Warrior Blue

by Kelsey Kingsley

  This is what I wanted, I told myself. I wanted change, and I wanted to be better. I wanted to live a healthier, happier, and more successful life, for myself and my brother, and now, I was doing it for Audrey and Freddy as well. This—the celebrity clients, the thriving crowd, the attention—this was the consequence of that, of trying, of making an effort and putting myself out there.

  “This is crazy,” I muttered.

  Audrey had schooled me on who Devin O’Leary was while I scrambled to get ready for work. She’d played a few of his songs for me—not my thing, but it was clear the guy was talented—and I’d quickly learned enough about him to get a grasp on what to do for him. I’d have to play it by ear for the other guys, so to speak, but according to Audrey, Devin seemed like the guy to impress.

  Audrey had stayed back at my place, to help Jake get ready for his weekend at our parents’ place and she was dropping him off before taking Freddy to his dad’s. Then, finally, she’d be here. I wished she was here now.

  With a deep breath, I got out of the car and approached the back entrance of the shop. Gus threw the door open before I could reach its handle and stared at me with a reasonable dose of shock.

  “Damn, kid, look at what you’re doing to us!” He clapped a hand against my back and went straight to business. “I already took the liberty of cleaning up your space. I’ll let them in while you get your shit set-up, okay?”

  “Anybody else coming in today?” I asked, walking through the breakroom to my station.

  “Kara and Matt, yeah, but not until later. Why? You think you’re gonna need them? I’ll tell them to come—”

  “No,” I shook my head, as I pulled out my machines. “Better they’re not here at all. I want to get these guys done before anybody else comes in. They’re celebrities; they don’t need other clients gawking over them or some shit.”

  “O-oh,” Gus stammered and scratched his bald head. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I should tell them to cancel their appointments for the day.”

  I met his eyes with an unintended incredulity. “Uh, yeah,” I said, nodding. “I would.”

  “Fuck. Okay. Yeah, I’ll call them up right now.”

  As Gus hurried to the phone, I called after him, “Yo, let them in first, man!”

  Clearly flustered and in over his head, Gus smacked a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I’m not cut out for this shit. Okay, okay, calm the fuck down,” he pushed out a few deep breaths and nodded slowly, “okay.”

  Then, he opened the door.

  The applause and cheers from the crowd outside wasn’t unlike a barreling train whizzing by. They were so boisterous in their excitement, but maintained a healthy respect and distance for the group of men, as they hurried from the buses and into the shop. Gus locked the door and drew the curtains, allowing them privacy. He busied himself with introductions and a brief tour as I sat down to ready myself and quietly observe these guys before meeting them myself.

  They were all heavily inked except for one. It was funny, like one of those Sesame Street segments from back in the day—one of these things isn’t like the others, or some shit like that. I wondered how the hell he’d managed to get roped into a touring gig with these guys, but then again, what must people think when they saw me with Audrey?

  Their personalities differed from sagely to quiet and reserved to boisterous bordering on obnoxious. That was the one who approached me first, a blond guy with his hair tied back in a knot. Considering the size of his big arms and a lean everything else, I guessed he was the drummer. Obviously the outgoing one of the bunch, he sauntered over with his hands in his jean pockets, wearing a smirk.

  “Blake Carson, I presume,” he greeted me, not yet offering his hand.

  I nodded, unraveling a roll of paper towels and tearing them into sheets. “That’d be me.”

  “Too cool to come say hi to us, huh?”

  My eyes met his. “I don’t give anybody special treatment,” I replied, not caring who he was or what he did for a living.

  “Well, that’s pretty fucking rude.”

  This day was already off to an amazing start. I was devoting my Saturday to ink these hotshot rock stars who had the audacity to call the night before they wanted to come in, and now this guy was giving me an obnoxious attitude.

  Furrowing my brow, I cocked my head and began to speak, “Well, sorry to—” But I was cut off by his laugh and a smack against my shoulder.

  “Holy fuck, dude. Relax. I’m just messing with ya,” he said, gripping my arm and giving me a friendly shake. “I’m Sebastian and I like to fuck with people, it’s what I do.”

  “Kick him in the balls if he pisses you off. He likes it,” another guy said, approaching me. He spoke with a more southern accent.

  “Noted,” I said, allowing a laugh as I opened a drawer to pull out some inks.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for making time for us. We don’t usually pull the celebrity card.”

  “‘Cause we’re not dicks,” the southern guy added, “I’m Chad, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you guys,” I said.

  “We grabbed this month’s ModInk, saw your shit, and had to stop by while we were in the area,” Sebastian explained.

  “Which is only for the weekend, unfortunately,” the tallest of the bunch tacked on as he headed into the back. This one I recognized as Devin, the ringleader and the head honcho. “Although a few of us don’t live too far. We could’ve come up if you couldn’t fit us in.”

  I shook my head. “Nope, you guys are good,” I said, standing up to snap my gloves off and finally shake their hands. “Blake.”

  “Devin,” he answered, but I already knew that. I expected he realized but introduced himself anyway and I liked that. It was humble and relatable, to not assume that the world would instantly know his name.

  I was introduced to the others—Tyler and Jon, the tattoo virgin—and I set to work, briefly consulting each of them to get a feel for what they’d like. I didn’t have time to sketch anything out, since I wasn’t working with a whole lot of time. But when I told them I was going rogue with some freehand work, they seemed even more enthusiastic and ready to get started. And so was I.

  My cell rang in the middle of the first tattoo, a sooty moon and stars on Chad’s shoulder blade. It was Audrey and I apologized for the interruption as I pulled my gloves off to answer.

  “I’m so sorry,” she immediately said, sounding breathless. “Jake needs you for something and he’s—”

  “Is he giving you a hard time?”

  “Oh, no! Not at all. But he’s being a little, um, resistant and says he needs you. I told him you’re working, but he’s really adamant. I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

  I glanced around at the shop full of guys. Strangers who didn’t know me and didn’t understand my situation. But intuition told me they were good men with big hearts and I quickly made a decision.

  “It’s fine. Bring him over here.”

  “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I can distract him.”

  “No, it’s okay. He’ll never let it go if you don’t, and then he’ll give my parents a hard time.” The thought was tempting, but the last thing I wanted was for them to punish him for it. “Just come down. Text me when you get here and I’ll unlock the backdoor.”

  “Okay,” she relented. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  I hung up and Chad glanced over his shoulder as I pulled a fresh pair of gloves on. “Your girl?” he asked knowingly.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, picking my machine up and situating my foot on the pedal, “she has to stop by with my brother really quick. I hope you guys don’t mind. He just needs to—”

  “Dude, we’re good,” he replied with a smile. “It’s nice enough you came in. None of us can expect your life to just stop ‘cause of us.”

  I chatted with him for a bit before Audrey came by. He was a dad of two, married to his best friend, and currently adding a third bathr
oom to his house in Texas. He explained briefly that with his chronic illness, Ulcerative Colitis, he felt he needed one to himself. “But livin’ with three women, I’m thinkin’ about adding a fourth,” he laughed and shook his head, “one for each of us.”

  The more we talked, the more I found I liked and understood him. It struck me hard that, after years of tattooing in near silence, I’d been missing out on so many stories from my clients. The different walks of life, the varying circumstances that’d brought them to my chair. It was a shameful moment, to realize all of those wasted opportunities, and I made a split decision to change. Again.

  Audrey texted me that they were there, and I announced apologetically that it was time for a momentary break. Chad insisted it was cool and took the moment to grab his phone and text his wife.

  I unlocked the backdoor and Audrey, Jake, and Freddy walked inside.

  “Hey,” she greeted me, standing on her toes to press a kiss to my jaw.

  “Hey, guys. I can’t talk for long.”

  “Did you hear your brother, Jake? We can’t be here long,” Audrey spoke to him with a kind firmness. “Remember, Mickey is in the car. He’s waiting. Okay?”

  “We won’t be here long. Not long.” Jake nodded and glanced through the breakroom to the open workstation. Right in his line of sight was Chad and Jake pointed. “He’s blue like Blake.”

  With that mention, I thought about the piece I was working on, the moon and stars. I remembered the idea Shane had pitched the night before and in a trance, I moved through the breakroom and stood above Chad’s shoulder, assessing and working out the details in my mind. I visualized a splashy watercolor background, a muted blue mixed with grey, to highlight the grit with something beautiful.

  Nodding slowly, I asked, “Hey, Chad, you mind if I add some color to this?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me and shook his head. “You’re the artist, dude. I’m your canvas. Do whatever you wanna do to me.”

  “Awesome.” I grinned, finding a new excitement in my work, and turned to find Jake standing in the breakroom doorway. He was eyeballing the shop full of strange men, Devin specifically.

  “He’s purple,” he announced, pointing. “Bright, bright, bright purple.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, remembering that purple auras typically belong to spiritual, creative types.

  Devin lifted his head from the tablet he was using and smiled at Jake. “Well, now there’s two of ‘em,” he said, making the typical twin comment. Then, he looked to me and asked, “What’s with the color thing?”

  “Jake sees auras,” I told him.

  Devin nodded. “So, my aura is purple?”

  Sebastian laughed. “He matches his wife’s hair! How fucking cute.”

  “That’s actually kinda crazy,” Devin said, still nodding thoughtfully. “Add some purple to mine. That’d be cool.”

  And so, Jake went around the room announcing their colors to me. Tyler was green, Sebastian was orange, and Jon, the quiet tattoo virgin, was pink. Every one of them treated Jake with gratitude and kindness and all shook his hand. Audrey stood back with her hands gripping Freddy’s shoulders, keeping him from interfering as the two of us inadvertently worked with Devin and his band.

  When we’d been around the entire room, I brought Jake once again to the back exit. Audrey asked if he still needed to tell me something, and he thought about it intently for a moment, before shaking his head.

  “That was all,” he said with an affirmative nod.

  “So, you knew you had to come here to do this?” I asked, crossing my arms and trying so hard to figure this shit out.

  He nodded again. “Yes. That’s why Audrey drove Mickey and me and Freddy here.”

  “I see.”

  “You do now,” he stated with sage and wisdom, and I didn’t bother to fight it as I replied, “I do now.”

  Reaching out with both arms, Jake pulled me in for a big, encompassing hug that caught the breath in my lungs and tripped the heart in my chest. Overwhelmed by an emotion caught between contentedness and concern, I hugged him back, touching my nose to his shoulder and patting his back.

  “Love you, buddy,” I whispered, bringing my hand to touch the back of his head.

  “I love you, Blake.” He rocked from side to side, an act leaning toward playful. Then, he said, “It’s going to be okay. Don’t be sad. Don’t be worried. It will be okay.”

  My heart stopped with the eerie tone in his voice. “What?”

  “Don’t be sad. Don’t be worried. It—”

  “No, I heard you,” I pushed away and gripped his shoulders in my hands, “but what are you talking about?”

  Jake smiled and mimicked me, pressing his palms to my arms. “Don’t be sad. Don’t—”

  “What’s gonna happen, buddy?”

  Then, just as quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished. There was nothing left of his happiness, and all that was left was the disturbing look of clarity as he replied, “When I go away again.”

  ***

  I finished the band’s tattoos with the difficult distraction of Jake’s words hanging heavily over my head. I managed to chat through the guilt and anger corroding my veins and smiled through the constant reminder that he knew. He knew our parents were sending him away and that they were putting him in a facility. He knew. And, he’d spoken as though he had accepted it with such a simple ease, like that was the only option we had, and maybe it was. Maybe I needed to accept it myself, move on with my life, and settle into a new normal. But I didn’t have the faith he had, in somehow knowing everything would be okay. Because in the deepest pit of my gut, I knew it wouldn’t be.

  Audrey had come back to the shop and kept herself busy by chatting with the guys as they waited to get tattooed or for the others to be finished. She unabashedly gushed over Devin’s talent and the piece I had done on his calf, a sketchy black daisy on a backdrop of purple-grey watercolor. She giggled relentlessly as the day went on, filling the air with something other than Gus’s music picks and the warnings spiraling through my head. And when the day was over, she asked if anybody was hungry with an offer to grab some food if we were interested.

  Devin shook his head apologetically. “We have dinner in the bus but thank you. It’s been a real pleasure hanging out with you guys today.” Then, he handed me a card with his personal number. “Let me know if you ever wanna come to a show, man. We got you covered.”

  “And don’t you worry,” Sebastian chimed in. “We’ll be back for more ink. I still got some space … somewhere.”

  They left and Gus slinked from his office. He exhaled exhaustedly like he’d been the one doing back-to-back tattoos for the past twelve hours. When he clapped his hand against my back, he said, “You did good today, kid. You handled yourself way better than I could. You should be proud.”

  I was surprised to find myself nodding, because dammit, I was proud. I had done some of my best work yet on those guys, they’d all had a positive experience, and I’d made in them repeat customers. There wasn’t much more I could ask for than that.

  Audrey wrapped herself tightly around my arm and asked if I was ready to head home. I didn’t know if she meant her place or mine, but it also didn’t matter. They both felt comfortable, both felt like home, so I nodded.

  “Yeah,” I said, leading her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “HAVE YOU EVER been in a serious relationship before?” Audrey asked over dinner, gripping her burger in two hands and smirking mischievously. “I mean, besides this one.”

  “Oh, is that what this is?” I lifted a brow before taking a bite of my grilled chicken wrap.

  “We’ve already exchanged I love you’s. That’s pretty serious,” she pointed out.

  “Hmm,” I nodded thoughtfully as I chewed. “You make a good point.”

  “So?”

  I shrugged and laid my wrap down to exchange it for a fry. “Not really. I had a girlfriend in college for
about a year—”

  “A year? That’s not exactly a short period of time,” Audrey laughed, wiggling in her seat with excitement. “What was she like?”

  “You really want to hear about my ex-girlfriend?” I somehow doubted that. I’d always been under the impression women didn’t care to hear about previous relationships. Yet Audrey nodded eagerly, and my cheeks puffed with my exhale. “Okay, well, her name was Lori. She was an art major and we met in one of our shared classes. Things were good, until I brought her home to meet my family.”

  “What happened then?”

  I shifted in my seat and diverted my gaze to look out the window. It was snowing. The world was layered in a thin blanket of white dust and looked nearly picturesque from inside the restaurant. The conversation, the memories it inspired, made me want to be out there in the numbing cold and wintry hush. But Audrey believed it was better to face the pain than to bury it alive, and I felt her hand against mine, ripping me away from the urge to run.

  “Blake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What happened?”

  “My mom talked me into breaking up with her,” I stated simply before I could think better of it.

  Audrey appeared taken aback as she lowered her burger to the plate. “What do you mean?”

  “She, uh … she initially acted like she was cool with her. You know, she talked about how nice she was, how pretty, whatever. Until she saw that I actually liked her, like, um …”

  “Like it could last?” Audrey offered gently.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, “exactly. That was when she cornered me and started mentioning all these things I should be careful about. Like the fact that she, uh … that she … um …” I stalled, faltering as I remembered the dinner at my parents’ house, when Mom had mentioned being concerned about Audrey’s relationship with her ex. I shook my head and clapped a hand over my eyes as I muttered, “I am the biggest fucking idiot on the goddamn planet.”