Tattoos & Unicorns

by Kayla Carson

  Tattoos & Unicorns

  Kayla Carson

  Published by Peyton Wyatt Inc., 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  TATTOOS & UNICORNS

  First edition. September 19, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Kayla Carson.

  Written by Kayla Carson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE | TWO YEARS LATER

  More by Kayla Carson

  Further Reading: My favorite Mistake

  Also By Kayla Carson

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Cover Image: Yuliya Kirayonak

  Cover Design: Kayla Carson

  Editor: Kimberly Reese

  Songs/lyrics mentioned: 'It's you' Lewis Brice. Written by: Lewis Brice, Ben Simonetti, and Niko Moon

  Thank you to Roanna, for helping me find my voice when I was struggling. To my mom for always listening to my craziness, and encouraging me to always follow my dreams. To my sister for creating the best book jackets, and to my grams, my number one fan.

  ONE

  “ARE YOU DONE YET?” Morgan called from the living room. “It's a dress Ronnie, not a damn tent!”

  Morgan Astor, my best friend of nearly twenty years and my wedding dress designer. I didn't need Vera Wang, or Monique Lhuillier, Morgan Astor was the next big thing. She was designing clothes before she could walk, so when my boyfriend of twelve years finally decided to pop the question I looked no further.

  As I looked at myself in the floor length mirror that hung on the back of her bedroom door, I couldn't help but smile. Derek and I were high school sweethearts, and I always imagined us sharing a life together. But standing here now made everything that much more real. In two more months I'd be a married woman and in three, Morgan and I would be business owners.

  “Ronnie!” Morgan yelled impatiently.

  “Coming!” I called back, before smoothing the dress over my stomach one last time.

  When I walked out of her bedroom, and into the living room the smile on her face was instant.

  “Veronica Locke, you look absolutely gorgeous!”

  I couldn't disagree with her. The dress was tailored to me, and hugged my curves in all the right places. It was a mermaid cut, which I never thought that my five foot three frame could pull off, but of course my best friend was a genius. She managed to make me look taller somehow, and hide all of my imperfections beautifully.

  It was strapless, and instead of a zipper in the back it was tied together like a bodice with silk ribbon. Morgan came up behind me then to adjust it, before taking a step back again. I gave her a little twirl, and she clapped her hands excitedly.

  “I still can't believe you're getting married.” She sighed.

  “Morgan, we've talked about this.”

  “I know you love him, Ronnie. But he's just so... boring sometimes.”

  “Derek isn't boring he's just-”

  “Safe?” She interrupted me.

  “What's wrong with safe?” I countered. “He loves me, and I love him.”

  “You're right. I'm sorry.” She said, switching gears. “Let's get you out of this dress so we can get ready for tonight.”

  “Do we have to go out tonight?” I half whined.

  “It's business, Ronnie. How do you expect to do well in New York without any real connections?”

  New York, the fashion capital. If I was being completely honest with myself I was scared. I was born and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina. I even went to College here, opting out of better known universities even though I had the choice. My parents weren't rich, but my dad did very well for himself. He paid for my college tuition up front, and is our main investor for our boutique. The problem with a town like Raleigh, is that when it comes to fashion there isn't much on the job front. I had a shiny new degree that I needed to put to use, and I just couldn't do it here.

  “I'm raiding your closet.” I said, conceding.

  “You always do.” She teased, before untying my dress.

  Nights like this were where I shone the brightest. Even though I despised dressing up in over the top clothing, and spending money at restaurants where they only served you a portion of what you actually wanted to eat, it was the only way to gain investors. With our boutique so close to opening, we needed to secure our funds, and that's where my bachelor's degree in marketing came into play.

  Morgan opted for her signature little black dress, and a pop of red lipstick. She was a tall, leggy blonde, and it went without saying that she was a natural beauty. I, on the other hand had dark brown hair, and hips that I always hated. My short build only made me feel wider, and even though Derek never complained I compared myself to my best friend a lot.

  I found a burgundy colored dress in her closet, and when I stepped into it I instantly crinkled my nose. It was a problem I've had since childhood. My self esteem was seriously lacking when it came to my appearance. My brain on the other hand was my money maker. I had learned pretty quickly that Morgan could get what she needed by batting her lashes, and swaying her hips. But it just didn't work for me. So, I found other ways to impress people.

  I graduated top of my class at Meredith College, and had impressed my professors so much with my ad, and marketing research that I was able to form a few key connections. One being an up and coming designer who would be showing at New York fashion week next fall. She was extremely generous with sharing her own connections, and that's how Sew New came to be.

  “Do you think that I should curl my hair?” Morgan asked, as she brushed past me to stand in front of the bathroom mirror.

  “No. The humidity's high today it wouldn't do any good.”

  “You're so lucky that your hair is curly!” She huffed.

  I rolled my eyes. “It's frizzy, and thick, and I hate it.”

  “Stop doing that.” She said, swatting my shoulder. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

  “Says the blonde super model standing beside me.”

  She rolled her eyes this time. “I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that.”

  I reached for the mascara wand, and applied it to my lashes while Morgan began to apply her own makeup. After a few minutes the two of us were ready, and heading towards the door. I pulled my cell out of my purse when we got into Morgan's car and sent Derek a quick text. These kinds of things tended to run long so I told him that I'd be crashing with Morgan tonight. He replied instantly, telling me how much he'd miss me and I smiled to myself. He really was the perfect man.

  Derek was understanding, and forgiving to a fault. In college our relationship was really put to the test. I studied non stop, and often times I just didn't have time for him. Instead of letting that get to him though, he only tried harder. He'd bring me study snacks, and drop by with dinner when he knew I was studying late. He never tried to deter me, and always pushed me to be better. He wasn't boring, he was sweet, and attentive when he wanted to be.

  “What did lover boy say?” Morgan asked, knowingly.

  “
Just that he'd miss me tonight.”

  “Of course he will, he's probably going to sit at home and watch re runs of South Park.”

  “You do realize that was in high school, right? His tastes have evolved a bit since then.”

  She laughed. “Whatever you say.”

  “Just drive the damn car.” I laughed back.

  The restaurant we were heading to tonight was new in town, and it had a bit of a reputation. After eight PM, it turned into more of a dance club which really piqued Morgan's interest. After a stuffy meeting with an old fogey in a suit, unwinding was a good way to decompress. I wasn't a clubbing, dancing, and drinking all night kind of girl, but I had been known to indulge on occasion.

  When we finally pulled into the parking lot of Fahrenheit it was already pretty busy. Thank God for reservations, I thought as Morgan expertly backed her Audi into a vacant parking space. When I climbed out of her car, I adjusted my dress so that my cleavage wasn't too distasteful, and held my clutch with both hands over my middle. I don't know that I'd ever feel comfortable in my own skin, and I shivered as the two of us walked towards the entrance.

  Waitresses were practically sprinting with their trays, and the patrons all seemed to be enjoying themselves. I noticed a vacant dance floor on the other side of the bar, but no one was on it yet. It must open after eight to adjust to a different type of crowd. As a marketing major, I thought it wasn't a bad idea. A mullet approach if you will. Business in the front, party in the back. I laughed to myself as a waitress took us to our table, and removed the reserved sign.

  “How much is this place costing us tonight?” I asked.

  “Don't worry about it.” She winked, pulling out her trusty American Express card.

  “Doesn't that thing have a limit?”

  “Not that I'm aware of. Daddy just keeps paying the bill.” She shrugged.

  “Wasn't it for emergencies though?” I asked, arching a brow.

  “Schmoozing investors is an emergency, Ronnie. Our future depends on it.”

  “I wish I could justify things the way that you do.”

  “You know my dad went MIA when I was three. If giving me a black card, and footing the bill makes him feel a little less guilty, who am I to deny him?”

  I laughed, just as the man we were meeting with approached our table. He had to be close to eighty, and I started to wonder where Morgan had even found him. I stood to shake his hand, and he smiled at me warmly admiring my engagement ring.

  “Congratulations.” He said, before the two of us sat down together.

  “Thank you, Mister Harrington.” I smiled politely. “Would you like me to grab you a drink from the bar?”

  “No thank-you, dear. We'll just wait for the waitress to come by.” He winked.

  “Alright then.” Morgan said, clapping her hands together. “Let's get down to business then, shall we?”

  I internally cringed. The woman could turn a wet paper bag into something couture, but her people skills were seriously lacking. Luckily, Mister Harrington laughed before reaching for her hand across the table.

  “I like you.” He winked. “Any chance you're looking for a sugar daddy?”

  Without missing a beat she returned his wink. “I already have enough daddy issues, Mister Harrington.”

  He laughed again, and to my relief the actual business talk started soon after. Turns out he's worked with up and coming designers before and after seeing Morgan's portfolio, as well as my mock ups for ads and marketing plans he seemed genuinely impressed. After paying for his steak, and lobster as well as a bottle and half of wine, our schmoozing was finally over. He promised to reach out to us the first of the week, and that was all that we could hope for.

  It was nearly eight now, so of course Morgan wanted to stay to check out the club scene. We took our bags, and documents out to her car and then she dug around in the trunk, and pulled out a bag of clothes.

  “What's all this?”

  “We can't wear our business attire to go dancing.” She said, as if I were a complete moron.

  “Of course not.” I humored her.

  “Here.” She said, tossing an outfit at me. “Follow me.”

  There was no use in arguing with her. I'd learned a long time ago that it was just easier to submit, because I'd always end up right where she wanted me anyway. So, the two of us went back inside the restaurant, and directly to the bathroom. Of course the shoes that we had on matched our new outfits. The woman was a fashion guru. I wound up in a pair of black leather leggings, and a silk navy tank top that dipped so low you could almost see my navel. I had to take my bra off, and stuff it into my purse so that it wasn't visible.

  “We clean up good.” Morgan said, giving her hair a fluff in the mirror. “Give me your dress, I'll run it back to the car while you grab us some drinks.”

  “Yes, Ma'am.” I mock saluted, and she rolled her eyes.

  I found myself at the bar a few seconds later, and after ordering a Pepsi for myself, and a glass of wine for Morgan I carried the drinks across the now open dance floor and found a small vacant table. Even though the clock had barely struck eight, the other side of the building was quickly starting to fill. I made a mental note to talk to Morgan about a design that could be versatile for business and pleasure. Not that changing in a restaurant restroom didn't do the trick, but it did seem a bit easier.

  Morgan found me easily enough, and immediately took a sip from her glass as she sat down across from me. She eyed my Pepsi suspiciously, and rolled her eyes.

  “One of us has to stay sober tonight.” I said, taking a sip of my own.

  “Where's your sense of adventure, Ronnie?”

  “What kind of adventures will I be missing out on by drinking soda?”

  She cocked her head to the side in the general direction of a good looking man. He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and he wore a black stetson. I rolled my eyes. Being Morgan's wing woman was a feat all it's own. Not only did I have to help her snag the man, but then I also had to vet him. Was he secretly psychotic? Did he live at home with his mother? You know, the usual ailments.

  “Nope.” I said, shaking my head adamantly. “He's from out of town. Look at the size of his belt buckle! It's not the nineties anymore.”

  “Oh I'm not worried about the size of his belt buckle, only what's beneath it.” She winked.

  “Can we just dance? Please?” I half begged.

  “Fine.” She said before draining her glass, and reaching for my hand.

  The two of us made our way out onto the dance floor, squeezing our way into the middle. That was who Morgan was. Always the center of attention, while I preferred to blend into the crowd. I tried to hide my discomfort as I felt the eyes that had begun to land on me.

  Morgan was sexy, and beautiful, and she knew exactly how to use her body to her advantage. She shook her hips, and dipped down low before popping back up seductively. She was one with the music, and never missed a beat. Soon a man approached her, and then another before I was pushed out of the circle completely.

  Not to be outdone, I tried to find my own rhythm. I already knew that I didn't look as sexy, or as graceful as she did but I really wanted to try and enjoy myself. I swayed to the music, letting it take over. I closed my eyes, and then I just disappeared. The melody wrapped around me, and suddenly I was no longer standing in the center of a dance floor. I was alone in my room, dancing like no one was watching.

  A smile formed on my face of it's own accord, and that's when I felt a pair of hands on my hips. My eyes popped open in surprise, and I jumped before turning to face the offender. It was the very same man in the black stetson that Morgan had been eyeballing earlier. He gave me a cocky smile, before extending his hand.

  “Sorry to startle you, ma'am.” He said, as I allowed him to shake my hand in greeting. “I saw you from across the room, and the way that you were so lost in the music was almost hypnotic.”

  A blush crept up across my face, and I quickly pulled my hand aw
ay. The weight of my engagement ring suddenly reminding me of Derek.

  “I'm engaged.” I said, a bit awkwardly.

  He laughed. “Does that mean you can't dance with me then?”

  Before I could answer, Morgan sidled up beside me and placed her arm around my waist.

  “Is this man bothering you Sweetheart?” She asked.

  The man laughed again. “I was just asking her to dance with me, is that a crime?”

  “Ronnie's not much of a dancer, but I am.” She said, biting her bottom lip playfully. “What do you say? Wanna take me for a twirl?”

  As if I were absolutely nothing, the man took Morgan's hand and led her deeper into the swarm of people on the dance floor. I stood there for a moment, not exactly sure what I was feeling. On one hand I didn't really want to dance with the man. On the other, the way that Morgan had just dismissed me left me feeling like absolute shit.

  It wasn't the first time that something like this had happened. I was used to always being picked last. The second best. I never blamed her though. She was always there when it counted. When the chips were down, I knew that she was the only person I could truly count on. My dad, and I were close but there were some things that you just couldn't discuss with your parents.

  I turned to look at Morgan then, and she shot me a wink over Stetson's shoulder. I gave her a small smile back, before returning to our table. My drink was gone, and so was hers so I assumed a waitress had cleared them. I pulled my cell from my purse, and realized it was barely eight thirty but I didn't want to be here any more. So, I shoved my way back through the crowd to find Morgan.

  “I'm going to call an Uber.” I said, when I reached her.

  “What?” She pouted. “The party's just starting, Ronnie!”

  “I know. I just want to go home, and see Derek.”

  “I understand.”

  “Will you be OK here?”

  “Of course.” She said, giving Stetson a little squeeze. “I'm in good hands.”

  Instead of waiting inside, I decided to make the call from somewhere quieter. I weaved my way through the crowded building, and out the front door. The instant I stepped into the cool night air I felt like I could breathe again. I dialed an Uber, and I sat on the bench near the door to wait. I could still hear the music pulsing from inside, and smiled when the song switched to one of my favorites.