I laughed. “Don’t we all?” Quickly, I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves, showing all the ink that covered my arms. I rarely ever get to show them in public. Dad always wanted me to be covered.
She nodded, straightening her dark red ponytail. “You’ve got some nice ink yourself.”
“Yeah, started with my first one my freshman year of college, then I just kept going. They became an extension of me..”
She smiled. “You aren’t like the other guys that come into here, speaking something so poetic. You definitely aren’t high, but I’d have to say, you’ve got something behind those hazel eyes of yours that I haven’t seen in a long time.”
“Getting pretty deep yourself there for a waitress at a dive.” I smirked. I wasn’t about to tell the girl my whole life story like some people did to whoever was willing to listen.
“Yeah, well I’m not used to having decent guys come in here who aren’t fucked up beyond all recognition.” She put a hand on her tiny hip. “How’s about I go and get you some coffee ?”
“Yeah. Sure. Coffee. Black. And a tall stack with pecans.”
“You got it.” Her eyes trailed once more over me before she turned and headed toward the kitchen.
I would have been lying if I didn’t say I checked out her ass as she swayed away.
After spending a month behind the walls of rehab. I needed some sort of stimulation. Something to take my mind off the election. I knew the girl was warming up to me, but with the driver right outside, I knew I couldn’t get in a quickie. I’d be back for her later.
She was back at the table before I could even begin to think about how quickly I could get her out of the dress like I’d done more than once with one of the girls that showed up at the place looking for a quick lay.
Somedays I needed the same thing and it was a mutual understanding that we fucked and never spoke again.
She put down a white cup that had been stained beige from years of use before pouring the dark liquid in from an old percolator.
“Whoa, what is this?” I grabbed her arm mid-pour and she gasped, pulling back the coffee pot.
“What? Do I have something on me?” She asked, widening her eyes.
I turned over her arm and slowly traced the lines of the feather inked on her arm. It stretched from her wrist, up to her elbow. It was just the outline, no color, but I could still see the precision that went into it. The three little birds that flew from the feather as it disintegrated.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
She jerked her arm back. “Oh. That. It’s something I started. Something for my mom that I just haven’t had the money to finish.”
“What does it mean?” I asked, trying to meet her eyes but she bit her lip, keeping her gaze on the floor.
“It’s for my mom. She passed away my sophomore year of college. I started it in remembrance of her but just haven’t had the money to finish it,” she said, looking down at the ink.
I nodded. “Thanks for telling me that. I like to hear something real instead of the bullshit most people feed.”
“You asked so I told you. I don’t need the sympathy,” she said, the snark back in her voice.
I smirked. “So are you going to keep giving me shit or are you going to get me some pancakes?”
She shook her head but a small smile crept on her lips. “They should be up soon, smart ass.”
“Is that how you talk to all of your customers or am I special?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t think you’re some kind of snowflake, suit guy. I’m a bitch to everyone.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I was used to most girls falling at my feet, or more like on their knees with their face in my lap. I kind of liked this different perspective. Someone not knowing that I was the governor’s son. “Duly noted.” I scanned my eyes a little too long at the buttons on her shirt before zooming in on her name tag. “Samantha.”
Her lips twitched into a semi-smile. “You can call me, Sam.”
“And you can call me—”
Before I could finish my sentence, my driver whooshed in and was standing next to me, his thick hand on my shoulder. “Mr. Chapman, sorry to interrupt, but your brother has called a few times and says that it’s urgent you get to the party.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. Maybe she didn’t know who I was before or maybe she did. Either way I was fucked now that I’d been laid out like that.
I nodded at the driver. “Yeah, let me just get my pancakes to go and I’ll meet you in the car.”
“I’ll get those right now,” Sam stammered and turned on her heel toward the kitchen.
I pulled out my wallet and grabbed two of the biggest bills I had, then took out a random business card that had been sitting in my wallet.
“Hey, driver, you gotta pen?” I didn’t even look up at him as I spoke.
“Yes, sir.”
He handed me the Bic and I took the cap off with my teeth before scrawling a note on the card and leaving it with money. I didn’t even wait for my pancakes before standing up and nodding to the driver. “I guess it’s time.”
“Yes it is, sir.”
I followed the driver to the door and took one last look behind me as Sam stood at the table, slowly picking up the bills and the note. I watched her face twitch as she read the words.
Sam,
This is to finish that tattoo. Something that meaningful deserves to be finished.
-T
About the Author
Magan Vernon is a Young Adult and New Adult writer who lives with her family in the suburbs of Charlotte, NC. When not writing she spends her time fighting over fake boyfriends via social media. You can follow her at www.maganvernon.com
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
About the Author
Dante's Redemption Page 18
