The Sexy Tattooist Page 8

  The sound of the cowbells clanking to herald in the opening of the door managed to jerk me out of my thoughts. I expected a customer and started to intone a greeting before it registered with me who it was.

  “Oh,” I said. “Hi, Mom.”

  My mother rarely ever made an appearance at the shop, so it always caught me a little off-guard whenever she paraded through the door. I wondered what exactly it was she was going to want from me this time.

  “You sound surprised to see me. Or were you expecting someone else?”

  “No, I was just thinking about something, that’s all. Well, and I guess a little surprised to see you. You don’t usually stop by.”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by and pay my son a visit. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

  “Sure.”

  “How’s business?” she asked.

  “Things are fine.”

  “Seems quiet.”

  “I had a few people in earlier. Things have been plenty busy.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She had a lighthearted look on her face and when she smiled, I could tell she was a little bit tipsy. Not too bad off, more like she’d just had a few drinks and was feeling good. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about taking a break from dating and whatnot. Remember when you told me that? My car had died?”

  “Yes, I remember. I also remember you giving me a whole load of shit over it.”

  “Right. And that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about it, and while I think that you should be out there, you know, meeting your future wife and getting ready to make me a grandmother, I do want to be supportive of you. I’m proud of the things you’ve done so far, and I don’t want you to feel like I just give you a hard time.”

  I stood there, waiting for the catch. There had to be one; no way in hell she just came down here to tell me that.

  But she didn’t say anything else, and that was when she would’ve asked me for another loan or a ride somewhere.

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “I appreciate you coming down here to tell me that. I’ve actually got to take care of a few things before Helena gets here and then I’m leaving early.”

  “Oh? Where are you going?”

  “Dentist,” I lied. She didn’t need to know I was going to help Chloe with her project.

  My mother gave me a big smile. “You’ve always had good teeth. You can thank me for that.”

  *****

  The people at the art center seemed a bit friendlier after I’d gone there a few times; one of the older women even asked me what discipline it was that I focused on.

  “Tattoos, mostly,” I said.

  “I see,” she said, nodding. “I’m most interested in oil painting. I heard you’re working with Chloe Singer?”

  “I’m helping her out.” I wondered who she had “heard” this from. “She’s got a show coming up at the end of the summer.”

  The woman nodded. “I’ll also have a piece in it. Claudia’s summer exhibition is quite renowned, you know.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, you do now. It’s an honor to have a piece shown in her gallery. Chloe is very lucky.”

  “Chloe’s very talented,” I said. “And it sounds like anyone who has a piece in her show is very lucky.” I gave her a pointed look. Holy fuck I hated that pretentious shit. The woman didn’t need to say that she thought Chloe didn’t belong in the show, that she somehow hadn’t earned the right; the expression on her face said it all.

  Luckily, Chloe showed up then, saving me from having to continue this conversation. The lady I’d been talking to smiled sweetly at her, of course, as though they were best friends or something. Chloe seemed distracted, though, and just hurried down the hallway to her studio.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  She was taking out the sketches we’d been working on; pages and pages of doodles and drawings. She spread them out on the table.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I just ... help me go through these.”

  “Sure.” We sat down next to each other and began leafing through the papers. Some were half-finished doodles, others were actually complete, but none of them seemed fully satisfactory to Chloe.

  “These are good,” she said, “but nothing is exactly right.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And time is ticking, and I’m starting to feel stressed. It’s already mid-July and I haven’t even started yet!”

  “Maybe you’re overthinking it,” I said.

  “What do you mean? If I don’t think about it, nothing’s going to happen. I can’t just get some clay and start without some idea in mind of what the outcome is going to be!”

  “I know.” I touched her arm because I could hear a frantic note in her voice. “I’m not saying that you need to go into it blind. But I think maybe you’re overthinking it, and putting too much pressure on yourself to come up with the perfect idea.”

  “But I want it to be perfect.”

  “I know. And I think whatever you end up deciding on will be as perfect as you can get it. But you’ve got to let yourself get started on something, because if you don’t, you’re not going to do anything. You’re just going to let that fear paralyze you.”

  I knew exactly what she was feeling; there’d been plenty of times when a customer had asked for a custom piece, something big, usually, and they’d given me the details, but often it came with a fair amount of leeway, and I could clearly recall how overwhelming it felt to sit in front of a blank page, wanting to get it perfect, but being too afraid to start.

  She took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said. Without even realizing it, I’d started rubbing her forearm. She looked down and I stopped. “You don’t have to stop,” she said. “That felt good.”

  “You’re strong,” I said, feeling the supple muscle in her forearm.

  A few tendrils of her hair had worked their way loose from her ponytail. I brushed them back from her forehead. It hadn’t felt like either of us had moved, but it seemed that we were suddenly closer, barely any distance between our bodies. The air felt thick, charged. Our eyes met.

  If I didn’t want this to go any further; I needed to stop this, now. Just pull my hand away, pull my gaze away, get back to working on figuring out what she was going to do for her sculpture. But I didn’t want to stop; in fact, I very much wanted to see where this would go. We’d come so close to kissing the other day but hadn’t—and I only realized after how foolish that had been. Who gave a flying fuck if I didn’t stick to my original plan? It wasn’t like I’d taken an oath or something.

  So, I did it. I leaned in and kissed her, and when my mouth met hers, she made a little surprised sound, almost like a squeak, but then she was kissing me back. She kissed me back softly at first, almost questioningly, but then she got bolder, pressing her mouth firmly against my own. Damn, she felt good.

  She had a sheepish smile on her face when we pulled away, her eyes half-closed.

  “I never know what to say after,” she said.

  I leaned back in and kissed her once. “You don’t to have to say anything,” I said. “You can just start doing this again.”

  Her smile widened. “Okay,” she said.

  16.

  Chloe

  Kissing Graham had unleashed my creativity, it would seem. Because after that kiss, the ideas for what I could sculpt just seemed to pour from me. A mermaid, I decided, but there would also be something else, too. I wasn’t sure just what, but that no longer mattered. He was right; I just needed to get started with the idea that I had, and then the rest of it would fall into place. I didn’t want to get started on the sculpting part just yet, though, so I spent an entire night in my room, working on sketches. It was late when I finally got up from my desk and slipped into bed.

  I had just closed my eyes when my phone started to buzz. I fumbled in the dark for it, knocking it off the bedside table and onto the floor. I picked it up and looked at the screen. My heart sp
ed up when I saw who it was: Graham.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Sorry to call so late. But I didn’t realize it was a full moon tonight. Are you busy?”

  “No,” I said, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Just lying in bed, actually.”

  “You feel up for going out?”

  “Going out? Now? Um, sure. Where?”

  “It’s a surprise. But wear your bathing suit. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

  “Um ...” I paused. Graham showing up here late at night probably wouldn’t go over so well with my parents. “Why don’t I meet you?”

  “Sure. Meet me down at the shop, and we’ll take my truck.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Awesome. See you soon.”

  I got up out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway and into the bathroom where my bathing suit was hanging on the towel rack. I could hear the TV on downstairs. As I slipped into my bathing suit, I debated whether or not to tell my parents that I was going out. They’d be immediately suspicious, and want to know who I was going with, and where we were going. I kind of didn’t blame them, seeing as it was already pretty late, yet on the other hand, I wasn’t a kid anymore and shouldn’t have a curfew. Except that my father would then say that—regardless of how old I was, when I was living in their house, I had to abide by their rules.

  I tiptoed back to my room. Obviously, not telling them would be the hassle-free way to go, unless of course my mother came upstairs to find my room empty.

  I doubted she would, though. She’d probably had a couple glasses of wine at this point and would be heading to bed soon. She always made sure to get a good’s night sleep whenever she’d had a few drinks, to ensure that she didn’t look too bad off the next morning.

  I grabbed my purse off the top of my dresser, made sure I had my phone, and then left, closing my bedroom door behind me. If my parents were both in the family room, toward the back of the house, I’d have no problem sneaking out the front.

  I snuck down the stairs.

  “Can I get you anything else before I come back in there?” my father called out. I heard the refrigerator door close.

  “No, this is going to be my last glass and then I’m going to bed,” my mother replied.

  I waited on the stairs until I heard him walk back to the family room.

  I’d never snuck out of my parents’ house before, and even though I wasn’t technically a child, my heart was still racing as I silently made my way across the foyer to the front door. What would I do if my dad had realized he’d forgotten something in the kitchen and went back, then heard the front door opening and popped his head into the foyer and saw me there, leaving? I felt a tingle of anxiety shoot through me, but my hand was on the door knob and I pulled it open. The screen door would squeak if you pushed it too hard, so I gently pressed the handle, pulling the front door closed behind me.

  And just like that, I was outside.

  *****

  Graham was right—there was a brilliant full moon, bathing everything in a milky light. The trees cast shadows across the front lawn. I hadn’t planned on turning my headlights on until I’d turned out of our driveway, but really, it was so bright out, I wouldn’t have needed the headlights at all.

  I scurried over to my car and got in. At the end of the driveway, I did turn the headlights on, and I felt a sense of freedom as I pulled out onto our quiet road. I’d never done anything like this as a teenager, and I felt as though I were doing something now that I should’ve been doing then. Why had I been so caught up with being such a stickler for all my parents’ rules? I put all the windows down and hung my left arm out the window. I didn’t speed, though I wanted to, but just the feel of the air whipping my hair around was good enough.

  He was waiting in his truck when I got there. I parked behind him and then hopped into the front seat of the truck.

  “Success,” I said.

  He leaned over the center console and we kissed. A shiver shot down my spine. The few guys that I had kissed before Graham were nothing compared to this. Any insecurity about it that I had previously felt melted away. He brought his hand up and cupped the side of my face, running his thumb along my jawline.

  “Mmm,” he said. He settled back into his seat and started the truck. “You ready for this?”

  “I think so. Except I have no idea where we’re going.”

  He grinned. “It’s gonna be awesome. You’ll love it.”

  We started to drive out of town. He turned down several residential roads I’d never been down before, and then took another turn down an unpaved road, driving for a little while before we came to a parking area.

  “Where are we?” I asked as we got out.

  “Clear Lake,” he said. “Ever been here?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “It’s one of my favorite swimming spots. One of the cleanest lakes in the state, probably; it’s about ninety feet deep at its deepest. But in the summer, it gets really crowded, so I usually stay away until the season’s over. Except on nights like this, because there’s an awesome rope swing.”

  “I’ve never done that, either,” I said, feeling a little lame. “I did go to a water park once; there was a huge water slide there,” I added, as though that might somehow redeem me.

  “I’d say the rope they’ve got set up here beats any water slide. But you’ll have to try to it out for yourself. We’re going to walk through the woods for a little bit,” he said. “Normally I’d bring a flashlight, but on nights like this, there’s no need to.”

  A narrow footpath threaded its way through the woods, and I followed close behind Graham. It felt thrilling and a little wild to be out in the woods at night like this. The air was full of the sound of spring peepers and the moonlight gave everything an ethereal, otherworldly feel.

  I heard a sound. “What was that?” I asked, freezing.

  Graham stopped too, listening. “People,” he said. “Come on.”

  “People?” I repeated skeptically. I felt a surge of nervousness—where had he taken me? What were we doing? But he reached out and took my hand, quelling the nervousness.

  “It’s a popular area,” he said. “For good reason.”

  We followed the path for a few more minutes before it opened into a clearing; we were on a bluff, it seemed, above the lake. The full moon was reflected perfectly on the water’s black, glassy surface. There were several people there, and they were taking turns swinging into the lake from a long rope attached to a thick branch connected to a tall tree overlooking the lake.

  “Wow,” I said, watching as someone grabbed the rope and took a running leap. The rope swung out over the pond, and at the apex, the person let go and dropped into the lake. “You weren’t joking.”

  For some reason, when he said rope swing, the image that came to mind was something much smaller, something dinky and cute that little kids would use, something that would gently arc out of the water. This rope swing though, was absolutely nothing like that. I looked up, and the branch the rope was attached to seemed impossibly high, to the point that I wondered how on Earth someone had gotten up there to attach it in the first place. And then, of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was secure, and what the chances were that the rope would simply not hold?

  But while I stood there wondering that, the rope came swinging back and someone else reached out and snatched it. There were several knots of varying sizes tied in the rope, and the person let out a yell and then took off.

  “That looks insane,” I said.

  “First time here?” a girl asked me. She looked like she was a few years younger than me.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I was nervous the first time too, but you’ll love it! Well, as long as you’re cool with that weightless feeling in your stomach; you know, it kind of feels like you’re going to throw up but in a good way?”

  Graham laughed. “Stellar endorsement.”

  “This
is the best-kept secret on the Cape!” one of the guys yelled. “And we’ve got a newbie here!” He pointed at me. “Love when I get to be here to witness someone get their cherry popped!”

  Everyone laughed and I was glad it was dark so no one could see my furious blushing.

  “Let me see that rope,” Graham said. It was clear that Graham had been here before. He knew exactly the right point to leap off the bluff, and timed his release of the rope perfectly. He shot into the water like a spear.

  “Fine display,” someone said, and a few people clapped as the rope came swinging back.

  I looked down to the lake, waiting for him to break the surface. A few seconds went by and nothing; the ripples that had been created when he dove in were dissipating and the water was almost completely smooth again. My heart started to beat faster. Where was he? Shouldn’t he have resurfaced by now? Why wasn’t anyone else noticing that he hadn’t come up yet? I took a step closer. If I had to take a running leap off this bluff, I probably could propel myself far enough to hit the water, but—

  But before I could do anything like that, he resurfaced, almost all the way back to the shore. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You up?” one of the guys asked. I hesitated. Graham was still in the water, walking up onto the beach.

  “I’m going to wait for him,” I said.

  “I think she’s afraid!” A different girl than the one I’d already talked to stepped forward, grabbing the rope from the guy. “I’ll go.”

  I tried not to feel terribly out of place as I waited for Graham to make his way back up here. I watched the girl as she took a few steps back, pulling the rope taut, then ran forward.

  “Kristin always fucks it up,” the guy standing closest to me said. “Watch her, but only to know not what to do.”

  I watched, and saw how she let go way too early, before the rope had even come close to reaching the apex. She dropped unceremoniously into the water, doing what sounded like a belly flop. By the time someone had hauled the rope back in, Graham was back up on the bluff.

  “Okay,” I said, walking over to the rope. “I’ll go.”