“Not until Monday, honey.”
I touch his soft cheek with the tips of my fingers, and watch his eyes close briefly as he whispers disappointedly, “Okay.”
I wonder—not for the first time this year—what his home life is like. His mom and dad are both nice in an uptight way, but neither of them seem to be very affectionate with him, which is sad. He’s a great kid, a little shy but so smart it’s almost scary. He’s already mastered reading at a third grade level and has better penmanship than some adults I know. He’s also my favorite, even though I shouldn’t have favorites.
“How about you choose which book we read during circle time on Monday?”
“Really?”
“Really.” I watch a smile take over his whole face.
“Cool,” he says, getting up and heading over to two of his buds.
I look at the clock near the door, and announce as I stand, “All right, kids, time to pack up. It’s almost time to go home.”
It’s Friday, and even at six years old, most of these kids understand the beauty of the weekend. I walk across the room, feeling the excitement in the air as they pick up their things, shoving their work into their backpacks and school stuff into their desks.
When I reach the front of the class, I remind them, “Don’t forget to have your parents sign up for what is needed for our class party next week. The list is online.” I get a few smiles before a soft chime fills the room, stealing their attention. All the kids grab their bags in a rush to get to the door and line up. When I reach the door and open it, their parents or caregivers who have been waiting out in the hall come in, offering me smiles and hellos before greeting the kids with hugs or soft words.
Like always, the room fills with chatter until one by one the kids leave and silence ensues. The quiet is almost deafening, especially after spending the last several hours answering questions and keeping a bunch of children on task. I go around the room, picking up things left out and straightening up until I know the cleaning crew will be able to do their job over the weekend without the hassle of uncluttering.
Done, I grab my bag and coat then leave, shutting the door behind me. I go to the teachers’ parking lot and climb in my car. My Nissan Maxima is old, but it still runs perfectly thanks to my dad and uncles, who’ve worked on it more times than I can count. I don’t go directly home; I stop at the store and pick up a few things then go to the post office to mail a care package to my cousin Hannah. Living in Paris, she misses some of her favorite things from home, so every few months, I send her a package. It’s never much—odds and ends, some candy or canned goods she can’t find there easily, and a note telling her that if she moved home, she could get everything she loves anytime she wants. Like everyone else, I miss her. I don’t see her often enough, but this summer I plan to visit her in Paris for a couple of weeks, something I’m really looking forward to.
After I finish with my errands, I head for my apartment. I started reading a new series a few days ago, and I’m anxious to curl up with my Kindle while eating the store-bought sushi I picked up for dinner. My cell phone buzzes as I pull into my designated parking spot, and I grab it out of my bag then roll my eyes toward the roof of my car.
April has been on me for the last week, demanding I spend time with her, our sisters, and our cousins. It’s sweet that she’s worried about me after what went down with Gareth, but it’s also unnecessary. Yes, I still think about him all the damn time, but no, I do not need the constant pulse-checking. What happened, happened. It’s done. I’m fine… pretty much.
Okay, so my stupid heart and head haven’t gotten with the program, but they will. It’s not like I had a relationship with the guy, so I have nothing to really get over.
After an annoyed sigh, I answer my cell with a chirpy “Hey.”
“I’m picking you up in a couple hours. We’re going to get tattoos.”
Wait, what?
“What?”
“You’ve been saying forever that you want a tattoo. Tonight is the night. I already booked us appointments. I’m picking you up. See you soon.”
“April—”
“Later.” She hangs up before I can tell her I’m not going with her. Before I can tell her that even though I’ve talked about getting a tattoo for ages and know exactly what I want, I don’t really have it in me to suffer through the pain of actually getting one.
“Crap.” I pull the phone from my ear and look out my windshield. No way will April let me out of this. I know I said I need more of a life, but a tattoo? She might as well be forcing me to jump out of a plane with only nylon and a stranger strapped to my back.
With a long groan, I grab my bags and get out of my car then head for my door, giving friendly smiles and finger waves to a couple of my neighbors when I pass them. I step inside and drop my purse on the hook next to the door then slip off my coat, hanging it up. When I turn around to head for the kitchen, I spot Melbourne lounging on the couch. And like always when I see his cute, furry face, I want to go cuddle him, but the minute we make eye contact, he jumps down and runs off.
“Just so you know, I’m going to adopt another cat. One that actually likes me,” I call out as his silver tale disappears around the corner. He doesn’t even have the decency to acknowledge my threat or me. “I’m not kidding!” I shout as I head for the kitchen to drop my grocery bags on the counter.
After I put out food for Melbourne, I head to my room to change clothes. I switch from slacks to jeans and then from my button-down blouse to a white V-neck tee with a loose, long, black cardigan over it, but I keep on my leopard-print flats, because they’re just as comfortable as sneakers.
Sitting in my kitchen, drinking a glass of wine, and eating my sushi, I hold my breath as the hero in the story kidnaps the heroine. I get so caught up in what’s happening on my Kindle that I jump when the doorbell rings. I glance at the clock; it’s almost seven. I don’t know how long it takes to get a tattoo, but with any luck I’ll be home before ten so I can get back to the kiss that I’m sure was about to take place. I slam the cover of my Kindle closed then go to answer the door.
As soon as it’s open, April eyes me from head to toe. “You’re wearing that?”
I look from her outfit of a form-fitting black tank, leather blazer, dark jeans, and black booted heels then down at myself. “Yes.” I shrug one shoulder, and she rolls her eyes toward the ceiling before looking back at me.
“Just grab your purse.”
I leave her without a word and go back to the kitchen, where I grab my cell along with my Kindle. After I convince April that I’m not getting a tattoo, I’ll at least have something to do to kill time. I pick up my bag at the door then follow her out, locking up.
“I can drive,” I tell her when we reach the parking lot.
“As if I’d ever let my ass ride bitch in your hooptie.” She presses the button on her keys and her car across the lot beeps as the lights turn on.
I don’t say a word until after I’ve slid into the passenger seat of her too small and too fast, silver Corvette and buckled in. “You do know I’m not getting a tattoo tonight, right?” I ask as “Highway to Hell” plays a decibel above normal through the car stereo.
“You are.”
“I’m not. I’ll watch you, but no way am I willingly going to have a needle plunged into my body over and over.”
“Then I’ll hold you down while it’s done.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo.”
“You won’t regret it or even remember the small amount of pain once it’s done,” she says before turning up the music, ending our conversation and placing her foot more firmly on the gas.
She drives us through town and pulls in to park in a small strip mall that’s mostly dark except for a Chinese restaurant at one end and a tattoo parlor on the other. The Chinese place looks like every other one in town, but the tattoo parlor stands out, even with it being connected to the business beside it. The glass windows are lit up with bright pink an
d white lights, and there’s a hand-drawn painting on the window of cherry blossoms and unique writing announcing the name of the place, Blossom’s Tattoos.
“Have you been here before?” I question April as she parks in the mostly empty lot.
“Blossom has done most of my ink,” she states before shutting down the engine and opening her door.
I follow her out of the car then into the parlor. The space inside is open and actually really beautiful. Light gray tile flooring that looks like hardwood. Bright lighting, and two glass-enclosed stations are in use with two tattoo-covered men working on their clients. Framed photos cover the walls, and most of the tattoos look like artwork in heavy wooden frames. I stand by the door, taking everything in. In my head, I expected this place to be dark, with books to flip through and hidden rooms down a long, dim hall. This place is nothing like I imagined. I move away from the door and meet April at the curved glass counter on the other side of the room.
The moment I stop next to my sister, a stick-thin woman comes around the corner. She’s wearing a ripped up, short-sleeved tee, showing off the colorful tattoos covering both her arms. Her blonde, pink, and lavender hair is braided back on one side of her head, making it look like that side is shaved. She’s uniquely beautiful. When she sees April, her face alights with a smile, and she shouts, “Girl! Where the fuck did you get that blazer? I need it.”
“Like I’d tell you,” April snaps sassily, and I jerk my head back, surprised by her tone.
The woman laughs, obviously not offended. “You’re not still mad about us showing up at the same place in the same dress, are you?”
“Mad that you looked better than me and stole the guy I was after right from under my nose? Why would I be mad about that?”
“He was a waste of time. You should be thanking me.” She shrugs with a coy smile.
“Like that’s ever gonna happen.” April rolls her eyes then asks, “Is Blossom set up?”
“She’s waiting for you.” Her eyes then come to me, and her head tips to the side as she studies me. “You’re the sister?”
“This is December. December, this is Lexi,” April introduces, waving her hand out.
Lexi’s eyes sweep over me again, making me feel awkward. I ignore that feeling and smile, saying, “Nice to meet you.”
Ignoring me she looks at April. “This adorable, obviously sweet girl is your sister? She’s wearing a cardigan,” Lexi states like it’s a crime to wear a cardigan. Then she places both her hands on the glass counter, looking over the top and down at my feet. “I knew it. She’s also wearing flats. They are leopard print, but they’re still flats.”
April sighs, and I can’t tell if she’s actually annoyed or just putting on a front. I’m not annoyed, but I am a little embarrassed and can feel my face getting red. “Can you tell Blossom we’re here?” April questions.
“Are you really going to get a tattoo?” Lexi finally acknowledges me, ignoring April’s question.
I want to say no, but there is something about this woman that makes me feel like I need to prove a point, that just because I’m dressed like I am doesn’t mean she knows me. “Yep.” I see April’s head swing my way, but I don’t look at her.
“Right the fuck on. Let’s get you some ink.” Lexi laughs then spins around and sashays away.
Crap, what have I done now?
“I don’t think you should get a tattoo tonight,” April says softly, and I turn my head to look at her. “You can watch as I get mine, and then if you still want, we can come back another time.”
“Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” I mutter, wondering where the books with the tattoos are. Maybe I can get a tiny ladybug or something.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You were right. I’ve always wanted a tattoo. I don’t know if I can get the one I always wanted, because I think it will need to be designed, but this can be like a test run.”
“A test run?” She raises a brow.
“Yeah. A test run.”
“Okay, so what are you thinking of getting?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a ladybug.”
She snorts. “A ladybug? No fucking way. Tell Blossom what you want; she can draw it up. If you like it, get it. If you don’t, then don’t get anything. A tattoo is forever, and it should be something that means something to you. I don’t want you to get a tattoo just because Lexi is kinda a bitch.”
“I heard that,” Lexi says, coming around the corner, and my eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry. Your sister and I have a love/hate relationship.” She smiles.
“It’s more of a hate/hate relationship,” April corrects.
Lexi laughs loud as a buzzer sounds, and like magic, a hidden door opens up. Lexi greets us on the opposite side then takes us down a hall. When we enter the large room, a plump, older woman with dark hair and striking blue eyes stands to greet us.
“April.” She hugs my sister then turns her attention to me. “You must be December.”
“I am.” I start to reach out my hand, but she stops me, pulling me in for a hug.
When she lets me go, she keeps a hold of me, and as I look into her eyes, I swear they seem familiar. I just don’t know why.
“You’re very pretty.”
“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks warm and her expression gentles.
“So what kind of tattoo are you thinking about getting?”
Since it’s something I’ve thought about a lot, even while believing I’d never get one, I give her the details of the design, along with the wording, and explain where I want it. When I’m done, her face is blank but her eyes are bright. “I don’t think I can draw that up and do it justice, but if you can wait a few minutes, I’ll send my nephew a message and see if he has time to come in and design it for you. He’s an amazing artist.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
“You’re not,” she assures me.
“All right,” I agree.
She smiles then grabs her phone and sends a message. When she’s done, she goes to a table and picks up a small piece of what looks like white parchment paper and hands it to April. “This is yours.”
“It’s perfect,” April says, and I get close to her side to get a better look at the paper. The drawing is not big, maybe two-by-two inches, but the detail is extraordinary. Straight lines and dots zigzag together, making a starburst that resembles a flower.
“Where are you getting it?” I ask my sister, and she looks over at me.
“The back of my neck.” She holds up her hair and points at the spot. “I plan on adding to it over time until it ends at my tailbone. It will be a process.”
“That’s going to look amazing.”
“I think so,” she says softly then asks, “Do you see it?”
“See what?” I question.
“Mom and Dad’s initials?” She looks back at the paper and I do the same.
I study the details until the N and A finally stand out to me, and then I feel my throat get tight. “Wow, that’s… that’s amazing,” I whisper.
“Blossom is amazing,” April whispers back. “I told her that I wanted a tattoo to represent our parents and my siblings, and she came up with the idea. Each one after this will have one initial hidden in the design to represent our sisters.”
“I can’t wait to see it when it’s complete.”
“Me neither,” she agrees then looks at Blossom. “Thank you, it really is perfect.”
“You know I love you, girl.” She smiles then picks up her cell when it dings. After she reads the message that pops up, she smiles at me. “My nephew is coming in. He said he’ll be here in about twenty minutes. While we wait for him, I’ll get started on April’s tattoo. By the time I’m done with hers, the design for yours should be complete and we can get to work.”
“Sounds good,” I tell her as my stomach starts to knot.
Am I really doing this? Crap. I am. I’m actually getting a tattoo. Feeling
a little nauseous, I take a seat across the room, watching April take off her jacket and tie up her hair before getting on what looks like a low massage table. She lies like Blossom instructs, with her head down and her chin over the edge, seeming completely relaxed.
Not sure it’s wise for me to watch what happens next, I pull out my Kindle and try to read. It’s a lost cause when the sound of a soft buzz fills the silence, making me hyperaware of what’s going on. Just as I’m about to stand and get closer to watch Blossom work, there’s a knock on the door before it opens. Instinctively, I turn toward it, and when I do, my stomach bottoms out.
No.
No way.
The sound of the buzzing ends as Blossom turns to look at the door, but I still hear and feel the vibration of the tattoo gun. “Hey, honey.” She smiles widely as Gareth walks across the room toward her, not noticing me sitting a few feet away.
When he’s close, he leans down, kissing her cheek and saying “Hey, Auntie.”
“Where are my boys?” she asks, and I wonder if April—who is still lying face-down—knows who Blossom’s nephew is. If she does and if this was a set up, I’m going to kill her.
“With Mom at a movie.”
“Got it,” she says, and then she looks at me and I feel myself freeze when he follows her gaze. “That’s December. December, this is my nephew Gareth.”
“Wait… what?” April’s head jerks up quickly.
Okay, seems she didn’t know that Gareth is Blossom’s nephew. Good to know I don’t have to figure out how to hide her body.
“Shit,” Gareth hisses.
“Umm....” I look from April, who looks shocked, to Blossom, who looks confused, and then back to Gareth, who looks a mixture of surprised and annoyed.
“Do you two know each other?” Blossom asks, glancing between Gareth and me.
“Umm….” I repeat, my mind so overwhelmed by seeing him again that I can’t seem to form a thought, let alone words.
“You could say that,” Gareth answers in a low voice that sends a chill across my skin and through me.
“Well.” Blossom frowns. “She has a tattoo she needs designed. Are you cool if she explains it to you?”
Until December Page 3
