JENNIE
..
I took my place in the tattooing chair, straddling it as she suggested. It reminded me of one of those reclining chairs in a dental office, except without arms. Lisa put on mellow music and snapped on a new pair of gloves. I watched, anxiety warring with excitement, as she assembled her tattoo machine.
When everything was ready, she turned to me. "Last chance to back out."
She's said that to me before, the first time we'd had sex. Everything had changed since then. What started as an overwhelming physical attraction had transformed into something I hesitated to identify. I sought solace in Lisa; in her warmth, in the comfort of her body. Our unyielding chemistry made everything but us cease to exist when we were together. Sex with Lisa—anything involving Lisa—was perfectly consuming. I was terrified of losing that.
With the exception of Tuesday night, Lisa's presence in my bed fended off the worst of the nightmares. Although my nights were never truly peaceful, they were better with her. It wasn't just sleep that improved; everything had, unless I was alone. In the hours without her, when I wasn't otherwise occupied, the pain resurfaced. My remorse over things that couldn't be changed was like acid, burning through skin and bone, seeping into the heart of me. So I stayed as busy as possible, avoiding the solitary moments I'd coveted previously.
"I'm too invested to do something crazy like that."
She studied me, a rueful grin pulling at her mouth. "It goes both ways." She pressed a soft kiss to my temple, the deeper meaning not lost on either of us.
My fears had little to do with putting the tattoo on my body and everything to do with how I felt about Lisa. This tattoo not only guaranteed her continued presence in my life but it held the possibility of real healing, too. It was my attempt at finding closure, at putting everything behind me by accepting it, owning it, wearing it on my skin. But I couldn't stop thinking about whether or not I would lose Lisa in the process when she realized I could never be fixed. Lisa reclined the backrest so I wasn't completely upright. The tattoo machine buzzed to life, and Lisa's gloved palm came to rest at the nape of my neck. Even the most innocent contact with her brought on a wave of calming energy. I'd come to rely on it, particularly at night when I was on the cusp of sleep. It felt like a physical manifestation of our emotional connection.
The sharp bite of the needle pierced my skin. The discomfort was much like it had been with the cupcake tattoo. Lisa worked in silence at first, presumably to give me time to adjust to the sensation. After a few passes with ink, she wiped the area with a cool cloth, soothing the sting. When she reached my shoulder, the prickle grew more pronounced, so I assumed she was tattooing over the scars. The pain was manageable, but then it didn't compare to what I'd experienced after the crash.
Tonight I planned to divulge something about the accident; I knew I owed Lisa at least some small insights into my past despite my fear of opening up. I just didn't know how much yet. Enough to appease her without risking the tenuous relationship we were building. For all of her armor, Lisa became increasingly transparent the more time I spent with her. She didn't do things halfway. She was either all in or not at all. And that trait wasn't isolated to the bedroom. With the outline completed, she would feel compelled to finish the design. It was a horrible abuse of power on my part. But now I needed her in ways that extended beyond her role as my artist.
"Jennie?" She asked, breaking my reverie.
"Mm." I had been staring at her profile, lost in my thoughts.
"Are you hurting? You made a . . . noise." She rolled back in her chair. "Maybe we need to take a break."
"I don't need a break. How long has it been?" I lifted my head, my cheek damp from resting against the vinyl.
"About forty-five minutes. You're doing great, but you've been quiet, and then you made a sound like maybe you were uncomfortable." She looked wary.
"I'm okay." I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. The cold air hit my chest, reminding me I was shirtless. "Sorry!"
I cupped myself in an attempt at modesty. Her tongue ring popped out to slide between her lips, her eyes on my barely covered chest.
"I definitely need a break," she said decisively.
The buzz of the tattoo machine stopped and the background music became more prominent.
She stood up and turned around, rolling her shoulders. "I'll be right back."
Lisa sauntered across the room, adjusting herself, and slipped out the door. I'd known the attraction between us wouldn't wane during the session, but I hadn't expected to find it debilitating, especially since this was as close as we could get physically for the next week. When she returned, she brought bottled water.
I took a long drink. "Thanks."
"No problem. You need to stay hydrated." She dropped back into her chair. "How are you feeling so far?"
"I'm good," I reassured her again, even though the vague burning sensation on the right side of my back continued to grow. I didn't want to think too much about how the second half of the tattoo would feel.
Lisa tilted her head back and drained half the bottle. I watched her throat bob. Strange how something so automatic could seem sexy.
"You sure? You're awful quiet."
"I'm sorry." My focus so far had been singularly on the physical sensation, keeping my mind clear of the memories associated with the reasons behind the tattoo.
"You don't need to apologize. I'm just checking to see where you're at."
"I'd tell you if it was too much."
"I don't know if I believe that, but I'll take your word for it. At least for now. Ready to get back to it?" She asked.
I handed her my half-full bottle and she capped it, setting it on the floor beside my chair. She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and turned on the machine.
"How far are you?" I asked.
"We're making good progress. I'm almost halfway through the right side, but the left will be more challenging. Since the scarring is more severe, I expect it's going to take longer and we'll need more breaks."
"Okay. That makes sense."
She rolled in close, and the needle touched my skin again. The discomfort increased when she passed over my ribs and decreased again as she went lower. This time, I couldn't stop the memories from playing out like a photo album.
Lisa's left foot tapped as she worked. I could see her Technicolor arm in my periphery, and if I strained hard enough, I could still make out her profile.
"Lisa?"
She pulled back immediately. "Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine." I needed a distraction. If I could get her to talk about her past, it might help keep my mind off my own. I ran my fingers over the vines leading to the bleeding heart tattoo. "Will you tell me about this?"
When she stayed silent, I turned my head enough so I could see her. "Please?"
"Are you going to fill me in on why I'm marking you with this?" She asked, bartering for information.
I had a feeling once the outline was done, the next few nights-in addition to being physically uncomfortable-would be emotionally tumultuous. I conceded. "I'll tell you about the accident."
"Tonight?" She demanded.
"Yes."
"Okay."
I settled back in the chair. "But only if you go first."
A deep furrow creased Lisa's brow as she resumed her work. "I got the tattoo after my parents were killed."
"Both of them?" I asked, shocked. Cassie said her mother died, but she didn't mention that she lost her father as well.
"Yeah."
"How old were you?"
"Almost eighteen."
"Was it an accident?" I asked, wondering how close we were in our losses.
Lisa turned off the tattoo machine and I shifted so I could see her better. "They were murdered."
"Oh, my God." When Cassie said she lost her mother, I assumed it had been some kind of accident or illness, not this. I sat up, bringing the towel with me to cover my chest. "What happened?"
Her eyes were on her forearm, the vine-wrapped heart on display. "They were shot. I found them."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh Lisa. That must have been terrifying." It was bad enough to find out they'd been murdered, but that Lisa had been the one to discover them was horrific. No matter how hard I tried, I could never erase the violent image of Kai's mangled body from my memory. I doubted I ever would. Lisa's haunted expression told me it was the same for her.
"It's been almost seven years. It was a long time ago." Lisa picked the tattoo machine up again, but I didn't take the cue and lie back down.
"It doesn't make it any less traumatic." I wanted to reach out and ease the ache that was so obvious in her, but her posture was rigid, her eyes dark, and I wasn't sure the contact would be welcome.
"I got the bleeding heart as a reminder of what my choices cost me."
"You say it like you were responsible."
"I made it easier for it to happen. I was grounded, which was normal, because even then I couldn't follow rules. They'd gone to some event and told me not to go anywhere. As soon as they left, I Ferris Buellered the shit out of my room and took off to get fucked up with some friends. My mom had this planter at the front door, and I kept a key hidden under it. It was gone when I came home." She shook her head in disgust, her eyes on the floor. Her chest rose and fell as her palms moved over her thighs, her anxiety transparent.
"I assumed I'd moved it or taken it with me by accident, which was dumb, because I would never do that. I was so messed up at the time; high and drunk. I tried the door anyway, even though I was sure it'd be locked. I'd done that before, locked myself out. I had to break a window to get in. My dad was pissed. He even threatened to put in an alarm system. It was why I stowed the key in the first place."
I could see where this was going. I already understood so much better her hard exterior. She carried the weight of their deaths with her, just as I did. I reached out tentatively and touched her forearm. I sensed she needed the reassurance before she could go on. Her gloved fist unfurled, and I put my hand in hers. She closed her fingers around mine and squeezed.
"I thought I was so damn lucky when the door opened. It confused me, at first. My dad's shoes were at the front door, which meant they'd come home early. Usually they waited up so they could ground me some more. But the house was totally silent. I thought maybe my ruse worked. Nothing was out of place on the main floor, not a goddamn thing. But there was this smell . . ." Lisa took a deep, unsteady breath. "Anyway, when I went upstairs, I found them in bed. My dad had a hole in his head and my mom had been shot in the chest."
"Oh God. I'm so sorry you had to see that," I whispered.
Corroding her armor, the emotions she tried to contain leaked through. It gave me a glimpse of the girl she'd once been.
"It's my fault. I'm the one who left the key there, and I'm the reason they came home early. They shouldn't have been there that night. Whoever killed them must have cased the house. My parents had a safe in their room, and the fucker tried to get into it after he killed them."
I studied the hard lines of her face. Her emotions were painfully familiar, because she, too, wore her loss in a shroud of self-blame. She stared back at me, looking lost. She let go of my hand, and a glove-covered finger swept under my eye to wipe away a tear. "I don't deserve these."
"You couldn't have known that would happen," I said softly.
"If I hadn't been a shit teenager, my parents might still be alive."
If only Lisa knew how well I related. Although truly, it wasn't her fault-whoever killed her parents could have found a way into the house, key or no key.
I didn't express those thoughts, though. It didn't matter if it was true. She would still carry the blame, just as I would always know my truth.
"Did they ever find the person who did it?" I asked.
"No. For a while I wondered if it was someone I knew, or maybe someone who knew my dad. Only the rooms upstairs had been messed with. But some rookie cop processed the evidence incorrectly, so it ended up inadmissible. They closed the case."
"Wasn't there anything they could do?"
Lisa scoffed. "And make the CPD culpable for their fuckup? Not a chance."
I understood better Lisa's disdain for rules, given that they had failed her so entirely. How long had she tried to expel the cancerous emotions that ate her from the inside out? Her armor of ink and steel protected her; it kept most at a distance. Getting to know the girl underneath would never be easy. And yet here she was, letting me in, hoping I would do the same. We were both slaves to the guilt we harbored. The damage was so profound on both sides. I worried we might never reach a middle ground where we could find freedom from our pasts.
"You need another break," Lisa said.
I began to protest, but she cut me off. "We've been at it for close to two hours. The right side is finished. You need to stretch before we start up again." Her tone left no room for negotiation.
Now that I was well beyond the point of backing out, I should have felt relieved. This was what I wanted. But after what Lisa divulged, I was suddenly filled with fear and remorse. She had given me exactly what I'd asked for. She would expect the same in return, but the more ink she added, the more vulnerable I felt. There was a chance I might shatter if I revealed too much.
Holding the towel tightly, I took Lisa's offered hand. Once upright, I wobbled, my right hip sore.
"Stiff?" She asked, holding me steady at the waist.
I leaned into her, using her for balance. "A little."
Her hands dropped lower, thumbs anchored above my pelvic bone while she rubbed slow circles into the tight muscles at my hips. Reveling in the touch and humming with appreciation, I rested my head on her chest as she massaged the ache away.
"Better?" She asked.
I put more weight on my right leg; the stiffness had eased some. "Yes."
She shrugged off her button-down shirt and draped it over my shoulders. I pushed my arms through the too-long sleeves. I waited patiently as she rolled them up to my wrists and fastened the buttons. My response to her touch was amplified by what I couldn't have. Reading my mind, she tilted my chin up and lowered her mouth to mine. "Don't worry, kitten. We'll survive a week."
..
When I returned from the bathroom I found her in the main shop, talking animatedly with Rosé. She saw me first, smiling when she noticed my attire.
"Lisa says you're a pro."
I blushed at the compliment. "I don't know about that, but I think I'm holding my own." The right side of my back stung, like a fresh sunburn. Lisa's reference to catharsis made sense now, but I feared the point where the internal and external pain matched in intensity. "We should get at it." She ushered me back into the private room.
Lisa must have sensed my anxiety over the second half of the session.
"It's probably best if I start at the bottom of the wing and work toward your shoulder. You've been amazing so far, but I think if we get the most painful part out of the way, you might be able to relax better through the rest."
She passed me a stress ball to squeeze when it became too much to handle. Lisa enforced breaks every fifteen minutes or so, rubbing my arm and telling me how well I was doing. The pain was almost intolerable. I wasn't sure how I would manage if she had to go over it multiple times before the ink took.
When we made it past the difficult areas, Lisa asked the question I'd hoped to avoid. "Will you tell me about the accident now?"
No. "What do you want to know?"
"Would I be right to assume the scar on your hip and the ones on your back happened at the same time?" She prompted.
"They did." I compartmentalized the memories, pushing them down, willing myself to stay in the present.
"A while back, you said your mom passed away . . ." she trailed off.
"She was with me."
"Anyone else?" She turned off the tattoo machine, her attention focused on me.
"My dad was there, too."
"And he's okay?" Lisa asked. Her hope made my heart ache even more.
I shook my head. Tears made her blurry.
"Oh, kitten." She stripped off her gloves and stroked my cheek. "What happened? Were you in a car accident?"
"We were on a plane. The engine failed." I barely managed to get the words out.
Her mouth went slack. "It crashed?"
I nodded. A tidal wave of emotion rose in me. I'd fought so hard against it, keeping it from pulling me under. I hadn't considered the possibility that I might find someone who would understand what I had endured and want me anyway, even though I wasn't whole. For the first time since the crash, I wanted to believe Lisa might empathize with me over the guilt I carried . . . that she might not reject me for my cowardice.
"How did you survive? Wait. You don't have to answer that. I'm so fucking sorry. I should know better." She wiped at my tears, but they kept coming, the dam broken. "I'm sorry I pushed. I won't ask any more questions tonight, okay? I promise. I'll just let it be for now. I'm so sorry."
She was frantic in her attempt to calm me. Her hands were on my face, in my hair, stroking down my arms. I stilled them with my own, her anxiety canceling mine out.
"It's okay. I'll be okay. I just need a minute." I repeated the phrase in my head until it was true.
"You don't have to be okay. I know it's hard," Lisa said, kissing my forehead.
I shook my head in denial. She didn't know anything. I'd omitted the most significant details to make telling her bearable.
She rearranged me carefully until I was facing her. I didn't resist. I wanted her comfort; craved it. One hand rested low on my waist, the other curved around the back of my neck, and she pulled me into her lap. It was the closest she could get to a hug. I, on the other hand, wrapped myself around her and held on tight.
"Thank you for telling me," she whispered.
When my tears dried up, she gave me the option to stop for the night or finish the outline. I chose the latter. It didn't take long. She was right about the pain; it was all relative. In comparison to what I'd been through, four hours of discomfort was nothing.
When she finished, she turned off the tattoo machine and set it down. Her eyes moved over my back, inspecting the art with a critical eye. "We're done," she said, satisfied.
"Can I see?" I asked.
"Of course."
Once again she helped me out of the chair and led me to the three-way mirror. The level of detail was breathtaking. I couldn't tear my eyes away, too caught up in the dark beauty of the wings now etched into my skin.
"Jennie?"
"Hm?" I glanced at her; she was chewing on her viper bites.
"Are you happy with it?" She asked.
"It's stunning." No longer concerned with modesty, I tossed the towel on the chair. "Thank you." I wrapped my arms around her neck and tugged, bringing her mouth down. My emotions were out of control. I wanted her closer, I wanted to push her away. I wanted her inside me, erasing the pain that shredded my insides and echoed over my back.
Lisa's kiss was gentle, her touch soft. "You're welcome. Now, why don't you let me dress the tattoo?"
"Okay." Even though she still wore gloves, I laced my fingers through hers, unwilling to break our connection. It was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
It hurt when she wiped over the ink a final time and slathered it in a salve. Next, she covered it with plastic wrap and taped it down as an added layer of protection. She talked about aftercare as she worked and I tried to listen, but I kept zoning out. As the adrenaline faded, I was left aching and exhausted.
Once the tattoo was dressed, Lisa helped me into my shirt and fastened the buttons.
"Let's get you home, kitten." She opened the door, stepped into the hall, and froze. "Mother of fuck."
A tall, thin woman with bleached blond hair stood across from Rosé. Her makeup was over the top, as though she expected to be on camera, or maybe a stage. The way she leaned over the counter made her micro-miniskirt ride perilously high on her thigh. Jackson's client couldn't stop staring, which made me wonder what kind of show she was providing. Even though it was mid-October, she wore a sequined tank top that exposed an inch of midriff. It could have covered more if her chest hadn't been quite so disproportionately massive, stretching out the material until it looked like it might split at the seams.
There was a huge tattoo on her shoulder that traveled up the side of her neck and wrapped around her biceps. From where I stood, it looked like a snake. It was definitely Lisa's design. I hated her immediately.
Lisa stepped in front of me, blocking her from view. Her hands clenched into fists. "Let's go out the back," she said quietly, like she wanted to escape notice.
My stomach turned at the shift in her mood. "Who is that?"
"No one I want to introduce you to."
"Lisa! There you are! Rosé and I were just talking about you."
Lisa closed her eyes. "I'm with a client," she said stiffly as she turned to face her.
"I see that. But it looks like you're done with her now." She spoke to Lisa as if every word had underlying meaning I wasn't privy to. Her hot pink smile seemed forced as her eyes shifted away from Lisa and raked over me. I moved to stand beside Lisa, and when my fingers brushed the back of her hand, she snatched it away. The action spoke volumes.
The tension in the room was palpable. Eunwoo looked irate, Rosé helpless, and Jackson utterly disconcerted. Fury radiated from Lisa like a force field.
"You should go home and take some Tylenol," Lisa said to me through gritted teeth.
"That's a good idea." I tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at me. I couldn't understand her reaction, and confusion gave way to hurt when she continued to avoid eye contact. My stomach bottomed out, anxiety pushing its way to the surface. The woman across the room was nothing like me, and they obviously knew each other-how well, I couldn't be sure. Now that Lisa knew what she had to take on when it came to me, I was terrified she wouldn't be interested anymore. I hadn't even told her the worst part yet.
She started to usher me toward the back, but I skirted around her and headed to the front of the studio, right for the woman who eyed me with curious contempt.
I stared right back.
Her smile was malicious as I passed her and pushed the door open, cold fall air hitting my overheated face.
"Well, well, Lisa, I guess I know what you've been busy with lately."
A gust of wind slammed the door shut before Lisa responded.
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