The Sexy Tattooist Read online

  Tara pursed her lips around the straw of the latte and nodded. “Yeah, I could totally see someone like him being like that. Which is kind of an awesome way to be, if you think about it. I totally hear what you’re saying—I’d be freaking out and obsessing over it for days too, if I tried to kiss someone and they turned away like that—but maybe it’s better that he’s just, you know, not freaking out over it.”

  “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “Well, what matters,” she said, “is why you turned your head. Um, hello? When someone like Parker goes to kiss you, you don’t turn your head.”

  “But I wasn’t hanging out with him because I wanted us to kiss.”

  “Why were you hanging out with him then?”

  “Honestly? To get my mother off my case. I figured if we hung out a couple of times, I could tell her that I’d done it and it wasn’t going to work out and she should just leave me alone about it because she clearly sucks at matchmaking.”

  Tara smiled. “I think it’s kind of cute that she’s being so proactive about it.”

  “You’re giving her way too much credit; she’s not being proactive, she’s being a pain in the ass. Anyway. I mean, yeah, I admit that there was a little part of me that was kind of in disbelief that I was even hanging out with Parker to begin with, but you know what? He’s just a guy. Yeah, he’s better looking than a lot of guys, but he’s just, you know, a person. And we had fun, but I like Graham. I would’ve rather gone to the race with Graham than with Parker.”

  Tara sighed. “If only I had your problem,” she said. “Trying to decide which gorgeous guy to spend my time with. Well, Chloe, it sounds like you just need to go talk to Graham, then.”

  “I know, you’re right.” And she was. But I wanted to think of exactly what I would say first, because I wanted him to understand that this whole situation was not at all what he probably thought it was.

  *****

  I’d have this talk with him in person, I decided, but I texted to see if there was a time he wanted to meet up. A whole day, and then another, went by without a response. I sent him a second text.

  Wasn’t sure if you got my first message, but I’d like to see you. When is a good time to meet up? Or should I just ambush you at the shop again?

  I hesitated and then added a smiley face before I pressed send, not wanting that last part to come across as a threat.

  Still no response.

  I tried not to feel annoyed. And then that annoyance turned into anxiety. I texted once more, no words this time, just a question mark.

  Still, nothing.

  From Graham, anyway. Parker had texted the day after the race and asked if I wanted to take his dad’s boat out and hang out on Pleasant Bay. He said he was feeling much better and felt that he needed to make up for the other day and show me a good time. And boating on Pleasant Bay actually sounded like fun, but I told him I was pretty busy working on my sculpture project for the next few days.

  No worries, he wrote back, almost immediately. I’ll be in touch!

  I sighed, wishing that it was Graham who was so prompt in responding and eager to hang out, not Parker.

  27.

  Graham

  Is this a booty call?

  That was what Francesca texted back to me when I asked her if she wanted to come by the shop.

  Because if I remember correctly, my next appointment with u isn’t scheduled until next week.

  I couldn’t think of anything witty to reply. I just wanted to have the kind of sex that didn’t involve a lot of talking or verbal foreplay.

  Something like that, I wrote back.

  I might be able to oblige u. Am actually in ur ‘hood. Be by soon.

  I almost didn’t respond, but then typed a quick: OK.

  I was at work. I was at work and there was always the possibility that a customer could walk in, though it was mid-afternoon and that was generally our slowest time. Even so, I didn’t actually give a shit. Besides, I was the boss here, so I could—within reason—do whatever I wanted. And right now, this was what I wanted to do.

  A few minutes later, I heard the door open. I looked up, fully expecting it to be Francesca. It wasn’t though—it was Chloe.

  She’d been texting me ever since the race and I hadn’t gotten back to her. Not because I was trying to play immature games or anything, but because I knew she’d want to talk, and try to explain this whole thing with Parker, and then I’d probably have to end up telling her that this summer was supposed to be about shit being drama-free and that just wasn’t happening so far.

  “Hi,” she said, walking over to the counter. “I ... I was texting you but I hadn’t heard anything back. So I’m stopping by. Because I need to talk to you about something, and I wanted to do it in person.”

  “Okay,” I said, because I wasn’t just going to demand she leave. I could at least hear her out. I just hoped that Francesca wasn’t going to show up while she was still here. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say, but make it quick because I’ve got another customer coming any second.”

  She took a deep breath, like she was about to start reciting something in front of a classroom. “Look,” she said. “I’m really sorry if it caught you off guard, seeing me at the race with Parker. Like I said, nothing has happened between us, and I guess I just really don’t know the rules for how you’re supposed to be when you’re seeing someone.” Her face started to get red. “But that’s just the thing—I didn’t know if we’re actually seeing each other. Like, I know we’re sleeping together but ... but what else does that mean?”

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but it really doesn’t have to mean anything. As in, it’s fine if you want to hang out with Parker, or whoever you want.”

  “It’s just so confusing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  The thing was—she was right, it was confusing, but we were confused for different reasons. I just wasn’t used to feeling like this toward someone, and it kind of scared me, not that I would ever actually admit that out loud. It wasn’t just that Chloe was attractive—I’d been with plenty of hot girls before and hadn’t had feelings like this. It was more like I wanted to be with her, not just for sex, but because I liked being around her. Some guys might welcome that sort of feeling, but for me it was foreign, completely unexpected, and not entirely comfortable. In other words, something that I just didn’t want to deal with right now.

  So, I tuned her out. She was still talking, and I was standing there, looking at her, nodding every once in a while, but I wasn’t actually hearing any of what she was saying.

  And then I saw Francesca pull up and park, right out front of the shop. She came breezing in, a big smile on her face. She was wearing an incredibly short pair of shorts, showing off those long, muscular legs of hers, and a black tank top that was just short enough to show off the thinnest strip of her toned midriff.

  “Hey there, handsome,” she said. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.” She looked at Chloe. “I’ll just wait in your office until you’re done with your customer.” She sauntered off, and though she didn’t say exactly why it was she was there, it was pretty clear.

  Chloe watched her go, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. “Who’s that?” she asked softly.

  “That? No one. She’s a customer. And a friend of mine.”

  “Oh.” She nodded slowly, biting at her lower lip. She kept looking toward the back, as though she was expecting Francesca to reappear and explain exactly who she was to me. “I think I’ll go.”

  There was a part of me that wanted to stop her, that wanted to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought it was—even if it kind of was. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and watched her walk out of the shop, and even when she turned and looked at me as the door was closing behind her, I still didn’t say anything. Francesca was out back in my office, waiting for me, and Chloe was walking out, afte
r telling me she was sorry. And here I was, standing in the middle of it, feeling like shit.

  *****

  Francesca was stretched out on the chaise lounge, looking like she was about to indulge in a late morning nap. She opened one eye when I came in.

  “I feel like such a harlot,” she said. “But I kind of like it.”

  I leaned against the side of my desk and looked at her. “I think I called you down here for no reason,” I said. “I’m not ... I’ve got to get to work.”

  “On that customer out there? I can wait.”

  “She’s not ... never mind. No, she left. I’ve got some other work I need to do. I’m just not ... it’s just not a good idea.”

  Of course I felt like a complete asshole, having called her to come down here, and now here I was, changing my mind. But ... no. I just couldn’t, not because part of me didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t want to invite anymore bullshit into my life.

  Francesca raised her eyebrows and gave me the are you fucking kidding me? look, then she let out a long sigh and sat up.

  “Can I give you a little advice?” she said.

  “Sure, why not.”

  “Get your head straightened out. You don’t know if you’re coming or going.” A slightly cynical smile crossed her face. “Well. You’re not coming, we know that. I’ll see you later, Graham.”

  And then she left, too, much in the same manner Chloe had.

  *****

  After they were both gone, I tried to find something to busy myself with, but Helena had closed up last night and left the shop in good shape. I didn’t want a customer to come in; I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do any tattooing at the moment.

  The last thing I probably needed was a coffee, but I didn’t care; I needed something, and I wasn’t about to start drinking on the job. I stepped outside into the hot, humid air and locked the door behind me. There were several cafes to choose from within walking distance, but I chose the closest one, despite it being trendy and probably overrun with tourists.

  Inside, the air conditioner was blasting and the air was icy.

  I grabbed my coffee from the counter and turned, almost bumping into Tara, who was looking down, tapping away at her phone. “Oh,” she said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Hey.” She looked back down at her phone and then up at me. “I was just texting with Chloe. She said she just tried to go and talk with you.”

  It was hard to read the expression on her face; I couldn’t tell if she was about to just turn around and ignore me or try to throw that frothy iced drink of hers in my face.

  “But before I leave,” she continued, “I see an empty table over there; will you come sit over there with me for a minute?”

  We went over to the table and sat down.

  “So, obviously I don’t know all the details yet of what happened, but I feel like the two of you are kind of amateurs about this whole thing.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

  “Chloe is because you’re really the only guy she’s ever been with, but you—you might have been with a lot of women before, but I can tell that you’ve never really done the whole relationship thing, am I right?”

  “Never felt compelled to.”

  “Until now.” She gave me an even look.

  I took a sip of my coffee, not fully wanting to answer that statement.

  “Not that I’m trying to make up excuses or anything, but I never had that positive, loving relationship modeled for me as a kid. My mother isn’t someone who you’d nominate for any mom of the year awards, I can guarantee you that. And my stepfather and I never got along.”

  “What about your dad? He not in the picture?”

  “No. Definitely not in the picture. So, it always just seemed like a smart idea to steer clear of any relationships, and just stick to the casual stuff.”

  “Which is all well and good until you meet someone you actually like.”

  I thought back to Danielle. We were supposed to just be casual, but then she said she’d fallen for me. It was a fine line, I was realizing, one that up until this point I’d always done a good job of navigating, but now I seemed to have found myself on the other side.

  “It just seems like you’re denying yourself something that you actually want,” Tara said. “I mean, I can tell you like Chloe. Pretty much anyone can—all they have to do is see you guys together. So, maybe just stop being afraid and go for it. You don’t really strike me as the type of guy that would let fear hold him back from anything.”

  “I’m usually not. Which is why this is kind of throwing me for a loop.”

  “Listen,” Tara said. “You should just talk to her, okay? Just go over there. You probably don’t know where she lives, do you? Here, I’ll tell you. It’s not that difficult to find.”

  She grabbed one of the napkins from the holder and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote down the address and then slid the napkin across the table. I took it and looked down at her bubble print.

  “Just use Google maps if you don’t know where it is,” she said. “Well! I’m glad we got that out of the way. Now, there’s one more thing that I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “I really should get back to the shop.”

  “Okay, okay. This will only take a minute. I don’t know if Chloe mentioned this to you, but I had ... I had posted a picture of you on Facebook.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I took it down. It was only up for like a day. Maybe two. I didn’t put your name or anything, and you could barely even see your face anyway. So you don’t have to feel too violated or anything. But, I am sorry.”

  I shrugged. “It’s fine. I actually do have a Facebook page. Well, it’s for the shop, but I log on there sometimes. Customers like to post pictures of their tattoos, and Helena says it would look bad if we didn’t at least like the post. I’m not one of those people who’s completely paranoid about social media.”

  “Oh.” She brightened. “So would you care if I re-posted those pictures?”

  “Why do you want to post a picture of me?”

  “Because you’re hot. And because I’m trying to make someone else jealous.”

  “I see. You think that’s a smart idea?”

  “Seeing as he left me for someone else, hell yeah I do. Especially because I was actually considering spending the rest of my life with this person. Not to mention that we’d talked about this, like, had many conversations. All the while he’s planning on leaving me. I mean, who would do something like that?”

  “You’re a little young to be settling down with someone, aren’t you?”

  “People settle down all the time. I know some girls my age are having babies and shit.”

  “Yeah, but not you. You don’t seem the type. At least not for a long time, anyway. And let me tell you this: I might not know a lot about being in a relationship with someone, but I have seen what jealousy can do to a person, and it ain’t pretty. If your ex is out there having a good time, I’d let it go if I were you.”

  She gave me a patient smile, as though I had no clue what I was talking about. “Right, but Michael always comes out on top, you see. He thinks he can get away with anything.”

  “Then maybe you should just let him keep on thinking that.”

  “If I was a nice girl, maybe I would—but I’m not. Or if he had actually been up front with how he felt, I’d probably be a little more gracious about the whole thing, but I really can’t stand that shit. Especially considering we were together for almost two and a half years. That’s a long time to spend with someone just to have them decide one day that they’re completely over you, despite having just told you recently that you were going to spend the rest of your lives together.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anyway, enough about that whole situation. Take a day or two to think about it if you want, but talk to Chloe. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

  28.

  Chloe

&nb
sp; I tried not to think about him. I tried to keep myself preoccupied. Down at the art center, I worked on my sculpture, but now everything seemed all wrong. I sat on the stool and remembered him there, next to me. I remembered the day after we’d had sex, how emboldened I’d felt when he’d shown up here, how I’d just decided to give him a blow job, even though I’d never done something like that before. And yes, a part of me had been nervous, had been afraid that it would be obvious I had no clue what I was doing, or he’d tell me to stop or that I wasn’t doing it right. But then I started doing it and it hadn’t seemed that difficult, and I could tell he liked it—a lot. And I wanted to keep doing those sorts of things with him, but now it seemed like that might’ve been the last time, and I didn’t even really know what had happened.

  I rested my forearms on the work table and then put my head down on my arms. There was a tightness in my chest and an ache in my throat and I felt like I needed to do something but I didn’t know what. It was an awful feeling, actually, wanting to go back in time and do something differently to make the current situation somehow different. But I’d gone down there and tried to talk to him, and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. And then that woman had walked in, who was about a thousand times hotter than I could ever hope to be. Neither of them had to say anything—it was pretty obvious what was going to happen. Was this what dating people was all about? All this fucking drama and turmoil and shitty feelings?

  I thought about Tara and all the shit she was going through with Michael, whom she wasn’t with anymore. Maybe I hadn’t really missed anything, not going out with anyone when I was in high school. Because I sure as hell didn’t like feeling like this.

  I picked my head up. The first part of the mermaid tail was on the table in front of me; I’d been adding detail to the fin and liked how it was coming out, but I reached out and grabbed it and squeezed, feeling the damp clay give beneath my hands. I kept squeezing, squashing it back into a formless lump.