...
“I have great insurance,” I assured him in a panic, as he picked up his cracked Harley like he’d not just been thrown by my big Volvo SUV.
“Just a scratch,” he said, inspecting his smashed ride.
I fumbled in my backpack for my wallet, my card.
“Don’t bother with insurance. I have a guy.”
I looked up from the bottomless pit which was my bag. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but he shook his head like he wasn’t.
We struck up our first conversation as I made certain he was okay myself. I learned Thayer Drake who graduated last year had been using the ramps on the concrete slab nestled in the middle of the greenery, the skate park, before school let out and it became overcrowded with kids, like he did every day.
I eyed the board in his backpack. “A biker and a skater?” My face squished up.
“That odd?” he asked, seriously.
“Kind of a contradiction, don’t you think?” I shrugged one shoulder.
“They say I’m the rebellious type, no matter the form. And you—what’s that, a hybrid? It’s as big as a tank. Talk about a contradiction. You must be that California girl.”
“Word really does get around,” I mumbled under my breath. “I’m Onyx.” I offered my hand. “But everyone calls me, X. Well, everyone did back home.”
His rough hand took mine, but he squeezed softly. A bead of blood ran down his forehead. Following my gaze, he wiped at the blood, smearing it, making half his face red. The world spun, and I stumbled back as the sight of blood made me sick. Thayer helped me to my car. I got in to sit.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ve got to get home.” I couldn’t look at him as I drove off.
I kept stopping at the park after school.
Joining me at the picnic tables yesterday, Thayer was shirtless, again, a pleasant sight. Even I was in short sleeves as it was unseasonably warm, but I had my sweater because it wouldn’t last. Plus, the wind would cut you without warning. Unfortunately, because of fucking seventh period letting out late again, I’d missed him skating once more.
He broke our easy silence, “I’d like to mess you up a bit.”
“What?” I about choked on my Pepsi.
“I’d like to mess you up.” He repeated it, and his words wet my panties. “Your skin is beautiful, flawless. Do you even have a freckle?”
I had to think. That’s how few I had. “Yes, right here.” I showed him my right hand. There was a speck right under my thumb.
He delicately caught my fingers in his, bringing my hand to his lips. His lips were fuller than mine, the kind women get injections to achieve. I didn’t pull away as his mouth grazed my skin, just shy of kissing. Thayer had the strangest eyes, almost orange in the sunlight. They studied me now as his warm breath tickled my hand. “You’re like a porcelain doll. My mother had a collection.”
I frowned knowing he thought we had this in common. He’d confided, his mother died of cancer only a couple of years ago, and I had always claimed mine died when I’d been a baby, although she hadn’t. That was just my family’s cover story, so it was no big feat to repeat the lie to him.
His eyes focusing far away, he went on, “One day I stripped them all down and took my box of markers to them.” He still held my hand to his lips, but he didn’t kiss. He turned my hand over and slowly licked my palm. I noticed his tongue ring scraping and imagined him licking me all over.
Back in the tattoo parlor, in his chair, not listening to Thayer telling me all about needle safety, I’d liked to have thought I had no idea what I’d been thinking when I agreed to sneak out at midnight to let him ink me, but I’d been wanting more than a tattoo.
“So, what do you want?” Thayer asked, like he’d been in my head.
Maybe I was lonely, I mused to myself, before I realized he meant was asking what I wanted for the tattoo. “Oh, a sun.”
Tha
yer drew out a simple but unique design, all black. Reminded me a bit of a throwing star.
“Is this what you want to live with forever?”
I nodded my head, not sure at all. A sun meant warmth, reminded me of home and when my father was around before he left and moved me to this cold, hell hole. But it was black, like my soul, apparently, at least like my name, Onyx.
“Where do you want it?”
“Here.” I lifted my shirt and unbuttoned my jeans. I wanted it on my lower navel right above my hip bone, far out of view. Thayer’s fingers grazed the sensitive spot and sent alarm bells all over me, warning partly of the inevitable pain and the other, the possible pleasure, afterwards.
“You need a drink?” He could read the apprehension on my face.
“No, I don’t drink,” I answered like I was offended. I hadn’t meant for it to come out so rough.
Thayer shrugged and took a shot of something. He transferred the design onto my skin, just drawing, and it was almost too much.
“You ticklish?”
“Maybe?”
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head. “I’ve not been touched there before, by a stranger.”
He gave me an unbelieving look.
“Is that odd?”
“No, I believe it.” He turned on his gun. The sound startled me further. His hands, warmer now, steadied me. “You’re going to be a jumpy one.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Metal says most are, even if they don’t realize it. I can’t just practice on the veterans over there.” He jutted his chin toward the men sitting at a table in the corner, drinking. The ones covered head to toe in ink.
One touch of the needle was all it took for me to wonder if I needed a drink after all. “Stop,” I bellowed.
Thayer pulled back the needle. I could feel the men’s eyes on me. Uncomfortable, I said, “Maybe I’ll take that drink.”
Thayer poured me a shot of what smelled like rum. I knew because my father drank plenty of everything. My throat burning, I assured him I was ready this time.
When I was able to look down, all I saw was Thayer’s platinum hair. His brow furrowed, he seemed hard at work. I stared at the ceiling and tried to be as still as possible. After what seemed like an eternity of pin pricks, he stopped. Metal looked over his shoulder and nodded an approval.
“Is it finished?” I asked with a bit too much hope in my voice.
“Not nearly, only half of the outline. But we’ll take a break.”
Everyone wanted to take a peek at his work. One drunk from the corner stumbled over. After approving of my half sun outline, he studied my face. “I know you,” he said.
“I don’t think so.” What do you say to a drunk?
“No, I know your family.”
I shook my head as Thayer dabbed some gauze over my new ink. He dabbed up tiny drops of blood—my blood. The sight of it instantly made me queasy. Why didn’t I realize there would be blood?
“I need to sit up.”
Thayer helped me into an awkward upright position that allowed for my open pants.
“I used to work for your grandma.” The drunk was too close, pointing his finger at me as if that made his point.
Thayer walked him back. “Carl, you’re mistaken. Onyx is new in town. Metal, get your buddy some coffee.”
“Nah. That girl is the spittin’ image of her granny.” He froze and visibly shivered. “Evil woman, I tell you. Not someone you want to trifle with.”
I was going to be sick, for more than the sight of blood. I’d seriously thought Thayer was different. I started buttoning my jeans. “Is this all an elaborate stunt to make fun of me?”
“What?” Thayer’s face twisted in confusion, but how could I trust it?
“You know folks around here call me Hex, and this old man saying my family is evil… that’s the word on the street... so glad I moved home... I thought you were different.”
“You think I would... set all this up, for a laugh?”
Conflicted, I stormed out the front door but not before I heard the old man slur out, “Clairol doesn’t fool me. Check her carpets down below. Under that black hair, she’s a redhead just like her father. Her mom’s the one in the loony bin. Her grandma, Diane Craft, that ole’ witch.”
My head spun as his words echoed in it. How did he know I had red hair? I religiously dyed it dark and never let my roots show. And what was worse was that my mother, who wasn’t really dead like Thayer thought was a Craft, but I never met her side of the family. Of course, it wouldn’t take too much digging to find out my mom’s maiden name. One Google search had given me Angel’s address.
“Damn,” I shouted out when I couldn’t find my car, realizing I’d parked it at the park. Thayer and I’d both parked and walked to the shop in the dark since we had been sneaking me out. That and he hadn’t gotten his bike fixed and said it wasn’t safe to have a passenger. I’d have to walk back. The streets were deserted and dark, all but for the tattoo place and a few traffic lights, one in front of me and a couple in the distance. Still better than the back street we’d taken here. At this point, I didn’t care if Olivia caught me out.
When I’d gotten a block down the sidewalk, I heard bells crashing against glass, Thayer busting out of the shop’s door.
“X,” he shouted. “Come back. Carl’s a loon... I mean... he’s nuts—fuck. He’s going home.”
I didn’t stop. Thayer followed me, baying, “Onyx, I would never hurt you.”
Still far ahead of him, I twisted my neck just so he’d hear me. I didn’t want to shout. “Don’t bother and leave me alone.”
“I’m not letting you walk back alone.” He continued following a few feet behind me. We walked across town in silence. When the street lamps of the park were in view, Thayer was on my heels. He’d caught up and came beside me. “Don’t leave like this.”
I stopped and crossed my arms. “Like what? You wanted practice and you got it.”
“I wanted more than that and you know it.” He grabbed my arm but quickly let go. “Fuck,” he said, gnashing his teeth, ready to say something.
“You wanted to fuck me?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to go there yet, but of course I did.”
“Was that before or after your little joke?”
“You really think the world revolves around you, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A vein throbbed in his neck. “Rich girl,” he murmured.
I sighed.
“You think I invited you out to hurt you, to make fun of you? Why?”
I had my doubts now but said nothing.
Thayer clinched his fists then stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “If I wanted to hurt you, I had my opportunity. You don’t know me from Adam, where I was taking you. You’re out here at two a.m. with a biker.”
“Who are you, my dad?”
“And you think all I’m after is to call you names? I’ve seen you looking at me. I could’ve had my way with you in the last two hours and left you in a ditch.”
“Asshole,” I grunted out, flipping him off. I jogged the rest of the way to my car, got in and locked the door. Having that old man call me evil was bad enough, what he knew about my family, but Thayer acting like I was easy, naive—fuck him. Fighting tears of shock, I fumbled with my keys. I’d never been so disrespected in my life. Sure, kids could always be cruel to a newcomer, but this town took the cake. Thayer banged on my window as I turned the ignition. I wiped at my face, thinking of how I should’ve known. Even the adults here had been assholes. I must have really pissed off my dad for him to move me here.
“How much for a new license plate,” I’d asked, handing the lady behind the counter at the County Clerk’s office my license and my father’s registration and insurance card.
Straightening her glasses, she looked over my information and into her computer screen as my fingers tapped. The woman giggled, so I knew she saw my
father’s SUV was tagged with the plate reading 666 HEX. It was hard enough being the new kid in town without being stuck driving my dad’s Volvo with this crazy plate. It didn’t take long for the kids at the high school to start calling me Hex instead of X, which was my preferred shortening of my given name, Onyx.
“I’m sorry, hun. It’s an unfortunate plate,” she’d finally spoken up, pushing the papers back to me. “But Mr. O’Connor will have to be the one to request a replacement.”
I pushed the papers back. “I’m listed as a driver on his insurance.”
“You have an out of state license. I can’t do it. Have your father come in. Okay, sweetie?”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, believe me. I’d love to leave.”
When my father had gotten the call, I should have run off. It always started with a call. He’d only just gotten back and another fucking call.
“Onyx, we need to talk.”
“You’re leaving again?”
“It won’t be long this time but...”
“But… Mr. Davies wants to talk to you.”
“The principle? In trouble again? Julia can go.” His mind was elsewhere, as usual.
“No, he’s asking to talk to my guardian. I told him, I barely have one.”
“You did not,” he started, his face turning red. I’d gotten a rise out of him. “No. Actually, it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving, too. We’re moving. But you’ll like it. It’s our family’s home. We lived there when you were a baby.” By we, he meant, my mother, him and I—but we never talked about her.
“Are you coming?”
“Not right away.”
“What about Julia? Get a hold of her?”
“Flown the coop, right? Don’t they all? There’s no time to explain and no use to argue. You upset?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Twisted Tales of Mayhem: 2019 MMM Special Edition Anthology Page 58
