Tattooed & Alone for Christmas: Part One (A Possessed Series Novella)

by K. L. Donn

  It was his way of telling me to leave. Of course, my mother just took another drink. Why parent when you can ignore the problems, right? At least that’s what she thought. When she wasn’t popping pills, she was downing glass after glass of wine. My sisters seemed to follow in her footsteps.

  From a young age, I always knew I was made differently than them, that I was somehow flawed in their eyes. It took me a few years to realize the reason they hated me was because I broke the mold. I wasn’t like them and had a sense of self they envied. I didn’t hold on to what was proper. To them, I was free of the constriction they held on to.

  Two years ago, my oldest sister Margo got married. My presence had been demanded. Mom told me they were having my dress and shoes delivered, and the people doing Margo’s hair and make-up would do mine.

  Imagine their surprise when I showed up late, had hair and make-up done, and was wearing my very own clothes. It was bitchy of me, I know, but I still enjoy the memory of it. And now, they know not to try and control me. Any invitations sent to me are more out of a sense of duty and likely because their friends and other family members have asked about me. There is no doubt that they don’t want me there, never have and probably never will.

  Just like the phone call I received while tattooing Greer—I know there’s a voicemail from Mom or Dad with the same bored tone to their voice and the same obligatory invite to Christmas. I will politely decline like always, and they will breathe a sigh of relief.

  I’ll never understand why they bother when I can tell from their tone of voice that they’d rather be swimming in pig shit than speaking to me. Heaven forbid I ever actually accept the invitation to whatever the event is.

  I almost went home last Christmas, and I think I heard my mother having a panic attack over the phone. I had no idea you could hear that kind of thing until then, but it confirmed what I always knew to be true; it was best that I steer clear.

  Life wasn’t so bad, though. I grew up in St. Albert, Alberta. It’s a lovely little city but full of people whose egos are bigger than their wallets. Never having fit in, it was easy to make the move four hours away to Calgary for a Creative Arts course at SAIT—Southern Alberta Institute of Technology.

  Finding a shop in Olds, about an hour north of Calgary, was a dream come true. I received an inheritance from my Pappy earlier than my siblings and was able to buy and open JR’s Tattoos two years ago just after my twentieth birthday. My parents damn near threw a shit fit, but I was beyond caring. Margo and Sally came in once to see what I was up to and probably to spy on me for the ‘rents, but I kicked them right back out.

  Realization that I’m standing in the same spot I was thirty minutes ago after those mind-numbing kisses and thinking about the past, I try and shake myself off but feel different.

  Exposed.

  Excited.

  It’s new and weird, and I decide I like it. Adrenaline runs rampant through my blood with the excitement of seeing them again.

  I feel like a hormonal teenager.

  Fuck a duck.

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Two

  Eli

  I wake up with a feeling of renewed anticipation instead of trying to drag ass out of bed, or not wanting to go in to work. I am actually looking forward to sharing my joy with our employees and anyone else I encounter.

  Jet is a woman in her own league. I wouldn’t call her classy in the traditional sense but more unconventionally so. She is graceful, a work of art, and a beauty. She is one of a kind. On top of everything else I’ve learnt about her in the short time we have been in her presence, I know that her comfort in her own skin attracts me more than anything.

  Small glimpses of insecurity show through in her eyes when she feels vulnerable, but I know, without a shadow of a doubt, she won’t let them shake her confidence. That alone is extremely attractive in a woman.

  By the time I finish with my shower, I’m already picturing our lives together. Greer and I coming home from a hard day’s work to Jet and our kids waiting for us. It’s so fairytale-like I’m kind of annoyed with myself. We just met the girl, and I’m already picturing this huge family. That can’t be normal, yet it is.

  Us. Her. A life together.

  It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and she isn’t even fully on board yet.

  “Don’t fuck this up, Greer,” I mumble to myself, knowing he has control issues. Over his temper. Himself. Other damn people.

  “Eli?” Speak of the devil. I laugh as I walk into the kitchen to find him making coffee and toast.

  “What’s up?”

  “We have to meet with the Donaldson’s today about the mini Firs the missus wants uprooted.”

  Work…always on his mind. “I didn’t forget.”

  Grabbing my coffee—black, just the way it’s meant to be—I sit down and start reading The Sun newspaper. Getting to the business section, one word pops out at me in the headline: Wyatt Ryhan set to be named as Hannibal & Malcolm Law Firm’s newest partner. I immediately think of Jet. Her last name isn’t common, but a stuffed shirt isn’t how I picture one of her parents. With her seeming to be a free spirit, I imagine the hippy types.

  “You see this?” I pass the page to Greer to get his thoughts.

  He must have read the entire article he took so long. “You think she’s related?” There’s doubt in his eyes.

  “Would it be so wild?” I haven’t heard the best things about the firm’s reputation. There are unconfirmed rumors about payoffs to judges so they can win their criminal cases, but as far as I know nothing has been proven yet.

  “Looks like there’s some sort of ball and a surprise announcement between Malcolm’s son and Ryhan’s daughter,” Greer continues to tell me, and I can’t say I like what I’m hearing.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  A dark look crosses his face faster than I can catch it. “Either Jet’s hiding something, or her father hasn’t told her.”

  “Fuck.”

  Greer

  I spend the day in a more or less shitty fucking mood. I wish I’d never seen that article. After arriving at the office, I go in search of this Wyatt Ryhan, needing to know if they are related. Jet doesn’t seem like the type of girl to fuck around like that, though, so my doubt of her deceit is plummeting.

  Nevertheless, if she doesn’t know, then she’s in for one hell of a fucking surprise. It would help if I could confirm what I think the reference means, but for now, it is pure speculation on my part. I can’t imagine my parents trying to marry me off to some stranger, so the idea that hers could without her support pissed me off and confused me at the same time.

  H&M Law isn’t exactly known for their stand-up clients, so I shouldn’t be surprised if this is what they’re trying to do. What confuses me is that most people in this situation would look for a wholesome girl. The girl next door type. Jet is anything but that. Her tattoos are loud and hot as fuck, her dark hair with pink highlights screams I stand out, and her attitude shouts don’t fuck with me.

  Whatever their logic is, it’s flawed. Our girl won’t fall for their scheme, whatever it may be, and we certainly aren’t about to let it happen.

  “Greer, let’s go!” Eli calls, bringing me out of my inner musings about the whole fucked up mess. We have a client who wants the mini Firs that we planted outside five years ago transplanted into a pot so they can be inside and decorated for Christmas. I’d like to knock the crazy loon upside her fool head. The things are huge and not exactly easy to completely uproot. Also, if I have my guess, come New Year’s she’ll want them back outside.

  Jet

  Gah!

  These damn men and their panty-melting killer grins that won’t leave my fucking head. I can barely concentrate. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited for a date before. Technically, I have never been on a real date with the sense that it could lead somewhere other than an uncomfortable one-sided groping session.

  These guys throw me
so off-kilter that I damn near jacked up someone’s new ink because of it. Get your shit together, girl, I repeat to myself every five minutes or so. It isn’t until Rocky, one of my artists, points out the sappy look on my face and the humming that I want to vomit.

  He thinks it’s hilarious and demands a gossip session in which, for some reason more screwed up than I care to admit, I spill the fucking beans.

  He’s quiet for a few minutes, and it hits me how it must look to him, me with two men. When he says, “That makes so much sense,” I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “What do you mean makes sense?” Of course, confusion has to follow.

  “Girl, when have you ever been conventional? About anything? You with two men who, I might add, have made you this girly– “

  I have to stop him. “Hold the damn phone there, Rocky. Don’t put me and girly in the same sentence again, or I’m taking away that sexy, new gun I just got you.”

  “No need for threats. I’m just saying that they bring a happiness out of you I’ve never seen before, and bitch, I’ve been with you from the beginning…Don’t touch my gun.” His dirty look fails.

  Can you tell he’s gay? That whine! Drives me nuts, but I love the fucker. And he’s right, he has been with me since the day I opened up. Next to me, he’s one of the best artists in the province. People come from across the country for us.

  As our next clients walk in the door, we are both quickly absorbed in our art. I don’t have much time afterwards to think about Greer and Eli. With only three days till Christmas, I plan to close the shop until after the new year, giving everyone including myself a nice long break, so we are jam packed with clients all day.

  Greer

  “Dude, stop fucking fussing and let’s go,” I hear Eli yell from the front door.

  I can’t help it, I’ve never anticipated a date so much in my life. I understand I was gruff and off-putting with Jet the day before, but there’s an attraction I can’t seem to explain and find that I like it.

  It’s amazing that Eli feels the same way. I fucking love that we rendered her speechless before we left. Her lips had looked bee stung, her eyes glazed over in passion, and I could have sworn her body was vibrating with need. I can’t wait to get her in private where we can truly show her pleasure.

  “About fucking time.”

  “Shut up! This is fucking ridiculous,” I snap at him.

  Eli pauses before opening the door. “What is? You don’t want her? ‘Cause I’m telling you, man, she could be the one for me, the deal breaker, and that would fucking suck.”

  Listening to him bare himself to me has me opening up, too. “No, man. I fucking want Jet more than my next breath, but this is fucking hard. She thinks I’m a selfish dick. I’m not you; I don’t do the lightness and jokes. I fucking can’t.”

  “I get it, Greer, and that’s what I’m here for. It’s why this works for us. We balance each other out. I’m the yin to your yang or something like that.” The way he puts it makes sense. Helps to calm my nerves as well.

  Looking at the door and then quickly meeting his eyes lit with anticipation, I say, “Let’s go get our girl.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” He cheers, slapping my back as I walk out ahead of him.

  Nerves are eating at my gut as we drive back to Jet’s shop. Good nerves, bad nerves. Both. I feel like a fucking fifteen-year-old boy on my first date again. The potential that she might be the one for us has me so out of character I’m not sure if it is a good thing or bad.

  We’re both quiet on the way to pick her up, and in his own way, I think Eli is nervous also. I don’t get why, but I know he has his own insecurities just like me.

  “She could be it, right?” His softly spoken question has me turning to look at him. His eyes are on the road as he drives, but I can see the stress on his face. Doubt is running unbridled through the both of us, and it’s time for me to step up out of my shell to show him I am all in.

  “Yeah, she is. No doubt, man.” The smirk that plays on his lips conveys his need to hear that from me.

  Eli

  Thirty years old and I feel like a teenager. I have to get over this shit before we pick up Jet. I don’t want to give her any doubt about the fact that we are serious about her. With a relationship like the one we want, I’ve always known that when we found the girl for us, it would hit the both of us like a freight train.

  There is no question as to whether she is ours or not. Fuck anyone who doesn’t believe in love at first sight. I was gobsmacked the moment I saw her ass sticking up in the air just begging to feel my hands squeezing those lush globes.

  She has a compact, little body just begging for a real man’s touch. I know the moment we get her fired up, she is going to blow us both away, and my anticipation is pushing everything else to the back of my mind.

  We’ve decided to have dinner at our place but not try to get her into our bed the first night—though we’d both fucking love that. We want her to feel relaxed with the both of us without the worry of people staring and judging the way we are doing things. Ménage relationships aren’t unheard of just not that common in Canada, let alone the town we live in. The last thing either of us wants to do is make her feel belittled because of what we all want.

  I am dying to know about the look I saw in her eyes. She gives off a devil may care attitude, but if someone would bother to look just a little bit closer, they’d see the vulnerability and pain hidden behind her cool eyes. I want to slay her dragons and take her away. Show her how a true man treats his woman.

  Pulling up to her shop, I immediately notice a fancy car sitting outside. With the sign saying closed, it has me not only curious but cautious.

  “What do you think that’s about?” Greer nods his head to the car I noticed as well.

  “Let’s find out.”

  Jet

  “Margo, I said no. What’s your damage? Why are you guys so insistent this year?”

  To say I am shocked that my oldest sister has shown up in my shop while I’m tattooing a big-ass biker and his buddy is a bald-faced lie.

  The dirty looks she shoots them makes me want to cunt punch her. Margo’s I am better than you attitude is palpable and my clients aren’t any more impressed than I. Luckily, they are repeats and know me well enough to realize drama isn’t allowed in my place.

  “Why won’t you just come home for Christmas, Jet? It’s in three days, and we want you there.” Did she have to whine? I hate when she whines. She may be six years older than me, but damn, does she make a habit of acting like she is the youngest sibling with the constant pouting.

  “Why?” I know there’s a reason, and it’s probably one of Dad’s clients wanting to see the whole happy family thing. They need me there for show. I haven’t done that shit since I was pretty much given my walking papers. Why they think I’d start coming around now is beyond me.

  “Must there be a reason?”

  I watch in amusement as her bottom lip begins to tremble. Too bad the emotion doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  Standing straight, I tell her, “Yea, Margo, there has to be a reason. It’s been years since I’ve been a little puppet for them and you know it. They wouldn’t be insistent like this and neither would you if it weren’t for a reason, and if something were wrong with Pappy, he’d tell me himself. So spill it and get it over with already, I’ve got shit to do tonight.”

  “You could at least try and act like a lady, Jet. No man’s going to want you with that filth you speak.” She is stalling, and it’s pissing me off.

  “Fuck sakes, Margo!” I finally explode as the front door opens and in walks my two gorgeous men.

  My? When did that happen? I kind of like it.

  “Stop being such a snobby bitch, Jet, and come home. We all know you’re failing here. Like, come on, it’s time to end this nonsense rebelling now. You’re twenty-two years old and need to grow up.”

  I’m not sure whether to be more pissed off about the fact she�
�s called me a snob, that I’m failing, or that she basically told the only two men I’ve ever been attracted to that I’m the family failure.

  What a great fucking time to be me.

  Shaking my head in frustration, I don’t get a chance to say anything before Eli pipes up. “Not seeing much failure here.”

  Startled, Margo spins around eyeing them both up and down, deciding their worth in one nasty glance before saying to Eli, “Of course you don’t, you’re cut from the same cloth.”

  Greer’s snort of derision, or maybe laughter, draws her attention to him—poor man. His boot cut jeans, polo shirt, and loafers have him looking mighty respectable. In a I want to tear his clothes off with my teeth kind of way.

  My sister, however, is eyeing him up with more appreciation than I care to see. Especially considering she’s happily married, or so she says.

  “Now you look a little more like a respectable man. Clearly, you see the problem with my baby sister running a place like this?” she asks him.

  “Running?” Speechless again.

  “Ya, I see the problem,” Greer responds, his tone neutral so I’m not sure where he’s going to go with it.

  “Problem?” I ask, but again, I’m ignored.

  “Please enlighten Jet then. She needs to know this whole inking her body thing is just disgusting and downright shameful behavior for a girl from our pedigree.” I want to smack the smug off her face.

  I’m rooted to the spot as he walks over to me, reaching out to grab my hand. Tracing the daisy tattooed on the inside of my wrist, he whispers, “Shameful.” His finger moves again to the stars on the inside of my bicep. “Sexy.” He lifts my arm and kisses all three stars before turning me around and licking the black dove on my shoulder. “Fucking perfect.”