“It’s not for everyone to see.”
“Where is it?”
“Someplace very private.”
“Someplace only a lover would see?”
Heat colored Joanna’s cheeks a deep shade of embarrassed. “A lover and my gynecologist.”
“So, if the kid had slept with you, he’d be able to describe that tattoo?”
“He didn’t sleep with me,” she snapped.
“But if he had?”
She sighed. “Then I’m sure he’d be able to describe it in vivid detail.”
Mingus nodded, the gesture slow and easy. “Did Omar do that one, too?” he finally asked.
Joanna shook her head. “No. That one was done by an old friend of mine. Rebecca Carson. We went to school together. She comes from a family of tattoo artists and graduated with a degree in art. She did Simone’s tattoo, too, I think.”
Mingus suddenly laughed. “Simone has a tattoo?”
Realizing her faux pas, Joanna rolled her eyes skyward. “You didn’t hear that from me.”
Mingus stood, tapping at the screen of his smartphone. “Go change. We need to go talk to Omar.”
“Now?”
“Unless you want to stay here.”
Joanna jumped to her feet. “Hell no!”
Chapter 7
Late-night hours were the norm at Lighthouse Tattoo and Piercings. Mingus knew if it was a good night they would go well into the early morning hours detailing body art on their customers. Three tattoo artists were standing around waiting for clients to arrive when Mingus and Joanna moved through the gallery door. Four others were working back in their respective booths.
The young woman who greeted them was loud and boisterous, a petite body of noise and laughter. Her attire was miniscule and tight, basically string with patches of fabric to cover her tiny frame. Mingus found her exuberance off-putting, not in the mood for the good time she was trying to sell.
“Welcome to Lighthouse! How can we help you?” she chimed, her voice sounding like she’d sucked on a boatload of helium.
Mingus gave her a slight smile. “I called earlier. I have an appointment with Omar. The name’s Black. Mingus Black.”
The receptionist smiled widely, her bubbly personality spilling over as she batted her false eyelashes at Mingus. Her full attention was focused on him as if Joanna wasn’t standing there by his side. “We’re glad you could make it, Mr. Black. I’m Leslie! What are you hoping to get done today?”
“Leslie, I’m undecided. I’m sure once Omar and I have a chance to talk, he and I’ll figure it out.”
“Omar is great! He’ll hook you up with anything you want!” She drew her hand down the length of his forearm, manicured nails tapping at the jacket he wore. “This isn’t your first tattoo, is it?”
Mingus chuckled. “No. Definitely not my first tattoo.”
“Mine, either,” Joanna interjected. “Omar did a tattoo for me a year ago.”
Mingus smiled. “My friend here has only had good things to say about him. I’m glad he could fit me in.”
The girl shifted her attention to Joanna, eyeing her as if she were seeing the woman for the first time. Joanna gave her a bright smile and took two steps closer to Mingus as she leaned into his side. He found the gesture amusing and for the first time he struggled not to let it show. He took a deep breath as he and Joanna exchanged a quick look; he felt the hint of a smile quivering at the edges of his lips.
The receptionist shifted her gaze between them. “Well, isn’t that special,” she said facetiously, tossing the length of her brunette hair over her shoulder. Her bright smile had dimmed substantially. She suddenly narrowed her gaze on Joanna. “I know you,” she said abruptly, “You’re that teacher on the news, aren’t you? The one doing it with her student. That’s so nasty!”
Mingus took a step, the gesture protective as he put himself between Joanna and Leslie. The look he gave the girl stalled any other comment she might have been thinking of speaking.
Tension swept between them and Mingus sensed that Joanna was biting back her own retort, not wanting to cause a scene. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. His touch was warm and possessive, and the moment gave him pause.
* * *
When he squeezed her fingers gently, a level of comfort rose sweetly between them. Joanna released the breath she’d been holding, newfound confidence sweeping over her.
They both felt the other woman bristle ever so slightly, her attitude like a confetti-filled balloon bursting through the room. She glanced down the hallway and then to her appointment book, leaving them hanging ever so briefly as she answered an incoming call. Finally she said, “Omar’s ready for you. Follow me!”
Mingus tossed Joanna a look and a wink of his eye as he led the way, pulling her after him. The receptionist was still talking a mile a minute.
* * *
Omar Ramos pointed his finger in recognition. “I know you!”
“How are you doing, Omar?” Joanna answered as she gave him a hug.
The man named Omar nodded. “I’m good. You here for another tattoo?”
She shook her head. “Not today. I brought a friend to see you instead.”
Mingus gave the man a nod, his head tilting slightly. He extended his hand. “Mingus Black. What’s up, brother?”
“Omar, and any friend of this beauty queen is a friend of mine.”
“She said you could hook me up.”
“We got you covered here. Do you know what you’re looking for?”
Mingus shrugged. “I think I want to tie two existing tattoos together.”
“Let me see what we’re working with.”
Joanna moved to an empty chair and took a seat. She hadn’t been prepared when Mingus suddenly pulled off his jacket and then removed his shirt, tossing them both in her direction. She hadn’t expected him to be getting a tattoo, instead under the impression that they were there to ask questions and get answers. But she knew to follow his lead, wherever that might take her. She suddenly inhaled swiftly at the sight of him as he stripped down to expose bare flesh.
His chest was broad, pecs like two rounds of marbled wood beneath taut skin. He sported a near perfect six-pack, his abdominal wall a thing of sheer muscular beauty. He was definitely no stranger to tattoos, more than she’d expected adorned his skin. A full sleeve decorated the length of one arm. It was tribal in nature with bold, black coloration defining the image. An intricately detailed cross rested against his heart, a rosary dangling up and over his shoulder. There was also a spectacular winged dragon inked across his back and shoulders, and the phrase Work hard, play harder wove around his wrist like a bracelet.
Omar admired each of them, clearly impressed by the level of work. But it was the image of Mingus’s parents on his right arm that got the artist excited. Someone had replicated a wedding portrait. “I only know one tattooist who can do this caliber of portrait work. Jon Bua did this, didn’t he?”
Mingus nodded. “I met Jon when I was in South Africa. They said he was the best, so I had to see what he could do.”
“That’s some nice work! Seriously nice!”
“When were you in South Africa?” Joanna questioned, forgetting for a split second why they were there.
Mingus tossed her a look. “A few years ago,” he answered before turning his attention back to the man, who was still studying him intently. “I think I want a stack of books representing the foundations of faith,” he said, pointing to the open space near the crucifix. “The Bible, the Quran, maybe the Tanakh. I want to tie it to the cross and the rosary beads.”
Omar nodded. “Why books?”
“I like what you did with Joanna’s tattoo,” he said. “The stack of books with the fluttering pages and the George Santayana quote is epic and clearly represents what she stands for. For me, books represent kno
wledge and knowledge is essential. It also speaks to my belief in a higher power. I want it to represent my faith walk, which hasn’t always been easy.”
Omar continued to stare at what would soon be his canvas. His fingers skated across Mingus’s existing tattoo, following the line of the artwork already there. His mind was clearly racing, his artistry being manifested in the creative process. Finally he said, “We got this! Why don’t you climb up here on the table and we can get to work.”
Mingus took a seat where the man gestured, reclining against the table and making himself comfortable. He and Joanna watched as Omar prepped his worktable and slid on a pair of latex gloves. Omar began to draw his design by hand, laying out the detail in red pencil. Minutes later the sound of the tattoo machine hummed with the beat of the music playing over the sound system.
Joanna listened intently as Mingus and Omar discussed his tattoo, football and the legacy of Harley-Davidson. When Omar slipped on headphones, someone’s dance tunes beating in his ear, Mingus talked to her instead. He was relaxed, despite the pain associated with the needles that were assailing his skin, and he talked more than she had ever heard him talk. She delighted in the stories he shared and when she interrupted with a question, he answered. Despite Omar’s presence, it quickly felt as if they were the only two in the room.
She found herself discovering things about the man that she didn’t know and the more she learned, the more intrigued she became. After leaving the police force, he had traveled extensively, spending a year in South Africa and many months in Turkey and Greece. He was nonchalant about the experience, saying only that it had been a transitional period to discover himself and what he wanted to do with his life. He wasn’t boastful or arrogant, but there was no doubt he was appreciative of the opportunities that had ensued.
He’d taken risks others only dreamed of. He’d run with the bulls in Spain, bungee jumped off the Macau Tower in China, para-glided through Switzerland and had swum with whale sharks in the Maldives. He admitted to being an adrenaline junkie and was unapologetic about putting himself in jeopardy for an experience. He had no regrets and was clearly enjoying his life.
Joanna was slightly jealous and she said so. “I’ve always wanted to go skydiving, but I’ve never been able to get up the nerve. I constantly worry about everything that could possibly happen. I wish I was as daring as you.”
“And I don’t see any point in worrying. I have enough people in my life who do that for me.”
Joanna laughed. “So, is there anything left on your bucket list? Anything you haven’t done and still want to do?”
“There are a few things.” Before he could elaborate, his cell phone rang, an incoming call disrupting the conversation.
He eyed the screen and cussed, annoyance flooding his face as he answered. “Hey, what’s up?”
There was a lengthy pause as he listened to the person on the other end.
“She’s right here. She’s fine. I had something I had to do, and I needed her to come with me. I also called her bail bondsman before we left and told him where she’d be.”
There was another pause.
“Just smooth it over. Do what you do.” Mingus shot her a look, clearly irritated as the conversation continued. “That’s fine. Tell them to do a drive-by. We’re sitting right here in the tattoo parlor talking to the owner.”
There was another pause.
“Yeah, whatever.” He disconnected the call.
Joanna shifted forward in her seat. “Are we in trouble?”
“You missed your curfew.”
“I have a curfew?”
“Apparently someone at the monitoring center became concerned because you haven’t moved in the last three hours and you’re not pinging from your home base. They called in a device check, which meant they also called the attorney on record to verify your location. That was Ellington. He called to lecture.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why?”
She blinked. “Because I don’t...well...it’s... Because...” she stammered, unable to find the words to express what she thought she should be feeling.
“Exactly. You have no reason to be sorry. Someone got overzealous. They didn’t check the logs or ask the right questions and just assumed you had to be doing something wrong.”
“Are the police coming?”
“I doubt it.”
Omar paused, looking from one to the other. He’d shifted his earphones off one ear, the conversation suddenly piquing his curiosity. “Something I need to know? ’Cause cops aren’t a good look around here.”
Mingus shook his head. “It’s good, man.”
Omar nodded, his head dropping as he refocused on the last of the work he was doing. The final hour passed by quickly and when he finally laid down his tattoo machine and snatched off his gloves, Joanna and Mingus were still lost in conversation, simply enjoying each other’s company. He pointed Mingus to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
Rising from the table, Mingus moved to stare at his reflection. The image on his chest was more than he could have ever anticipated. Omar had brilliantly married the old with the new, the two tattoos looking like they’d been done at the same time. He’d skillfully placed the books Mingus had wanted behind the cross, integrating them as if they had always been there. The detail was impeccable and striking. Mingus was happy with the result.
Joanna was grinning from ear to ear as she stared with him. “It’s wonderful!” she gushed as she moved to his side to admire the handiwork. “It’s so good!”
“Do you mind if I take a picture for my book?” Omar asked, interrupting the moment.
Mingus eyed him with a raised brow. “Your book?”
Omar nodded. “My portfolio. I like to memorialize my work. I also use the images to give new clients a sense of the type of work I can do.”
“It’s a nice showpiece,” Joanna said. “I even think I have a photo or two in it.”
“I think you do.” Omar moved to the shelves on the back wall and pulled down an oversize black photo album. He passed it to Mingus. “Have a look. Then take a moment to think about it while I go check if my next client is here. You can let me know when I get back.”
“Thanks,” Mingus answered. He began to flip through the pages as Joanna stood over his shoulder.
A few pages in was an image of Joanna’s tattoo and Joanna, a bright smile on her beautiful face. She looked happy and carefree, her legs crossed as she showed off the artwork on her thigh.
“I’d actually forgotten about that photo!” she said. Heat tinted her cheeks.
“It’s a great shot. You’re very photogenic,” Mingus responded, giving her warm smile.
Mingus stared for a split second then turned the page, flipping quickly through the other images.
Minutes later Omar returned with a digital camera in hand. “So, we’re good?”
Mingus nodded. “We’re good. But I’m going to pass, my man. I appreciate your work. I really do. You’ve got mad skills, but I want to keep this exclusive. I’d be a little pissed if I saw someone sporting the same tattoo. You know what I mean?”
“Hey, I understand. But I assure you, I don’t do repeats. I don’t rubberstamp my designs. No one can come in and get this tattoo, or the tattoo I did for your girl. I work hard to ensure they’re all unique.” He rested the camera on top of the portfolio.
“I’m sure,” Mingus responded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “But I’m good. My answer’s no.”
Omar nodded. “Let me wrap you up then,” he said as he reached for a protective bandage and began to explain the aftercare instructions.
When he was done Mingus reached into his pocket for his wallet. He counted off a string of twenty-dollar bills, paying his bill in cash. Omar wished them both a good night then called for Leslie to bring in the next customer. As
they passed the young woman in the narrow hallway, she winked at Mingus and told him not to be a stranger. She ignored Joanna completely.
* * *
A Chicago patrol car was parked in front of Joanna’s home when the two returned. Mingus pulled into the driveway and shut down the engine.
“You go on inside,” he said. “I’ll see what he has to say.”
“Are you sure?” Concern washed over her expression.
He gave her the faintest smile and pointed her toward the front door. Joanna watched as he sauntered down to the end of the driveway and met the officer who’d exited the vehicle. The two men stood in conversation as Joanna unlocked her front door. She turned in the doorway to stare. Minutes later the uniformed officer climbed back into his car and disappeared down the road. Mingus turned and moved toward the entrance.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Mingus said with a shrug. “He didn’t say anything that you need to be concerned about.”
She blew a soft sigh. “Are you going to come in?”
Mingus shook his head. “No. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Oh. Okay.” Joanna crossed her arms over her chest, a hint of attitude rising. “So why didn’t you ask Omar any questions about my tattoo? Isn’t that why we were there? To get answers?”
“We got answers,” Mingus said without elaborating. “But I need to run. I’ll wait until you lock up.”
“When will I see you again?”
He flicked a gentle finger beneath her chin, giving her the sweetest smile. “Sleep well, Joanna,” Mingus responded, purposely not answering her question. “Now lock the door.”
* * *
An hour later Mingus walked back into the tattoo parlor. The neon Open sign was no longer illuminated but the front door was still unlocked. Music still played loudly in the background but the sound of bodies in the building no longer echoed off the walls. There was no one at the reception desk to greet him, nor did he call out to announce his arrival. He made his way down the narrow hallway toward the booth at the back of the shop.
Tempted by the Badge Page 9
