Beautiful Ink

by Nicole Reed

  I watch her eyes go sad at the mention of my name. In fact, her entire face frowns.

  “Aw, kid. Come here and let Diamond give you a big, old hug,” she says, not waiting for me to move. She smothers me against her balloon-size chest. “Badger told me about what happened. I was spitting mad. Don’t get me wrong—I’m all about what the club wants—but they could have been more sensitive. At your age, they should have brought me in. I’ve been with Badger for about five years, and I know he is the only one that does the old lady tats, including mine. But they could have made an exception.”

  I am blown away by her words, by the compassion she seems to have for me when she speaks them. I slip out of her arms.

  “I saw you looking at the tattoos on the boards. You thinking about getting another one? Tattoos are addicting, honey-pie,” she says, smiling at me.

  “That is a tattoo?” I point to the angel on the wall.

  “Sure it is. That is one of Badger’s designs. I’ve been tattooing for over twenty years and I am better than all these boys that think it’s a man’s world. Even Badger said that I am the best artist he has ever seen. I’m faster with my gun than Annie Oakley ever was with hers.”

  I am amazed. “You can tattoo it exactly like that on skin?”

  “I sure can. I can tattoo anything you like. Almost all the boys have my tats on them.”

  “I like to draw, too,” I say, my mind racing with what she is telling me. “I didn’t know that you could tattoo beautiful designs like that.”

  “Did you think it was all black flames and motorcycles?” She laughs at her own question, until she sees my face. “Aw, honey. Of course you probably did.”

  I take a deep breath, my mind made up. “I want you to tattoo that angel on me. It looks like my momma.”

  “Slow down, little sister. How old are you?”

  I look at her, determined to get this tattoo. “Your husband has already tattooed me with something I didn’t choose. Something ugly. Now, I want this one. Something beautiful. I want it…” I say, pausing to think where I can put it. “I want it on my back. Can you please do this for me?”

  “Do you have any money? That tattoo will be pretty expensive.”

  “No,” I say sadly, but then think of something. “But I could work it off this summer for you. I could sweep floors and dust. Do whatever you need.”

  At the sound of the front door opening, we both turn to look. Sage walks in, sliding her sunglasses to rest on top of her head.

  “Hey, Big D. What’s taking so long, kiddo?”

  I square myself off to look at Sage. “I want to work here all summer in exchange for a tattoo,” I say. “Please?”

  She raises her eyebrow at my answer. “What type of tattoo?”

  “She thinks the angel on the wall looks like her momma,” Diamond says, pointing to the picture.

  “Mmm, I guess it does,” Sage says, glancing curiously at the art. “Where do you want it?”

  “On my back.”

  She looks at me for a second. “I tell you what. I have to talk to Ward about it, but if he says it’s okay, then I am fine with it. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I say quickly.

  “Well, slap me pink and call me Miss Piggy. I think I’ll love having you around. You just come on by when you can. See you Saturday night, Sage.” Diamond hugs us both before taking the envelope and walking to the back.

  We walk out, heading straight for the SUV. When we get to the Expedition, Sage reaches for my arm before I can open the passenger door.

  “One more thing, Hels. I want Hold to come home,” she says, surprising me. “You, and only you, can make that happen. I want us to all be a family again. If you want that tattoo bad enough, I can make Ward say yes. You scratch my back and I’ll tattoo yours. That’s the deal.”

  “How can I make him come home?” I plan on talking to him and telling him I am sorry, but what would make him move out of the clubhouse?

  She moves in closer to me, patting my blonde hair that has grown overly long. “You are a young woman now. A beautiful young woman, I might add. My boy loves you. I’m sure you can think of something. I have always known that you would be my daughter-in-law someday. Now or later is fine with me.” She smiles and walks over to the driver’s side.

  Her what? Has she lost her mind? I only turned fifteen in January. My mind is blown. Is she crazy? I don’t love Hold like that. I never have. I numbly open the door and climb in.

  “Sage,” I whisper. She has to know that I don’t have feelings for him like that. “I love Hold like a brother. I have never loved him any other way.”

  She leans toward me over the center console, her eyes narrowing directly at mine. “Well, then you better learn to.”

  I don’t miss the look in her eyes. She is dead serious about this. I nod, scared not to acknowledge her. I sit back in my chair as she cranks up the SUV to leave. It seems to take forever to get home as we stop by the grocery store on the way. Sage acts like nothing has happened and all is good. Of course, I have always known that she is first and foremost about the club. Hasn’t she been drilling that into my head for the last four years? I even remember Ward saying she was grooming me for this life, whatever that means. Now it all makes sense. They always knew I would end up with him, one way or another. Was that the only reason they took me in as a child?

  When we arrive home, I mindlessly help her unload the groceries. Afterward, she tells me to go ahead and run upstairs to get dressed. My body feels as if it’s on autopilot. I shower, wash my hair, and towel-dry off. I return to my bedroom to find a new sundress lain neatly across my bed. I hold it up to me while looking in the mirror. It’s a little more daring than I am used to, but incredibly beautiful. It is a pale pink with a large white dandelion hand stitched on the front. I touch the little seeds that look as if they are being blown across the bodice. It is sleeveless and short… shorter than any of my previous miniskirts. It will barely reach mid-thigh.

  I lay it back on the bed so that I can finish getting dressed. I blow my hair out in soft waves. The summer sun has already given it that sun-kissed look. Last year, Hold gave me my favorite sweet-smelling cotton-candy lotion and body spray that we both found while shopping at a drugstore. We couldn’t get over how much it smelled like the real thing. I rub my body down in it, before spritzing the body spray all over. I want to remind him of the good times we had together.

  The weight of what Sage said to me this afternoon hits me like a ton of bricks. I sit down on my bed. She can’t be serious. Hold doesn’t think about me like that… does he? And if he does, could I love him like a boyfriend? The thought doesn’t excite me in the least.

  I slide the dress on before slipping into my white sandals. I add a little black eyeliner that Sage bought me months ago and some pink lipgloss. I don’t want to go downstairs until Hold gets here, so I sit at my desk to draw. I have been working on some portraits of Sage for her birthday coming up. I start shading in my latest sketch, resisting the urge to add two horns and pointed tail.

  After about thirty minutes, I stand to go downstairs. I can do this. I’ve thought about it… and Hold did what he was told. I can’t blame him for that. I know what this life does to you, what they expect of you. This afternoon proved that all too much.

  I hear Ward and Sage talking to Hold before I walk into the kitchen. I pause to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  “Boy, you got to lay off the weed and booze,” Ward tells him. “Hey, I remember what it’s like being on your own for the first time, but when you start endangering yourself, you’re endangering the club.”

  “I also heard you’ve been messin’ with that stupid junkie hooker over in Gainesville.” Sage says to him.

  “Ma,” Hold says, “that’s none of your business.”

  My heart stops when I hear his voice: he sounds older somehow… he doesn’t sound like my Hold. I realize now that I haven’t seen him in almost six months. How could it have been that long?

&nb
sp; “Sage,” Ward says, his voice sounding like a warning. “That is none of our concern.”

  “It is when I don’t want him near a crack whore.” Sage says.

  Hold laughs and even that doesn’t sound the same. They all start speaking at the same time. I take a deep breath before deciding to go through the door.

  “Here she is,” Sage says, when she spots me.

  I don’t look at her, but directly at him. Oh, God. Before me stands a man. A. Man. He’s taller and his shoulders seem wider than before. He has on standard club attire with his “Prospect” cut, white t-shirt, and jeans. His face is covered in dark stubble that makes him look much older than eighteen. His hair is growing out. But it’s his eyes that break my heart. They look tired, so incredibly tired and red. I recall my father’s bloodshot eyes and his looked exactly the same.

  Those blue orbs follow me from head to toe—or toe to head. I watch them start at my shoes and travel up, before moving back down. Over his head, I see Ward look at me, then at Sage. She gives him a smile and a wink. I don’t want to talk to Hold with them standing here. I personally don’t even want to be in the same room as Ward, but I have to pretend that everything is okay.

  “Hey, Hold,” I say. “Can we go outside to talk?”

  He nods wordlessly and walks with me out the backdoor. I head straight for the water.

  “You’ve grown up, Hels,” he says, following behind me.

  “So have you. Has it really been six months?” I glance over my shoulder to catch him staring at my behind. “Hold,” I say, trying to get his attention.

  “What? Yeah, I guess it has.” His face turns crimson.

  There he is. My Hold. I finally catch a glimpse of the boy I once knew. A gentle breeze blows the ends of my hair away from my shoulders. I stop so he can walk beside me. We stroll along the bank until we reach the boat dock. The sun is starting to set, its last rays casting light out on the water.

  “I am so sorry, Hold,” I whisper, not knowing exactly where to begin. “I blamed you for things that you couldn’t control.”

  “Shut up, Hels.”

  The sound of his angry voice shocks me.

  “I take full responsibility for what happened that night. I shoulda never brought you out to the club. It wasn’t my place to do that and it sure as hell wasn’t somewhere you should have been.”

  “Hold,” I say, stopping when he throws his hand up.

  “Listen to me for one damn minute. I need to get this off my chest. I wish I could do it all over. You shouldn’ta been exposed to any of that shit. It’s hard enough bein’ in my head. I thought I could choose the club and still keep you. Everyone told me to let you grow up first and then things would change. But they didn’t know you like I did. You’ve wanted to get outta this place since you were a kid. That hasn’t changed, has it, Hels?”

  I know what he’s asking, and I start to answer him honestly when I hear Sage’s voice in my head about convincing him. She wants him away from the drugs and booze as much as I do. I don’t want him found dead somewhere. And I especially don’t want him picking up bad habits from a junkie whore.

  “Yes, it has,” I answer, glancing shyly up at him.

  His face changes before my very eyes. I see how my words surprise him. He straightens his back, not looking so broken any more, and his eyes seem to be much clearer.

  “How? How has it changed?” His voice sounds raspy, like he is getting sick.

  I know what he wants to hear; I know what Sage wants me to say. “I grew up.” My heart feels like it might just bounce right out of my chest. Was I ever a child? Because I don’t remember ever being one.

  Within seconds, his arms surround me, trapping me against his hard body. “Don’t you fuckin’ mess with me, Hels,” he says, directly into my ear. “I can’t take it. Not again. I have been going ape-shit crazy thinking I’ll never get to talk to you. I just wanna be near you. Please don’t offer me my dreams and then take them away.”

  “I missed you, Hold,” I say, giving him the truth.

  “God, Hels, I missed you so much. So damn much,” he says, holding me tight.

  I feel his lips moving against my neck, small, innocent kisses, one after another. It doesn’t repulse me, but I’m also not begging for more. I stand here, waiting to see what he does next. The feel of him getting closer toward my lips, creates this intense gnawing in the pit of my stomach. It’s not totally uncomfortable. Finally, his lips brush softly against mine.

  At first, it’s like he is sampling how I taste. His tongue slips through his lips, wetting mine. I close my eyes, not wanting to watch all of this up close. My tongue mimics his. He moans against my mouth, the sound vibrating my lips. He reaches his hand up to gently hold the side of my face, angling my head so that his entire mouth can cover mine. Our tongues touch. I am shocked and slightly lightheaded at the intensity of this kiss. I definitely feel it all the way down to my toes.

  He breaks the kiss, pulling his lips back only inches. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Anything. Every single thing. All you have to do is just name it.” He sounds out of breath.

  Wow, this is pretty easy. Way to go, Hels—you just whored yourself out for a tattoo. I shake my head at my own thoughts. No, I am doing this to save Hold. Not for Sage and definitely not for Ward.

  “No more booze and weed. What were you thinking?” I point my finger directly in his chest.

  “Ah, there’s my bossy girl,” he says, smiling at me.

  He still holds me tightly in his arms. For a warm night, he shivers uncontrollably. I glance to see that his teeth seem to chatter. He leans his forehead down to touch mine, his nose brushing against my nose, our breath blending together.

  “I need you. I can’t do it without you, Hels. Blood in and blood out.” His voice breaks when he says that.

  I see a tear leak out of his eye, trailing down his cheek. My heart stutters when I hear and feel the rumble of his moan. I watch his mouth repeat silently, “Mine.”

  A little voice in my head whispers to run, to hurry, and leave before it’s too late. What have I done? What am I doing? I turn my head away from him to look out over the water, knowing the choice is already made for me.

  My feet hurry along the walkway to the massive house that sprawls out in front of me. Vin said that I could come by any time after 2:00 p.m. for a tour. I would never admit it to him, but I am excited to see what he does. He really did catch my interest last night at dinner when he talked about his work. The artist in me loves that type of enthusiasm. My creativity actually feeds off of it.

  My eyes travel the exterior of the house. I can see why he loves it, with its large turret and ornamental brackets. It’s very romantic looking and I’m not even a romance kind of girl.

  “What do you think? She’s a beaut,” he says, standing in the doorway, watching me.

  I nod my head. “I never noticed this house before today. Not that I come down this street very much, but yeah, she’s an eye-catcher.” I climb the steps to the wraparound porch.

  “Well, let me give you the full tour,” he says, offering me his bent arm.

  I smile, knowing now that this is part of his charm. After he drove me home last night, we argued in the car for five minutes straight about him walking me to my apartment. I said I was fine and he said he was a gentleman. I finally opened the door and tried to make a run for it, which didn’t work very well in heels. He easily caught up to me, walking me straight to my door before saying good night and leaving. That was it. Not that I wanted him to kiss me, or anything, but I thought I would at least get the pleasure of turning him down.

  My sleep was severely affected by constant tossing and turning. I blame him for my not getting a decent night’s rest. So many times this morning I hovered between coming and canceling my trip, but my curiosity won out. I had to see this art.

  He leads me into this huge foyer with a combination of low and vaulted ceilings. A large, rectangular, multi-colored stained-glass w
indow highlights the entire area. My breath catches. Sunlight shines through it, illuminating the brightly hued glass. It has flowers depicted in each panel with over fifty different kinds. Words fail at describing the sight of each ethereal frame. I see a hyacinth, lilacs, sunflower, tulips, rose, peony—so many that I have no idea what they are. Vin tugs my arm, breaking into my reverence of the beauty surrounding us.

  “As you can see, I am restoring the main staircase now, but if you look at the four large posts, you can view some of my finished work. I only need to stain them.”

  I let go of his arm to walk to one of the posts. If I tried to hug it, my arms wouldn’t even reach around its width. I rub my hands over the smooth wood, noticing the detail of each design that is hand-carved into it. It’s amazing. I can already imagine the time and effort it must have taken him.

  “C’mon, let me show you more.” He smiles at me while offering his hand this time.

  I don’t hesitate, reaching for him. We walk the entire house. He points out everything from the different types of wood used throughout, to the floor layout that he plans to modify next week, giving the master bedroom more available space. Our hands remain interlocked the entire time. He finally leads me to a large open kitchen area where he grabs me a bottle of water, finally releasing me. I sit down on one of the high-back chairs at the kitchen bar.

  “Hit me with it. What do you think?” He takes a large swig of his water.

  “I think it’s wonderful. I can truly see the art that you spoke about and even felt it when I touched the wood. You have really done an amazing job, Vin,” I say, raising my water bottle to him.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he says, doing a bad Elvis imitation.

  I laugh. He makes me laugh and I haven’t done that with any other person of the opposite sex in years. He’s an incredibly handsome, intelligent, charming, sometimes bull-headed Southern gentleman.

  “So you do all this work and then you have to walk away from it. I get it. I know how heartbreaking it truly is. I spend countless hours working on most tattoos, making sure that every single line is perfect for my customer and most of the time they walk out never to return. I spend months, years even, thinking about the people who might have previewed my work or the places it gets to visit that I never will,” I say, picking at the label on my water bottle.