Paint It Black: the Story of Jezebel Engblom
Chapter 4: Tattooed and Pierced
(A/N: Lyrics to 'Running Away' by Hoobastank do not belong to me, and neither does Lords of Dogtown. Only Jezebel, Bret, and the plot are my property! I thought the lyrics fit especially well for Jezebel's situation.)
'I don't want you
To give it all up,
And leave your own life collecting dust;
And I don't want you to feel sorry for me,
You never gave us a chance to be.
And I don't need you
To be by my side,
To tell me that everything's alright;
I just wanted you
To tell me the truth,
You know I'd do that for you.'
She heard Bret stirring in the living room; she hoped it was because of her cooking. Soon he dragged himself into the kitchen, clad in yesterday's jeans; it had been too hot that night for a shirt. Jezebel turned and smiled at him.
"I thought of this last night... how come no one calls you 'Bella'? I figured that might be some sort of nickname you'd use... it seems to fit you." Bret questioned gently.
"When I was little, everyone called me Bella. Except for Jay. He called me Bella sometimes, but his favourite nickname for me was Jezi. After a while, I guess it just stuck." She recounted.
"Oh. Well guess what? I'm gonna call you Bella. I think it's beautiful. What are you cooking? Do you need any help?" Bret was not at all focused on her answer as he sat at the kitchen table, purposely behind her.
He was more interested in her legs, which seemed to stretch for miles and miles. He had just noticed this when she turned around, a pan of sizzling bacon in her hand. She swiftly grabbed three plates out of a nearby cupboard and placed them on the table, putting one directly in front of him. She knew what he was thinking about as she slid four slices of crispy bacon onto his plate; he immediately picked one up, instantly dropping it back.
"Ahh! Hot!" He whimpered, cradling his grease-burned first finger and thumb in his other hand.
"Well you dummy, if you were paying attention to the BOILING HOT BACON that I'd just put on your plate and NOT my LEGS, you wouldn't be in this situation! ...Hey, don't glare at my poor bacon like that! It has feelings too, you know! Or at least, it did." She mocked playfully, giggling at him as he glared at the bacon suspiciously.
She ruffled his hair before taking the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and setting them on the hot plate she'd put on the table.
"Don't touch the rolls until I get back! You wouldn't want to burn yourself again!" She ran off into the other room to wake Skip.
"No touchy!" She shouted, just as Bret was reaching for a sticky roll.
His hand immediately retracted. 'How does she do that?' He wondered. Pretty soon she heard someone pounding on a door, and subsequently a person falling to the floor. He listened as a shouting match broke out in the hallway; Jezebel must have won, because minutes later Skip was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, barely awake. He shoveled bacon and rolls into his mouth, almost methodically, as Jezebel popped open a beer and handed it to him. She didn't like it, but she was sure that was what he needed to begin the day.
"Gonna get my tattoo today, gonna get it cool... oh, and my piercing I guess." She finished her food and bounced off into her bedroom.
Jezebel was having a hard time trying to decide what to wear. She didn't exactly understand why she wanted to look extra special today, but apparently she did. Bret was having a hard time trying to decide what he thought of Jezebel. All he could think about were her legs, those perfect legs of hers. Jezebel decided on a long, flowing black skirt and a band tank top. 'The Allman Brothers', it read.
Bret decided that he was attracted to Jezebel. Somewhat strongly. But what did she think of him? She hadn't known him for that long, but then again she did pick him out of a crowd of thousands to talk to at a concert and distract her from her favourite band. He absently clicked his tongue ring against his bottom teeth. Skip glanced at him, still shoveling food in, and shook his head. Bret guzzled down the glass of orange juice that Jezebel had set out for him, to look preoccupied. He put his dishes in the sink and went to find her.
Jezebel sat in the bathroom, perched on the sink as she always did. A tube of liquid eyeliner was poised in her hand, heading toward her already lined left eye. She was just darkening it when Bret entered the bathroom behind her.
"Can I use some of that? It does wonders for dark circles." He asked. "Can you put it on me, though?"
Jezebel turned around and faced him. He settled himself in front of her and angled his eyes toward the ceiling. She put a tiny line of black on the rim of each eye as gently as possible and made him look in the mirror.
"You only need very little; your eyes are beautiful brown." She commented, turning back around to finish her own makeup. When she was satisfied she hopped down from the counter; he stopped her as her feet hit the floor.
"I really want to ask you... I know we just met a few days ago, but, what do you think? Do you think anything about me? I - I was just wondering." His eyes were so sincere as she stared into them. The dark pools seemed to swallow her, entrancing her with their spell.
"Bret, I do think about you. In fact, I think a lot about you. But right now I just don't know yet. We will have to see where life takes us, I guess. And if we're meant to be, we will be." She hugged him, tugging at his hand. "C'mon... put your shirt on and we'll go to the tattoo shop, okay? It's almost noon."
Jezebel sat in Marco's chair as he went over her paperwork. Ten minutes later, she was holding her therobbing lip in her hand.
"Now, don't play with it. It's gonna take three to four months to heal completely. You need to keep it clean; try not to touch it too much. You really shouldn't kiss anyone until it's healed, because it'll make it possible to get an infection or worse; I don't recommend smoking or drinking unless you can clean it right away. Stay healthy and get extra sleep. If you follow these, you'll get the best effect. Okay? It's probably going to be sore, tender, or red for a few days or maybe even a few weeks. But you'll love it, I'm sure. Do you want to go ahead with the tattoo now or reschedule? I know it's hard to think about anything other than your lip." At this point Jezebel wasn't sure if she could handle getting the tattoo today on top of the piercing, but decided she would. She nodded her head, afraid to speak.
"Okay, but only as long as you're sure. I'll take frequent breaks so it's not a huge shock all at once." He threw the used needle in the trash and readied his tattoo supplies.
She motioned Bret over and grabbed his hand as the needle buzzed to life.
After an hour of sitting in the store Jezebel was being escorted out by Bret, who was literally holding her up. He actually stopped after a while and picked her up; she buried her head in his t-shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her bones, practically count her ribs through her top. It was almost scary.
Bret laid Jezebel carefully on the couch in her apartment. He then sat in the armchair across from her and watched her sleep. She woke after about two hours; he had just sat there the entire time, watching. She was beautiful, he thought. She sat up and looked at him, rubbing at her eyes with her fists. She began to talk, but after about a second gave up the effort as she realized that her piercing was swollen too much for her to be able to speak.
Six months later
Jezebel had lost a lot of weight recently. It was partly because of her piercing, partly because of wanting to look good for Bret (even though he didn't care what she looked like, as long as she'd agree to go out with him when he asked her tomorrow), and partly because of her fluctuating emotions. She had become a much better surfer within these last few months, taking second place in a recent competition in Los Angeles. Her sixteenth birthday was tomorrow, and that was why Bret was so anxious to tell her how he felt. He wanted it to be special for both of them. Then they could look back on it and remember what a great day it was.
They had come very close to kissing the other day, but stopped themselves when they realized people were staring. Both had blushed profusely and kept walking. Jay was always excited for Jezebel no matter what happened, and this had increased considerably in the past few months. Bret also talked to him now; it was actually Jay's idea for him to ask her out on her birthday, because Jay knew that she'd wanted something like that to happen since she was eleven years old.
While Bret worried about what he'd get her for her birthday and how she felt about him and whether or not she'd agree when he asked her out, Jezebel was worried about what she was feeling for Bret. She felt that they had the potential to become more than friends, it was just a matter of when to bring the subject up. She was, as usual, completely oblivious to the things that were happening right under her nose.
He ran around downtown, dragging Jay along behind him into every store he saw.
"You're her best friend, would she like this? How about this? This? No, this one! What do you think of this?" He was practically frantic. In the six months he had known him, Bret had always presented him as a perfectly calm, relaxed, laid-back individual. Apparently, now Jay was experiencing the other side to that story. He rolled his eyes as he was dragged along again. He was actually kind of enjoying this... he stood on his skateboard and Bret basically pulled him along behind.
The same could not be said for the poor individual who was currently pulling him along. He was so frustrated with himself that he almost passed the store with the perfect gift in the window. Realizing his mistake so quickly forced Jay to stop quickly, which in turn sent the two boys tumbling down together.
Bret jumped up and helped Jay. "I found it! Oh, she'll love it! That one, there... the tiger. And that tapestry." He pointed inside the shop at a giant stuffed white tiger and a large splatter-painted tapestry with a neon green peace sign on it. As he entered, the beaded door hangers caught his attention.
By the time they left, Jay was laden down with the giant tiger and his skateboard, since he could no longer skate with the giant stuffie; Bret walked next to him carrying the tapestry and the black wooden-beaded door hanger.
They got to Bret's apartment and he went to call the pizza place to call off work for tomorrow. The day was going to be completely dedicated to Jezebel. He had it all planned out: he'd go to her apartment the next day around nine; Skip would be at work then. She'd still be asleep when he got there, and he'd set up her gifts at the foot of her bed; then he'd just hold her and she'd wake up in his arms.
Nothing could faze him as he scampered around the apartment excitedly. Jay idly sat on Bret's small green couch, fiddling with the tiger's ears. Bret rambled on and on, and Jay sat there nodding, as if he were actually paying attention. Ridiculous, right? Well, tomorrow was going to be WAY more insane.