Tattooed Moon

by Tiana Laveen

  Damn, my man is just beautiful in so many ways…

  The man’s sloppy bun was so sexy, and fit him so well. His strong arms flexed a bit as he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, his feet far apart in a cowboy stance. Her hero…her hippy bad ass with a healing hand…

  She realized something at that pivotal moment, as the man grew smaller and smaller in the mirror, but larger and larger in her heart…

  She loved him deeply…

  ‡

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re late!” Martin yelled.

  “I know. I had to take care of some things.” Milan huffed as she strolled past him, a bit of pep in her hippity hop step.

  I hope no one smells sex on me!

  She glanced at him from over her shoulder, and lived to regret it.

  “How long is this supposed to go on?” He put his stubby hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side, vying for a fight.

  Milan stopped in her tracks, swung towards the maniac and sucked her lip, trying desperately to restrain herself. Certain she’d draw a crowd if she elevated her voice, she steadied herself, kept herself together though every fiber in her body vibrated against her bones, shaking her to the core, slinging her over the lap of mercy while she fought with anger.

  “How long is what supposed to go on, Martin?”

  “This!” He snorted, seemingly exasperated and at his wit’s end. “Lately, you’ve been taking longer lunches and—”

  “And when I do, I’ve come in early and I am the last one to leave. I get my work finished and a do few others’ jobs around here, too.” She hoped the bastard caught her drift. “Lord knows you never stay late and I’ve yet to see you take a lunch that only lasted an hour. Ever.” She’d had it. If he wanted to battle, they’d Battle Royale.

  “We gave you plenty of time off, you know?” He shoved her accusations behind him, keeping on with his line of attack. “You’re needed at your desk. You still have a job, Milan. You still have work to do, but at this rate, maybe not for long.”

  “Are you trying to bully me?! Let me tell you something, Martin.” She marched closer to him, looking up into his sleazy blue eyes, her shiny pink fingernail aimed at his face like a dagger. “I was the only person here during the holidays last year, busting my butt while you and the rest of the guys were out partying with your families!” No, he would not get off this easy. If he was going to step to her, he needed to come correct.

  “Don’t get off the topic…you come in here with your head down and looking lost and confused,” he insulted. “We’re all tired of it.”

  “I am not in the public eye and I have a right for my face to look anyway I wish to look! I’m so sorry I am incapable of doing a song and dance for you every time I come up in here,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I am not rude to you, nor to anyone else in here, but you sure as hell are rude to me!”

  Out of her peripheral vision, she could see necks craning from the sides of the cubicles. Only things missing—bowls of buttery popcorn and the slurping of sweet drinks through long straws.

  “If telling you that you need to be mindful of meetings and show some enthusiasm for your job is being rude, then I suppose I will just have to accept that,” he said smugly, crossing his arms over his barrel like chest, stuffed in one of his notorious argyle sweater vests.

  “I’m sure you will… Nice way to spin it, Martin. My mother was sick, she was dying, but I still did what I needed to do! You never gave your condolences when she passed, not even a card, nothing! It was all about you, and how my absence was affecting how you appeared to others because you never carried your own weight; you’d just take credit for everything I did. I am really sick of you!” Milan exploded, unable to rein herself in. So much for staying calm and classy, and so much for her afternoon delight that had her feeling relaxed and cool. “I’ve come in here with the flu, horrible sinus infections, stress related mess, and I still showed up on time and stayed late!”

  Martin rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be back at your desk now?”

  “Shouldn’t you be picking up your teeth off the damn floor after I knock them out?! It can be arranged, you know.”

  “That’s it! You’re on probation. I’m going to—”

  “What is going on here?!” The big guy, Garrett, yelled as he stormed down the aisle way towards the pair, his gut and grimace leading the way. Milan continued on, ignoring the man. Oh no, she wasn’t near finished.

  “ My work has been exemplary. I have never been holed up in your office, or anyone else’s, for inaccuracy, lack of time management or complaints from a client. I have worked here longer than you have been out of college, and here you stand, big and bold as shit, trying to throw orders around!”

  “That’s enough!” Martin barked.

  “I thought you were busy, yet you have time to sit back and watch the clock while I am away! Go to hell!” Her eyes burned with angry tears, ones that no one in that company had ever seen or would even fully understand. Milan had refused to allow anyone to see her fall apart, even during her darkest hour.

  Suddenly, a firm but gentle grip circled her arm. Garrett led her down the hall and before long, they were in his massive office with the breathtaking view of a rippling pond, shimmery from the sun’s warm rays. He closed the door and locked it. The scent of new leather permeated the room. She took note of his newfangled office chair, a white showroom price tag still hanging off the side of the massive, expensive thing.

  “Have a seat, Milan,” he said gruffly.

  She did as told, and quickly swiped at her eyes as she gained her composure. As she sat, she once again felt her lover’s recent ‘presence’ within her. Her body held his trustworthy memory tight. Contentment budded in her gut…

  “Okay,” he said, his lips twisted. “What is going on, Milan?” He capped his hands over his stomach, his eyes small and his expression weary. “What just happened between you and Martin? I could hear you all the way outside.”

  “Garrett, I have worked for you for seven years, almost eight. I started as an intern. I have done everything in my power to make sure that I was a good accountant for this firm.”

  “Yes, you have. You are an asset to the company.” He cleared his throat, his tone monotone and dry.

  “Martin has done nothing but try to disparage me and make an example out of me in front of others.” She stabbed the desk with her finger. “I have taken his mess over and over again. When he and I were both accountants, before he was promoted into management, he’d make little snide remarks, some of which, in my opinion, had sexist overtones.” She watched her boss scratch at his face, as if mulling over the information.

  “Not once did I come to you complaining about it. I tried to handle it on my own. He has tried to belittle me during meetings, making it seem as if my points were moot. I ignored that as well. Client cases that he and I both worked on, or I had solo, he’d take full credit for. These projections and proposals were not his work, nor his ideas. I took my lumps for that as well.”

  Garrett simply stared at her. The blank expression on his face infuriated her. She felt desperate, holding on by a thin grasp to make the man understand that she wasn’t unstable or a loose cannon, but it seemed the more she spoke, the worse the matter became. Nevertheless, she had to keep trying to get through to him.

  “I tried hard to get along with him, Garrett, I did. Even more so as of late, after taking some sound advice. I bent over backwards, but that, too, he tossed back in my face.”

  “I heard him discuss you taking time off regarding your mother. Neither I nor anyone else is upset about that, Milan,” he offered with a sincere smile. “Again, I offer my condolences. I know it hasn’t been easy. I lost my own mother two years ago and I know how upsetting it is.”

  She nodded and looked down into her lap.

  “Now, that aside. Let’s address you and Martin. He is your direct supervisor, Milan, whether you like it or not. I expected m
ore professionalism from you. You have to respect his rules as long as they coincide with the company regulations.”

  Milan couldn’t believe her ears. Soon though, a thought hit her, and everything seemed clear in her mind.

  “He is using my mother’s death and my time off as a launch pad to further other arguments,” she explained, desperate to make the man understand.

  “What is going on regarding that? What comments is he making?”

  Milan found it rather odd that Garrett never called that son of a bitch in the office, too. Why only her? Although increasingly vexed, she did her utmost to remain cool.

  “I’d accrued a bunch of vacation time that I’d never used, but was owed to me. I rarely called in sick or anything, and the one time I needed to use the Family Leave Act, he gave me no sense of sympathy. It was as if he didn’t even care, as if,” she shrugged, “I was gone on some three month tropical vacation, having the time of my life, while he did all the work. And what a smack in the face that was—while I was gone taking care of my mother, he of all people got promoted! I am offended by that, Garrett and I don’t believe for one second that you think he is a better employee than I am!”

  There, she’d said it. Garrett asked, and she delivered.

  The man sighed, leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his face. From between his fingers, he peered at her, and if her eyes were not fooling her, she caught a slight smirk on his face.

  “This has been really bothering you, hasn’t it? Look…” He sat up and clasped his hands together, leaning slightly over the desk. “Milan, despite what you think, Martin is a good employee. Yes, he can be a bit of a wise guy at times, but he has great managerial skills. I believe you and he are having a personality clash, and it’s been that way for quite some time. Like you, he is dedicated and does good work. He entered this company seeking a managerial position. He’d already been a manager at another firm. That firm closed, and all we had at the time were other accountant positions. We told him to join our team, and when the first opportunity arose, we’d place him. That’s exactly what happened.”

  “So, because you told him he could be a manager, everyone else here that has worked our behinds off to also have the same opportunity were tossed aside so that Martin could get what he first came here for? Wow.” She smirked. “That’s unbelievable… actually, I take that back. It is quite believable.”

  “You’re twisting what I said.”

  “No, I’m relaying the facts of what you said. I’ve been here waaaaay longer than Martin, Garrett.” She was beyond hiding how she felt; it was time to take the show home. “I have had people under me for various projects, demonstrating that I, too, am management material. You and Martin are friends; everyone knows it and that’s fine, but it is getting in the way of your judgment.”

  “You’re out of line, Milan,” he said sternly.

  Bastard.

  Frazzled, she drew into herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s no use continuing this conversation. I see where I stand in your eyes. Am I free to go?”

  Looking as much saddened as weary, Garrett sighed. “I don’t want any more public displays like that between you and Martin, Milan. You’re better than that.”

  She stood from her seat and glared at him. “He won’t be called into your office today, will he? Instead, he’ll get a pat on the back and no reprimand whatsoever. I’m better than that?” She sneered. “No, I’m better than what I’ve been going through with this company as of late! You’ve put that man, the one that I report to, and his desires above everyone else’s, above the good of the company. You’ll receive my two week notice by the end of the day.” Trembling with rage, she marched towards the door.

  “Milan, come back here please!” Garrett voice boomed, startling her.

  She didn’t expect to be stopped, or anything else to be said. Truth be told, she was scared out of her mind. She’d be jobless, on her own, but she had to protect her self-respect and draw a line in the sand. The blatant disregard had become too much…

  She turned back towards him to find him on his feet, his palms planted on his desk, a look of both anger and desperation on his face.

  “I can’t just let you go like this, Milan. Look, you and I don’t see eye to eye about Martin, but you are an integral part of this company. The clients love you; I think the world of you.” He placed his large hand across his heart. “We need to talk this out.”

  “I don’t know what else to say.” She crossed her arms, still pissed as hell. “You’ve chalked up the impudence of that man towards me as a personality clash. It is far from that, not even close.”

  “…Okay.” He slumped back down into his chair. “I will have a talk with Martin, okay? I have not witnessed what you are speaking of, Milan, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

  “When have you known me to be overly dramatic, Garrett?” She had to bite her tongue to keep from laying into the man and doing good on her threat. He was getting under her skin, even as he attempted to smooth all this horrid shit out.

  The man shrugged and shook his head. “Look, just let me handle it, please. Will you at least give me a chance to address it? I can’t fix what I didn’t know about, Milan.”

  You knew about it. You just didn’t want to do shit about it.

  But she kept silent, and simply nodded as she left, closing the door firmly behind her…

  ‡

  Chapter Eleven

  Two weeks later…

  Julian glanced at her as they lay under the stars, their bodies intertwined on an old plaid blanket in his small, well-manicured fenced backyard. The grass smelled sweet and the air brimmed with the scents of nature. Milan looked up at the stars, a placid smile on her beautiful face as she rested on her arm, falling undoubtedly into a daydream.

  “You okay? Are you cold?”

  “No, everything is just perfect.” The blackness of night blanketed them. He never tired of her smile. “Tell me a story, a true story…” She asked.

  “What kinda story?” He snuggled a bit closer.

  “I don’t know, something from your life. Yeah, read me a page from the book of your life.” Her voice and face soothed his heart.

  “Okay, let’s see…I got it. When I was a little boy,” he began, “I had seen this house that I currently live in a gazillion times, Milan. My mom would drive past it on her way to taking me to school, in her old, beat up station wagon.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his mother’s hands clutched around the steering wheel, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth and her red and white waitress uniform with all the wrinkles and stains clinging to her thin, yet womanly form. Her jet black hair would be wound in a tight ponytail and she’d sing to him the songs on the radio, her tone off-key but beautiful all the same, while he and his stepsister sat sprawled on the lumpy backseat, their book bags full of homework and excuses as to why some of it wasn’t done.

  “We’d go past this house right here, and I’d point to it and say, ‘I love that house, mom! One day, I’m going to buy it!’ And she’d laugh…you know, a real easy laugh, not making fun of me or anything like that, just the kind a mom gives a kid to not squash his little dreams with nay-sayin’. Then she’d say, ‘You sure love that house, Jay.’”

  “She called you Jay?” Milan asked, her eyes upon the stars.

  “Yup. Everyone did; most people still do.”

  “Finish the story.” She held his hand a bit tighter.

  “So, I’d say, ‘Yeah, Mom, I’m going to get that house when I get grown and get some money.’ I knew we couldn’t afford it. I saw it come up for sale a couple of times, and I’d start fantasizing about it. In my mind, I’d pretend that my stepfather would come home and say, ‘Hey, I bought that house Jay wanted. We’ll move in tonight.’” He paused. “Of course that never happened. We weren’t destitute, but I guess you’d have called us lower middle class … I never was hungry or anything like that, but we struggled a bit from time to time.” He swa
llowed, feeling her stir against him, her body soft and comforting.

  “My step-father worked really hard as a mechanic. He was gone more than he was home. I think she liked it like that, though. My mom seemed to have a thing for guys that worked on cars.” He chuckled. “It seemed my dad, my stepfather and her boyfriends before him, were all either mechanics or truck drivers.” He yawned. “Anyway, when I got my first gig at Pyro-Ink, the very first tattoo salon I ever worked out of professionally, I had saved up enough money to get a house. I didn’t know where I was going to put down roots, though…just kinda knew I needed a place to lay my head, one that I could call my own. I hated apartments because I like to burn a lot of shit, and people would think I was smokin’ Mary Jane.”

  Milan burst out laughing, a musical sound. He squeezed her hand.

  “I am the type of guy that needs space…room. I don’t like being under or above people…or beside people, unless that person is my baby…” He caught her eye as she stared at him, and he winked.

  “I like that,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, you like that, huh?” He said coolly as he looked down at his bare feet, then back at the sky. “So, one day, I was driving around, and saw this house right here. There was no ‘For Sale’ sign on it but I parked in front of it any way, and just stared at it for the longest. Then, I got out my car and walked up to the front door and knocked. No one answered, so I left my name and number and asked that whoever lived there, to please call me as soon as possible. I didn’t think I’d hear anything back, but I did. Some lady called me that evening and I told her, point blank, ‘Hey, I want to buy your house.’

  “She was real quiet on the other end for awhile. And then she was like, ‘It’s not for sale.’ I told ’er, ‘Okay, well if it ever is, call me.’ I didn’t hear back about it, so I started to look at other places. I could never find a place I really liked though. Then, I got a call. That same woman called me and said she’d gotten a job out of town and needed to sell her house fast. We made it happen. I hadn’t even been inside the place, but I knew I’d love it. I walked inside, looked around, envisioning just how I wanted it to be.” He put his hands up as if he were taking a snapshot. “It’s not a big house, but it’s perfect for me. I really feel at home when I enter it. Anyway…” He cleared his throat, getting back on track. “I looked around and, you know, thought about how I’d replace the carpet, windows, update the kitchen, knock out a wall upstairs to make a bigger bedroom, get the basement finished and water-proofed to do my private tattooing—my goal at the time.”