TAT Box Set

by Emjay Soren

  My response had been lame by all standards. ‘I just assumed it was short for Candice or something.’

  ‘Well not all Mandy’s are Amanda’s, so not all Candy’s are Candice’s. Lesson learned.’

  She was crazy and funny and unlike anyone I had ever met. I loved her immediately and have ever since.

  I answered my phone with a familiar “Hello, darling.”

  “Hello, lovekins.” She said as I looked at the clothes lying across the bed at my brother’s house. My mind is on the call with Candy, but my eyes are glaring at the new ‘uniform’ my aunt and uncle gave me last night when I received my schedule.

  The Joint had always been a laid back, jeans and t-shirt, type of place, but with the boardwalk booming more each year, my aunt and uncle were desperate to make a statement. I hated that they bothered. The second I had my degree Noah and I were selling The Joint and using the money for his future and mine. Everything that was The Joint was tainted for us and held shit memories.

  The only reason we hadn’t sold it to them yet was because of the stipulation in our mother’s will. It stated we would have a degree or trade before The Joint would be rightfully ours. When we got to Gig and met our dad’s brother Seth, we let them know it was theirs the minute we could unload it. They had taken over the business back when our mom died because dad was a policeman and had no desire to run The Joint. He did however, enjoy the fat check he got each month from the booming business.

  “Is Gig Harbor new and improved since you came home? It’s sweltering out this morning ya know, maybe time for the beach already?”

  “Sweltering?” I asked. Seriously, I don’t know where she gets this shit.

  “Sweltering, yes. I am at said beach right now, and I have a very nice view in front of me.” I hear some rustling and wait for her to explain. When she doesn’t I see the game and play along.

  “And the fine sight?”

  “That would be one Chad Blake in the throes of a heated argument with Trina McKinney.”

  I let out a low groan. She knows I find it impossible to breathe or even form a coherent thought in the presence of Chad Blake.

  “Ooooh, she just slapped him.” She laughs and then curses. “Oh shit, I’m busted.” I hear her rustling again and then I hear her talking to Chad. Knowing her all too well, I drop the call and get back to unpacking. She could talk to Chad for hours about his band Thick as Thieves known through Washington as TAT. Chad was the lead singer and he also played the rhythm guitar. My brother, and only ally in this world, was the bassist as well as Chad’s best friend.

  Chad and Noah became best friends the summer we moved to Gig Harbor from Seattle. He got his apprenticeship at Slave to the Needle, a tattoo shop in Gig that had just opened when he answered the ad Chad placed. Now they were both full-time artists at Slave to the Needle and the band’s success was well known, bringing them even more business. Noah had carved his path through hell and landed on a throne in Gig.

  When the time came and we sold The Joint, we would provide Seth and Lilly both enough for early retirement. They had done right by us, the only family who had cared enough to keep us safe. Noah said he thought Uncle Seth knew about our dad after a drunken fishing trip he took just after we moved here, but he never really told me for sure.

  My thoughts were interrupted when ‘No Excuses’ started playing again. “Get a good look at Noah?” I tease, knowing Noah is with Chad. For the last three years, whenever Candy and I are back home from UW, she is usually in my brother’s bed.

  “Noah wasn’t here, it was just Chad. He said he was on his way to the shop when Trina pulled a stalker move.”

  “Fangirl.” We both said in unison.

  “So, listen my beautiful friend. I will be at the beach all day, basking in the beauty that is six-pack abs, but wanted to know when you would be joining me?”

  Candy and Noah had a strange but working relationship. I think it worked for Noah to know Candy knew all of our shit past, but also that she didn’t have a need to settle down. She understood the band dynamic and that Noah would most likely never be faithful. They had decided that they were together, but not exclusive. How she could watch Noah kiss or touch another woman at a show was beyond me. I wasn’t even on Chad’s radar and I couldn’t stomach seeing him with anyone, least of all Trina.

  “I need to go help Lilly with the books at four today, but I think I could use some beach time before then. Say an hour?”

  “Well, make sure you wear the bikini I bought you so Chad can see that fine ass body of yours that you hide under all those baggy t-shirts. Once he can see the body matches the face, he might take notice.”

  I knew what she meant by my body matching my face. I never perceived myself as ugly, but I didn’t flaunt my looks either. I dressed like the everyday girl in jeans and t-shirts or tank tops. Candy wore sundresses and short shorts. She shopped like it was a sport and loved fashion and all things girly. I liked being a woman and being soft, but I had spent too much of my life trying to not be sexy. It made it difficult when you actually wanted to be sexy, but didn’t know how.

  “I am not wearing that elastic band you call a bikini. As president of the ittee-bittee-tittee-committee I don’t think it’s in my favor to point out where I’m lacking.”

  I glanced at my chest in the mirror and cringed. It wasn’t like my breasts were non-existent, but they were smaller than I would have liked.

  “You are fun sized baby. There is nothing wrong with your cute B-cup boobies.” Candy laughed.

  “This, coming from your full C-cup.”

  “Well, stuff that thing with those rubber things they sell at Victoria’s Secret and then you can be a C-cup too.”

  I can’t stop myself from laughing at her, even though I know she is dead serious. “Stop. Me and my B-cup boobs are fine. I’ll be there in an hour. I just have to swing by the tattoo shop and see Noah.”

  I hadn’t seen him since he was in Seattle two weeks ago when TAT had a show. Candy and I had gone out with a few girls from our dorm that night and I didn’t get into Gig until after two a.m.

  “Well, go see big brother and I’ll see you in a while.”

  “Ok, I’ll text when I’m on my way.”

  “Oh, Carrie.” She said before I hung up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Bikini.”

  “Goodbye.” I said and ended the call. I went to my bags and rifled through until I found my black maxi dress that went to my knees. I grabbed my simple black one piece, changed and headed off to Slave to the Needle to see my brother.

  *

  After spending some much needed time relaxing on the sand with Candy, I headed in for my shift at The Joint. I didn’t necessarily care for my work at The Joint. But it beat spending all my time hitting the stacks and cramming for finals, and I grabbed as many extra shifts as I could. The money was good compared to my pre-eighteen allowance or the money I got for school. Noah had made sure that my needs were met and left it at that. He said that anything else I needed he could get me when I was home in the summer. So while I was cramming for my English degree, I was given just what I needed to scrape by. I know I sound like a brat, but Noah made damn good money and didn’t share. I knew it was on principal and for my own good, but it sucked. He had always been cool in one thing though.

  Music.

  He paid for me to go to any concert or gig I wanted to go to without complaint… that, and he did my tattoos for free…well…all but one. I had gone to another artist for that one.

  The full college experience came loaded with a crappy small dorm, ramen noodles for dinner every night, tap water as my beverage of choice, and a fully stocked fridge of catsup, mustard, mayo and honey packets.

  Noah said the harder I worked, the more I went without, the more I would strive to never fall back on the money we’d have coming from The Joint. I am twenty and Noah is twenty-four, almost twenty-five. Without a degree, we don’t see a dime from The Joint until we hit twenty-five. With a degre
e we get the rights to sell it or keep it, and we were selling. Noah wanted his shop and I just wanted to give him my share. Noah had sacrificed for me my whole life. He certainly deserves a promising future more than anyone I know. If the big dream of fame as the bassist in Thick as Thieves doesn’t pan out, then Noah was taking his job at Slave to the Needle and everything he’d learned there and building his own empire on blood, sweat, and ink… the dream name of his shop.

  My aunt and uncle have a reputation for getting the perfect employees to work summers, and over the years living in Gig Harbor, I had made some good friends. It was that hot June day though, that I walked in for one of my rare day shifts, that I noticed Chad Blake working at The Joint.

  Chad had worked for my aunt and uncle for a few summers. It was easy to promote the band when women lined up to flirt with him while he worked. The more he tattooed, the less he worked. He ended up quitting two summers ago when tattooing became his full-time job. Last year I had been dating a guy named Brantley, so I hadn’t noticed his absence much. Brantley was as pompous as his name sounded. I hadn’t worked too much at The Joint that summer because Brantley would have died a thousand deaths if anyone had known his girlfriend was slinging burgers.

  Chad had a reputation as a bit of a male slut, a player. The few girls I had seen with him were trashy and easy. We called them fangirls because all they really wanted was the status that went along with being associated with someone in the band. Chad’s job at The Joint was for PR only. They got the word out about the band and always sold out. The Joint was a popular hangout for the younger crowd and Chad was the front man for a reason. Working the college crowd came second nature to him.

  I looked up to see Chad walking in the front door. He made his way to the counter and struck up easy conversation with a guy sitting at one of the stools. Seeing him at The Joint meant one of two things. He either quit tattooing, which was ridiculous, or he was rounding up people to pack their summer gigs. I was fairly certain it was the latter.

  Chad was the one member of the band that was charismatic enough to get out and talk to people and really market the band and their talent. Shamus, the drummer, Cal the lead guitarist and Noah all had their niche within the band, but it was really Chad that got out and brought the people in to fill the seats. Shamus also had the good fortune of having one of my best friends, Cassa, for a girlfriend. Sometimes they were so into each other I’m not even sure how Shamus made it out of the bedroom to get to gigs.

  Noah and Chad had been friends since the second they met. They bonded over a Carmen Electra poster and the art on her skin. Five minutes later they were discussing the difference between a Fender and a Les Paul and the rest was history. They had been as close as brothers ever since.

  Noah swore he would never work an hour at The Joint. He was stubborn and proud. I think he felt that if he benefited financially from being here, it was almost like taking blood money. Honestly, the less he was around, the better it was for me. No big brother hovering. It left me free to openly pursue ‘outside interests’. This was actually turning out to be my favorite summer to date. Well… next to the one we finally escaped dad and found a little peace. That summer would forever remain golden.

  Seeing Chad now that I was single, I couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably sexy he was. He had a swagger that was impossible to ignore. Chad was four years older than me, sleeved in tats and in a band. He was cooler than me on every level.

  Unfortunately where Chad was concerned I was fighting the little sister curse. It started when we moved to Gig Harbor and Noah began feeling a bit more comfortable letting me spread my wings. I tried to spread them wherever Noah was, but he quickly stopped me in my tracks.

  “Baby girl, I am not about to let you in on a bunch of dudes singing about pussy and hoping like hell we find some.” Noah had been eighteen and I was fourteen, but hearing him talk like that was nothing new. I knew about sex before Noah did, besides we had trust me between us and that meant there were no secrets.

  “Gross, Noah.”

  “May be gross lil Sissy, but it’s all boys think about once their balls drop.” He’d walked over and hugged me. “I don’t want you tainted by that shit after busting ass to get you away from it. If you need me, you call and I come runnin’, but you got to find a life of your own out of my shadow.”

  I’d nodded in understanding and never said anything about it again. Gigs, practice, and their parties were off limits to me and that’s just how it was. Now that I was legally an adult with a life of my own, maybe I would see what all the fuss was about. TAT had to be good because Gig Harbor treated them like royalty.

  I glanced at Chad again. He was working the front counter, plugging the band and the tattoo shop. I had taken this shift knowing that he was working today. He worked as many shifts as possible the few days before a show. He would plug the band to every girl who batted her lashes. I hated it.

  Chad could charm the panties off a nun. He had this magnetism that drew you in and made it near impossible to look away. His green, shamrock green, with the long, black, thick lashes were his best selling point. The rest was a bonus. He had Jim Beam brown hair that he hid beneath a faded old baseball cap and a lean, sculpted body. His chest begged for a girl to drag her nails down it and trace every peak and valley of his chiseled abs with her fingers and tongue. But what drew me in like a moth to a flame was the art visible on his arms. There wasn’t much skin that wasn’t covered in color. The art went down to his hands and ended at the tips of his fingers. Noah had done the work on his sleeves, but I didn’t know the story behind the Wizard of Oz characters he chose to enhance his skin. Both arms were covered in some wording and renditions of the Oz world, including the yellow brick road leading to Emerald City through the eyes of Seattle. They were amazing and beautiful and so fucking hot.

  I had caught a few flirtatious vibes from Chad from time to time, but he was so out of my league. I had never even French kissed a boy before! When I saw Chad frenching a girl on the beach last year, I felt a pang of jealousy because I wondered if I would ever like a boy enough to let him taste the inside of my mouth.

  All of my friends had been kissing boys since junior high, but with my brother playing my personal bodyguard and consumed with keeping me ‘safe’, I couldn’t really join in the teenage hormone games without him getting involved. I knew he invented our childhood games of trust me to help us through horrendous abuse, but it also taught Noah to spot a lie like a red flag in the white snow. But Noah wasn’t around much right now. Certainly not enough to really pay attention to what his little sister was doing. So I decided then and there, while Chad and I worked the cash registers, that he would be my summer fling.

  I shouldn’t be so stupid.

  Noah would kill me if he knew what I was planning. A guy like Chad Blake would rip me open and leave me bleeding. But I wanted to bleed if it was at his hands. I couldn’t sit back and hope he noticed me. Desperate times and all that nonsense.

  “So when is the next gig?” I asked. It wasn’t hard to talk to Chad; I had known him too long to act all weird and girly around him. Knowing the intent of my conversation this time though, I had to admit, it had butterflies doing a jig in my gut.

  “Well…” He said with a panty dropping smile. “Am I allowed to give up such details about TAT or does that go against some kind of sibling code you have with Noah?” His voice was dripping with promise and oozing sex. Does he even know he sounds like that? He spoke of their band in the acronym for Thick as Thieves. It was kismet that it happened to be TAT.

  “I’m twenty years old, Chad. I think Noah’s thunder has finally been stolen.” I’m not entirely convinced this is true, and the look on Chad’s face says he’s not either.

  “I wouldn’t say that, Carrie.” He laughed and shook his head stepping back up to the counter to help a customer. It’s the usual, a young woman with big boobs and a few notable tattoos on display. The exact type of woman that you would think Chad would want.
He seemed bored with the girls sexually charged banter, but winked and informed her the show was tonight at the Broken Spoke, a bar right off the boardwalk.

  He finished with the girl and turned back to me after calling her order back. I can’t help but look at him longer than I should. Even being in this everyday environment, he seems to command the proverbial stage. Dressed in frayed jean shorts and a soft black t-shirt, he wears them perfectly. His hat is on backwards and a chain hangs from his front pocket leading to his back pocket and is connected to his wallet. It all plays a devastating role in his appeal.

  “So, tonight then?” I ask when he catches me ogling him. “I heard you telling your fangirl.” I roll my eyes when he licks his bottom lip while drawing his brows in question.

  “Broken Spoke.” He says, nodding.

  I smile, looking away before he can see my blush. Gah! I’m such a girl!

  “We go on at eight.”

  “I heard that too.” My face is still turned away as I mindlessly stock straws and lids. I can see the fangirl and I want to drop her strawberry milkshake on her head. I don’t, I just smile and thank her for her business.

  “Is that really the type of girl that gets you hot?”

  Oh. My. God! I cannot believe I just asked him that. I’m accountable if I’m anything, so even though I hate myself for asking I wait for his answer, my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

  “She doesn’t cool me down, that’s for sure.” He says, laughing.

  “Charming.” My tone is sharper than I intended.

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy?” He drops that little bomb with a smile that could cave a nation. But it only incites my anger.

  “Please! I have been watching fangirls like her for the last five years. They’re all the same from one girl to the next. They flock around Noah like desperate little flies, and if they aren’t chasing his dick then they’re hanging on his every word for his image alone. Desperation taken to a whole new level. Fangirls and tatterflys, they’re all the same.”