Lukas

by Carian Cole

  I empty the bag from the beauty store onto the coffee table. “Trying to be nice?” I repeat. “Is it hard for her?”

  “She’s not really used to kids. She wasn’t expecting to have a seven year old every other weekend. We’re working it out.”

  I want to smack both of them for being so selfish and thoughtless. “She was having an affair with a married man who has two kids,” I say to him, trying to keep my tone calm. “Obviously, she thought, someday, she was going to get you to leave me. What did she think was going to happen to your children?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I suppose this is what happens when you date someone so much younger without any children,” I reply, and immediately turn those words around on myself. Would I be getting into the same mess by dating Lukas?

  “Charlene likes kids. It’s just a lot all at once.”

  Poor Charlene. “I have to run. I have plans tonight, and I have some things to do. Try to remind Tommy to call me before he goes to bed. I like to say good night to him.”

  “Where are you going tonight?” he questions, suddenly sounding interested in the conversation, but I’m not going to give him any information about my personal life. It’s none of his business anymore, and I don’t need to hear his negativity. It will just ruin the confidence I’ve worked so hard to build in myself.

  “None of your business. Goodbye.” I end the call and immediately notice that I have a text from Lukas on my screen.

  Lukas: Knock knock

  Me: Who’s there?

  Lukas: Orange

  Me: Orange who?

  Lukas: Orange you glad you’re gonna see me tonight? ;-)

  Giggling, I type back.

  Me: Yes, I am. You’re a goofball. ;)

  His cute text has instantly lifted my mood, something he definitely has a gift for. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood with Lukas around.

  I grab all my hair stuff and take it into the bathroom, placing it all on the vanity. I mix up all the bottles, take my blouse off and put an old tee shirt on, comb my hair straight, and then put on the black latex gloves, which remind me of the ones that Lukas uses.

  The mixture is thick and a weird reddish-pink color, but the girl assured me this would come out the cool auburn color that I want. Using the little black brush, I start to paint it onto my hair. The front around my face is easy, but when I start to get it on the sides and back, it becomes increasingly difficult to figure out if I’m actually getting all of my hair because my hair is so long and thick. The brush seems useless, so I put it aside and use my fingers instead to spread gobs of the colored goop through my hair. But it quickly becomes sticky, stiff, and weird, making it hard to spread apart. How the hell is my hair ever going to be soft and silky after this? There’s just no way!

  I have no idea if I’ve gotten the color onto the back part of my head, so I flip my head upside down and spread more of the mixture with my fingers, panicking at how long this is taking. What if I’ve gone past the half hour? And do I start counting the half hour when I’m actually all done or when I started? I start to cry, thinking I am going to be bald when this is over. Why did I do this? Gray hair has got to be better than this mess.

  “Mom, what are you doing?”

  I flip my head back up to see Macy standing in the doorway, her eyes wide.

  “I wanted to dye my hair, but I don’t think it’s working. I think I’ve missed a bunch of spots, and I can’t tell where, and now it feels all sticky and . . . hard.” I hold out my gloved hands, covered in stray hairs and pink goop. “And I think my hair is all coming out!”

  She rushes forward. “Geez, Mom, you totally need supervision!”

  I nod, feeling ridiculous. “I’m scared I ruined it. And look at all the strands that are coming out! I think I’m going to be bald.”

  My daughter’s sweet side makes an appearance. “Mom, it’s okay. I dye Shelly’s hair all the time. This is normal. Let me just finish it for you.”

  I sit down on the toilet lid while she takes over my messy situation. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” she says softly.

  I reach for a tissue and wipe my eyes with it. “I know. I just didn’t think it would be so hard. The girl at the store made it sound easy. She just said mix this stuff, put it on, and rinse. She never said it was going to get all sticky. I thought it would just go on like conditioner.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m gonna make sure it looks gorgeous.”

  “Are you home early?” I ask, not sure what time it is. How long have I been in here messing with my hair?

  “No, I get home at two every day. I was worried when I saw your car in the driveway.”

  For the first time, I see my daughter as a grown up, easing my fears as she works on my hair, telling me about her day as we wait for the color to process, then walking me to the kitchen sink to rinse the color off.

  “Do you think it’s going to look okay?” I ask her, still worried about what color it’s going to be.

  “I think it’s going to be awesome, Mom. I’m going to get some cold cream. You have the color all over your neck.” She runs to the bathroom while I wonder what that means. “You’re supposed to put cream around your face and neck because the hair dyes your skin, too,” she says when she comes back.

  I’m pretty sure I turn white. “What? Are you serious? The girl didn’t mention that.”

  “Yes, it’s all over your face and the side of your neck.”

  “Oh, shit. Can you get it off?”

  She laughs. “Mom, you never swear. What’s going on with you? Crying and swearing? Dying your hair?” She uses a cotton pad to wipe cream along my forehead. “Is this about Dad? Did something happen?”

  I shake my head. “No, nothing happened.”

  She continues to scrub at my face and neck. “You have your tattoo appointment tonight, don’t you?” she asks, quirking a perfect eyebrow up at me.

  “Yes, so?”

  She stands back and looks at me. “I think you’re going to have to take a shower to get the rest of that off, and maybe use some witch hazel. I’ve used that before to get it off.”

  “All right.” I look up at the clock to see that its three pm. My appointment is at six, so I still have enough time to shower and eat without being late.

  She throws away the cotton and rinses out the sink. “Mom. It’s okay for you to have fun, ya know.”

  “Macy-”

  She interrupts me. “I’ve seen you smiling at your cell phone. I saw the new clothes in the living room. You don’t have to hide from us. Tommy and I want you to be happy.”

  I give her a quick hug. “Thank you, Sweetheart. That means a lot to me. Life is just a little hard right now.”

  When I go back to the bathroom to shower, I’m horrified to see that I have dripped the hair dye onto the floor, and some is on the wall and in the porcelain sink. How the hell did I do that? I grab a bottle of spray cleaner from the kitchen and scrub at the splatters, but most of it is not coming off, leaving a faint red stain in several places on the floor and wall. Shit. Paul will freak when he sees this if he wants to sell the house.

  I vow never to try to do things with my own hair again. Grey hair seems much safer than this art project I turned my head into. The new color probably won’t even be noticeable.

  LUKAS

  MY COUSIN STORM IS THE LEAD guitarist of Ashes & Embers, a kick-ass rock band that his brothers and my brother, Vandal, are members of. When Storm found out that I play the violin and the piano, he had this cool idea to add some classical elements with a metal edge to a few songs the band was working on. I laid some tracks with them at the studio for those songs, and agreed to play live with them at the local clubs where they play occasionally.

  I love music, but I love the tattoo parlor more. Owning my own business and having steady income is something I’ve always dreamed of and never thought I would really have. Call me boring, but I like stability. While some people may think living the roc
k star life, and touring around the country—or the world—would be amazing, it’s not a lifestyle I want. It would only feed my demons and dredge up my past issues with feeling unsettled and unwanted. I’ve seen how Vandal has to juggle the band, working at the shop, and his daughter, and I just don’t want to split myself that way.

  So now, Storm is here to make sure I’m going to play live with them in a couple weeks at a club across town.

  “I said I’ll do it, man,” I assure him for what must be the tenth time.

  He’s excited and jumpy, as usual. “This is special. I’m singing a song to Evie,” he says, following me around like a little kid.

  I look up at him as I clean my work area, trying to remember why that name sounds familiar. “The girl from the blizzard incident?” I ask him.

  He nods, clapping me on the shoulder. “That’s the one. I gotta get this girl, Lukas. I’m fucking mad crazy over her. And your intro to the song is gonna kick fucking ass.”

  “It’s gonna be sweet. No worries. So what’s the deal with the chick?”

  He leans against the wall, right on top of one of my paintings. “She’s got a fucking douche-bag boyfriend she’s been with for like half a fucking century,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But she’s not happy.”

  “Are you sure about that? Is that your assessment or her own?”

  He glares at me. “Don’t use big fucking words with me, Lukas. She’s not happy. Period. I know it, and she knows it. I just have to get her to admit it.”

  “I think I know the feeling.”

  The front bell rings, meaning Ivy is here. Finally. “Look, that’s my next appointment, so you gotta go, Storm.”

  He turns toward the waiting area, grins at me, and leans toward me, lowering his voice. “The one you were telling me about? The older chick?”

  I push him out of my work area. “Yes. Be gone.”

  I follow him to the waiting area, where Ivy’s sitting in one of the red velvet chairs, looking fucking amazing. Her hair is a new brick color, and her face is glowing as she smiles up at us.

  “Hi,” she chirps happily when she sees us.

  “Hey, Ivy, I want you to meet my cousin, Storm. And Storm, this is Ivy.”

  Storm shakes her hand and looks back at me. “Dude, you were right. She’s beautiful.” I’m going to kick his ass if he embarrasses me. Or her.

  Ivy laughs. “It’s nice to meet you, Storm. I love your name.”

  “Yeah, it’s very fitting,” I interrupt, grinning. “He was just leaving.”

  Storm puts his arms up and waves his hands. “I get it. I’m going. I’m going.” He turns to me. “I’ll see you soon, man.” He looks down at Ivy. “And hopefully you, too. Have a great holiday.”

  “You too.”

  I lock the door behind Storm, so no one else wanders in, and finally turn my full attention to Ivy.

  “You look gorgeous,” I tell her. “You are rocking that fuckin’ hair color.”

  She smiles and looks down a little, her cheeks blushing. “Thank you. My daughter helped me color it.”

  “I love it. Come on. Let’s go back.”

  Damn, I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her, and just forget about her tattoo for now. This time, when she changes her clothes, she comes back wearing these cute little black shorts with red hearts. I’m loving the changes I see in her today. She’s growing confident, and I’m hoping I’ve helped bring that out of her.

  After she settles down in the leather chair, I wheel my stool closer to her and run my hand gently over her tattoo, which looks awesome spanning her leg.

  “Did you wear these for me?” I ask her, my voice low, my fingers skimming the edge of the shorts. She nods and smiles shyly, and that just ignites my desire for her even more. Her shyness turns me on wicked bad.

  “I like.” She watches my hand move to rest on her outer thigh. “I’m gonna finish this tonight, and I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” I look up at her face, finding her eyes wide, and she’s chewing her bottom lip. “So what’s it gonna be, doll? Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? I’d like to get you out of client mode.”

  She nods, still not saying a word. “You sure?” I ask her, and she nods yet again, her eyes glazed as I let my fingertips brush just beneath the edge of her shorts, touching her silky thigh.

  I bend down and kiss her leg, right above her knee, and a small gasp escapes her. Fuck, she is so easy to turn on. Bending her leg up, I kiss the sensitive spot behind her knee then slowly drag my lips up the inside of her thigh, tasting her sweet flesh. I stop just a few inches from the apex of her thighs and gently graze her with my teeth.

  “Lukas . . .” she whispers. Her hand goes to my head, her fingers in my hair, and all I want is to feel her yanking my hair and hear her moan my name while I give her all the attention she is starving for and deserves to have. I want nothing more than to give this woman my heart, body, and soul, and hope that she will give me the same in return.

  Lifting my head up, I catch her eyes with mine. “I’m not going to do this like this.” I sit up and reluctantly pull away from her, which is sheer torture for me. As much as I want her, I’m not going to fool around with her on my fucking tattoo chair. This is where I work, and I’ve already crossed way too many inappropriate lines. More importantly, she deserves so much better than this. When I touch her and kiss her, I want it to be in the right place at the right time.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks me, nervousness lacing her voice.

  “Nothing at all. I’m just not going to start something I can’t finish the right way. I want to have a real date with you, and if we go further, I sure as hell don’t want to do it here in my work area. I want you in my bed, and I want a lot of time.”

  Her lips part, but no words come out. She nods silently instead. I wish she would talk to me instead of nodding all the time, but the idea that I have such an effect on her that she can’t speak intrigues me. It means she feels something, and that’s what I really want.

  Reaching across my worktable, I hold up the framed drawing that I made for her of the girl with the butterfly hair.

  “This is for you. Don’t forget to take it home.”

  “You framed it for me? You didn’t have to do that.” She takes it from me and holds it in her lap, studying it. “I love this so much, Lukas. It’s gorgeous.”

  “It’s how I see you.”

  Her mouth drops, and she’s speechless again. I’ve never met a woman so easy to make happy.

  “My cousin Storm that you just met?” I grab my gun and prepare to get to work. “He was stuck in a truck during that bad snow storm we had a few weeks ago, with a girl he picked up on the side of the road whose car got stuck in a ditch.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yup. They were trapped in his truck for like an entire weekend.” I would love to be trapped in a truck with Ivy for two days. The things I could do with her to keep her warm. . . . Fuckin’ Storm has all the luck.

  “Did he know her?”

  I shake my head. “No, not at all, and I guess things got a little heated, if you know what I mean. Now, he’s got a thing for her, but it turns out she’s got a long-term boyfriend.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s crazy. What’s he going to do?”

  “The same thing I’m trying to do with you. Make her fall in love with him.”

  I swear I can see her stop breathing as she absorbs my words. Then finally, she reacts with a hesitant smile. “I don’t think either of you are going to have to ‘make us’, Lukas.”

  My hands shake and my brain derails at what she’s hinting at, making me stop working before I actually do screw up her tattoo.

  “The weekend after Christmas, his band is playing at a club not far from here. I’d love it if you came with me?” If she says yes, it will be the perfect opportunity for me to show her that I’m also a musician, rather than telling her. I kinda want to surprise her and just let her hear me play.

 
“Like a concert?”

  “Yeah, but small scale. It’s in a club. I think you’ll like it. My brother’s in the band, and all my cousins. And the girl from the blizzard is gonna be there.”

  “All right,” she says hesitantly. “I’ll go with you. I’d love to meet some of your family and hear them play.”

  I look up at her from under the shroud of hair hanging over my face, my gun poised just over her calf. “You don’t know how fucking happy I am that you’re saying yes to me now, Ivy. I was starting to feel like a creepy stalker, asking you a hundred times.”

  She fidgets a little, moving her legs. “I’m still a little freaked about the age difference, but you asked me to give you a chance, so that’s what I’m doing.” She grips the edge of the chair as I tattoo the spot right above her ankle. “You kinda made yourself irresistible,” she adds.

  “I know it hurts here, but it will be over in a sec,” I say, trying to hold her leg still. “So you think I’m irresistible?”

  She flashes me a beautiful smile. “Are you fishing for compliments, Lukas?”

  “Shamelessly.”

  “Yes, you’re irresistible. Happy now?”

  “Incredibly. And guess what? We’re done.” I wheel away from her and lay my gun on my workbench.

  Surprise and excitement light up her face. “Really? It’s really done?”

  “Yup. Go over to the full-length mirror and check it out. Let me know if you want me to add anything.”

  She runs to the mirror and examines the tattoo that starts just below her hip and travels down to her ankle. It’s gorgeous, and I’m so proud of her for getting through such a big piece as her first.

  “I love it!” she squeals. I come up behind her and put my arms around her, looking over her shoulder at us in the mirror. She stills then leans back against my body, fitting perfectly against me.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whisper against her ear. “Look at us together, Ivy.” I slide my hand slowly down to rest on her hip. “We look perfect together.” She nods, mesmerized, watching my hand move across her stomach in the mirror. My inked arms look wild against the white of her blouse, and I wish I could take a picture of us like this. I slide my hand up between her breasts, over her throat, and to her cheek, turning her face to mine. Her aqua eyes darken, and her lids fall closed as I kiss her softly on the lips, stealing a sigh from her.