"I just... I have to ask if you really want this."
"Sorry?" She blinked rapidly.
"It's just... I know how it can be sometimes when you're crazy for someone, but it's a permanent decision and maybe... if Alice is pressuring you or something?" His face was hot, and he couldn't quite look her in the eye as he made a stuttering mess of what he meant.
"Why would you even think that?" June hissed. "Just because I'm nervous--"
"No. No. I'm sorry, you're right." He swallowed and took a step back. "I just had to make sure."
"Oh. Hey." She looked him over. "I sort of thought tattoo artists were tough guys. You look like you're gonna faint."
"Guess I'm not typical." He laughed weakly. "I'm sorry to have asked, really."
"No. Uh. It's actually kind of sweet. In a fucked-up sort of way." June snorted. "I mean, I didn't need the rescue or anything. If you really have to know, Alice and I've been together for eight years. This is sort of our engagement ring."
"Oh," he said miserably. "Sorry. Again."
"Why don't you just show me the design?" Her smile had an edge of pity, but he'd accept that over anger any day.
"Yeah, sure."
After that, his first tattoo in four years was anticlimactic. It was indescribably good to hold the gun steady in his hand again and draw something vivid over someone else's skin. June was stronger than she looked, barely flinching as he went over her collarbone. Alice held her hand tightly the whole time, apparently more concerned about the whole thing than June herself. Occasionally, he was aware of eyes on him, but he didn't have the attention to spare to figure out who was watching.
"Check it out." He handed June a mirror.
"Wow." She grinned at Alice. "What do you think?"
"Looks way better than mine. Lines are a lot sharper. You happy with it?"
"It's awesome."
"Okay, so let's talk aftercare." He pulled out one of the shop's pre-printed directions and made a few notes of lotion brands he preferred.
Right before she left, June pressed a twenty into his hand and gave him a fast, whisper light hug.
"Thanks for the work. We ever need anything else, you can bet you're the one we'll ask for." She tapped his hand gently. "You're a sweet guy."
"Thanks. And really I am so sorry. I shouldn't have assumed--"
"Better you said something. If you believed that and went ahead with it? Sort of gross, if you think about it." She waved briskly. "See you around."
Liam barely had two minutes to collect himself before Deb knocked on his door, making him jump.
"Woah. You okay?" She gave him a once over, eyebrows cocked.
"Yeah. Fine. What's up?"
"We've got another walk-in. Ace and Goose are already in with appointments, so it's your lucky day."
His next customer was a no-nonsense guy already covered in ink by a dozen different artists. The appointment took a lot longer than June's but wasn't nearly as dramatic. Liam just busted out ink and got to work, filling one of the small blank spots left on the guy's crowded back with a thorny bone cross. When the man left, seemingly satisfied, Liam took his time cleaning up. It was easing on eleven o'clock, and he could just make out Goose's endless patter across the hall.
He should probably pack it in. There wouldn't be more walk-ins this time of night. At least no sober ones. Still, he lingered, not eager to get back to the dark house. On a whim, he started going through the drawers to inventory his supplies. He didn't have to dig deep to get the basics. In one of the bottom drawers, he found loose change, coupons for a shoe store, a twelve-pack of kids' washable markers, and a sketchpad missing a few pages. Castoffs from some other itinerant artists.
Sitting cross-legged on the table seemed like the most comfortable option with the pad settled over his legs. He drew June's face, turned up to an unseen Alice and her new stars drifting off her shoulder, towards the sky. Though Liam had stopped tattooing, he'd never stopped drawing, and he thought he might have even managed to improve in the past few years. Faces were his favorite subjects. He had notebooks full of professors looking over their glasses, students bent over laptops, and blurry-eyed beach bums mixed among his cramped handwriting.
"You did good there." Ace leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, still and quiet. He could've been standing there for ages and Liam wouldn't have been able to tell, wrapped up in the drawing as he had been.
"Wasn't a hard piece. Good way to warm up."
"Not what I meant." Ace shrugged loosely. "Not the call I would have made, but I've never been accused of being nice."
"Yeah?" Liam capped the blue marker, sliding it back into the box. "Deb said you were a sucker for sad stories."
"Did she?" Ace snorted. "Man, save one stupid cat from the gutter and everyone thinks you're a pushover."
"You saved a cat?"
"Kitten," Goose shouted out. "Sad, pathetic Siamese kitten with big eyes and pathetic little mew. Now an angry old cat."
"He's not angry," Ace yelled back, then turned back to Liam with a half-smile. "Maybe grumpy. Probably learned that from me."
"What's his name?"
"George."
"You named a cat George?"
"Sure. St. George. Dragon slayer. Eater of mice and scratcher of annoying assholes named Goose."
"Huh. I like it." Liam closed the sketchpad.
"What do you want on your pizza, kid?" Deb popped her head around.
"Oh, I don't need any, thanks. Not hungry."
"Like hell. You came in five hours ago and haven't had so much as a cracker. I know Ace and Goose run on vodka fumes and beef jerky, but some of us require real food." She narrowed her eyes. "You're too skinny."
"I have a fast metabolism," he muttered, fighting the urge to fold himself away from her gaze.
"We always get two pies on Friday, so you might as well just tell her what you want," Ace put in. "Half-Hawaiian for me, half-jalapeno for Goose, and a plain for Deb and whoever else is around."
"I like Hawaiian." He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had a decent slice of pizza. Cafeteria food usually sustained him at college, and the few times he did get takeout, it was more exotic fare.
"No one likes Hawaiian." Deb wrinkled her nose. "Not even Ace. He just orders it 'cause it makes the rest of us gag."
"You don't appreciate sweet and savory, it's not my fault." Ace pushed off from the doorway, back to his room. "Glad I got someone on my side now."
"Whatever." Deb shot Liam a small smile. "Hey. What you said to that girl, that was kind of decent of you."
"The walls really are thin in here, aren't they?"
"The thinnest," she said wryly. "At first, I was gonna jump down your throat about trying to play white knight to a girl that could clearly defend herself. But then I got the feeling you would've done it even if it was a huge burly dude. Right?"
"I don't like anyone getting pressured into doing something they don't want," he told the sketchpad. June smiled up at him, lips cherry red. "Especially something that's gonna last the rest of their lives."
"Yeah. I hear you. We've all got a few regrets to wear." She gave him a tight smile. "Okay, so one nasty-ass Hawaiian pizza."
The waiting room apparently doubled as a dining room, pizza boxes open on Deb's desk and paper towels deployed as plates. Goose stretched out on the couch while Ace tucked one leg under himself in a chair and Deb stayed behind her desk. Liam slouched into the chair across from Ace's and picked off the pineapple to eat first.
"I'm telling you, I'm totally against this dash thing." Goose started up, dripping hot sauce over his pepper-studded slice. "Deb won't hear me out."
"She's probably right." Ace folded his slice in half and bit into it like he hadn't seen food in a week. "Customer wants a dash, you give 'em a dash. We're not the grammar police."
"Man, why do you always take her side?"
"Because I'm usually right," Deb chimed in.
"So what have you been doing the
last four years?" Ace asked after he'd managed to swallow.
"Uh, I've been here, man." Goose craned his neck back. "You going senile?"
"I meant the kid, G."
"College." Liam started on the ham next. There weren't any forks, so he'd have to eat the cheese with the bread. Couldn't be helped.
"No tattoo parlors where you go to school?"
"I needed a break." He tried to make it sound casual. "Anyway, I have to keep my GPA up for my scholarship. Takes a lot of study time."
"Let me guess." Goose pointed a finger at him. "You're a total liberal arts type, right? Not gonna do art as your major though, too careful for that, I bet. Probably something general, flexible. English major."
"How'd you know?" He frowned. It hadn't been on his resume. Why bother when it had nothing to do with the work?
"He's got good people sense. Hard to believe, I know." Ace frowned. "English? What're you going to do with that?"
"Teach English." Maybe he didn't need a fork. He tested the top layer with a tentative fingertip. The cheese had cooled off enough to touch. Carefully, he peeled it up and ate the first messy strand. "They sort of want you to know your stuff before you get up in front of a group of kids and try to shove it into their heads."
"He knew what that dot dot dot thing was." Goose nodded sagely. "English type, totally."
"Seems like a waste." Ace broke his crust in half. "You're good at this. Decent artist, steady hand."
"I'm good at teaching, too." He hunched his shoulders and concentrated on getting the rest of the cheese up in one piece.
"Kid has dreams of a pension plan and summers off. Sounds like a better deal than this to me." Deb tossed a balled up paper towel at Ace.
"So what, you like him now?" Ace caught the projectile easily.
"Sure, why not? You do."
"Shut up, Deb."
"You guys," Goose said slowly. "There's a wicked huge spider in the corner of the ceiling by Deb's desk."
There was a mild cacophony after that. Deb ran off to get a broom, brandishing it like a sword.
"Spiders are sacred in a ton of religions," Goose told Liam. "In some places, he's a trickster god and sometimes, she's a seductress."
"Yeah, well here they're fucking creepy." Deb started swiping at the ceiling.
"Stop that." Ace got between her and the wall. "Give me a second, I got it."
In one athletic hop, Ace stood on the desk, which wobbled ominously beneath him. He waited for a few seconds, head cocked, then reached out and gently tumbled the spider into his cupped hand.
"Ugh." Deb took a step backwards. "Seriously?"
"I can't believe a spider freaks you out, after everything else you've seen." Ace laughed, holding his hand steady as he leaped neatly off the desk. "Get the door?"
Liam propped open the front door with thinly veiled amusement. He watched as Ace walked to the edges of the parking lot to a little strip of grass. Kneeling down, he set his hand into the greenery. He didn't get back up right away. In the neon midnight lights, he looked out of place. Too serene and almost... prayerful.
"Could've just left it on the pavement." Liam said quietly under Goose and Deb's bickering when Ace came back in.
"Could've. Didn't." Ace picked up a second piece of pizza and handed it over to Liam. "How about you eat your next one instead of dissecting it?"
"Tastes better this way." Liam started in on the pineapple. He didn't really need a second slice, one usually did him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. "What else do you rescue besides kittens and spiders?"
"Apparently, smartass wannabe English professors."
"Hey--"
"I like it!" Goose snapped his fingers at Liam. "That's it! You're the Professor. Totally fits."
"Classier than Goose," Deb agreed.
"There is nothing classier than the Goose." Goose waggled his eyebrows. "Anyway, you've been renamed, kid. From here on out, you're the Professor to me."
"Uh, do I get a say in this?" Liam hadn't ever been the nickname type, but this was a very temporary situation. Let them call him what they wanted. It was better than "kid" at least.
"Nope. That is not how the power of nicknames work," Goose said sagely. "They get attached to you, and then you carry them around until the sun dies out."
Liam left not long after, and he had to suppress a smile when Deb and Goose sing-songed together, "Good night, Professor."
"Night." He waved over his shoulder.
Ace said nothing at all, but Liam could feel those light blue eyes on this back all the way out the door.
Chapter Three
Liam filled the grey empty space between leaving St. Francis and arriving at Great Sin with gossipy afternoon DJs and indie rock. It was dangerous, that in-between time, a transition that gave Liam too much time to think. At college, he'd relished the brief quiet periods when he could really let his mind wander, but since he'd come home, his head had become an unsafe place to linger in. Maybe it was the waiting, patient grief or the biting sharp edges of memory that caught at him while he worked. Maybe it was that for the first time in his life, he wasn't striding toward something. There were no grades to be earned, no projects to finish, no damaged past to outrun. Standing still for the first time in four years, all the things he hadn't wanted to deal with came washing back in.
He rolled down the windows, letting in the pounding heat that pooled sweat under his arms in a breath. It didn't quite drown out Brandon's hands hard on his wrists or his mother's acid kiss glancing over his forehead. He cranked the radio and sang along.
So intent was he on not thinking that he almost didn't notice Ace and a wafer-thin slip of a woman going at it the parking lot as he pulled in. It was only when he'd gotten out of the car that their fight actually registered, shaking him out of his self-involved funk.
"You can't just leave him here every time you want to run off to Atlantic City," Ace growled.
"You always assume the worst of me!" the woman shouted, tears streaming down her face. "It's a job interview! How else am I supposed to find a way to keep us fed without begging stuff from you all the time?"
"What kind of place is interviewing at seven o'clock on a Friday night?" Ace stepped closer to her, fury radiating off of him. "Why do you even bother lying to me anymore?"
"I do have an interview! A secretary job. In a dentist's office!"
Liam was just debating if he should sneak by, when a shift in the shadows caught his eye. Standing right behind Ace was a small boy with dishwater blond hair hanging in his eyes. He was watching Ace and the woman with one finger stuck in his mouth. Knot tightening in his gut, Liam went the long way around the fighting duo to squat down next to the kid.
"Hi," he said softly. "My name's Liam, what's yours?"
"Cole." The boy looked wary, shoving his finger further into his mouth.
"That's a nice name. How old are you?"
"Four and a half," Cole mumbled.
"Wow. That's awesome. You know, it's kind of hot out here, huh?" Liam waited for the boy to nod. "You want to come inside and have some water?"
Cole shrugged, eyes glued to Ace's back.
"Go ahead," Ace said gruffly, not turning around. "Go with Liam and get some water."
"Don't tell him what to do!" the woman shrieked. "Damnit, Ace! I'm his mother!"
"Hey, I bet Deb has a treat in her desk," Liam cajoled. "You know Deb?"
"Uh-huh." Cole brightened. "She has lollipops."
"Awesome, what's your favorite flavor?" Liam stood and started walking, gratified when Cole trailed along beside him.
"Grape."
"Yeah? Mine's lime because I like the color."
"But it's all sour." Cole wrinkled his nose as Liam propped open the door.
"Hey, it's the Cole-bean!" Deb said merrily when the boy trotted inside. "How's things?"
"Okay." Cole pointed up. "This is Liam."
"I know, he started working here last week. Kind of dorky, huh?"
&
nbsp; "He likes lime."
"Ew." Deb laughed and opened her desk drawer fishing in it. She produced a grape lollipop, apparently already well versed in Cole's preferences. "You want one, Professor? I've got green ones, but I think they're apple."
"No, thanks." Liam watched Cole unwrap the lollipop. His small sneakers were newer than the rest of his clothes; originally white, someone had drawn Spiderman on one and Superman on the other in bright marker. Not a hard guess on who had done that.
"Hey, you want to draw with me?" Liam offered as Cole withdrew his finger to put in the lollipop. "We can sit here and talk to Deb while we work."
Before Cole could make up his mind one way or another, Liam brought out the markers and sketchpad that had become a part of his daily routine. Sometimes he passed the time while Gene napped by illustrating some of the stories Gene had told him or trying to capture his likeness. During down time at work, he'd already done a dozen passes at Deb and Goose. She had an unusually strong jawline that was difficult to capture, and Goose's curls could keep Liam busy for hours. He bypassed all those pages, ripping out a few loose sheets. Shoving flash books and magazines aside, he made a clear space on the low table in the waiting room and sat on the floor.
"That's a lot of colors." Cole's hand hovered over the markers.
"Think we can use all of them in one drawing?"
By the time Ace came back in, they'd made a reasonable attempt at it. Cole's erratic lines had strayed to the edges of the paper more than once, but the table was already deeply scarred from years of service. The splash of color was a marked improvement.
"What're you working on, buddy?" Ace slid to the floor next to Cole. He looked worn out, a few lines gathered at the corners of his eyes, but he had a smile on when Cole glanced up at him.
"Making a spaceship," Cole said gravely. "Gonna fly to Mars. It's closer to the sun than Earth and super hot."
"Really?" Ace traced the edge of the drawing. "So how are you going to land without melting?"
"I've got a magic wizard in the spaceship." Cole shrugged.
"Good backup plan."
"Want me to cancel your appointments, hon?" Deb asked.
Stories Beneath Our Skin Page 3
