The Devil's Tattoo

by Nicole R. Taylor

  I didn't realise I was being spoken to until Dee elbowed me and I snapped to attention, almost spilling my untouched coffee.

  "What do you think, Zoe?" he prodded, trying to stifle a laugh.

  "Sorry?" I asked, feeling my face turning red.

  "What's it been like being on tour with each other?" the interviewer asked with a knowing smile. I hoped I just came across as tired, not horny.

  "What do I think?" I blinked. Even though everyone is looking at me, the only pair of eyes I can feel are Will's. "It's our first major tour together as a band, so it's been helpful having a band along who's done it all before." Diplomatic. Even. Not at all desperate sounding.

  "What do you think of these guys?"

  I'm put off by her question, but I couldn't not answer. "They're great musicians. I respect them."

  Everyone is staring at me as if they didn't think I was telling the truth. The interviewer looked pleased though and moved on to another question.

  Thankfully, after that Will kept his hands to himself and I said nothing that embarrassed me, though by the time the interviewer left, I knew everyone was onto us.

  The first moment I could, I pushed my chair back and walked away, but Dee was hot on my heels.

  "Okay, hot shot," I said as he came level with me. "Rub it in."

  "Footsy under the table?" he asked with lewd wink.

  "No," I glared at him. "Handsy under the table."

  He let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

  I slapped him on the arm. "What's going on? I saw you, you know."

  "I know what you think you saw, Hot Legs, and I can safely say, it wasn't my idea."

  "Then what was?"

  "I'm not at liberty to discuss such information," he tried to say with a straight face, but apparently he found my anger hilarious.

  "What happened to wanting to keep me away?"

  "He's alright, Zo. He said he was sorry. I had words with him."

  "Oh, the magic 'words'," I air quoted, rolling my eyes.

  "Zoe," he wound an arm around my waist and guided me towards the elevator. "All I'm sayin' is to give the guy a chance. If he stuffs up in the first five minutes, I'll be here to punch on. Okay?"

  "Dee," I said, lowering my voice. "You know I'm attracted to him. I don't know how to deal with it. I'm good now. I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I don't want to stuff it up."

  He looked down at me with a frown, suddenly serious. "I know, Zo. But, sometimes you've gotta take a chance no matter how broken you've been in the past."

  I looked away, tears stinging my eyes.

  As the elevator arrived and the doors slid open, Dee gave my waist a small squeeze. "I think you should take a chance."

  I didn't like it, but he was right. "God, you piss me off sometimes, Dee, but I love you."

  He kissed me on the top of the head. "Till the end of time, sister."

  After the interview, we had free time for once. There wasn't a gig tonight because the venue had been booked for an international band, so we'd decided to meet up with Frank, Chris and Simone and go out for dinner somewhere. Just The Devil's Tattoo and I was glad it was just us. I still didn't know what to do about today and every time I thought about it, which was every bloody minute, my hand tingled.

  It was such a nice night out, we sat out front of the hotel, waiting for the taxi that we'd ordered. I sat on the edge of the flowerbed under the windows of the hotel bar, Dee beside me. Simone was standing as close as she could get to Chris without it looking obvious she was into him and Frank was horsing around as per usual.

  "We look like a bunch of no-hopers loitering out here," Frank said, pacing up and down the footpath.

  "Singin' for our supper," Dee said in a posh English accent.

  Frank started to do a poor imitation of a beat boxer, but all he managed to do was spit up all over his front, much to our amusement.

  "You know they have apps for that," I said waving my phone at him.

  "You're a genius!" He pulled his own phone out and started tapping on it.

  "We should totally form an acapella group," Dee said and sat next to me on the edge of the garden bed.

  "Don't they do that with just voices?" Chris asked.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "We could be a hybrid," Frank said as drum sounds began to come out of his phone.

  "I know," Simone exclaimed. "You could totally do that with Muse's Madness."

  "Yes," Dee almost shouted clapping his hands together. "Let's give it a go. Sing it, Zo. I'll back you up."

  I know they're not going to back down, so I nod. The idea actually sounded quite awesome.

  Frank worked out his drum beat and Chris has out a guitar app and it's going to be me and Dee on vocals. It took us a few times to start, each time Frank started on his drum beat, we'd piss ourselves laughing at the way he tapped the screen with both index fingers. He looked like my Dad when he tried to type anything out on the computer.

  "Shut up!" he yelled, trying to stifle his own laughter. "This is awesome. Don't look at me."

  Third time was a charm and we got through the intro with straight faces and it sounded really good once Chris got in with his guitar app. Dee and I were used to singing together, so the harmonies worked better than I thought for a song we hadn't practiced before.

  By the time we reached the second verse, we had a small group of people gathered around us, along with some of the hotel staff. They were tapping their feet and getting into it, smiling and laughing along with our over the top actions. It was the most carefree and completely happy I'd felt since we'd started the band. I loved every second of it.

  When the song came to an end we got a round of applause from the randoms that had stopped. Dee curtseyed for them and gave out some flyers he had stuffed in his back pocket, ever the slick salesman.

  It wasn't until we're laughing at how clever we were, did I realise we had some familiar audience members and a future virtual one. Simone had her iPhone out recording us, her face glowing. As she hit stop, she gushed, "That was gold! I'm so uploading that."

  "Gimme!" Dee exclaimed, rushing over to her.

  Simone replayed it for him and Frank ran over and tried to see between them. They're all glowing and it made me feel warm inside. Happy. I was beginning to like this feeling.

  As I'm watching them with a stupid smile on my face, I felt someone stand just behind me. I looked up right into Will's smokey grey eyes and my expression slipped and my heart flip-flopped in my chest.

  "You're fucking beautiful," he murmured in my ear and wandered off down the footpath, a paper bag under his arm.

  I watched him as he went into the hotel, trying to figure out what just happened, dragging my teeth against my bottom lip. At the last second, he looked back and saw me staring and his lips curved into a lopsided grin. Damn it.

  This whole stay away from Will thing wasn't going according to plan. Not when he kept sneaking up behind me and stealing my breath.

  After dinner, the boys wanted to go out and sample some of Sydney's alternative rock and goth clubs. I couldn't think of anything worse than being in a crowded room with loud music and copious amounts of drunk people without the safety of a stage. I excused myself and went straight back to the hotel. Sleep sounded like a good idea to me. And there was that song that had been rolling around in my brain for far too long. That had to go down on paper before it rolled right out.

  Before I went upstairs, I slipped into the hotel bar and ordered myself a cocktail. It had been so long since I'd drunk one, it reminded me of Ted's Shed and their cheap sugar laden versions back in Melbourne. I had my phone out on the bar writing down some lyrics, relishing the peace and quiet when I felt someone approaching me. I didn't look up, hoping that they were just going to order a drink. If I didn't look, then there would be no conversation. Right now, I was content with my bright red drink and notebook app.

  "Hey."

  I didn't have to look up to know it was Will. Rememberi
ng earlier that evening, I blushed a little. I was kind of surprised to see him here, actually. Wouldn't he be out with everyone else chasing girls? Wasn't that his MO?

  "Why are you here on your own?" he asked, sitting down.

  "I didn't feel like going out," I said looking over at him. He was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt, a light dusting of blonde hair peeking out the top and I noticed the edge of another tattoo.

  "Ah," he nodded knowingly. "Seems like everyone had the same idea."

  "Why aren't you with them?" I asked, putting my phone back in my pocket.

  "Didn't feel like it."

  We sat there awkwardly for a moment. I had to give him points for trying. He didn't seem that easily put off. I thought about what Dee had said that morning, about giving Will a chance. Maybe I should, but I didn't know what to say to him. There was more to these things than physical attraction. I wanted more.

  "What kind of music do you like?" he asked suddenly as if he'd just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  "That's a hard one," I said, thankful he'd said something.

  "Why?"

  "There's so much."

  "Can I look at your iPod, then?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "You always seem to have it in your pocket."

  Surprised again, I pulled it out and handed it to him. "Go for it." I watched as he scrolled through it and melted a little when he smiled at some of the things he came across.

  "The Clash?" he asked.

  "I love Combat Rock."

  "Straight to Hell is my favourite song."

  "Mine, too," I said carefully, narrowing my eyes.

  "What?" he laughed.

  "Nothing."

  He looked back at my iPod. "You have some great stuff. Editors, White Lies. Love them. Friendly Fires?"

  "I like their last album. Pala." It's a light and dancey electro record and it doesn't fit my image at all. "I'm kinda bummed that White Lies haven't come to Australia yet. I'd really like to see them play."

  "Aren't they like on their third album?"

  "New one is coming out soon."

  He handed back my iPod and his hand lingered against mine for a moment too long. He shifted uncomfortably and I frowned. It looked like he was struggling with something and Will came across as the kind of guy who never struggled at all.

  "I'm sorry," he said after a minute of awkward silence.

  "You've said."

  "I haven't been myself lately." He didn't look up at me and for a moment, I thought he might have been embarrassed. "I've done some stupid things and I've made you uncomfortable."

  When I didn't reply, he looked up and I shrugged.

  "I wanna be friends with you," he said. "Have I stuffed that up?"

  When he said the word friend, I tried not to visibly cringe. This was Simone's issue, wasn't it? Being stuck firmly in the friend zone. They had feelings for each other, but still couldn't seem to act on them.

  "I've got this song in my head," I said, trying to be nice about ditching him. "I want to go write it out before I forget it."

  Before I could say, see you later, Will's eyes light up. "Can I help? I mean, I'd like to see you play."

  "Why?"

  "Why?" he scoffed. "Because you're brilliant."

  "You're only saying that to be nice," I declared, downing the remainder of my drink.

  "I watch you every night," he said carefully, like he was afraid of scaring me away. "You're brilliant."

  With a sigh, I slid off the barstool and took a few steps backwards. Give him a chance. I hoped Dee was right about him. Will stared at me, unsure. "Well, are you coming or not? Hurry up before I change my mind."

  We're silent all the way upstairs, until I unlock the door to the room and flick on the light.

  "Wow," Will said. "Who's the messy one?"

  "Dee," I replied with a small groan.

  "Thought as much."

  In the corner, Dee had a beat up acoustic guitar he'd left in our room. It's coved in various tattoo art stickers. I mean, it's trashed, but it has an amazing tone because of it. Occasionally we'd try and write something, but so far we'd done pretty much nothing but goof around.

  On the bed, I'd left my notebook, a pencil sticking out of its tattered pages. It was the same one Dee had given me at our first rehearsal and the first thing I had written in it was the lyrics to Walls. Now, it's dog eared and tired, the pages full of scribbles and marks.

  "What are you working on?" he asked, sitting on my bed, cross legged, tapping on the cover.

  "It's an acoustic song," I said, perching on the opposite edge. "I don't know about the words yet, but I've been trying to get down the chords."

  "Play it for me."

  I suddenly felt shy about playing in front of him, which was totally stupid. I'd played on stage a billion times by now and even in the street busking with Dee, but somehow, playing in front of Will was different. It wasn't just playing, it was something else. I cared about what he thought and it scared the hell out of me.

  I sighed, running my fingers over the strings and thankfully it was in tune. The way I was sitting, I could angle my face away from him, but I was still overly aware of his eyes on me. Trying to shut him out, I focused on the melody in my head and began to play it how I thought it might go. When I got to the bridge, it sounded off.

  "See," I said, my guard dropping. "I can't get that bit."

  When I was greeted with silence, my stomach dropped and I looked up expecting to see anything but the look that was plastered on his face.

  "That's… wow."

  "Shit, huh?" I grimaced.

  "No," he back peddled. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant it was beautiful. Soulful."

  My face reddened and I looked down and noticed he had opened my notebook up and had written out the music as I had played. I got madder than a bee in a jar when Dee wrote things in there. I had personal stuff written in those pages, stuff that I'd tried to work out into songs, but seeing the marks Will has made… He could write in it all he wanted.

  "Here," he held out his hand for the guitar. "I have an idea, if that's okay?"

  With a small nod, I pulled the strap over my head and he took it, nestling the guitar on his knees. "When you get to the bridge, it's natural to want to go the way you did. I would have." He played it again and it sounded weird coming from his hands. He hit the offending chord and I could see what he meant. "But," he continued, looking up at me, "maybe you should try something like this." He played it again, but this time chose a difficult chord, one that I wouldn't have even considered and to my surprise it worked. Better than worked. It was genius.

  A smile tugged at my lips and I looked up into his smiling face. "Write it down."

  "Have you thought about lyrics?" he asked, picking up the pencil, obviously pleased with my reaction.

  "No, not yet. I have a few ideas, though."

  We sat there, talking through the song and working out another guitar part for what seemed like five minutes. I don't know when I'd let my guard down, but suddenly, I felt comfortable around him. Whatever anger I had towards him had just melted away into nothing. I may have started to let go a little, but I was still very aware of everything he did. The way he wrote, the way he played the guitar, the way he sat on my bed. Every time I looked up, he was smiling at me, his stormy grey eyes sparkling and I wondered if this was what it was like. Being happy with someone.

  "Shit," he said suddenly, looking at the alarm clock on the beside table. "It's two am."

  "What?" I sat up, rubbing my eyes. We'd been mucking around with this song for almost three hours.

  "I better go in a minute."

  "Sure."

  We fell silent for a minute as I put the guitar down on the floor. It hadn't taken much for us to fall back into an awkward silence.

  Will was the one who finally spoke and it wasn't something that I was expecting. "Did you really mean what you said in the interview today?"

  I eyed him, wary of his intentions. "I m
ean everything I say in interviews."

  "Good."

  "Good?"

  "Good," he said with a wink.

  Damn it he was so hot when he did that. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone and sitting on a bed together and I tried my hardest not to look at his lips, but that's exactly what I did. Annoyed, I glanced down at the notebook.

  Will let out a low laugh and slid off the bed. "I better get going, anyway. It's late."

  "Sure," I tried not to sound disappointed as I stepped over the guitar and walked him to the door, so I could lock it behind him.

  Opening it, he said, "See you tomorrow." At the last second, he turned back like he wanted to say something else, but grimaced and walked out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

  I stared after him, not sure what had just happened. Who the hell was that guy I'd just written music with? That was not the Will Strickland I had come to know. This guy was kind and genuinely interested. This guy warmed my heart and all the other places I was too embarrassed to think about. I couldn't help but wonder which one the real Will Strickland was and I hoped it was the latter.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Will

  I let the door close behind me softly.

  What did I want to say? I don't know. Thinking about her reaction to her own song, it made me wonder if she understood how talented she really was. I mean, if she hadn't been writing that long, then that was even more special. That was the kind of song even I would have trouble writing and that's if I could've have thought it up in the first place. Which I probably couldn't. Music made her come alive in the same way it made me. That we had in common.

  I wandered down the hall to my own room and thought about all the reasons I should go back and all the reasons I shouldn't. I got the feeling that she was attracted to me, at least a little. I thought I'd put her on edge because she didn't like me in the slightest. Now I was beginning to think that it might be because she was shy or just unsure about it. If I went back there now, all I might do is scare her away.

  Seeing her with the guys out the front earlier, seeing her alone in the bar, seeing her just then writing that song… If that's what spending time with Zoe was like, then I wanted that every single day.