Heavy: A Contemporary Romance (2 page)

Thatch

It was almost
eleven p.m. when a member of Max Rivers’ security team escorted me up to the penthouse suite of Segher’s Hotel and Casino. Although Reston Tattoos was just a few minutes from the Strip, when you live in Vegas, you usually avoided it at all costs.

Well, at least I did.

For the most part anyway. A guy has his needs, after all.

College girls
in town for just the night and looking for a good time were easy prey – if I was in the mood. A one-night-stand with an out-of-towner was all I ever needed – or wanted. I haven’t had a…night out…in over a month and I was long overdue. Unfortunately,
this
visit to the Strip was for business and not pleasure.

Yesterday
, Max Rivers, the lead singer of the metal band Limber, had called and I couldn’t refuse a private, late-night sitting while he was in town. That meant tonight’s visit to Las Vegas Boulevard was strictly business and not a pussy-finding expedition. Too bad. Just being here has reminded me how long it’s been since I last got laid.

Thanks to an elaborate back piece I’d done on Max several months ago, I was beginning to make a name for myself in the tattoo world
. Others might have to wait months for an appointment with Thatch Reston – but I wouldn’t refuse Max, even on my day off.

The
elevator let out directly into the foyer of the suite. To my right, and in the direction I was now being ushered, I could hear the sound of a party in full swing going on behind the large double doors.

The security guard opened one of these doors and motioned for me to go through.

I recognized several of the members of Limber surrounded by scantily-clad women, metal-heads, and several business-men types in designer suits that stood out from the more casually dressed.

One of these ‘business-men’ was doing a line off the well-enhanced chest of a young woman sitting on the chair near to where I
stood. To my right, the man I recognized as the drummer for the band was doing body shots with two girls who looked like they could be twins.

“Thatcher!”
A voice called out to me from the depths of the dimly lit, smoked-filled room. Max Rivers walked towards me, pulling a redhead with an obscenely short skirt along behind him. I noted the skirt only because it was the only thing she had on.

“Hi,
Max,” I answered as he pulled me in for a bro-hug, letting go of the half-naked redhead’s hand.

“Hey everyone
! This is Thatch Reston, the tattoo guy I’ve been telling you about,” Max addressed his party revelers.

A drunken cheer of greeting sounded through the small crowd before they all turned back to whatever it was they happened to be doing before being interrupted
. I wasn’t famous or important enough to warrant anything more.

“Do you have somewhere quieter for us to do this?”
I asked him, a little annoyed that I’d been called into the middle of a scene I wanted no part of right now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about chasing tail
. It’s the drugs and alcohol scene I stay clear of.

“He’s cute, Max,” the
redhead slurred. “Can we invite him in to play with us?”

Max laughed
. “I don’t think he’s into that, Dee-Dee. Unless you
are
into that, Thatch? Interested in…relaxing…a bit before we start?” Max wagged his eyebrows at me suggestively.

I wondered for a second if Dee-Dee was her real name, or
just something she’d come up with referring to her bra size.

I like sex – a lot
. But a threesome with this woman and the fifty-something year-old rock star was
not
going to happen. I smiled apologetically at her, and then turned back to Max. “No, not interested, sorry. Just want to get the tat done and head back home. You ready now?”

“Give me ten minutes - fifteen tops - and I’ll be good to go.” Max handed me a key card and led me back out into the foyer by the elevators. “Use this to get into the room across the hall. Set up your stuff and I’ll be with you in a few.”

I nodded
at him as he and Dee-Dee left me and made their way back into the party. I could already tell this was not going to be the ‘quick and easy job’ I’d been promised. Walking over to the door, I swiped the card and went into the room.

I found myself standing in a small alcove that only allowed me a partial view of the suite
. I knew immediately that I was not alone.

Out of sight ar
ound the small partition wall, I could hear the sound of someone singing along to Lana Del Rey’s
Blue Jeans
.

I looked around the corner and saw a girl
, her back to me, dancing slowly and hypnotically in time to the music while giving Lana a run for her money in the vocals department.

To my left was the bedroom area, complete with a king-sized four-poster
. To my right, where the girl was dancing, there was a private sitting room: two sofas, two high-backed armchairs, and a large flat screen. The T.V. was on, a black and white movie playing, but the sound was off. This flickering screen was the only source of light in the room and served as a spotlight of sorts for the nymph dancing in front of it.

And
a nymph she sure was.

She looked
a little younger than me, maybe nineteen or twenty. Her hair was a dark brown that glowed reddish when the light from the T.V. hit it in certain places. It was up in a messy bun on the top of her head, loose tendrils delicately framing her face, which I could only see in profile from my current position.

She was wearing t
hose panties that look like mini-shorts and an over-sized blue T-shirt. Because I was watching undetected, I gave myself license to unashamedly stare at her ass in that tight underwear. It was only visible because she brandished a brandy snifter high above her head as her hips swayed sensuously in time to the – more or less – striptease-type music.

Sexy doesn’t even begin to describe the entire scene.

I had a semi just listening to her deep, sultry voice. Her bouncing ass cheeks might have helped with that, too.

Right as she was getting into the part
of the chorus that goes, “
Promise you’ll remember that you’re mine
…” she turned and saw me leaning against the entryway to the room.

“I promise,” I answered, giving her a wink.

On the outside, I was going for my usual cocky. On the inside, now that I’d seen her face, I was going,
holy fuck!

Her skin was pale, compl
ementing and highlighting her lush, pink lips to perfection. Her eyes, devoid of make-up, were a deep, almost iridescent, blue. The dark lashes surrounding them, thick and long.

An
unfamiliarly strong pull of attraction hit me from straight out of nowhere.

“
Blue jeans,” she said, looking me slowly up and down, “and a white shirt. Are you James Dean, so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer?” She intentionally stuttered over the word ‘cancer’ like Lana del Rey does in the song she was quoting from – the one she’d just been singing.

I looked down at the white T-shirt and jeans I was wearing before looking back up at her
. “I’ll fit you better than your favorite sweater?” I smiled at her as I quoted back the only lyrics from that song I could think of on the fly.

She laughed, did a twirl on the spot, and fell back onto the sofa, miraculously without spilling a drop of her drink.

She raised the snifter to her mouth and took a long and leisurely sip of the brown liquid inside it, all the while her eyes locked on mine.

“So tell me, James Dean,” she finally
said, as she turned to pull the small chain hanging just in sight below the lampshade on the side-table next to her. She was immediately bathed in a warm glow. “Did Lake send you in here for me?”

“Sorry, don’t know a Lake.”
My words were apologetic, but I brazenly matched the way she was looking at me and allowed my eyes to run the length of her body, from her glossy black painted toe nails all the way back up to her face. The way her husky voice had uttered the words
for me
, so suggestively, had me a little turned inside out.

Her hair was definitely a deep reddish-brown now that I could see it better and her eyes were almost indescribable
. The darkest shade of blue I’d ever seen, bordering on purple under the lamplight. With the light on, I noticed the slight smudge of dark under them – like she hadn’t slept in days. Her face was a little on the thin side, unnaturally so – but even this could not detract from those eyes. They were extraordinary and she was exquisite.

“
Too bad,” she said silkily, still looking at me like I was a tall drink of water on a hot summer’s day.

Was she one of Max’s groupies
? Maybe another girlfriend? Damn, she was young. Too young for him. But, then again, he was a famous rock star. Maybe she was his daughter? God, I hoped she was his daughter. He had one, didn’t he? Damn, why didn’t I pay more attention to my shop colleagues when they were celebrity gossiping?

“
I suppose you’re looking for Max then?” She sounded a little disappointed. Her voice was low and had a little natural rasp to it. I’d been thinking it earlier, but now I could confirm it: it was officially the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

“
I’m here to do a tattoo for him,” I replied, holding up the key card Max had given. “He let me in,” I added as I set my bag down on the coffee table despite being unable to drag my eyes away from hers.

“
You’re the tattoo guy,” she smiled and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Thatcher something, right?”

My heart did a little flip in my chest
. My God, she was gorgeous. “Thatch. Thatch Reston.”

“Hmm,” she said, looking me up and down
again. “You must really love your work, Thatch. That’s some hard-on you’re sporting at the moment.”

I laughed
at her boldness. “That’s less about my work and more about watching a beautiful girl dancing around in her underwear.”

She laughed
, too. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know you were there. I’m usually much more controlled in front of company.”

“You don’t need to be ‘controlled’ for my benefit
. It’s obvious I enjoyed the show.”

She took another sip of her drink, cradling her glass with two hands.
“You’re a lot younger than I expected,” she finally said.

“It’s the nam
e. I get that a lot.”

“Yeah, it does
seem more suited to a Supreme Court Justice or the name of a headmaster for an all-boys elite boarding school or something.”

“
If that’s what my dad was going for, he sure must be disappointed now.”

“Not that I’m one to talk,” she
smiled back. “I’m Cali... and I’m sorry to say it’s actually short for California.”

“That’s not so bad,” I replied with a
smirk. “You could’ve ended up with Idaho.” Her name sounded sort of familiar, in terms of something connected to Max, I thought, but I couldn’t quite place it yet.

California rolled her beautiful eyes at me
. “Like I haven’t heard
that
one before.”

“I saw the opening and took it – sorry
. Do you have hippie parents or something?”

“No
… worse,” she sighed. “Actors.”

California
…something. It was on the tip of my tongue now that she’d admitted to actor parents.

“Well
, that explains everything. I don’t have such an excuse. I think my dad is just into old-fashioned names. He had to survive high school with the name Bellamy.”

“I’ve heard worse
.” She smiled again. “Why don’t you sit down, Thatch? I don’t bite. At least, I’ll
try
to control myself anyway. However long Max told you he’d be, add another forty-five minutes to an hour. You might as well make yourself…more comfortable…while you wait.” This last suggestion was delivered with a deliberate and exaggerated glance to my crotch area.

Her looking in the area was not going to solve the problem any.

“I’ll just start setting out my gear, if you don’t mind. I’ll try not to get in your way.” For some strange reason, I wasn’t as irritated as I should’ve been by the revelation that Max was going to be late.

“Go right ahead
. You won’t be in my way. It’s Silent Sundays on TCM. Tonight, it’s Murnau’s
Sunrise
. Have you seen it?”

“Can’t say I’ve seen much in the way of silent film, to be honest,” I answered as I started setting up my works.

“It’s something I’ve gotten into recently over the last couple of months. If you turn the sound down and play your own music… it’s awesome. I forgot my headphones in my room though,” she added wistfully. “I had to improvise.”