by Emjay Soren
It has surpassed my wildest dreams.
I had no choice but to be logical and rational growing up, hell it was what kept me and my sister sane. She needed the fairytale worlds I created to feel safe, not me. I needed reason and logic to survive. Every fight with the sadistic prick we had as a father, I had to weigh the logic and reason and wait patiently until the time was right to run. Those tools are no less important now, as I face yet another life changing moment.
I go to my booth and stop short, my mural is of the truest love. My girl… Candey loved pin-ups and she also loved being a statement. So I made her one. Dressed in a skimpy sailor’s outfit saluting with one hand and holding a sign that said my name, there she was. I specialized in photo realism and this pin up was the best of my career. It was exact and she was the reason I once chose this life as an artist over the life as a rock star.
This shop was different, but there were a few that had the same security. Where once I had wanted to be successful as a tattooer as I am today, a lot of it has to do with the fact the majority of requests for me are of fans and fangirls. I had to up my price hourly and start charging for consults just to thin the heard, until I stopped accepting new clients all together unless there was a damn good reason behind it.
My thoughts are distracted by a text coming through on my phone. I look at the clock on the wall, it’s like eight after seven in the morning. Only two people I know who are up and going ready for business at this hour and have been since probably five. I look at my phone and smile seeing Tayla’s name on my screen. I was right, she and Cal both are workaholics.
Tay: Hey can I meet with you this morning? I have the terms for the tour I need to go over them with you in person?
Me: Depends
Tay: On???
Me: On whether or not I’m gonna be pissed or not
Tay: Won’t know unless you meet with me
Me: Touché, brat! I should have time after one pm. Can you come to the shop?
Tay: I'll be there
I flip the sign on up front a few minutes before eight and put some music on in the background, clicking on Thick as Thieves on my Pandora stations. I hum along as a flip through an Inked magazine listening to Chad hit every note as he sings Cold as Stone.
Is it cocky to listen to my band’s music? Maybe, but I’m curious of the bands that would play on our Pandora station. I smile to myself for thinking like Cal. He would be so proud.
The sound of church bells from AC/DC’s hells bells tells me that there is someone in my shop. It is just after eight and early for my client, but I rethink my stance on new clients at seeing the hottie at the door.
Holy shit I couldn’t even talk. I have never stumbled because of a good looking woman. I am Noah Beckett, hell I had been getting tail with no work on my part for over ten years. Hell I have fifty waiting and praying for ten minutes with me at the end of every show… This little pixie though, she took my breath away.
She was built, damn.
I get that I sound like a pig, but I am a guy, a horny one and I am honest. My heart might be incapable of ever loving again, but my dick wasn’t incapable of fucking.
“Hello?” She asked me like it was a question and considering I was staring like a puppy love kid I could understand her confusion.
“Hey there, sorry I was distracted.” I walk toward her with all the confidence of a famous rock star and let the mask of normal fall over me. “I’m Jer.” I say and put my hand out. Jer is my pseudo name I use when I’m in the shop alone like this and getting the vibe they may not know who I am.
“Well Jer, I want to get a tattoo.” She says and starts looking at the flash ink on the wall that we all have added to over the years to make a compilation for PIT.
I do everything I can to avoid staring at her sweet round ass. This chick defines curves. Stacked with tits and ass, petite, so damn petite. Long blonde hair that goes to the small of her back and the chunky black streaks in it giving her that edge I can't get enough of in a woman.
“Do you know what you want to get?” I ask and try to keep my thoughts on topic.
She spins on her heel and smiles at me. “I do actually. I want to get a dandelion blowing off in the wind with the words blow me away somehow in it.”
I do as I always do when a boring, over used, tired tattoo is what the client requests. But, I will do my best to talk her out of it. “Well, I gotta be honest, the dandelion has been done and it’s no longer a unique image. Same as birds in flight… Is there significance to the tattoo that we can work with to give the same effect but not as common?”
She smiles and she knows damn well how sexy she is, fuck she radiates sex like no chick I have ever met. “I want it common and generic. It just works with why I want those words. It’s perfect.”
“Alright. Fair enough. Are you wanting a consultation or are you ready now?” I am looking at her golden sun kissed skin and no way, with her aura is she from Washington. She screams Cali.
“No way, let’s do it. I am only in town for a few days, but it’s about a whole new start. Being in Washington is part of that start.”
“Where ya from?” I ask even though I know the answer.
“California. Yorba Linda.”
Nailed it. Cali girls have a distinct look and this may be the hottest one I have ever seen. I keep watching the clock waiting to see if my client is a no show, but it was wishful thinking. The bell at the door chimes, breaking through my dirty thoughts as Sully walks in with my client. Right on time.
“Steve, hey buddy I’ll be right there.” I see Sully eyeball the Barbie doll in front of me and he is salivating right along with me.
“Well that’s your guy right there. Have a seat and fill this form out while I fill Sully in on what you’re looking to get and it’s in our hands from there.”
She takes a seat and I have a great view of her perfect C cup tits and want to cry at the unfairness. I hate tattooing tatterflies, but this chick… I don’t know there is something so different about her even if she looks like all the easy chicks that come in looking for status. This woman was not easy, not even a little.
“And if I want you to do it?”
Oooooh fuck she had no idea how bad I wanted to do it. I wanted time with this one and I have no fuckin clue why.
“I am booked a few months out. Sully is a bad ass though. We own this place 50/50 and he has laid a ton of ink on me.”
She has a frown, but not like the obnoxious easy bitches that pout thinking it’s sexy. “I promise he is a bad ass artist. I’ll guarantee you that you’ll leave feeling like your tat is the best tattoo anyone ever had. I’ll be here, I’ll pop in when Steve needs breaks. You’ll be great I promise.” I don’t know why I felt the need to comfort her or reassure her, but I felt the need to make her feel safe. Maybe the vibe I am getting is just that.
“Hey there.” Sully says and reaches his hand out to …
“I’m Bright.” She says and extends her hand to Sully. I can’t help but smile to myself over her name. Cali girl named Bright.
“Take care of this one, this tat has meaning.” I say to Sully. Bright doesn’t know it’s a code but Sam does. Its code for any client we take serious. We get way too much trash in the shop courtesy of fame so we created a code for the clients that take the art of tattoos serious.
“It was nice meeting you Jer.” She says and I hate the sound of my fake name on her lips.
I smiled and pointed to my booth for Steve to head back. “You too bright.”
And that was that.
Tayla walked into the PIT and made her way toward me and I knew after the text she sent me this morning, that this was gonna be an ass chewin' from Hessian Aggression records, hand delivered by the sweetest, yet most ruthless woman I know.
“T.” I say and smile pointing at the chair sitting beside my drawing table.
“N.” She replies with that smart ass smirk we all love and fear equally.
Tayla wasn’t one for games or d
rawing shit out dramatically. She handed me the stack of papers with the Hessian Aggression logo on them and I knew this shit was plum full of rules for the junkie on the bus. We were leaving on tour in a week and this was Hessians way of keeping me in line and feeling like they had the power. They had no idea that I had fully hit my rock bottom and it was all about repairing the damage now.
“So these are the stipulations for you to join the tour. It’s non-negotiable Noah. You fuck with this deal and you’ll be done with TAT forever. There is no leniency with this, it’s a take it or leave it deal. Robert Black wanted to be here himself to make sure you knew that you were out of favors and promises. The well is dry, do you understand that?”
Fuck I felt bad as it was, but knowing Tay made a point to fight with Black on not being here, but that she would be, well I felt like the worthless fuck I had become. I had betrayed everyone. Sure I had every excuse but in the end it was everyone else it hurt. “Yeah T, let me see.”
She was hesitant to hand me the papers but eventually she handed them over. Now I knew why she was reluctant.
“Non-negotiable demands.” I read the words that Tayla just spoke because they are in big bold letters at the top of the first page. Going through the basics, blah blah no drugs, drugs are bad, bad Noah! I read the last one that makes my stomach turn.
‘Under no circumstances will your free time on the tour be unattended other than hygienic reasons, ie using the restroom, bathing and grooming. The responsible party will be a sponsor approved by the bands Manager Tayla Livingston. This is not negotiable, should you fail to follow through on these terms you will be removed from the band, the bus and responsible for all liable charges.’
She had to know exactly what I was reading when I looked up and could see her prepped and ready to fight me on it.
“It has to be done Noah, there is no way around it. I know you are against talking to anyone, therapists or sponsors but it’s this or nothing. This is the hard limit here.”
“I have a sponsor T.” I say and focus on keeping my voice calm.
“No.” She says and it presses on my last nerve.
“Tay, a fucking sponsor? Interviewed by you? I have Jenny, you know her, the mother of your fucking son, the same woman who cannot under any circumstance be on a god damn tour bus! “
“Noah, Jen isn’t a sponsor, she is your friend. She hasn’t even got a year of sobriety and no way is Hessian going to approve her. You need a real sponsor with a clean unattached conscious. Jenny isn’t it.”
I run my hands over my face trying my hardest to not lose my shit when I hear Sully at the door to my booth. “I’ll do it. Noah will listen to me.”
“They won’t allow it. They know you, and they know you’ve never struggled with addiction.”
“This is bullshit Tay. I have the right to feel comforted with my sobriety by anyone who I see fit!” Holy fuck I was livid and ready to let them all fuck off.
“Noah at least try, please. I have some great candidates lined up, all with 1 to 5 years of sobriety under their belts and I narrowed it down to a list I think you’d approve of.” She leaned in, her violet eyes locked on mine in a plea, “please Noah, please do this and trust me to find the best person for you? Carrie can be there and make sure that who I pick is someone you would agree on.”
“Wait I can’t even be there to interview?” The you-gotta-be-fist-fucking-me went unsaid but she saw it clear in my eyes.
She didn’t need to tell me her answer, I could see it and feel it in her obvious discomfort. “No, unfortunately Hessian wants to make sure that the right person is their choice and in their hands.
One of the steps of sobriety is accepting things you cannot change, accepting you are powerless to your addiction. This proves I had lost all power. Everyone had lost their faith in me and that was the only reason I agreed to this whole fucking thing. I built TAT, in the garage of the Dorians and sweated my ass off making my fingers bleed and soul cry to get the perfect song. No fucking way would I walk on my boys now. I signed the order and stormed out of the PIT off to tell Jenny what was up.
Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways
Yeah, ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you
Blue October~Hate Me
Chapter Two
Noah
I felt a little less ill on my way over to Carrie and Chads now that I had spoken with Jenny. She never bullshit me or painted it like I was anything other than an addict in recovery. She had a way of cutting through two months of intense therapy and clearing it all out.
Something I needed from her daily it seemed, and today it couldn’t have come at a better time.
I hung up with Jen just as I pulled in the drive of Chad and Carries; ready for my ass ripping she’d been waiting six months for.
“Hey Bubba.” Carrie says and opens the door to her house. It is the first time I have ever knocked on her door. I knock because today is my six month mark and this damn girl has been counting the seconds to unleash hell fury on me. I had asked her to leave me be and stop badgering me for information and answers I didn’t have, when I had very first entered detox, then after detox as she begged and badgered for me to go to a rehabilitation center. I answered her with a kind no, ie fuck that sissy, no way no how.
I finally agreed to a ninety day outpatient rehabilitation deal if she agreed to shut the fuck up so I could focus. She countered me, the little shit, that if I used in that time that all bets were off and she would never stop. Trust and believe it was the most peaceful time of my life. Today is y six month anniversary and I am officially at her mercy.
“Let the badgering begin.” I say and hold my arms out dramatically in a hopeless and futile attempt to make her smile. No deal though, she was rearing to go. I bet she had cue cards hidden somewhere to reference, that or an app on her iPhone.
Either way, there are many things I am not, a welsher is one of them. As if I didn’t know her, I watch as we both sit in the formal living room, odd as fuck this room because we ain't formal, but we sit and I watch with a smile as she pulls a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.
I laugh and shake my head, more comfortable by that list because it is proof we are sissy and bubba and know one another like our own skin. My fear ebbs at seeing her as I knew she would be. “I knew you made a list.”
She rolls her eyes at me and sips from a water bottle. “Please, I have this list memorized but I am prepared to be fully shocked by whatever you’re about to reveal so I wrote it to stay on topic.”
Now, if there was a camera here and I were the star of some reality show, I would look at the camera and wink right now because I called it like BINGO.
“Oh by all means, lay it on me.”
I see her smile fade at my words and I immediately want to reassure her. The problem with reassurance though, is that I can’t reassure my only true soul mate on this fucked up little rock, no more than I could reassure the sun it would rise tomorrow. I have fucked it all up that bad. There is a distance between us now. I pushed her away when I needed her most, and now she has questions and I don't know if I will ever be ready for them.
Not with us broken anyway.
So instead I sit and await my guilt, knowing that it will feel less like a weight and more like a fine fucking suit. Guilt reminds me I am alive and seeking a redemption I don’t know is possible, but I will own it all regardless.
“How are you?” She asks and there is a sadness in her voice and there is no pandering or buying me, we are too real to pander to one another. It’s proof that we really were that tight with one another that even without Trust me, we had no bullshit. Carrie was the only person on earth I couldn’t lie to about my life.
At times I wanted that back, at others, like now I was content to let it ride and give her what I could.
“I’m okay
today, I don’t know about tomorrow.” I say and shrug. She nods accepting that answer and I fall more and more into a comfortable state. This is Carrie I am talking too and I remind myself that even though it's been six months of zero depth and information that she reacts just as she always does. There is no drama or ‘awe Noah it’ll be okay I swear’. She would never feed me that bullshit because we both know that I will never define as healed, I will never be fine and just move on. It is impossible to be fine when thousands of teeny tiny shattered pieces of Noah fall from me with every step. No I am not fine, but I am ok today.
“So tell me about the night you checked in to detox because I saw the bruises as they healed and you refused to tell me, but I want answers now Noah.” And that is the other greatest quality she has. Carrie is the only person on this planet that could ever demand anything from me without some form of comeback and possibly snide bullshit from me. The reason she can is because she accepted without argument my six month breather of bullshit, unaware it was intended to keep her away from the truth. I was forced to replay every bad thing I have ever done on repeat every day in those six months because when you are sober, turns out that you can no longer forget. It’s the hardest part of sobriety.
“I was beat up obviously. I couldn’t get in touch with my dealer and these bikers were at Skin and I could see the MC logo and knew they had to have some connections. They were cool at first until they recognized who I was. At that point the price changed and they were trying to swindle me for money. Me being me I told them to fuck off and so they beat the ever loving fuck out of me.” I watch as my words sink in, the fear that it could have been worse and the anger that I put myself in that position, but she is as unwavering as she always has been and pushes her feelings aside and it isn’t what I want. “Don’t hide from me. I see the sadness and worry. Let it out.” I say and she sighs aloud.
