A Torey Hope Novel Series: The Complete 4-Book Box Set

by A. D. Ellis

  Turning to head back to bed, I noticed a light on upstairs in Josie’s studio. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I was drawn to that light; drawn to her, like I had this need to see her. I found her in her studio, headphones on, bent over the desk; her back was to the door and she couldn’t hear me, so I watched. She was intent on whatever it was she was creating, surrounded by paper and scraps and scissors. I’d seen some of her paintings, but I’d not seen any of her paper crafts. I stood, transfixed as her auburn hair draped silkily down her back; her bare shoulders peeking through the strands. She sat with her legs beneath her, delicate feet barely in view. Delicate. That was a word I would have used to describe Josie. But she was so much more. The old Josie was fragile, but the new one, the one I watched emerge a little more each day, was stronger. She was strengthening everything about her; her spirit, her attitude, her resolve, everything was being repaired from the years she spent with her low-life parents and that fuck-off husband of hers. Yes, she was stronger, but I could still see the fear, the vulnerability, the uncertainty. If I could love her completely, she would thrive. But, if I couldn’t give her all of me, I feared I’d break her even more. I couldn’t do that to her.

  So what are you going to do when someone comes along who CAN love her completely, Punk Boy? Can you just watch her fall in love and know it’s someone else loving her and making her smile?

  I spun around, almost giving myself whiplash, looking for Izzy. Shit, I was losing my mind. Maybe I had more to drink than I thought. For the second time that night, I was hearing my dead wife speaking to me. With a deep shuddering breath, I took one last glance at Josie, and turned away so that I could go back to bed. I had a feeling I was in for a restless night.

  **********

  The next day I headed to the shop. I had two pieces to work on for a couple new clients. I was pretty stoked with the amount of customers I had coming into the shop in such a short time since getting everything set up. Being the first tattoo shop in town and being the closest one around for several miles was proving to be a great thing.

  I loved being able to lose myself in a design. I took great pride in being able to hear a client’s wishes and turn it into a great piece. The guy I was working on first had come to me with the idea of a full back piece to represent his addiction and recovery. He spoke of his earlier years when he’d crashed, head first, into some pretty hard drugs and drinking. It wasn’t until a nurse in the ER took pity on him and helped him get clean for the umpteenth time that he finally got the help he needed. He had tried to get clean before, but having her support was what did it. Twenty years later they were still together, and he was still in recovery. He was adamant to include something in the piece that showed he wasn’t ever “cured” but every day was a new day and the chance to be a better person.

  I loved the piece I had worked up for him. It would take a few sessions at least. First we’d get the outline on and start with a little color. This was not his first tattoo for which I was grateful. I didn’t want to have to calm someone down, I needed to zone out and get lost in the buzz of my gun, the scent of the ink, and the blur of color.

  Once my client had approved the piece, I got it laid out on his back. As I watched him look in the mirror to okay the placement, I pictured what it was going to look like with color and knew I’d hit it out of the ballpark with this one. I wanted Josie to paint this design so I could display it in the shop. I even thought that it would be the perfect one to use in the next ad I put out. The black and darkness of the demon, the fiery reds and oranges of the phoenix rising from the fire, the greens and blues of the bird’s feathers, all of it was going to be breathtaking. I wished that Josie was there to see the drawing and watch as I started the ink on his back.

  I stopped shortly, a split second before turning on the gun, and realized that I’d wished for Josie to be there. I didn’t wish for Izzy to be there. My wife used to come to the shop and watch me. Sometimes she’d sit and chat with the client. Sometimes she’d watch from outside the little room, but I always loved having her there. She would have loved this design. But, I didn’t wish for Izzy, I wished for Josie. Man, I was fucked-up. I didn’t want to love her, couldn’t love her, but wanted her close to me.

  As the buzz of the gun started up, my brain and body went into automatic mode. The black of the ink staining his skin, the constant vibration of the gun, the continual wiping of the blood and ink from his skin, it lulled me. That’s when I heard her again. It’s a great design, Kyle. I see how it represents his addiction and recovery. Know what else I see? I see how it represents you. The blackness you fell into when I died. The phoenix shows your chance to start over. It’s beautiful. I hope you keep this picture in your mind as you continue to move along.

  My breathing had stilled as I listened to her words over the buzz of the gun. When I stopped to reload the ink, she was gone and my hands were shaking. If I was one of the artists who took smoke breaks, I’d ask for one now. But I didn’t smoke, so I told the client he could take break if he needed; I needed to grab a drink. The sleeplessness from the night before had gotten to me if I was hearing her again. I grabbed a cold Mt. Dew from the little fridge I kept in my office and swigged at least half of it down.

  Returning to the room, I settled in and got the man’s outline completely done before taking another quick break. We decided to start the color on the demon and call it quits for today. I had two hours before the next client showed up. I prepped her design and then decided to take a quick nap in my office before she showed up.

  I woke with a start when I heard the door chime. Looking at the clock I realized I’d only been asleep about 20 minutes but I was feeling better. The girl was early, but since I didn’t have any other customers waiting it was fine by me to get a start on her design. Walking from my office I stopped short; Josie was walking towards me and my heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat rapidly or stop completely. Damn, she was so fucking gorgeous. The thought that flittered through my brain shocked me; I couldn’t help but think it was true as I watched as those blue eyes sparkled and her hair swayed as she walked. In fact, that wasn’t the only thing swaying; I took in her perfect little butt as she walked towards me. Damn it, I shouldn’t be thinking about this girl’s perfect ass.

  Why not, Kyle? It’s a cute ass. It’s okay to admit that you like her ass. In fact, it’s okay to admit you like her period. I’m all for it. I know we were perfect together; you two are perfect for each other too. It’s a different type of perfect, but it’s still going to be great.

  I figuratively pushed at Izzy, willing her to stop talking to me. What’s wrong, Punk Boy? Am I getting to you? She spoke with a smile in her voice; I wished I could see her, I could picture the little smirk on her face she’d get when she knew she had me on something. I ignored Izzy and walked toward Josie.

  “Hey, Jose, what’s up? Did you come to watch the master at work?” I decided I’d shoot for casual and relaxed in order to avoid any possible awkwardness after the kiss the night before.

  “Oh, yeah, I thought I’d come observe greatness in action. I hope I can handle watching the master as he works his magic.” She smiled at me and punched me in the gut as she reached me. Good, she was going to go for casual too. I guessed we were just going to act like the kiss hadn’t happened.

  “Actually, I do want to watch for a little bit, but I also wanted to know if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight?” At the questioning look I gave her, she stammered a bit. “I ask because I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh-oh, Jo-Jo thinking, this could be dangerous.” I teased her, but pulled her into my side. “I’m kidding, Jo, go on.”

  “Well, I don’t really plan on dating anytime soon, but I thought I’d sort of like to go on some practice dates just in case anyone ever asks me out. Plus, I’ve not been to most of the restaurants in Torey Hope so I thought we could do a little tour of them over the next few months. My parents didn’t allow me to go to a theater to watch movies; they said it
was too low-class. I’ve always wanted to go to the theater and eat popcorn, drink a big pop, and watch a movie. I’ve also never been bowling or skating or shopping at a regular, everyday mall. So, I was hoping you could help me on my new venture; it’s all part of ‘remake Josie’. Whatdya say, KJ? Will you be my man? My arm candy? My date? I can’t pay you for your services, plus I think that would possibly border on illegal, but if you train me well enough, I can at least promise a fun date every so often. Please?” Her eyes sparkled as she finished her long speech, and she looked at me expectantly.

  Fuck. What was I supposed to do with this request? If I turned her down, she’d be upset, and it would look like I didn’t want to spend time with her. If I accepted her invitation, I was going to be spending even more time with her. In a split second I made my decision. I couldn’t turn her down. I couldn’t let her think I didn’t want to spend time with her. It was just some dates. She wasn’t asking me to romance her, she just needed someone safe to show her the world of dating and to expose her to so much of what she’d never done. I lived with the girl, I could surely deal with taking her out for dinner or a movie every so often.

  I smiled at her as she awaited my answer. “First, before I commit to anything, where did KJ come from?” I knew she was using my initials, and since I shortened her name so frequently I didn’t mind it, but I wanted to hear her answer.

  Blushing she replied, “Well, you’re always nicknaming me, so I thought I’d nickname you. I think I’ll use KJ and Ky if that’s ok with you. I won’t lower myself to Ky-Ky like you do with Jo-Jo though. I do have my pride.” She giggled as I laughed.

  “Ok, with that explained, I think I can accept your invitation. I will be your practice date until you feel comfortable and have the average dating experiences under your belt. Now, my next client is almost here. Want to see what I’ve been working on?” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to my office to show her the drawing of the design I’d just done on the guy’s back. Instead of concentrating on how right her hand felt in mine or the heat that traveled between our joined hands, I focused on her face as she took in the drawing.

  “Oh, my God, Kyle, it’s gorgeous. I should paint this!” I could see her artistic wheels turning and knew she was already making the same plans for this picture in her head as I had made in mine.

  “Yep, that’s what I was hoping you’d say, Jo-Jo. Here, this is the one I’m going to do on the next client. It’s sort of cliché, but it’s what she wanted and it’s pretty apropos to her story. I won’t share her story since she told me in private, but maybe if you stay you can hear it from her while you watch.” I held up the rising sun I would be inking onto the girl’s hipbone. It was rising from blackness and then it became deep golds and oranges and reds of the sun. She had explained her darkness with depression and how she was reaching for the warmth and light of the sun to heal. I hoped she’d like my interpretation of her story.

  I like your interpretation, Punk Boy. But I think you’ve sort of interpreted your own story, don’t ya think? The blackness of losing me, the warmth and light of Josie represented in the sun? Hmmm, I’m seeing a connection. Stop fighting it, Kyle.

  I took a deep breath and shook my foggy head a little. Hearing my dead wife talk to me was starting to really mess with my mind. I loved her with every fiber of my being, but she was actually starting to piss me off a bit. “Just leave me alone, would ya?” I huffed.

  Josie turned her eyes to me, questioning and ready to be hurt. “Sorry, not you Jo. I was just talking to myself.” She continued looking at me as if she didn’t really believe me but shrugged her shoulders and flipped through more of my pieces.

  We headed to the front of the store when the door chimed. Julie, the girl who was getting the sun design today, walked in smiling. “Hi! I’m so nervous! I almost canceled the appointment, but I made myself come. Is the design ready?” She was definitely nervous. I was glad Josie was with me, I knew she could get the girl talking and calm her nerves.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it ready. This is my friend, Josie. Do you mind if she hangs out while I work?” I didn’t think Julie would mind, usually the clients were more than happy to have someone to talk to.

  “Hi Julie. I saw your design a couple minutes ago. I think you’re going to love it, it’s truly beautiful.” Josie’s soft voice instantly put the girl at ease, and I saw the nervousness dissipate, and she was just excited to get started.

  “Here it is. Let me know what you think.” I handed her the design and heard her breath catch.

  “It’s absolutely perfect. It’s exactly what I pictured. Could we add a little more purple and blue as the black fades and the sun begins?” I loved when a client spoke up and helped me make their design truly theirs. As long as they weren’t trying to ruin the picture, I always tried to accommodate their wishes. If what they were wanting was going to go against my artistic design, I’d show them on paper the fault with what they were asking for. Most of the time they agreed with me and then were very happy with the results when they finished. On a couple of occasions I had to have a client sign a waiver saying they were going against the artist’s design and they would not hold the artist responsible if the finished product wasn’t to their liking. I had a reputation to uphold; I did a damn good job on my designs and ink, I wasn’t going to let some jackass who wanted to ruin a great design mess up my reputation.

  While I added the blues and purples, Josie and Julie talked quietly. I saw Josie show her the horse on her wrist and explain about the back piece we’d be working on soon. Julie touched the black horse and spoke the words, “run free”. “What do those words mean to you, Josie?” Julie’s interest was genuine and Josie relaxed into a chair next to where Julie was laying so I could begin my work.

  I had Julie pull her pants and underwear down far enough so that I could work and tucked a towel all around so nothing indecent was seen and her clothes were protected from the ink. I glanced at Josie as I did this, and she had her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her lips. I knew a question was brewing, but she would wait until we were alone.

  “Well, I grew up in a very unloving home. I was not allowed to really live or experience life. I was roped and harnessed and placed in a corral like a captured wild horse, figuratively speaking. Then I was married off into a loveless marriage and the breaking of my spirit was continued. By the time I broke free and ran, I had almost no spirit left. But I came here to Torey Hope and found family and friends who love me, and I slowly began to love myself again. I’m learning to run free, like a wild horse. The next tattoo I get on my back is going to say ‘reckless abandon.’ That’s part of the name of my art store. ‘Wild Horses—Reckless Abandon Art by J. Marie’.” Josie was quiet for a second as she watched me rub the design onto Julie’s hipbone and then peel back the paper. “That’s going to be absolutely perfect,” she spoke to Julie, but I could hear her words directed at me as well, and my heart swelled with pride. Having Josie love my art meant a lot to me.

  “So, Julie, what’s the sun mean for you?” Josie spoke to the girl as I started the gun. I knew she was trying to take the girl’s mind off of the pain; the hipbone wasn’t the most pain free place to get a tattoo. Although, a needle scratching deep lines into your skin as ink stained your body would lead most to the correct assumption that a ‘pain free’ tattoo wasn’t exactly a reality.

  With a deep breath, Julie began, “I don’t remember a time when I felt happy. I felt like I was always sad, always in the dark. I didn’t want to have friends, I didn’t want to go out and have fun. I just wanted to stay in my room, listen to dark, hateful music, and be sad. My parents didn’t know what to do with me; they say I was happy as a young child, but I don’t recall those times. They let me be homeschooled because going to school was so hard for me. People made fun of me for my dark makeup, dark clothes, dark personality; I was miserable at school, and the blackness settled in more and more with each passing day. At least being homeschooled I didn’t have to put up with th
e teasing; although being at home didn’t do anything to alleviate the blackness.” She paused for a moment, lost in her thoughts, and I caught Josie’s eye. She was holding back tears, I knew this story would affect her. She blinked the sparkling tears away and waited for Julie to go on. I could tell she was intrigued to know how this girl changed from the person she was describing to the seemingly happy girl lying on the chair in front of us.

  “As the blackness settled darker and heavier, I contemplated taking my own life. I remember wanting so badly to just sink into that blackness. It would have been so much easier to just stop fighting the blackness and just give into it. It was like this sticky, black, seeping goo; it was everywhere. If a corner of light started to peek through into my life, the goo would seep its way over to it, and the light would eventually succumb to the blackness. That’s what I wanted to do as well. I wanted to lie down on my bed, pull the blackness over me, and let the suffocating, sticky, black goo seep over me until there was nothing left.” Julie paused again and took a deep breath. I had been working on the outline but was starting the black part of the tattoo. I watched as her skin filled with the black ink as she told of the blackness in her life.

  With a slight chuckle, she continued, “It’s not like something bad happened to me. I think I was just born predisposed to depression. My parents had doctors look at me to see what was wrong; they prescribed medicine. Sometimes the meds worked, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes I liked taking them, sometimes I’d stop because the blackness was easier to deal with than the blinding light the meds brought to me.” Another deep breath and I knew this was the hardest part of her story.

  “The night I planned to kill myself, I took a walk. I wanted to breathe the air and see the town once more before I let the darkness win. A vicious lightning storm began while I was walking, and I decided I needed to take shelter. I was going to kill myself, but I was afraid of getting struck by lightning; ironic I know. I saw a large building on my left and started running towards it right as a torrential downpour began. When I hit the front steps, I slipped and hit my head. I blacked out and didn’t wake again until about an hour later. I awoke to a steaming hot cup of coffee and an angel sitting watch over me. She was the night cleaner at the building I had sought shelter in; it was a church, and she had found me. For some odd reason, after years of not wanting to speak to doctors or therapists, I wanted to speak to a total stranger. I told her my story. She didn’t judge. She just said she wanted to pray for me and invited me to church with her. I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t be able to come to church on Sunday because by then I’d be dead. But she had helped me, and I felt I owed her. I’d fought the blackness this long, I could wait until after Sunday. She took me home and prayed for me again. I felt strange as she prayed for me; like I didn’t deserve the prayers and, also, like it was such a waste to pray for me; nothing was going to help me by this point if nothing had helped me throughout all of the years I battled the darkness.” Julie stopped speaking again and I knew she was feeling the pain of both her story and the tear of the needle. I watched as Josie sat, mesmerized, waiting for the story to continue.