by Carnal, MJ
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dee. I think they frown on people being a mile over the legal drinking limit.”
Dee and I are debating on the benefits of getting tattoos when you are far from sober when Greg returns. The laughter and lightness that had taken over his face is gone and his scowl is back. It looks like grumpy Greg is back.
“G, Dee wants to go get some ink. Personally, I think it might not be the best idea… You know, numerous pitchers of beer and all. What do you think?”
He seems shocked by my question. Maybe he was expecting me to push him on his mood, or it could be the fact that I have suddenly decided branding myself with something permanent might be a good idea.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, baby girl. Not something you do when you aren’t thinking straight, and damn sure not something you do when your head isn’t in the right place.” He’s looking right at me when he says that. There is no denying that he is only speaking to me. No joking to be found in his tone now. Seriousness is painted heavily all over that reply. No fucking way. I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it be for long, and that comment just pisses me the hell off. My head is fine just where it is, and I do not want him psychoanalyzing me.
I look over at Dee, who seems to be just as shocked at his answer as I am, which just further pisses me off. Damn infuriating man. “Dee, where’s that place you told me about the other day? You know, the one your assistant was telling you about?”
She looks at me, trying to judge if I’m serious or not, and I practically bug my eyes out of their sockets to communicate that I am very fucking serious.
“Right, you mean Smudge, the new parlor over on Grove. She said the big guy who does her work is the best, but I couldn’t tell you his name.”
“Perfect. Just perfect. Finish up, people. Places to go.” I clap my hands together and look at Greg with all the seriousness I have in me. He will not stop me. No way in hell, he would have to lock me up now.
“Head not in the right place.” Fucking asshole. He’s pissed, I know he is. I down another two beers, locking eyes with Dee. She has a look about her that says she’s down for whatever but clearly confused by my agreement to visit Smudge. She brought it up, so she better be ready.
Greg leans over and says something to Beck before getting up and marching out the door again. I watch him throw the door open and storm out and then look over at Beck. “What the hell is his problem now?”
“Don’t know, sugar. He just said he needed to do something and he would meet us there.”
Okay, I might have overreacted slightly. But you know what? I am sick of being treated with kid gloves like some breakable porcelain doll that might shatter with the smallest touch. My path to find the old Izzy starts right now, and I’m not going to let Greg and his shit-fit mess this up.
“You two almost ready to go? I’m going to go track down our ticket so we can get out of here. Think about what you want to get, you little bitch. Remember this was your idea.”
I stand up and walk off, once again leaving them at the table, but I doubt they are drenched in their lust cloud anymore. Beck is probably trying to figure out what brand of fucked up he has stumbled on and Dee is probably back to worrying. At least this time she isn’t worried about my mental stability—or at least I hope she isn’t. She is probably worried about this big-ass boulder that seems to have popped up between Greg and me.
Chapter 9
Dee is pretty silent when we first get in the cab after leaving Heavy’s. She is probably still playing back my refusal to ride with the boys. We left her car at Heavy’s and jumped in the first cab I saw, leaving a fuming Greg and a confused Beck standing at his truck. Greg was waiting outside of Heavy’s when we walked out. So much for his having something to take care of. I knew that if we let Greg drive he would control the destination, and I was seeing this through.
For the first five minutes, she sits silently gazing out her window. Soft country music plays through the speakers, not loud but enough that the silence isn’t awkward. She finally has enough and turns to me.
“All right, tell me what this really is about, Iz. This is more than a few drinks and sex jokes. What’s really going on up there?” She reaches over and taps my head.
“Nothing is going on up there, Dee. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I am some unfixable toy. Some toy that, no matter how many times you slather Elmer’s on, keeps falling apart. I’m sick of being that girl, Dee. Greg just pushed my buttons when he said I wasn’t right in the head. I’m fine. Just because I don’t want to talk about…Axel, that does not mean I’m not right in the head. It doesn’t.”
“Who exactly are you trying to convince, Izzy?” she asks softly.
“I don’t need to convince anyone. I just need you to have my back and trust me to handle this on my own terms.” I let out a frustrated huff and turn my head to watch the city zoom past. I’m so tired from this week of dodging Greg and running from Axel. I just want it to be over, this bad dream that I am beyond ready to wake up from.
“Okay, Iz. I understand. Or at least I’m trying to. I just don’t like seeing you hurting, and I don’t like seeing you and Greg fight. You know he’s got to be hurting too. He would do anything to take your pain away. You know that. Don’t think he is being pushy to be a dick. He really does care.”
I don’t reply. What’s the point? I don’t know what to think about Greg. I know he cares, but now that his loyalty is torn, I can honestly say that I don’t know which way he is going with his need to chat with me. He wants me happy, I know that much, but at what cost?
We pull up in front of Smudge a few minutes later; the cabby lets us out right at the front door. I quickly pay him and rush for the door. When I see Greg’s truck roaring up the street, I take off for the inside of the building. He won’t cause a scene, not in a public place like this. He might look at me with his displeasure and judgment, but he won’t say anything. No, I will get that later.
We walk into the brightly lit building. The walls are painted a deep red; the ceiling and the tile are black. They have the room set up with little cubicles against the sidewalls, each one with a wall about four feet tall. There are some rooms against the back wall, but all three have blacked-out windows. Not sure I want to know what happens back there. I walk over to the huge U-shaped display case set up in the middle of the room. There is a young, heavily tattooed woman standing behind it. Her short pixie hair is sticking out in random directions and dyed electric blue. Her face is classically beautiful and would look odd against her body art and hair of choice, but she has the most elaborate makeup on. Her eye shadow is as bright and as blue as her hair, thick black lines outline her almost violet eyes, and her lips are painted red.
“What’s up, ladies? I’m Trix. Welcome to Smudge. We’ve got a few clients ahead of you, but I think we can fit you in. Which one of you plans on getting some ink tonight?” she asks with a cheerful smile.
Dee looks over at me, clearly starting to second-guess opening her big mouth back at Heavy’s, but no way am I letting her off the hook. “Both of us,” I shoot over at Trix, giving her a smirk of my own.
I hear the bell over the door clank. I don’t need to turn around to know who just came in the door. Even if I didn’t know it was Greg, the look Trix is shooting over my shoulder says it all. Greg might be like a brother to me, but even I can admit how hot he is. Next to Beck, I’m sure the boys are quite an eyeful.
“Right, so where do we need to wait?” She can lust after them when she gets this show on the road.
She looks back at me, a slight blush spotting her white cheeks, “Sorry. Okay, I just need a copy of your license and for you both to fill out these forms. Have a seat over on those couches and have a look at the photo books on the table if you need to get an idea of what you want. I’ll go see who is almost finished and can pick y’all up next.” She turns to look over at Greg and Beck one more time before walking down the rows of cubicles. I have just enough time to regist
er her hot pink tutu as she disappears into one of the back rooms. Hmm, maybe next time I need to ask her to take me shopping. Tutus look pretty freaking awesome.
I grab Dee’s arm and pull her over to the couch, thrusting the clipboard with the forms on them in her arms. “Fill them out and then look,” I say, pointing over to the binders. I make quick work of filling out the sheets, pull my license out of my wallet, and walk back over to Trix. Handing everything over for her to do her thing with, I walk back over and sit down next to Dee. She is slow enough with her papers that I know she is trying to find a way to back out. No fucking way.
“This was your idea, remember?”
She looks over at me. There might be some fear in her eyes, but she is mostly curious about just how far I plan on taking this.
“I know. Don’t worry I’m not backing out. Just promise me we can talk about this soon?” God, I love her.
“Sure, Dee. Sometime.” I reach over and pluck one of the books off the table, opening the cover and taking in a very up close and personal dick with a metal barbell attached to the head. Okay, clearly they don’t just tattoo here. I turn a few more pages and come to some female piercings. Now those don’t look quiet as traumatizing as the decorated dicks. They almost make this chick’s tits look…beautiful.
I must have been looking at them for a while. I can’t imagine how weird this looks, my zoning on someone else’s tits. Dee looks over and gives a soft snort. “Seriously, Iz? Nip rings?”
“Maybe,” I mumble, going over in my head the pros of a piercing over a tattoo.
I’ll admit that when I had my fit over Greg’s words I didn’t completely think this through. Sure, I have wanted a tattoo for a while, but it should be something I think and plan, not something I decide in anger. A piercing though, well…I can take that out whenever I get sick of them. Permanence isn’t even an issue there. It’s just something pretty to look at for a while.
Dee is flicking through one of the tattoo books. She is not really looking at anything, just flipping and stealing looks over at Beck. Greg is rod straight and clearly very pissed, his eyes burning holes right into me. I stand and walk back over to Trix, leaning over the display case to whisper my request in her ear. When I stand back, she has a huge grin on her face. She gives me a small nod and walks back to one of the black window rooms.
“Izzy,” Greg starts, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I turn and give him a smart smile, not even bothering to hide my simmering pissed vibes. “Why nothing, Gregory. I’m just enjoying my head being all fucked up.”
I walk back over to Dee, who is looking at me, and even with her worried eyes, she is trying hard not to laugh. We are clearly a dysfunctional family.
“You pick anything yet?” I ask her.
“Yeah, nothing big, but I got it.”
“Perfect, but if this isn’t something you want, don’t feel like you have to do this just because I’m set on proving a point to the big idiot.”
She has her happy smile back on her face. She might not have meant to actually show up here, but I can tell she doesn’t mind now.
“It’s all good, Iz. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You seriously going to get some rings hanging off your tits?” She snickers.
“I might be pissed, but I’m not stupid. I need time to figure out the perfect tat, and some stupid fight with Greg isn’t going to make me jump the gun. Plus, I think my tits will look fucking hot with some bling.”
We are both laughing hard when a good-looking guy walks up and asks which one of us is Izzy. For some reason, I expected the person doing my piercings to be a female. Don’t I specifically drive a town over because I don’t want to see a male gynecologist? Now, the person who will be shoving a needle through my fun bags is going to be this hunk? Shit. Didn’t see that coming.
“Izzy would be me,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. I can see Greg out of the corner of my eye. If anything, he looks like he is going to explode soon. He looks carved from stone, and I know he is just gearing up to shut this down. I bring my focus back to the man in front of me.
“Tyler. Nice to meet you. Ready?”
“Sure thing, Tyler.”
We set off for the black window rooms; I can hear Greg speaking harshly behind me. I don’t turn around to see who he is talking to. He isn’t stopping this.
We walk into the room and I’m shocked to see how bright it is in here. Something about the windows had me expecting some gloom and doom back here. The walls, ceiling, and floor match the décor outside the door. There is a single dentist-looking chair in the middle of the room and a long table against the back wall. He’s already set up the things he will need on the little tray next to the chair.
“First piercings?” Tyler asks while motioning me to jump up on the chair.
“Yup, other than my ears.”
“Ah, perfect. I love poppin’ cherries.” He smiles over at me.
He really is very nice to look at. This might be more fun than I thought it would be. He has light brown hair, which is a little on the long side and curling under his ears and behind the back of the cap he is wearing. His eyes are light blue and bright with mischief. He must be assuming that this is some kind of kink I have. His face is model perfect. If it weren’t for the huge gages through his ears, a lip ring, two eyebrow rings, and the colorful art running up both arms, I might think he was in the wrong place.
“Ha, I’m sure you do. So what do you need me to do?”
“Strip down, sweetheart. Shirt, bra, and you can take the pants off too if that’s what works for you. Get comfortable and recline on back. I need to mark you first to make sure I get these bars in perfectly. I wouldn’t want to mess up those perfect tits.”
Choosing to ignore his blatant flirting, I reach down for the hem of my tee and pull it over my head. I flick my bra off, throwing them both on the chair in the corner. Putting my back flat on the chair, I reach up and pull my thick hair into a messy knot on the top of my head; all the while, I’m watching the lustful look take over his face.
Tyler reaches over and helps me to lean forward so he can mark my nipples. His gloved hands are cold at first, but he makes quick work with the marker. He gives me a quick squeeze before releasing the swells of my breast. I’m sure that was more for his benefit than the alignment of my holes. At this point, I don’t even care. It’s been a long time since anyone other than myself has touched my tits, so even though it’s awkward, his touch isn’t exactly a turn-off.
“You ready?” he asks. I can feel the soft bite of the needle against my left nipple. It isn’t an unpleasant pain, bordering the line between pain and pleasure for sure. Surely, it isn’t natural to be this turned on right now.
“Yup. Do your thing.” I close my eyes tight, and wait for it.
He gives me a sharp pinch before I feel him push the needle through. I let out the breath I was holding... Not bad. The pain is already receding and a weird burning numbness is taking over. If this is what every body piercing feels like, I can understand why Tyler here has so many now.
“Not bad, huh?” he asks while walking around the chair to the other side. He seems to have lost his playful flirting and turned into the perfect professional. He looks up and gives me a small wink. Okay, so maybe not all the flirting has left his system.
“No,” I laugh, “definitely not bad.”
“All right, ready for the next?”
“Go for it.”
I close my eyes tight again, and the process is repeated, but right when I feel him finishing up with the tightening of the ball at the end of my new piercing, there is a loud thump at the door and suddenly it’s jerked wide open. He jumps to stand in front of me, trying to protect my modesty. From my spot hidden behind Tyler the piercer, I can see one very long jean-covered leg and a big-booted foot. I don’t know those boots. The only other thing I can see past Tyler is one giant fist flexing and pulsing by the leg’s side.
Then I hear the softl
y spoken command, the command laced with so much fury only a fool would ignore it. I squeeze my eyes shut again, praying that I’m wrong about who is standing in front of Tyler.
“Move. Move the fuck out of my way. Right fucking now.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
Tyler looks over his shoulder at me, trying to figure out if I know who this is or if he needs to have him removed. Laughable, really—there is no way he would be able to move this man. It might take every person in this whole building to remove this pissed-off brute. He reaches off behind his back and pulls out a towel he had hanging off the back of his belt. Might not be the cleanest thing in the world right now, but at least it would hide my body. Or some of my body.
“Thanks,” I softly say to Tyler. “It’s okay. I’ll be right out to pay.”
“Okay. You sure?” he asks, and at my nod, he quickly gives me a rundown on after care and tells me he will leave a sheet with the instructions with Trix up front.
I look down and make sure the towel is covering me enough before I look up and meet the blazing green, very pissed depths of Axel’s eyes. This isn’t going to be fun. Not only am I sitting in front of him naked from the waist up, but seeing his face again is still a punch straight to the gut. It physically hurts to breathe. He looks so different than the boyish face I remember in my dreams. He is still Axel, but he looks harder. Age has done wonderful things to this man. He was always tall, but never this tall. When he left at eighteen, he had a boy’s body, but there is nothing boy about him now. He looks to have doubled in size, and his muscles were pulsing on his arms, flexing with pent-up energy. Angry energy. His black tee is stretched tight, not only hugging his heavily tattooed arms but his flat stomach as well. I can even see the rippling of his abs through the material. His legs are long and thick, covered in denim. I can feel the vibes coming from him, and they aren’t happy ones. I have a feeling he isn’t just unhappy about me blowing him off today. He did say every door when he threatened to track me down. How the hell did he know where to find me?
