Thank you for your continued support.
Standard disclaimer.
Sam and I didn't speak again, until we got on the freeway.
"What did she say to you?"
"She was just being a protective mother," I said. It was a lie, mixed with the truth. A partial truth.
"Then you've got the wrong mother," he hissed. "The only person she's protective of, is herself."
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe, it's not so black-and-white all the time. I mean, you turned out pretty okay."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And remember, I've got one of those moms back home. So I'm pretty used to selfish."
His fingers patted my knee.
It was a light, quick tap, but I felt it shoot up my arms and lodge in my chest.
"So, what do you think of your new stepdad?" I held my breath, as I waited for his answer.
"I think he's the most decent guy she's been with," he said. "The truth is, he's the twins' dad…he came back after all this time."
"Seriously?"
"He didn't know about them. He and my mom had a one-night stand, and she never told him she got pregnant," he explained, and again, I understood his logic about not sleeping around.
It came to me in waves.
All those things added up, to Sam's self-assigned values and beliefs.
"Then they had a chance meeting all these years later."
"Now that's crazy pants," I said. "But I understand crazy." His grin lit me up from the inside.
"I think Henry will do right by the twins. "I just pray my mom doesn't blow it. She's got a good man right under her nose…she's never had that before," he said.
His words wedged in my throat, like a cold, harsh truth, and I had trouble gulping them down.
In some ways, that was me. Sam is good man...something I've never had or wanted before...
Raw Ink was located in a little strip mall, on Vine Street.
Marley had made the appointment a few days ago and begged me to go.
I knew she wouldn't take no for an answer.
She honked twice, when she came to pick me up and yelled,
"Get in the car, bitch!"
Since our weekend trip, Sam and I had settled into a new kind of normal.
We didn't spend any more planned time together, but if we happened to run into each other in the building, we'd get takeout and watch a movie, or Sunday afternoon football.
He'd suggest players to start, for my fantasy football league and I'd argue with his horrible logic and his choices.
All of it was purely platonic. At least from the outside.
Still, I was dying to know what that weekend meant to him.
It had definitely connected us in a deeper way…despite the crazy sexual tension between us.
We were more honest with each other, about our families, friends and jobs…just not about what was going on between us.
I should have been thankful for that.
Nothing had changed on my end, except for wanting to jump his bones every two minutes.
And it was messing with my head.
But I knew he'd never let sex happen between us. And I respected him for that.
But the craving to be connected to him, in an intimate way, had become visceral.
I felt it, dead center in my chest, traveling south, to between my legs. It was almost animalistic, pining over something I knew I'd never have.
The receptionist at the front desk of Raw Ink, fit the part, with her purple spiked hair and a feminine sleeve of tattoos, up the length of her arm.
She checked off Marley's appointment on her calendar and told us to have a seat.
Then, she walked down the hall, to the third door on the left and dipped her head inside.
"Sam, your sketch consult is here." I heard his throaty voice next. It slid down my spine like warm fingers.
"Tell her I'll be out in few, just finishing up with a client."
We sat down on the black leather couch and waited.
The walls were decorated with graffiti art and alternative rock piped through the stereo, loud and menacing.
I still had trouble picturing Sam working here, even though he was a few doors down.
Yet, he was probably in his element here.
I could picture his drawings lining these walls, and maybe, even the ceiling.
A couple minutes later, Sam walked out with his female client.
He had on tight jeans, his black Doc Martens boots, with a black, long-sleeved, fitted T-shirt.
The girl was fiddling with the bandage, on the inside of her wrist, and clear slick ointment glistened along the edges.
"All set," Sam said. "Keep it clean and don't mess with it too much. Follow the instructions on the handout. Holly will check you out."
"Thanks so much," she squealed, her eyes roving over him.
It occurred to me then, that Sam probably got lots of numbers slipped to him, after well-placed tats.
My cheeks inflamed, thinking about his hands hovering above me and then slipping over my skin, as he tattooed my stomach, or my lower back.
One thing was for certain, not only did Sam know how to use those magical lips…he knew how to use his fingers as well. That boy had skills.
He had to have had some practice...or...he could just be a natural. My guess is, it's the second one.
Sam scanned the waiting room, before his eyes locked on mine.
Then, they reluctantly glided over to my friend.
"You ready, Marley?"
"Yep." She hopped up. "Is it okay if Mercedes comes back, too?"
"No problem," he said, giving me a sidelong grin.
He knew how nervous Marley was about this appointment.
My eyes roamed around the room, nervous I'd see Sam's boss, Matt, around somewhere.
But maybe, he'd act cool about seeing me. I was only a one-night stand.
One that he'd tried to turn into a date the next night. But I'd turned him down, and we hadn't been in contact since.
Me and Marley followed Sam through the tight hallway, lined with framed pictures of tattoos on actual clients.
A colorful butterfly on someone's lower back, caught my eye and the smell of antiseptic filled the air.
But another odor infiltrated my senses, as Sam moved confidently through the space...coconut.
"Right in here." He motioned to a large glass table, with four chairs.
I noticed a small black desk, along the far wall, where Sam's laptop and iPod were plugged in.
The music piping through this room was different…more soothing, less angry. It probably helped his clients relax.
"Let's get down to business, Marley." Sam sounded much more formal than I'd ever heard him. "What did you have in mind?" Marley bit her lip.
"I'm pretty sure I know what I want, but I'd like to see some of your work first…do you have any samples?"
"Of course." He reached down to the ground for a thick white binder and placed it in front of her. "Here's my portfolio."
"Don't even roll your eyes at me, dickhead," Marley hissed at me. "I'm just making sure." I shook my head and snickered.
"Dude, I haven't said a word."
Marley opened the book and started paging through.
I tried looking with her, but Sam's gaze pressed into me like a weight, and I couldn't look away, or take a decent breath for that matter.
He seemed different, here in his element…more confident, sure of himself…and I'll admit it unnerved me.
I wore my hair in a low ponytail and I could tell he was trying to get a good view, of the tattoo behind my ear.
And I absently glided the stray pieces of my hair, behind my ears.
I looked down at the book every time Marley pointed something out, but Sam's eyes were like a magnet.
I had trouble glancing anywhere else.
The way he gazed at me, was so different from other guys…it wasn't vulgar or offensive, just plain hot. Blistering. And it only made me want him more.
"These are amazing, Sam," Marley said, after another five minutes.
"Thanks." Sam's cheeks grooved into a shy grin. "So, did it help you decide?"
She flipped to the page bookmarked by her thumb.
It showed a small dragonfly, an image I knew she had been considering, and had hoped to find in Sam's work. She pointed to it.
"This one, except, can I get different colors shaded in?"
"Of course. You need to make it what you want," he said.
His voice was smooth and confident, different than he'd been, when he'd first kissed me and that night at the hotel, when I'd gone to him in the shower.
I liked this confident side of Sam. He'd been this way with his family, too.
"So, why a dragonfly? What does it mean to you?" he asked.
"Um …" Marley stumbled over his question, possibly unsure of answering him. Maybe she thought her reasoning was lame, but I knew it wasn't.
It was meaningful and powerful.
Sam cleared his throat.
"When a client is about to get something permanently inked on their skin, they should ask themselves a few important questions."
"Like what?" Marley asked.
"Am I getting this because I like dragonflies this year, or is this symbolic…does it have a deeper meaning?" Sam said, digging out a drawing pad and pencils.
"Because tastes change. And I'm telling you this, because, you seem nervous about it." Marley's shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath.
"It does mean something to you, Marley," I said, nudging her along.
Marley's brother died when we were in high school, and understandably, she was devastated. We all were.
Marley had said, when they were kids, they loved weekends at their grandmother's cottage, where they'd swim and fish and try to capture dragonflies, that raced across the lake…along with every other bug under the sun.
On the day of Christian's funeral, Marley swore up and down, that a dragonfly flew by her at the cemetery.
"Hey, it's really none of my business. You don't have to explain anything to me," Sam said, low and gentle. "I was just trying to help…to give you more confidence."
"It…it reminds me of my brother…he died a couple of years ago." Sam's eyes softened.
"I'm so sorry, Marley," he said, his voice strained. "The dragonfly is a nice idea, if it's a tribute to your brother. Do you feel better about your decision?"
"Yes, I do," she said. "And thank you."
Sam nodded, as he drew on his sketch pad.
His hand moved fast and steady, as a dragonfly began taking shape.
After seeing his other drawings, I knew this one was small potatoes for him. He could probably do it in his sleep.
"Where did you want the tattoo to go?"
"I was thinking above my ankle," Marley said, wringing her hands. "What do you think, Mercedes?"
"Sounds perfect," I said, suddenly glad I'd decided to come with her. Not that she would've given me the choice. "And you can cover it up if you need to."
"What colors do you want me to shade in?" Sam asked, his fingers roaming over the colored pencils next to him.
"Blues and greens," she said, her eyebrows arching upward in excitement.
He chose two colors, and then swirls of cobalt blue and sea green came alive on the page.
"Something like this?" Marley squealed.
"I love it."
"If you want to wait out there, or grab some coffee and come back, I can draw this up on transfer paper, and we can have it done and over with today," he said.
"Today?" Marley suddenly looked nervous again. "Perfect." I stood up and pulled Marley with me.
"Enough deliberating. Bite the damn bullet already," I said. Sam smiled.
"Give me some time and I'll come get you," he offered.
"We'll go across the street and I'll make her eat something, so text me when you're ready."
Sam reached for his phone, when it occurred to both of us, that we didn't have each other's cell numbers.
I guess it was unnecessary, seeing as we lived in the same building.
I punched my number into his keypad and held it out to him, with a smile.
"See you soon." He grabbed my hand with his phone in it, and stared directly into my eyes. I physically shivered.
"See you soon," he echoed and slowly released my hand.
Stay home, stay safe and stay blessed.