Tattoo Lust: A Tattoo Romance Collection

by Skyla Madi

“For what?”

  Natalie leaned over the kitchen island next to the stove top. “You’d have to ask him that.”

  Grace missed Mikey. A lot. Sad really, since it had only been a few days. Had she been hasty in her decision?

  “Am I an idiot?”

  Natalie laughed. “No, but I think you’re scared of letting go.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Mikey

  Marie stood with her hands on her hips. The pose made her look like a pecking hen. “What are you all doing out here? The service is about to start.”

  “We’ll be right there.” Mikey dried his eyes with his fingers. He grasped Brayden’s shoulders from behind and led him into the viewing area. His son insisted on sitting directly in front of Cynthia’s dead body. A chaplain recommended by Mr. Rose said a prayer then spoke a few words about how wonderful a person Cynthia was during her life and how she was always there for every one of her friends.

  Mikey couldn’t resist the urge and swiveled around in his chair. The other attendees had blank expressions. He also noted that only twenty or so people had bothered to show up. This included himself, Marie, Brayden, and Harry Hunter. His eyes met with the detective’s for a moment before he faced the front again.

  Brayden sniffled but wasn’t crying. Marie blubbered like an idiot and mostly for show.

  “If any members of the family or a friend would like to say a few words, you may do so at this time,” Mr. Rose said after thanking the minister.

  Marie tapped Mikey on the arm.

  No way. Nope.

  Brayden tugged on his father’s sleeve. “You should probably say something,” he tried to whisper but failed—everyone heard.

  Great.

  What the hell was he supposed to say up there? Why couldn’t Marie do this?

  Like a good soldier going off to battle, Mikey walked the five feet toward the lectern. He gripped the sides of the podium, his knuckles white. He tried to breathe. Wasn’t going to happen though.

  He cleared his throat a number of times but his voice cracked anyway. “For those of you that don’t know me, Cynthia was my ex-wife. In the last few years, it was no secret to those that do know me, we didn’t exactly see things eye to eye.” Mikey paused when Marie’s mouth dropped open. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

  Fuck.

  No kind words were coming to mind. He hated this. Everyone stared at him, expecting him to say nice things. The woman wasn’t nice. He despised everything about her. He hadn’t wished her dead, nor wanted his son to grow up without a mother though. He could hardly believe he married her in the first place.

  Brayden’s little forehead creased. He no longer looked like a child to Mikey, but a grown-up in a ten-year-old’s body. His child would never be the same. A loss of innocence had occurred overnight. Mikey looked out to the small crowd.

  I’m sorry, Brayden. His boy’s eyes were shiny.

  His voice cracked again. “I’m s-sorry…I…this is…I can’t do this. I don’t know what to say. Brayden…”

  “It’s okay, Dad.” The child jumped up and led his father back to his seat with his hand on the small of his back. He didn’t sit down, and instead walked to the front of the room and addressed the crowd. “Mom, you died too soon and I love you. Well, that’s what I would’ve said to my mom if I could. Oh, and I hope there are peace lilies wherever you are.”

  This was the moment Mikey knew his son was the bravest soul he’d ever known. He admired him and knew Brayden was already more of a man than he’d ever be.

  Murmurs erupted behind Mikey. There were a few aaw’s and Marie clutched her heart. “Come here, Brandon,” she said and opened her arms; he went to his father.

  Mikey smirked smugly. “I love you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Grace

  Grace fidgeted in the kitchen chair, rubbed her palms on her jeans. She pushed back and rose from the table.

  Natalie watched her pace and the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Is your plan to wear a rut in the floor?”

  Grace looked at her surroundings then her feet. “Crap. I didn’t even know I was pacing. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Why do you think something’s the matter with you? I’m going to make some coffee. Would you like some?” Natalie opened the cupboard next to the refrigerator. A package of coffee maker filters tumbled out. She caught them mid-air.

  “I don’t drink coffee. Why do I attract these impossible men? I hate this.” Grace grabbed hanks of hair above her ears.

  “You don’t. And what do you hate?”

  The scent of French roast filled the kitchen. Natalie measured and poured enough coffee grounds into the machine for a potent pot.

  Grace stopped for a second to look at her friend. Her dad loved a strong cup of coffee too.

  “You love him, don’t you?” The older woman filled the glass coffee pot and dumped the water into the reservoir. She pressed the start button.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I miss Mikey. His kid. Brayden is possibly the wisest person I know, adult or child.”

  Natalie leaned against the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles. “You don’t want to know what I think.”

  “You right, I don’t. Do you think I made a mistake?”

  Natalie raised a brow. “Thought you didn’t want to know my opinion?”

  I don’t. I really don’t.

  Grace stopped behind the island and laid her upper body across the counter, her head rested on her folded arms. She changed the subject to distract herself from thinking about how much of a mistake she’d made. “What about you and my dad? What’s going on?”

  “We’re talking again.”

  Grace lifted her head. “Does this mean…?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. We’re friends. I’m in the friend zone, I think it’s called.”

  “My dad is a fool,” she said and flopped her head back down. “What should I do?”

  Natalie inhaled deeply. “Do what feels good instead of worrying about all the what-if’s.”

  “But that’s what I do. I worry.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  “How?”

  “Get a life.” Natalie said and winced.

  “Ouch.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Mikey

  Mikey held onto his grieving son. Marie looked around the room and avoided eye contact with everyone. Brayden wasn’t close with his grandmother and therefore the woman shouldn’t’ve been shocked by her grandson’s diss. The slight hadn’t been intentional on Brayden’s part. There were some things only a father could help with.

  “I…love you,” Brayden said between sobs.

  Mikey pulled his son onto his lap. Brayden laid his head on his shoulder. At a time like this, even at ten years old, sitting in his father’s protective hold was what he needed most in the world.

  Mr. Rose went to the front again. He told the guests the location of the cemetery and everyone filed out of the funeral home.

  Six of the men in attendance and Brayden loaded Cynthia into the back of the hearse. Mikey stood back and watched. Should he have been a pallbearer? Probably, but no one had asked him and he didn’t want to volunteer. Brayden returned to his side.

  “We’re supposed to get in our cars now, I think,” Brayden said.

  Mikey nodded, his voice box locked up.

  Once the cars were all lined up in procession, an employee secured orange and black flags on the cars.

  “How far is it to the cemetery?” Marie asked after shutting her door.

  “Not far,” Mikey managed to eke out. His jaw tightened. This was the longest day in the history of the world. He took a couple of deep breaths and glanced at his son. The hearse rolled forward and they followed closely behind.

  “Well, that was a very short, wasn’t it?” his ex-mother-in-law asked.

  “I guess.” Mikey shrugged.

  “I can’t believe no one said anything nice about her. And you…how embarrassing.”
Marie shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t say no one. Brayden said some—”

  “You were married to my daughter. You could have said something.” Oh for fuck’s sakes.

  Mikey’s hands flew off the wheel for a second and returned to their white-knuckled grip. “Marie, if you had such a problem with it, why didn’t you say something? Tuesday you were so hell bent on Cyn being remembered as a selfless mother.”

  “She was selfless.” She set her chin.

  “Yeah? How would you know? You didn’t even know your daughter.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means what you think. You come to town once a year, if that. You don’t have the first clue who your daughter was, let alone your grandson. And half the time you don’t even remember his name.”

  Her pupils flared. “That’s not true.”

  “It is true.”

  Marie clamped her mouth shut and remained silent for the rest of the drive.

  Peaceful Pines Cemetery had a long, winding driveway before the main gate. Tall white pines lined both sides of the road. The pebbles dinged off the underside of the SUV as the procession moved past the gate. The hearse led them alongside a temporary awning set up near the side of the paved pathway. Mikey waited until the casket had been removed from the hearse. Brayden scrambled out of the car to take a position between two of the pallbearers.

  The men strained as they set the casket down on the lowering device trimmed with a green velvet skirt over the grave. Mikey went to his son and stood behind him, placing his hands on Brayden’s shoulders. His little body trembled. Mikey bent down and kissed the top of his head.

  “Do you want to sit down?” Mikey asked.

  “No. Can we stay here? I wanna be close to her.”

  “Of course.” Mikey looked heavenward.

  Marie sat directly across from them in the provided wooden chairs, her eyes burning with contempt. Although she kept staring at him, every time he glanced her way, she averted her eyes. Her opinion of him wouldn’t matter after today. Mikey and Brayden were never going to see her again.

  The minister made a short, generic speech, after which someone handed each of the guests a white rose. The coffin lowered into the ground. People walked by and tossed their flower into the pit. Marie remained seated until everyone but Mikey and Brayden had left. For some strange reason, Hunter still lingered.

  The rose Brayden tossed in landed on top of the shiny box then slid down the side. “Goodbye, Mom,” he whispered. He looked up at his father. “I’d like to go now.”

  “Okay. But we can stay as long as you like.”

  “I don’t want to be here any longer. It’s not like she’s coming back.” Brayden grabbed Mikey’s hand and practically dragged him to their car. Marie had disappeared, thank God. So had Harry Hunter.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Mikey

  Mikey allowed Brayden to ride in the front seat on the way home from the cemetery. His eyelids drooped before they turned out of the driveway and he fell asleep. As soon as he nodded off, Mikey wrangled out of his tie. He sighed in relief after turning onto the main road away from the graveyard, with not an ounce of remorse about what he’d said to Marie. He never liked the wretched woman and felt her coldness contributed to Cynthia’s lack of compassion for other people. That shit had to have come from somewhere.

  Inside the car all Mikey could hear were the road noises and Brayden’s even breathing. This day had been one of the toughest since giving up drinking.

  Ten minutes later he stared at the glass fronted beer case at the gas station. Brayden was awake and standing next to him.

  He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “What are we doing here, Dad?”

  “Nothing.” The twelve pack of Budweiser made Mikey’s mouth water. Alcohol sounded so good. He could almost taste the exquisite elixir. Oh, what was he saying? He didn’t want this. Did he?

  Mikey palmed his cell and punched in the number of someone he hadn’t talked to in over a year. He brought the phone up to his ear. The person answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, Sam. This…is M-Mikey—” His throat was dry like he’d chewed on a sheep’s fleece.

  “I know who this is. I have caller ID. Been a long time, man,” Sam said.

  A long pause passed between them, involving a lot of sighs and “um’s,” on Mikey’s part.

  “What’s going on? Although, I can probably guess. I read the paper, so you can spare the details if you’d like.” Sam had been sober twenty-three years last October. “There’s a meeting tonight. Same place and time as always.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Mikey sighed. “I’m looking at a case full of,” he paused, “beer.”

  “Figures. Is your son with you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Look at him.”

  “I am.” He continued staring straight ahead, beyond his reflection in the glass. The red and white boxes stared back.

  “Bullshit. Look at him, now. What do you see?”

  Tears shone in his eyes when he finally gave in and looked at his son.

  Brayden looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  Mikey huffed. “I’m having a hard time. That’s what’s wrong.”

  Brayden nodded. “I kind of know that.”

  “Good, keep talking to your son,” Sam said in his ear. A tear rolled down Mikey’s cheek.

  Brayden squeezed his father’s hand. “We’ll be all right. I won’t be much trouble, Dad. I promise.”

  “I know. You’re the best, kid.”

  “Mikey,” Sam said, “listen, I want you to turn around and walk out of the store with your boy. Call me when you get home. I’m trusting you to do the right thing here.”

  Mikey ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Let’s get out of here, before I do something stupid.”

  God, what a burden to lay on a kid. He wished he could take back all the shitty years he’d spent drinking. Brayden needed a father, not some low-life drunk. No wonder he’d been unable to gain full custody of his son when he and Cynthia divorced. Nor was it a surprise she’d left him to begin with.

  His mind numbed out during the drive home. He called Andrea and asked her to come over later, then called Sam back.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Harry

  Harry sighed for the eightieth time. Marie Dove liked to talk. Although she didn’t have anything interesting or even mildly amusing to say, the woman loved the sound of her own voice. For someone who had lost their daughter in a horrific way, she didn’t come across like a grieving mother. Even though he knew her opinion would be biased, he capitalized on her inability to shut her mouth and interviewed her about Mikey. Off the record, of course.

  “Marie, can I ask you something?” Harry had borrowed Natalie’s car so if Cody had shown up at the funeral, he wouldn’t suspect anything. He flipped on the turn signal and decided to take the scenic route back to her hotel from the cemetery.

  “Of course you can.” She pulled down the visor and primped her hair in the mirror.

  “How long were your daughter and your grandson’s father married?”

  “Well, let’s see…I think…um…oh, I know…Cynthia left him when Brandon was four. Or was it five?”

  Harry raised an eyebrow. This lady didn’t even know her own grandson’s name.

  “Why do you ask? Have you known him long?” Marie pursed her lips in the mirror and turned her head side-to-side, then put the visor back up.

  “I’m curious. And I’ve known Mikey a while.”

  “So you’re good friends then?”

  “Not really, but I wanted to pay my respects.” The truck in front of them swerved without warning, revealing a cardboard box lying in the middle of the road. To avoid it, Harry also swerved quickly. The car jerked. Without thinking he put a protective arm out like he would do if Grace were in the car. His hand brushed against Marie’s too large and high not to be fake, breasts and he braced for a slap
. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to touch your—”

  “That’s all right. Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Uh…” His expression turned from embarrassment to dumbfounded.

  Marie giggled. “It’s been a long time since someone touched me.”

  “I, uh, huh?” Harry’s eyes shot toward her. The driver of an oncoming car laid on their horn and he veered back into his lane. Under no circumstances had he intentionally touched her breasts.

  “I’ve never had a police officer make a pass at me.”

  Is she delusional?

  “I didn’t. I—”

  “Of course you did.” Marie turned in her seat and faced him. She slipped her hand along his thigh toward his crotch. Higher. Higher. Harry sucked in a breath.

  Jesus. Christ.

  He squeezed his legs together. Marie giggled.

  Screw the long way back to the hotel. He jerked the wheel into an illegal U-turn. The centrifugal force sent Marie sliding into the door. “Heeey!” she scolded. He sped through a light that had been yellow too long. A siren kicked on and red and blue strobes flashed behind him.

  “Pull over!” the cops who tailed them broadcasted. He turned onto a side street and rolled to a stop.

  A uniformed officer he recognized came up to the window. “License and registration, please—oh, Hunter. I didn’t know it was you.” The cop smiled sheepishly.

  “It’s all right. This is a friend’s car.”

  “Driving a little fast. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Harry got an idea. “Marie, can you step out of the car for a moment?”

  Although confusion marred her face, she complied.

  “Rudy, could you do me a favor? This woman needs to be dropped off at the Embassy Suites on Grand Avenue.”

  “O-okay, but I—”

  “Great. Marie, this officer can drive you the rest of the way.”

  She had the gall to look wounded. “I thought you were taking me—”