Tattooed Moon

by Tiana Laveen

  Suddenly, a woman with gleaming blue eyes and a slinky light gray dress came up to Milan, her eyes steady on Julian. Julian looked away, avoiding the woman’s obvious flirtatiousness when she gave him an impish grin. He surmised it was her way of paying Milan a compliment in her taste of companion.

  “Ohhhhh Milan, so this is the guy, huh?” The woman’s eyes dropped to Milan’s engagement ring, a black oval cut diamond set with white diamonds all around it. “What an unusual yet beautiful engagement ring! Ahhhh!” She dramatically gasped as she held Milan’s hand, forcing his poor fiancée to have to try to balance her plate.

  “Thank you, Nancy. Yes, this is Julian, my fiancé.” Milan shot him a secret look as if to say, ‘This heffa has lost her mind’, which made it hard for him to keep a straight face.

  “Baaaad boy! Look at those tattoos!” the woman continued on, batting her eyelashes as she released Milan’s hand and pointed to his wrists. He’d tried his best to cover them up, but a few peeked out from beneath his shirt and of course, there was the one on his neck, too—a black rose wrapped in barbed wire in honor of his mother.

  He didn’t want to become a distraction.

  I shoulda used the Dermablend…

  He was simply there to be with his woman, nothing more, nothing less; but then, he saw him…

  Milan spoke with another woman that joined them in line, and before long, the trio of women were talking about things regarding work, laughing and smiling through their banter. But Julian stood there frozen like the freshly made margaritas, holding his lopsided plate close for he’d almost spilled its contents on his chest. It had to be the guy; he was exactly as Milan had described, and he’d held tight to the details when he made the woman confess to him what was bothering her. Blond hair, tight, thin lips, long face, a constant smirk across his face, and his notorious sweater vest and shirt paired with pleated pants. A couple of weeks earlier he’d noticed she was not quite herself, and come to find out, even after a warning from Garrett, the fucker was up to some carefully crafted tricks and veiled threats that were hard to prove as malicious. Milan tapped his shoulder, bringing him to full focus.

  “Hey honey, you want some of those stuffed olives? I heard they are really good. They have feta cheese in them.”

  “Mmmm hmmm,” was all he could muster as he grabbed a few, then made his way down the rest of the line. Soon they were sitting at a long white linen covered table and eating amongst well-dressed strangers. Two other tables with other employees sat close by, and everyone began fellowshipping in celebration of the employee, Darryl, who was retiring. For the most part, many of Milan’s coworkers appeared quite nice and one thing was for certain—they seemed to think the world of her. He wasn’t positive if these folks were just putting on appearances, if they were sincere or acting splendidly because he was there. He’d been told he had a threatening appearance, which boded well for him in his profession, but at times he felt displaced. Regardless, all things considered, it was unlikely anyone would say anything slick to her while in his presence.

  He picked at his lettuce, vehemently stabbing it to death while examining other bits and pieces of his meal. Occasionally, he’d look up and smile at whoever was speaking, attempting to be charming for the sake of the woman he loved. Truth of the matter was, he’d rather be curled up by the fireplace in his home with her in his arms. Naked, their bodies wrapped up together like a bawl of twine, or his head buried between her quaking thighs as he devoured the last of her love. After a bit more time had passed, he followed Milan’s eyes to his number one suspect. He immediately took notice of how her easygoing expression stopped, froze and tightened like an insect suddenly sprayed with RAID.

  Oh yeah, that’s that motherfucker…

  He gripped his pants, bunching the fabric in a tight fist as he stared at the bastard.

  “Hey baby, you want something else to drink?” he whispered in her ear after downing his glass of wine, the perfect excuse for a clean getaway.

  “Yes, thank you.” She nodded and smiled at him, then turned back towards her boss who was speaking about all of Darryl’s contributions.

  He got up and strolled over to the small bar with both flute glasses in hand, where the pigeon-looking fucker stood with another man, a scrawny guy with flared nostrils large enough to inhale all of Atlanta, laughing it up. They stayed glued to the wine and beer as if the alcohol needed white-collar protection, soft bodyguards. Julian sucked his teeth and handed the bartender both glasses.

  “I need two glasses of Toro Loco, please.”

  The bartender nodded and prepared them. As Julian waited, he threw on an award-winning smile at Martin.

  “Hi!” He nodded, chin checking, as if they were long lost buddies.

  The man’s face twisted in obvious confusion.

  “…Uh, hello…” Martin grinned at the man standing next to him, as if sharing some sort of inside joke, something said with bountiful humor.

  “Something funny? What? I can’t say hi to you, man?” Julian’s smile broadened as he prepared to go in deep.

  “Here you are, sir,” said the bartender.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it …” Julian took the two wine glasses and placed them down on the table in front of him.

  “So yeah, like I was saying…is it a crime to say, ‘hello’?” Julian went on, itching for a fight as he once again faced his opponent.

  Say something, jackass…

  “No, it’s just, well…” Martin smirked as he eyed him up and down, taking inventory and no doubt making inaccurate assessments, judging him based on his long hair and other physical elements. “I just don’t know you.”

  This cocksucker thinks he is really the shit…time to knock him down a notch or two…

  “You don’t know me?” He smirked. “No problem! Let me introduce myself, so that we are acquainted, Martin.”

  The man’s face drew more stern, no doubt realizing that Julian hadn’t come over to talk about the damn weather or the best golf courses in all of Georgia.

  Yeah, it’s not too funny anymore, is it? Why aren’t you smiling you goofy son of a bitch? I don’t see you kee-keeing, now…your friend doesn’t look amused, either…

  “My name is Julian Savant. I am the owner of, ‘Soul Inscriptions’.”

  “Soul Inscriptions? Never heard of it.” Martin burst out in a bounty of chuckles, feeling pretty cheeky no doubt, needing to keep up appearances in front of his one-man audience. His eyes grew tiny with exaggerated mirth as he rolled to the side a bit, really living it up. Instead of becoming belligerent, Julian nodded and shot him a cool, relaxed grin.

  “Yeah? Hmmm, never heard of Soul Inscriptions…that’s cool. Gotta question for you, maybe you’ve heard of this, then… Ever heard of gettin’ your ass kicked, boy?” Julian said calmly, smiling a bit wider, too. “Does that sound like something you’d like to find out about? ‘Cause let me tell you, you are about to know all about it.” He relished in seeing the man’s face melt right before his eyes. Julian scratched the spot between his brows, waiting for the fucker to straighten up, slip up or fuck up. Whatever came first didn’t matter to him, as long as he was going down.

  “Yeah, I’m Milan Parker’s fiancé… She’s going to be my wife pretty soon.” He picked up his wine glass and took a casual sip, returned it to the table and crossed his arms. “I don’t like you upsetting her…I don’t like what you’ve been doing.”

  Martin’s face reddened and became dewy with a sudden burst of sweat. It was clear as day that the understanding had now been reached.

  “What is your problem?” the man blurted, his lips hanging partially opened with a look of frantic perplexity dancing in his eyes. Never the less, the man stood a bit straighter, his chin high, borrowing from his well of pompousness he kept on ice, in his internal reserve.

  He didn’t blame the man for trying to save face; after all, he had a spectator. Perhaps the showdown could become a spectator sport…

  “You might want to te
ll your little ass licker here to beat it.” He pointed in the opposite direction in case the tiny bastard needed a map, directions for the exit. “He’s been laughing all night at everything you say, and I’m certain you’re not that damn funny…besides, I’m not in joking mood.”

  The man standing next to him got ready to speak, but seemed to think better of it as he caught sight of the tattoo snaking up Julian’s neck and the brass knuckles drawn in thick, black ink across his right hand. This was one time where being perceived as hardcore ‘white trash’ worked in his favor.

  “Look man, have you had too much to drink tonight? I don’t know what Milan has told you, but you need to cool it,” Martin barked as he placed one hand on his hip like he was someone to beware of. All that did was tickle Julian, make his stomach roll with delight. “Everyone is just having a good time, alright? Don’t spoil it, go ruining it…sober up.”

  “I’m not drunk. I’m sober as your father should have been when he made the likes of you, you whiny, two-faced, lazy, lying ass fuckface!” Julian shot out between clenched teeth. “Yeah, why don’t you fuck with someone your own size, huh? Milan was just trying to do her job and after that guy, your little buddy helping to run the good ol’ boy system told you to cool it,” He pointed toward Garrett, who was still running his big, floppy mouth, causing the people at his table to light up with laughter. “You kept right on. He didn’t want to lose her; he knows deep down you aren’t half the employee she is, so he pulled your ass aside and told you to cut that shit out. He told you to lay off of her, remember? You seem to need a refresher course and lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

  Martin fisted and unfisted his hand by his sides, as if he were thinking about striking.

  Oh, you little bitch. I’d love for you to do that. Give it your best shot. I will mop this damn floor with your ass! At least you’d then be useful for a change!

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh…you know. You have some serious problems, Martin, but no one has time for this bullshit.” His eyes hooded. “I don’t know if it is because she’s a woman, because she’s black, or because you know deep down she is better than you that you continue on with this nonsense. She’s your biggest competition and you are so fucking insecure that you have to keep doing this crap, to make her seem smaller than you. I suspect it’s because you know she is about to be promoted as manager, too. You’d be equals and that pisses you off. Too bad! I tell you this much though, I don’t care what the reason is, it stops now.” He pointed towards the floor.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Martin choked out, fear clearly in his eyes.

  “Denial will not help you and you know that I know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s see here… You started giving her more work after she told Garrett what you’d been doing. You must be madly in love with yourself, Martin, because you keep screwing yourself over nice ‘nd good. I hope you and your other half are quite happy together.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?! My job and what I decide to do with my employees is none of your business. Dating her doesn’t give you the right to act like this.”

  “Obviously you’ve never cared about anyone before, Martin. Everything…” Julian stabbed the air with his finger, pointing to the back of Milan, who remained oblivious. “I mean everything regarding that woman right there is my business, so therefore, now you are, too. You’re playin’ with fire.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ll break it down to you.” He smirked and looked towards the sidekick, whose glasses now slid down his prominent nose. “It’s good you have your little flunky here to be a witness to this.” Julian pointed in his face. “If I hear of you messing with Milan ever again, trying to make her life harder, I will deal with you personally.”

  “Are you threatening me?!”

  “No, of course not.” Julian smirked then took another sip from his glass and set it back down, just in case he needed his hands free. “I’m guaranteeing you that what I am saying is true. Let me find out one more thing,” he cracked his knuckles. “Let me hear of anything else you’ve done to her, and strange, bizarre, damn right obscenely grotesque things will happen to you.” His eyes narrowed. “Keep fuckin’ with her, and I’ll fuck with you. Got it? I’m sure I am well understood. You couldn’t possibly be as stupid as you look. Now…” Julian scooped up both glasses and grinned, his teeth no doubt gleaming under the bright lights. “You have a good evening, and enjoy yourself, Martin. I know I sure will.” He winked at the motherfucker and made his way back across the room to reclaim his seat. Leaning over, he kissed Milan on the cheek. He knew the man was still looking at him, and that made it all the better.

  Martin is a rodeo clown…he can’t fuck with a real bull. This time, he got the horns…

  “Hi baby, you missed a really funny story Daryl told. I’ll have to tell you about it later.” She smiled wide as she took a sip from her refreshed glass of wine. “Mmmm, this is even tastier the second time around.” She beamed.

  “Indeed it is…Sometimes all it takes is a special touch to make the old taste new again…” He kissed the top of her head, wrapped his arm possessively around her chair, leisurely crossed his ankles and joined in the conversation, easily making everyone at the table fall in love with him by the end of the evening as he shared his shop stories and his love for the beautiful woman on his arm…

  Well, all accept one person way behind him, by the bar stuffed in an argyle sweater vest…

  ‡

  Chapter Twelve

  “So you see.” Milan pointed to the computer screen. Angela sat on one side of her and Julian sat on the other after closing hours of the shop. “This is where you enter the client’s name and birthdate, and all their previous appointment times will generate once you hit this button right here that says, ‘history’. Then, you can always see what former appointments they had as well as upload a photo of their tattoo right after it is complete, anything you want.”

  “This is so cool!” Angela chuckled, pleased with the demonstration.

  Milan grinned, thrilled that Angela was an enthusiastic learner. Her other pupil, on the other hand, sat there in a slumped position, his lips tight and arms practically glued across his chest in non-verbal protest.

  “Look, Julian, this is happening. You may as well accept it,” she chided.

  He winced. “I know. And thank you. I don’t want to appear ungrateful… It’s just that I don’t take change too well unless it is something I want to change. I was fine with the old ways things were done but I do understand that that can not continue.” He said the words, though his face was still twisted in angst as he uttered each dejected syllable.

  “Well.” Milan shrugged. “I appreciate your honesty and, at the end of the day, you just want ‘Soul Inscriptions’ to be successful. You had a big dream here, it ended up coming true, so you just have to step up and roll with it. We are in a digital age; we have to accommodate that.”

  He nodded in understanding and pointed to a small rectangle on the computer.

  “What does that do?”

  “Oh, you’ll like this, Julian. This button duplicates the last file so that you can back it up to another system or hard drive, or even send it to your phone. It will show you all the invoices and payments. You can even have it sent as a PDF.”

  “That’s nice.” He finally smiled, getting into the groove of his training. “So, everything Angela enters into Quickbooks software can be printed out and sent electronically?”

  “That’s right, and it is super easy now. See, you can customize Quickbooks and that’s what I did for you, so that all Angela has to do is enter the data, and that’s it. It will even send reminders if a case isn’t saved and closed after a certain amount of time. It will show you coupons you’ve issued, sale offers, and even if you’ve done similar designs for other customers versus you just relying on your photo albums and mem
ory.” Milan pointed to the front lobby area of the neatly stacked burgundy leather bound books chock full of Julian’s work.

  “I plan to get all of your albums scanned, matter of fact, so they will show up on your website, as well as the designs of your other artists.”

  “Website?” Julian questioned, his brows bunching.

  “That’s right,” Angela said. “Milan and I have already started designing it.”

  “I can’t believe this!” he protested, throwing his hands up. “So now you are in cahoots with Angela, Milan?” He sounded wounded, though she wasn’t swayed or moved by his performance.

  “You’re damn straight.” Milan poked her lips out at the man and put her hand on her hip as she crossed her legs, causing her skirt to ride up a bit. Just as she suspected, his eyes immediately drifted down to her thigh.

  He is so easily side-tracked by me when I do that. She grinned inwardly.

  “Let me see it. What does it look like?” He seemed to settle a bit, deciding against causing a scene, picking his battles.

  Milan immediately opened the Firefox web browser and pulled up the website.

  “Now, it isn’t live, only we can see this right now, but—”

  “Shit! That looks amazing!” He pointed to the screen. “That’s one of my favorite tattoos I ever did.” He pointed to a hawk carrying military tags on a knotted chain in its mouth. “I made it for a Vietnam Vet. He was an amazing person…died about three years ago.”

  “That’s why I picked it out,” Angela explained. “Because I knew it meant so much to you, and everyone that sees it is totally shocked at the craftsmanship. They shouldn’t be, though. Everyone knows you’re one of the best.” She gave him a sincere compliment, and Milan didn’t miss the appreciative way his lips turned upward in a grin.

  “Did you know him personally?” Milan asked as she studied more closely the tattoo on the screen.