Russell tilted his head toward the back of the studio. “Doing a tat right now.”
The guy started walking toward the glass door. “I just gotta ask him a question.”
“I said he’s busy, man.” The guy just kept walking as though he hadn’t heard a thing, opening the door to the back and walking over to Stone’s station. Russell muttered, “Fuckin’ numb nuts.”
Kory looked up from the jewelry again. Yeah, the guy was talking to Stone. She looked at Russell. “What did he call him?”
He shrugged. “Mal.”
“Mal?”
Russell raised his eyebrows, giving Kory a look like she’d gone stupid. “Yeah. Malevolent.”
She shook her head. “Malevolent?” Clearly, Russell was losing his mind. Why the fuck would anyone call Stone malevolent?
Something tickled at the back of her brain…
Russell was exasperated by that point. “Malevolent Disorder.”
Kory started to suck down a breath and then paused.
No. No way. Her brain grabbed onto something.
No fucking way.
She blinked twice and then looked in the back toward Stone. Maybe?
Russell said, “Oh, shit. You didn’t know?”
No, but the puzzle pieces fit together. Malevolent Disorder was a guy. Yeah, she’d known back then that it was a stage name, but…holy shit. She looked back at Stone again. Yeah. The guy who’d been known as Mal back in the day had been a little skinnier and had worn a shitload of black makeup on his face. His hair had been longer too, but he’d had the neck tats and partial sleeves.
Holy shit. Her boyfriend wasn’t just any tattoo artist. He was a guy who used to play in a famous band, and she wondered why the hell he wasn’t anymore.
She had to sit down. This was some crazy shit.
Chapter Eighteen
IT WASN’T UNTIL they were more than halfway to his house that Kory found the words to say. “I, uh…I know your secret.”
Stone was silent for a few moments until he said, “You do?”
“Yeah. That guy who went in the back to see you at the shop—you know, the tall blonde guy who acted like his brain had seen better days? He called you Mal.”
“Oh.”
“Russell told me you used to be Malevolent Disorder.”
He glanced over at her. “And you know who that was, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Oh, man.” Kory couldn’t find any words to say what was in her heart. She was still grappling with the knowledge that her boyfriend had been, at one time, pretty famous. He turned the truck into the sloping driveway and said, “You okay with that?”
Kory tried not to smile. “Of course.” She found it amusing that he was so stressed about her reaction. But he had a worried look on his face, and when they got inside, he gave Lady a little love before asking Kory to have a seat.
He sat at a diagonal from her at the table and said, “I suppose you want to know the story.”
“Only if you’re ready to tell it.” She’d found it funny at first, but now his distress was making her feel bad.
He shook his head. “You already know, so I might as well tell you everything.” He looked down at his hand, making Kory’s eyes focus there too. His hands, like most of his body, were covered in ink, and they were beautiful—some black shaded his skin, but there was also a lot of red and some green and blue. She loved how he’d adorned himself in art without shame, and he’d felt so passionate about it that he did it for others. Now, though, she wondered why he’d given up a life of fame—and possible fortune—for that job. Did he love tattooing that much?
He took a deep breath and said, “I already told you that my dad was a real bastard. He was a mean, vicious son of a bitch, and I guess I was always a disappointment to him.
“Anyway, I’d just finished out my freshman year in high school. I grew up here in Winchester—I don’t know if you knew that. There were these guys with a band called Spawn of Satan—later known only as Spawn. Those guys all graduated that year, and their drummer Mike got accepted to some big wig Ivy League college—Yale, I think—and so he quit the band. But Mike knew me from band and recommended me, telling them I was a tight drummer. Well, maybe I was, but I had a lot to learn, especially when it came to playing double bass and shit like that. I was a fast learner, though, and it was summer, so I practiced nonstop. My dad would be at work all day, so I’d play out in the garage from ten till five every damn day.
“No, my dad didn’t buy me the drums. Mike loaned his to me, saying he wouldn’t need them while he was in school. The asshole was coming down on me harder and harder. My grandparents were both gone, and I don’t know if they were the reason my dad had held back before or if being a rat bastard was his way of dealing with their deaths. I didn’t give a shit, though. I was getting to an age where I wasn’t willing to take it anymore…but I hadn’t stood up for myself yet.
“I’d only been playing for Spawn for a couple of weeks, had only played one show, when they said they were taking it to the road. I didn’t know what the hell they meant, but I knew I wanted in. I decided to leave Winchester with them. I told my dad one morning that I wouldn’t be home when he got back, and I don’t think he believed me.
“I called him about six months later, and he said I was dead to him. I had wanted to maybe try an adult relationship. Yeah, I realize I was a kid, but six months on the road, trying to make ends meet when you’re fifteen helps you grow up fast.” Stone shook his head. “But he was still an asshole, probably even worse than before. I knew then that if I tried to come home, I’d get the beating of my life.
“No way. I’d find a way to make it on my own.
“You know most of the story. Spawn made it big. Fucking crazy big. Before I knew it, we were touring the U.S. and Europe and making more money than we knew what to do with. I’d never had a girlfriend, and suddenly I had women throwing themselves at me.” He shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, I enjoyed it. What kid wouldn’t? It was amazing and fast and crazy. It was cool.”
He got quiet. “And overwhelming. I dealt with it okay for a while…but I don’t know if it was my age making it hard to handle or the fact that I’d never been on my own before and had no experience. It got rough after a while. Then, after a few years, there was constant arguing about the artistic direction of the band, but what was worse was all the…decadence. Most of the guys were strung out—bad. It’s pretty sad when the youngest guy in the group is the sanest, but I was.
“Our fourth album—in my opinion—was shit. It was fueled by drugs and fighting, and I could just feel the animosity among everybody, but especially between J.C. and Riley. They couldn’t even agree on what kind of toilet paper to put on the bus.” Kory giggled. “I’m not even kidding. They had a fucking argument about it.
“That wasn’t all of it, though. I was also tired of being on the road. It felt like that’s all we did—we’d write music on the road, so as soon as we’d get home, which was in California at the time, we’d start recording, and before I knew it, we were touring again. Seriously. That’s all we did. And I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated not having a real home, and I was starting to hate all those guys. Seriously hate them. And that sucks, because I’d once considered them my brothers. So I sat them down one night, when everyone was relatively sober, and I told them I was leaving when we were done with that tour. I think they thought I was joking at first, but I was dead serious.
“In the midst of all that, I got a call from Russ. He was the guy I’d considered my best friend. He was the only person I’d regretted leaving behind. Anyway, he’d graduated high school a couple years before that and opened up a tattoo shop. Yeah, The Iron Maiden. I hadn’t told him I was leaving the band. I wanted to see how things would play out. But I could tell something was bothering him, and after a little bit, I got out of him that he was going to have to file bankruptcy. That killed me, because I knew what that business meant to him. Hell,
I’d come home at least ten times to have him ink me. Sure, I got ink elsewhere, but Russ was my man, and he was a hell of an artist. I asked him how much he needed to get by and offered to loan him the money. I gave him enough to pay the bills for the month. But I started thinking about it on the road more and more, wondering what if. My thought was that I didn’t give a shit if it turned a real profit after expenses or not. I knew Russ had picked a prime location but the cost of operation was killing him. He didn’t own the building, and I didn’t know if he owned any of the equipment or merchandise inside. I had no idea about any of that, but I did know one thing. I had already in the past sketched most of the designs that had become tattoos on my own body—why couldn’t I learn to use the gun and do tattoos myself? And maybe I could help Russ get on his feet. He was a great artist, and he deserved to stay in business.
“So I did. Once that tour was over, I came home, ready to make a business proposition. First, though, I went to my old house. I was in my twenties and ready to make peace with my dad…but he was gone. I have no idea where or what he’s doing nowadays. Guess that’s all I need to know…and I’ve made peace with it. So I went to see Russ at the shop, and there he was, packing shit up. The guy was demoralized, beaten down, and he told me he was sorry my money had gone to waste.
“I told him to shut the fuck up and we locked the doors and had some burgers and beers, and the next day, I offered to do what it took to get it back on its legs. Russ said no way, that it was a money pit, and he’d never be able to pay me back. Goddamn, I wanted to smack the shit out of him.” Stone grinned. “I explained to him what was up with me, that I quit the band and needed something to do with my time, something I loved, and I bought half the business, got us in the black, convinced Russ to charge more for his work, bought that goddamned building, and started advertising—not much but enough to get people to check us out. That first year was a little rough, but we’ve been smooth sailing ever since.”
Kory nodded. “But you don’t really need the money.”
“From The Iron Maiden? No. Spawn set me up for life. I didn’t get hooked on drugs like the other guys did, so I managed to hold on to most of the money I made when I was drumming for them. Oh, don’t get me wrong—I tried plenty of shit, but continuing to get high didn’t hold any interest for me.”
Stone might have thought Kory was going to look at him differently, and maybe she was, but not in a negative light, which was what she thought he’d feared. No, he was even more beautiful to her now.
“So this place—your house. Did you get it before or after you moved back?”
He grinned. “I lived in an apartment above the shop for a few months. Once we owned the building outright, we owned those shitty things too, but that was good, because Russ needed a place to stay. When I first moved back, it sucked, because lots of people knew me—not as Stone but as one of the kids who’d left Winchester and made it big, and it felt like everyone wanted a piece of me. I knew then that I had to find a place that was off the beaten path. There were girls constantly showing up at all hours. Again, not as cool as you’d think.
“I like hiking and I like nature, so I was meeting with a real estate chick who showed me this property. No house, but that wasn’t a problem. After I bought it, I met with an architect and a builder and they had it ready in less than a year. By then, Russ had a little place on the east side of town too, so I didn’t feel so guilty. And we fixed up the apartments above the shop and rent those out now too. Now? Life is pretty good.”
Kory nodded. She had no idea what to say. In spite of his fears, he was still the same old Stone to her—a guy she’d lusted after and eventually come to love. He hadn’t changed in her eyes at all. In fact, it just enriched his story, made him feel more like a kindred spirit than he had before. He hadn’t come from money; that much she now knew for sure. He’d earned it and hadn’t had much use for a glamorous life, aside from the comforts money could afford him. He wasn’t the type of guy to put on airs or pretend to be someone he was not. All that mattered to her was that he was the guy she’d fallen in love with.
And he was.
“Say something, Kory. What are you thinking?”
She stood. “I’m thinking you’re crazy.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“You’re crazy for thinking I would look at you any differently from the way I do now.”
His brows relaxed and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He was still seated in the chair and he rested his head against her body, the side of his head nestled between her breasts. He said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it, “Thank you for that.”
Chapter Nineteen
STONE KISSED KORY softly and sweetly. “Well, since you know my secret, I might as well show you everything.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Everything?”
“Yeah. Downstairs.”
She found herself a little excited by the prospect and almost laughed out loud, thinking it would have been funny if she’d suspected him of being a serial killer before. As they walked down to the basement, she asked, “So what was with the stage name anyway?”
He shrugged and smiled. “When I left Winchester, I didn’t want the name Bowman, because that was my dad’s last name, and part of me didn’t want the rest of my name, either, because that was given to me by my parents. I wanted to shed any last vestige of them and this town, and the best way to do it was to change my name.”
“Not a bad idea, actually.”
“What? Changing my name?”
“Yeah. It’s a simple way to let something go. I wish I could do something that simple.”
They’d reached the bottom of the stairs, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “In all fairness, Kory, I think you went through some shit that was a lot more traumatic than what I went through. I felt a lot of anger, but beating hell out of the drums for several years helped me deal with it. You…you had to handle something a lot more brutal, and I think it would take a lot more to get over.” He pulled her close. “Besides, I’m older than you.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve had more time to figure out how to process that shit.”
She nodded. It made sense. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders after flipping on the light switch to the hallway. She said, “Still…it would be so nice to just let it go that easily.”
He didn’t look at her, but she could see the pained expression on his face. She needed to stop talking. She hadn’t realized until she’d said it that talking about it made it harder for him. He couldn’t do anything to help, and it bothered him. Maybe she needed to save the discussion for Natalie and just try to put on a happy face for Stone. “Yeah, it would, but then we would be robots, not people.”
“But I thought—”
He turned to her again. “Kory, just because it seems like I was able to let my pain go by using a different name doesn’t mean I really was. Changing my name was the equivalent of flipping off my dad and this town. It’s not that simple. It was something I had to work through, something I had to figure out, and I managed. No, it doesn’t bother me like it used to, but that’s because I’ve had a long time to process it—over ten years. And what my old man did to me didn’t leave the kind of scars you have.” He sighed. “You need time.”
She nodded but realized she didn’t want to talk about it…not now, at any rate. She was tired of hashing it through. It felt like all she’d done over the past couple of months had been to wallow in old memories and lots of pain. Being with Stone should have made her feel alive and happy—and it did—but she needed to let go of the baggage. It was pulling her under. She leaned her head against his side and he pointed to the right-hand side of wide hallway. “Those are empty rooms there—they could be bedrooms if I needed, but I have the one guest bedroom on the main floor and the other bedroom there that I used for an art room. For now, I don’t really need more. I’m not sure why I had them build such a big house. Anyway,” he pointe
d, “the door at the end is to the bathroom. Nothing fancy. Then this side…that’s the cool stuff. Let’s start at the back.” They walked down the hall and Stone opened a glass door. The first thing she noticed was a large window that started at floor level across the room. It wasn’t facing where the road would have been, where they could see the lights from town, or the drive as it climbed up the hill toward the back of the house. No, it looked off to the virgin side of his property, and, even though it was dark outside, all she could see was forest…and—when Stone turned on the light behind her and it flooded the outside as well—a barely visible chain link fence. Once the light was on, though, her eyes were drawn to the space inside.
It was a hot tub, and the floor around the space was a mosaic of flat rocks in grout. It wasn’t a big area, but it was warm and inviting. “Watch this.” Stone turned the dial that controlled the lights. First, they dimmed. Then he flicked it again and strings of colored lights dangling from the ceiling turned on as the warm yellow light switched off. The space felt magical, even if overly sultry. “Come on. I have more to show you.” He turned off all the lights and they walked out the door.
She wouldn’t have minded spending a lot more time there, but maybe later. There was another door on that side of the wall, and he opened it, flipping a light switch on. Holy shit. It was like a mini gym. There were several weight machines and a treadmill. There was even a big screen TV hanging on the wall. “Wow.”
He smirked. “It would be more impressive if I used all this stuff. I never touch the treadmill. If I’m gonna run, I’d rather do it outside. I mostly use those three machines.” He pointed to three upper body machines, and Kory then understood why he was so ripped underneath the shirts. He wasn’t bulky or overdone, but he wasn’t lumpy or soft, and she liked that.
He switched the light off, but before he closed the door, he called the dog out. Kory hadn’t even noticed that the little thing had snuck in.
Punctured, Bruised, and Barely Tattooed Page 12
