by Carolina Mac
“That’s a cute name. I’ll leave you to it. I have coffee in the kitchen if you would like a cup,” I said, moving inside. My cell phone on the counter was ringing. “George?”
“I’m at the shop, baby girl. Sorry, I didn’t talk to you last night. I texted you, but you must have been asleep. I had stuff to pick up and now I’ve got Porky working here unpacking and straightening up the store. He was pissed I made him work on a Sunday, but I want everything done before we go up north.”
“Shit, I missed your text. I fell asleep on the sofa and was still there this morning in my rumpled clothes.”
“I didn’t miss anything where there were no fuckin’ clothes?” He laughed.
“You’d be the first call I'd make if my clothes were off,” I said, and turned to see Buddy standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised and a glimmer of a smile. My cheeks flushed hot.
“Mrs. Talbot, do you want to see the brochures I brought?”
“Who the fuck is that?” barked George.
“The garage door man.”
“I’ll be there in ten,” he said and hung up.
Buddy spread out his information package on the dining room table, showing all the styles, colors, windows, and hinges available in a garage door. I set a mug of coffee down beside him and took the chair on the opposite side of the table. I was sorting through the colors for the ‘North Hatley’ when I heard the rumble of the Eagle in the driveway.
Buddy looked up when George blasted through the door with murder in his eyes. Bravely he stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Buddy Feldman, from Garaga.”
“Hey, Bud,” George said paralyzing Buddy’s hand and taking a chair at the end of the table. “Find anything you like, baby girl?”
“This one would suit the style of the house best, I think. “I’m going with the ‘North Hatley’ in dark sand.”
“Good choice, Mrs. Talbot. That style looks amazing on an older home.” Buddy nodded, avoiding George’s stare. “When would you like the installation?”
“As soon as possible. We’ll be out of town this week, but I can have someone here to let you in.” I looked at George for confirmation and he nodded.
Buddy took out his calculator and wrote up the paperwork. When he arrived at a total he said. “How much is your deposit going to be?” He looked at me.
“Since I won’t be around when you install the door, it would make more sense to pay for it now.” I cocked my head and looked at George. He nodded. I wrote a check for the full amount and handed it to Buddy. “The door and the installation are guaranteed?” I asked.
“Of course, the guarantee is spelled out in your contract.” He slid the check into his briefcase, gathered his materials and zipped up his case. “Thank you for your business, Mrs. Talbot.” He smiled.
George motioned for me to stay seated, and he showed Buddy to the door.
“He didn’t try anything, did he?” George asked when he returned.
I laughed. “He’s a salesman, not a rapist. Are you jealous?”
“Fuckin’ right. Can’t stand it when other guys are staring at you. I know what they’re all thinkin’. Makes me want to throw down.”
“And what are they thinking?” I said rumpling his hair, running my hand down his scarred cheek and sticking my finger in his mouth.
George didn’t answer. He scooped me up, stomped up the stairs and laid me on the bed.
“Do my clothes look like I slept in them?” I laughed. “Cause, I did.”
“Yeah, these clothes have gotta’ go,” he said, undressing me piece by piece.
After we made love, and George lay on his back panting I noticed that his arm was red and inflamed. Kenny’s knife had slashed through the eagle inked onto his forearm, and the bird looked eviscerated and sewn back together. The rebel flag the bird was holding in its’ beak was tilting badly towards the Mason-Dixon Line.
“Your arm looks pretty raw. Maybe you should go back to the doctor.”
“I don’t need no fuckin’ doctor.” George pulled his arm from my grip and clenched his fist.
I gasped and pulled away, my heart racing.
Horror struck, George froze. His dark brown eyes scanned my expression, as his scowl deepened. “Jesus, Annie. You know I would never hit you, baby girl . . . Don't you?”
I tried to relax and blew out a deep breath. “Matthew’s favorite place to hit me was in bed,” I mumbled.
“Wish that fucker wasn’t dead, so I could kill him,” George snarled.
I managed a smile and stroked his arm.
“I'm not mad at you, Annie. I’m pissed about the fuckin’ tat. It’s wrecked.”
“Maybe it can be fixed,” I said, easing into his lap. “But there's no telling when. I called Ivan today to make an appointment for me, but the earliest one he had was in November.”
“Bullshit. I’ll call him.” George kissed my cheek and sucked in some deep breaths.
“I missed you last night,” I said.
“Quick trip to Hamilton—took longer than I figured.”
“Want me to fix you something in the kitchen before you go back to work?”
“Fuckin’ right.”
I threw a t-shirt over my head and went down to get to work. George would go all day without any food. He existed on smokes, coffee and beer. I put together a tray and took it out to where he was sitting at the patio table.
“Hey, thanks.” He kissed me and I sat down. “I called Ivan and tuned him up. We’re goin’ tomorrow at ten-thirty.”
“Tomorrow? I thought he had no openings.”
“He has one now.” George smiled. “What are you thinkin’ of getting’ done, honey girl?”
“Just a flower, I was thinking lily of the valley. My favorite.”
“He can do anything if he has a picture,” George said. “He’s a helluva artist.”
“I’ll cut a picture out of one of my gardening magazines.”
“That’ll do it.” George lit up a smoke and held it out to look at it. “I’m cutting back on the butts,” he said grinning. “I’m in training.”
“That’s impressive,” I sat on his lap and kissed him. “You’ll be a holy terror in the bedroom.”
“I’ll never be half the terror you are, sweet Annie.”
After George went back to the gun shop, I sifted through my stack of gardening magazines until I came up with a crystal clear photograph of a sprig of lily of the valley. I cut it out and put it in my purse for Ivan. Tomorrow I was getting my first tattoo.
Yahoo.
The rest of the afternoon, I did laundry, got the suitcases out of the closet and packed a few things for the week at the cabin. At six, I answered a call from George.
“Want to meet me at Buck’s?”
“Sure. What time?”
“Me and Porky are goin’ as soon as we lock up. You can come anytime you want.”
“Save me a spot.”
“You’ll always have a spot right next to me.”
After my shower, I dressed for the bar in a black denim skirt and a black top that showed a lot of cleavage. I pulled on my leather boots and tried to disguise the angry red gash on my face with makeup. My hair needed cutting, but it could wait a couple of days.
TRYING to find a spot for the Hummer in the parking lot at Buck’s was challenging. The frame was wide, and I wasn’t used to driving it. I backed up against the building next door, locked it up and limped across to the door of the bar.
The blue smoke layer wasn’t so thick on a Sunday night. I could see all the way to the back of the room. George was sitting near the pool tables, but not in his regular spot. I waved at Buck as I passed the bar and sat down opposite George.
Rusty, Jackson and a couple of other guys were sitting in the next booth.
“Hey, Portia,” Jackson called over. He flashed me his smile.
“Hi guys. Good to see you,” I said.
“You know, you could have any fuckin’ guy in this whole place, baby girl,” said
George, “Probably in the whole city.”
“I’m sure most of them have girlfriends of their own,” I said.
“Not any they wouldn’t dump for a chance at you,” he winked.
“Where’s this coming from?” I asked.
“Nowhere, just sayin’.”
I got up and walked around to his side of the booth and kissed him long and hard. “Fuck them.”
“Shit. They saw you do that. Now they’re gonna’ be all over me. My life is fuckin’ over,” he said with a smile.
“I can make it worse.” I offered.
George groaned. “Those guys try to get under my skin every fuckin’ chance they get.”
“Want me to talk to them?” I asked, leaning forward so George could get a good look down my shirt.
“Lord Jesus, no.” He moaned.
I laughed. “Did you order?”
“Yep, should be here soon.”
“Hi Rusty,” I said as he ambled over to our table. He looked like he definitely had something on his mind. “What's up?”
“Boys want to have a bonfire tomorrow night before the boss goes on holidays.”
“That sounds like fun. What do you say, George?”
“I’ll think about it,” he said with a scowl.
Rusty nodded and went back to his booth.
“Don’t like that idea?”
“Boys can get rowdy. Might be fights. Not a good place for you, Annie.”
“But before me, it might have been a fun night for you?”
“Maybe.”
I shrugged. “No problem. I won’t go. You have fun with your boys. I’m good with that.”
George shook his head, his grin widening. “You get me, Annie. I never have to explain things to you. You just get it.”
I smiled. Buck strode to the table with two heaping plates of food. “Thanks, Buck. Do me a favor. Bring those four guys at the next table burgers, fries and another two pitchers on me.”
“Will do,” said Buck.
“Why you doin’ that, baby girl?” George looked puzzled.
“They were there when I needed help. It’s nothing.”
George refilled our glasses and we devoured our burgers. When Buck served the food to the table behind us, the boys gave me thumbs-up and I gave them a wave.
We were almost ready to leave when two suits appeared in the door of the bar. “Fuckin’ assholes,” said George, “More cops.”
They sat at the bar for a few minutes, scanning all of the tables, scrutinizing the customers.
“Lookin’ for some poor fucker,” George said. “Probably trying to tag some asshole for spitting on the sidewalk or wearing his cut or shit like that.”
“No doubt,” I said with a laugh and stood up to leave, “You staying?”
“Just to sort out this bonfire shit. Then I’m comin’ home.”
“That’s so nice. You said ‘home’.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“HEY, you’re getting good at sneaking into bed. I don't even remember you getting in last night.”
I was at the kitchen table with my first cup of coffee when George came downstairs.
“Didn’t want to wake you, baby girl. It was late.”
“Want coffee?”
“Uh huh,” he said with a little glint in his eye.
“What?” I said trying to get a read on his expression.
“Nothin’.” He smiled like he had swallowed a fat yellow canary.
I poked him in the gut. “I know you’re up to no good.”
“Talked to the boys. There’ll be no trouble tonight. They want you to come.”
I smiled. “They do . . . and how about you?”
“I always want you with me, Annie,” he said. “That’s why . . . I bought you this.” Looking unsure of himself, he pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. A huge blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds sparkled on a bed of black velvet. I gasped and stared.
George took my hand and slipped the ring on my finger. “I am so fuckin’ terrible at this sentimental shit, but you know I’m crazy in love with you, Annie.”
“I love you, George, for always.” Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I moved over, sat on his knee and put my arms around his neck. I kissed him for a long time while my tears spilled onto his face and made us both wet. We laughed.
“You make me so happy, George,” I whispered.
“Never pictured this happening to me. Not in a million fuckin’ years.”
We made love upstairs before George left for work. He showered, shaved and dressed while I languished on the bed staring at the sapphire on my finger and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
After my shower, with my leg wrapped in plastic, I dressed and was putting the finishing touches on my make up when the doorbell rang and the cleaning girls arrived. They unloaded their gear into the foyer, trying to avoid Angel as she bounced around trying to grab their mops out of their hands.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it on Friday,” Stacey said, “It was my daughter’s graduation.”
“No problem,” I said, beaming. Nothing was going to spoil this day for me. “I’ll put Angel in the yard, so you girls can do your thing.”
“Wow. Is that a new ring?” Stacey exclaimed, staring at my hand.
“New this morning. It was quite a surprise.”
“Nice surprise.” The girls gathered round to get a better look.
“Does this mean you’re engaged?” Stacey asked me.
“Umm, more like committed,” I said.
“I’d commit to anybody or anything for a ring like that.” She laughed.
“Oh, sorry, there goes my phone,” I hobbled out to the patio to answer, smiling at George’s number on my screen.
“Do you want to pick me up at the store and we’ll go to Ivan’s from here?” he asked.
“Oh, my God, my tattoo. I’ve been so mesmerized showing off my ring to the cleaning girls, I forgot about the appointment. This is such an exciting day.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” George sounded less than impressed.
“I’ll pick you up shortly. I have the picture in my purse,” I said as I scoured the kitchen for the car keys.
“As soon as Porky gets back from Tim’s, I’m good to go,” he said and hung up.
“SHIT. Shit. Shit,” I said out loud, as I tried to navigate the Hummer down the back lane behind the gun shop. Branches of the overgrown bushes were scratching at the doors and George would surely think I was an idiot for trying to park here.
The bell jingled when the front door opened, and George’s grin turned to a frown when he saw my face. “What happened? You look red in the face and guilty about something,” he said.
I shrugged and said nothing.
“Hold the fort, Porky,” George hollered into the back room as we headed for the door. “Phone me if those bastards cruise by here again. Cops have been driving by slow all morning. Makes me fuckin’ nuts,” he said on the way out to the Hummer.
“What are they looking for?” I asked.
“Nothin’ to look for. Business is legit. Maybe they figure if they do it enough, I’ll run out the door and ventilate their fuckin’ cruiser.”
“Maybe they’re hard up for some crime to prevent.” I giggled.
“What in hell did you do here, little girl?” asked George as he ripped at the weeds caught in the driver’s door.
“The Hummer is a lot wider than the Wrangler. I’m not used to it yet. Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t go there, Annie.” George put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look him straight in his dark ebony eyes. “You never have to be sorry to me for anything you do. You please yourself and I’ll be happy as hell. Don’t think I ain’t seen the way you always try to please people. If that fuckin’ bastard was still alive, I’d choke him by the neck until his eyes bulged out of his head, for the way he used you.”
“I love you, George.”
“Love you too, baby gi
rl.” He came around to my side of the truck. “Stick your leg out here for a minute,” he said, taking a jar out of his pocket. “Point where you’re getting’ your tat.”
I showed him the spot on my thigh that I had in mind, and he opened the jar. Dipping his fingers into the ointment he covered my skin in slow, slick circles.
“This will take the edge off for you, baby. Should be working by the time we get there.”
“Thanks, George—you take good care of me.”
George backed the Hummer down the lane and out into the street with no problem. I made a mental note to practice.
IVAN’S INK was less than ten blocks away from the gun shop. George pulled into the gravel parking lot, helped me down from the truck and lit up a smoke. He inhaled a few drags on the way to the entrance then flicked the rest into a sewer grate. “Think you’re ready, little girl?” he asked with a grin.
“I am so ready for this,” I said, as I limped through the door.
Ivan’s shop was compact. Hidden amongst a row of old brick storefronts on Danforth Avenue, he had four stations, one for himself and one for each of the three tattoo artists working for him. The walls were filled with pictures of work he had done in the past, and photos of famous people with tats.
Ivan looked up from a customer he was finishing and smiled when he saw George. He was a small man in his forties, thin and muscular with long dark hair tied back in a pony tail with a red ribbon. He wore wire-rimmed glasses while he worked but popped onto his forehead when he looked up.
“Where the hell have you been hiding? Thought you left the country.”
“Keeping out of trouble,” George said with a chuckle and nodding at me.
“That looks like a brand new kind of trouble for you, Georgie Boy.”
“You got that right, Ivan. Now, she wants a tat.”
He pointed to an empty chair. “You two can sit over here. I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Do you have any idea what design you want?” he asked, taping a wide swath of gauze over the other customer’s shoulder.
“I have a picture here of my favorite flower. It’s lily of the valley,” I said, unfolding the photo. He took a quick glance and nodded as he walked the finished customer to the cash and went over the care instructions. When he came back, I held out my hand. “I’m Annie.”
