by London Casey
“She stood up to me. To the situation. I was terrified of losing her, but I walked away. I kept her away. But in some way, she saved me. The night I decided that enough was enough started because of her. She called me, drunk, and really let me have it. That kind of woke me up to everything.”
“I guess you could say that was sort of a good thing,” I said. “What happened with her then?”
Hazel shook her head. “I let her down so badly, Maddox. The last time I saw her, she was crying. Crying so hard. Begging me to stay. She was so afraid for me. But I had to do it. He was threatening to go after her. That’s what he wanted next. And if Donna said no to him…”
Hazel shivered.
I slowly reached for her coffee mug and stole it from her hand. I put it on the nightstand. I slid my arm around her and hugged her tight.
I kissed her hair.
“Hazel, there’s a couple things I want you to think about right now. You did what you felt was right. You protected your best friend. Even if it was something hard to go through. Something hard to do. In some fucked-up way she repaid you by making that phone call that made you change whatever it is you changed…”
I felt her shiver in my arms.
There was something about that change that bothered her. It didn’t empower her like it should have. My heart felt cut a little, wanting to know what happened to Hazel the night she stood up for herself. But if she wasn’t ready, then I would wait. She was worth the wait.
“Keep telling me things,” she whispered.
“This is so fucking cliché…and I don’t do cliché, sugar. I don’t do tattoos off the wall, not without my own touch. I don’t do romance with flowers and chocolate, no. I do romance with my heart in your heart, feeling it pulse and bleed. But this is cliché…and there’s time. There’s always time. She’s still alive, right?”
“Donna? Yeah.”
“Meaning you’ve tried to find her?”
Hazel looked up at me, blushing. “Yes.”
“Which means you care. And I’m sure she does. Just to hear your voice and know you’re okay, imagine the relief that will give her.”
“She has her own business now. Owns a few salons. She’s really successful. I really doubt she cares about the past. Or me.”
“You’d be surprised, Hazel. But that’s all I’ll say. I won’t judge for anything you do or don’t do. Just follow your heart.”
Hazel touched my face. Tears fell from her eyes. “How did this happen to us, Maddox? I mean, through all the messed-up stuff…here we are…”
I grabbed her hand and balled my hand over her hand. “To be fair, you started it. You took a picture of me. You got my fucking attention in the worst way possible.”
“And to think, what if it was Prick out there? Or Cass? Or Max?”
I laughed. “Sugar, sometimes thinking about fate is like trying to think about how fucking far away a star is. It’s fun for a second but then it gets scary.”
“So…the sexy, tough tattoo artist…fate scares you?”
“Fate terrifies me,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because when I look into your green eyes, Hazel, I actually fucking believe in fate.”
38
MADDOX
YEARS AGO
I hesitated.
I counted seconds in my head using the old Mississippi trick.
One Mississippi…
Two Mississippi…
Three Mississippi…
Four Missi-
I jumped forward. My foot stepped on the letter she threw to the ground. It would forever leave my footprint on the piece of paper, just like her actions would forever leave a footprint on my heart.
I ran hard and fast, quickly coming to a skidding stop, my brain realizing that if I didn’t stop, I was going to go over the edge along with her.
I’m not sure if shock was the right word, but it was something like it.
I stared over the edge of the ridge, expecting to see her. Expecting to be able to grab her. To pull her to safety. To hug her. To let her cry. To make her see that it was all going to be okay.
But there was just darkness.
Complete and total darkness.
The silence was the worst fucking part about the entire thing.
She was down there. Somewhere between air, water, and the jagged rocks in the water. Or maybe she had hit the surface and the current just grabbed her and started to pull her.
I didn’t know what to do.
The scene kept replaying in my head.
The blood on her face. Apologizing to me. Throwing the letter at me. Opening her arms. Falling back.
That was only after seeing the bottle of whiskey. Realizing what was happening. That Night, the guy that was supposed to be a friend of mine, that he was the one sleeping with her. That he was the one hurting her. That she was so scared of him…she let him in, again and again, and let him hurt her, again and again. And that they both faced me with straight faces, lying to me.
I could have saved you, Ava. I could have fucking saved you.
I turned away from the ridge.
Part of my body wanted to get on my dirt bike and go after Night. Track that motherfucker down and drag him up to the ledge and throw him over. That’s what I wanted to do. Get my peace with him. The only way I could.
But I knew the way Night operated. He had places all throughout the woods. He knew places I didn’t. He was long gone now. Probably ditched his dirt bike and was back on the streets. Probably back in his chair, taking off, going to hide out somewhere.
I told myself he would have to eventually show himself. He would have to face this.
But he never would.
In his wild attempt at getting away, he’d end up killing himself.
Drunk, speeding, misjudging a curve, his car slamming into a tree, killing him instantly.
I turned again.
I grabbed the letter off the ground.
Her parents would never understand and never believe what had happened to their daughter. And it was their fucking fault. They put the blame on me for things I never did and never said, pushing her away and confusing her to the point where Night was able to sink his teeth into her. They were too busy looking at me and didn’t realize that their daughter was hurt and confused. They’d never accept the word suicide. So, it’d become my dark secret. For the rest of my life, I would have to carry it.
I hurried down the ridge and lost my footing a few steps in and dug my heels, sliding, ending up with two shoes full of dirt by the time I reached the bottom. I wrestled through the trees and didn’t stop until I was at the edge of the river. My heart pounding, my adrenaline like nothing I ever felt before, standing there, looking at darkness, hearing the sound of the river flowing.
She’s in there. Somewhere in there is my girl. The girl I love. She’s fucking there.
“Ava!” I screamed, my voice carrying and breaking up. “Ava! Ava!”
I wanted her back. I needed her back. The river swallowed her. The river got her pain. The river got her tears. The river got her truth.
All I got was a fucking letter. Some words written down.
The only real piece of her heart…
“She fell.”
Those were the two words I kept saying over and over.
I finally called for help and for whatever reason it felt like hours for them to arrive. And when they did arrive, it was crazy. Police, EMTs, even firefighters. Pulling up to the edge of the woods, on the trail, a group of personnel hurrying to figure out what had happened and how to find Ava.
They didn’t find Ava until the next morning.
In the meantime, I had to explain the story fifty times. I tried to do it with a little sense of respect and love for Ava. Explaining that we were on the ridge. That, yes, we were drinking a little. That she was really drunk. That she walked to the edge when I wasn’t looking. That I tried to get to her but she fell.
She fell.
“She fell,” I said.
<
br /> The police just looked around.
I could see it in their eyes they wondered about foul play. They wondered if I had gotten mad at her and pushed her. Why wouldn’t they? It was their job to find the worst and hopefully prove it didn’t happen.
I refused to leave.
They came near me, and I swung.
One of the officers wanted to arrest me, another coaxed me off the ridge and had someone bring some coffee and food.
The news began to spread through town that someone had fallen off the ridge. Of course, it took all of ten seconds for rumors to start. Whoever the fuck started them deserved to be tossed off the ledge. Because the rumors were like the smallest of sparks in a very dry forest. They sparked, flamed, and then started to burn wild and fast.
I sat in the back of the police cruiser, legs out, and watched as the sun started to come up. I drank coffee, too much coffee, but I needed to be awake. They were going to find her. I was going to be able to save her then. I would tell her that I kept everything a secret.
That’s when I heard one of the EMTs say, “What a fucking night…first a drunk driver wraps his car around a tree…now this…”
They were talking about Night, but I didn’t know that yet.
I grabbed a chocolate glazed doughnut just for the sugar and crammed it into my mouth.
Things got quiet.
Really fucking quiet.
Everyone was trying to piece things together. My words weren’t worth shit to anyone. We all knew the risk of that ridge. And it was a shock that there weren’t more people that got hurt up there. But the circumstances…my history…I was being judged for just being me. I was already guilty in everyone’s eyes and would remain that way to Ava’s parents. They were the ones who pushed to have me investigated over and over, demanding that I get charged with murder. They didn’t want to accept that Ava was gone and that it was tragic. I’d regret her parents not knowing the truth, but I figured it would be easier to just let them grieve and move on, letting it be a tragic accident that they could recover from.
I still had the letter in my pocket. Folded and tucked away. I’d hold her real tragedy.
Then came a scream I’d never forget. The bellowing voice of a man. Everyone started to run in the direction of his voice.
I did too.
An officer grabbed me to hold me back.
I broke away.
I ran.
The officer came after me.
He kicked my leg and I went down to the ground. I hit hard, pain shooting from my wrists, my elbows, my knees. My chin hurt where it smacked the ground.
I rolled to my back and then scrambled to get to my feet.
“You can’t go there!” the officer yelled at me.
Then I heard someone scream, “We got her!”
I was back on my feet.
I saw the officer reach for something.
I spun and needed to get to her.
They found her. They got her.
She was going to be…
The officer grabbed me again.
I turned and swung, out of instinct. Out of love. Out of the need to get to Ava and let her know I hadn’t left her side. That I wasn’t going to be mad at her for what happened. That I wouldn’t leave her because of what happened with Night.
The way fate worked right then was nothing but a twisted mess.
Her fucking parents finally showed up, for whatever reason. Just as they found Ava. The officer I punched grabbed me and threw an elbow to my jaw. Then he cuffed me.
I kicked. I screamed. I fought.
Her parents saw me.
I was thrown into the back of a police cruiser and left to rot.
The last thing I saw was the team of emergency responders carrying her from the edge of the river where they found her. Just the outline of her…because she was gone. Far gone. Gone from the moment she jumped off that ledge. Gone from the moment she hit the water. Gone from the moment Night put his hands on her.
I cried in the back of a police cruiser.
Nobody came to my aid.
Everyone just pointed their fingers.
All I wanted to do was save her.
But I couldn’t even fucking save myself.
39
HAZEL
PRESENT DAY
I found the most obnoxious wrapping paper I could find. Pink unicorns with shooting stars. I figured it would be nice to put Tate in the hot seat for a change.
As I bought the wrapping paper, it really hit me just how long I had been at St. Skin and how much I had gotten to know all the guys. I had learned to deal with Prick and his constant advances. I learned that Prick had a dark past himself and that piercing meant more to him than what met the eyes. I had a private photo shoot with Cass and his beautiful family. He even invited me into his custom studio where he was working on some music just for the hell of it. Working with other local bands, letting me take their pictures, helping them to get exposure. It was like St. Skin was this endless resource.
Even at the new building, watching the place unfold.
Going from a big, empty structure to starting to look like a proper tattoo shop.
Seeing people come and go, interviewing for a job, so many personalities and stories, it was incredible. Tate had a long table set up and had the guys seated on the other side, putting the interviewee on the opposite side, answering questions, telling stories, showing their portfolios.
But tonight, Tate wanted to have a little get-together at the new shop. To break the place in a little, the St. Skin way. Which meant music, food, and booze. Because for as professional as they all were, they all shared the same sharpened edge when it came to partying. Even Cass. He had a family side to him, but when the time was right, he would let loose a little and have fun. My favorite picture of him was him sitting on the arm of his couch in his studio, playing an acoustic guitar, staring down at his daughter, Paisley.. The picture couldn’t capture the beautiful sound, but the picture showed a man who loved his daughter, and it showed a young daughter staring up at her hero.
I got it framed and done both in color and black and white.
But the gift I had for Tate was the one I had been working on for a while. The gritty image I custom made with the neon colors of St. Skin and everything around it dark and run-down.
I drove myself to the new shop.
I collected the gift from the back seat and carried it into the half-renovated building and leaned it against one of the walls. There were lights hanging from the ceiling by wires. A few of the walls were up, an empty glass case in the corner. Two of the rooms were already built which would serve for privacy for those getting ink or piercing.
The first person I saw was River. He looked at me and gave a nod. I smiled and grabbed my camera. I was taking as many pictures as I could for Tate, letting him review hundreds of pictures and sending me back what he liked and what he didn’t like. Anything he didn’t like, I was still saving, just storing it away on a separate hard drive that I planned on giving him when everything was done. The amount of money he’d paid me plus the work he got me warranted a little thank-you gifts in return.
“I figure, we get a monster stereo system in here,” Tate said as he appeared from one of the rooms. He was with one of the construction guys and a guy in a suit and tie. “I want to be able to control the music up front and make sure all the guys and girls have their own systems. No more cheap little stereos in each room. I want this to be authentic, okay? Now, let’s talk the logo on the floor.”
“Logo on the floor?”
Tate nodded. “I want to know how much. Two styles. One being just the logo on the floor, the other a big fucking neon one in glass.”
“Glass?” the suit and tie guy asked. “Jesus, Tate, you asked me to make a budget…”
“I can make that happen,” the construction guy said.
“Of course you can,” Tate said. “You want to spend my money. So, talk to my accountant.”
Tate looked
at me and broke away from the two men. They then stood there, wondering what the hell to do next.
“A neon light in the floor?” I asked.
“St. Skin, Hazel,” Tate said. “Maddox is in the back.”
“I got you something,” I said. I motioned to the present.
“I got you something,” said a voice next to me.
It was Prick, holding a bottle of beer. The cap was still on. He put the bottle into his mouth and twisted. Then he spit the cap on the floor.
“Drink up,” he said. “Just imagine what else I can do with my mouth.”
“How about shutting it?” Tate asked.
I took the beer from Prick but said nothing.
Tate pointed to the present. “That what you got me?”
“Yup. Open it.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Maddox. He was walking with Axel, two burly men shoulder to shoulder.
When Maddox saw me, he bumped his shoulder into Axel and hurried to get to me. We were at the point where it didn’t matter that people were around us or that I worked for Tate and St. Skin. Maddox scooped me up and spun me around. He kissed me. He tasted like a mix of whiskey, smoke, and beer. My favorite flavor of Maddox. Prick made an awwww sound which was then echoed by everyone else doing the same.
“What’s with the unicorns?” Maddox asked Tate. “That going to be your new office wallpaper?”
Tate fake-laughed. “Hilarious. Your girl got it for me.”
Maddox looked at me, eyebrow raised.
“A thank-you gift,” I said. “For all the work.”
“Well, open it up,” Maddox said.
Tate put the large present on a makeshift counter the construction guys had made out of spare boards. Then he grabbed the paper and ripped it off. I was able to get a picture of his face when he realized what it was. Tate moved even faster to strip the gift of its paper and lifted it up for the rest of the guys to see.
“Holy shit,” Tate said. “Look at this.”
“Oh, damn,” Prick said.
“That’s awesome,” Max said. “It’s like a music video.”
