“It’s weird.”
“Char, my adorable but mostly grumpy friend, you think everything is weird. It’s what makes you who you are. A skeptic by nature. For being a valued virgin in a world full of hoochies and manwhores, you’re overly cynical as though you’ve lived a million experiences to make you so jaded.”
“Um, thanks?”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “I’m saying you need to lighten up and stop thinking the world is out to get you.”
“How do you know they’re not coming to get me?”
“Because I just do. You’re a typical college freshman barely able to pass her classes in order to keep her grant money. The only people coming for you is the bursar’s office to put you on academic probation. Or maybe your grandma with her sage once she sees your titty tattoo.”
I playfully shove at him. “You’re an ass.”
“I’ve been called worse. Mostly by you.”
“Charis Lucine?” a deep voice calls out. “You ready?”
Ready as I’ll ever be.
I feel naked without my medallion I always wear on a thick piece of leather around my neck. Knowing it’s the only thing I have of my father’s, I’ve grown accustomed to having it sitting on my chest over my heart right between my breasts. Since I was a child, I’ve worn my medallion. Only recently have I nearly lost it for good. It was enough to scare me. The medallion can be taken from me, but not for long. Soon I’ll have it permanently inked into my skin, so I’ll always have my dad with me.
Even if he’s dead.
Even if he has a secret family he loves more.
Even if bad guys took him for unknown reasons.
He’s still my dad and I feel connected to him. Momma would always smile anytime she’d see the medallion, which made me smile too. Now that she’s gone, I need to do this. And just like that, an image forms in my mind. It’s not cliché or lame like the artwork in the tattoo sample book. It’s unique and a perfect representation of both my parents.
“I’m Bake,” the man with face tattoos and a burly beard says to me. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, princess.”
I roll my eyes. Ew. He’s one of those old guys who gets a chub anytime a young girl comes in wanting titty tattoos. Too late to turn back now.
“I’m Charis, not princess.”
He chuckles. “Don’t mean to upset you. Just being friendly.”
Guilt surges up inside me as I follow him down the hallway to a room. Ribb is on my heels, texting whoever it is Ribb texts when he’s not texting me. I can’t help it. I’m cynical as Ribb says. I just always feel like something is off. In every aspect of my life. Not quite right. Not clear. Vague and ambiguous. Momma used to always call me philosophical. I’m simply trying to figure out why I feel as though I live in a cloud that hides the rest of the world from me.
“Right there in the chair, Charis the non-princess. Take your shirt and bra off. Lie back.”
“We’re going to talk about my design request before or after I get half-naked, perv?” I demand, my brow arched high.
He barks out a laugh. “Feisty girl. I thought we’d figure it out along the way. Together.”
“Does that pickup line work with all the women?” I shake my head and make eye contact with Ribb. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Sit down,” Bake says, his voice taking on an alluring lull that makes me dizzy. “I know what you want.”
I cock my head. “You do?”
“The symbol that was on the medallion?”
“Yeah,” I utter in disbelief.
“And feathers all around it. Some fluttering down. It reminds you of your mother.”
She collected all kinds of feathers and made art with them. It was her thing.
“Exactly.” I glance over at Ribb and he’s no longer staring at his phone but straight ahead in one of his goofy trances he gets when his mind is on twelve things at once. “You can tattoo the gold into my skin?”
“I can.”
“Will I die from tetanus or lead poisoning or radiation or something?”
“You’re more likely to get run over by a car in the parking lot.”
“If you get pervy, I’ll rip your nose ring out,” I threaten.
“I would never touch you in a way you didn’t want.” His features are serious enough I believe him. “Besides, you’ve already had the medallion melted down, so it would be a waste if we didn’t get that converted into some kickass art on your chest. Now let me do what I’m good at.”
I glance over at Ribb again and he’s back to the here and now with us. His playful expression is gone as he watches me with narrowed eyes.
“Look away,” I grumble.
His green eyes flash with an emotion I’ve never seen from him. He finally peels his stare from me to look back down at his phone. With a sigh, I tug off my Marilyn Manson T-shirt, tossing it onto a chair. A flitter of unease shoots up my spine and makes the continuous ache between my shoulder blades hurt worse than usual. College is going to kill me from stress. That is, if I don’t accidentally kill myself first by metal poisoning.
I unhook my black bra before tossing it onto the chair. Maybe I’m a virgin, but I’m no angel. I’ve gone to second base with a guy. Nick from my old high school and I went out on a few dates. We made out and he stuck his hand up my shirt. He’d managed to get it and my bra off my body before I panicked, cutting the date short.
Once I settle on the chair and lean back, I peek at Bake. He’s busy setting up his station. When I look over at Ribb, he’s staring blatantly at my chest. His erection is obvious in his jeans, shocking the hell out of me.
“Ribb,” I chastise. “What’s your deal?”
He shakes away his daze and his cheeks blaze crimson. “Sorry.”
“Can you go get us Starbucks?” I force a smile. I want to do this alone. “Please. I need caffeine.”
“Black,” he says with a sheepish grin, “extra shot of espresso.”
“Thanks.”
He leaves and Bake raises a brow. “He likes you.”
“Shut up,” I grumble. “He does not.”
“The kid was practically salivating over your tits. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice tits and I’m thankful they’re legal tits, but they’re not worth losing your life over.”
I squint my eyes at him. “What?”
“What?”
“You said…”
“I said lie back and relax.”
“Oh.”
He turns his back to me so he can prep his tattoo gun. I watch as he adds the liquified metal to the ink. I’m transfixed by how the gold swirls with the black, giving it an orangey look.
“This will be hot,” he warns. “Like I could get fired and sued for doing this with just anyone.”
“I’m just anyone.”
“Let’s hope you can handle it.”
He brings his gloved hand to my breast, openly groping it. I’m shocked by his touch but can’t find the words in me to tell him no. He’s old and trashy, yet his hand on me sends curls of lust dancing in my belly.