Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (33 page)

“I like your name I think it suits you well. It’s beautiful just like you,” I compliment like the gentleman my mom taught to me to be.

Jade groans. “When did you turn into such a cheese ball? I think I liked you better as the armchair philosopher.”

“Hey,” I protest, “I might actually resemble that remark. I write lyrics for a living. I thought women liked this sappy stuff.”

“I don’t know, maybe some women do. You should know by now that I’m not like most women. Maybe I just march to a different drummer or something, but it just sounded like a really lame line to me. It sounded like something you’d say to any old woman in a bar or at a club to pick her up. It just seemed skeevy to me.”

“Wow! Talk about your fundamental misunderstanding. I was just trying to be nice. I do happen to think that you’re very pretty and that your name reflects your personality and your beauty very well. I wasn’t trying to be creepy at all,” I explain in an attempt to clarify my remarks. “If that’s the way I’m coming off, perhaps I need to work on my interpersonal skills.”

Jade takes a long drink of her iced tea and then sets it down on the table. She runs her fingers through her hair and then takes a rubber band off her wrist and puts her hair in a ponytail. I try not to cringe because I like her hair down and wild. Having long hair myself, I know why she puts it back. It can be a pain to have it fall in your face all the time. When she finishes fiddling with her hair, she sighs and says, “Look, I’m sorry; I might be just a little oversensitive. It’s been a bitch of a week.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.

“Sadly, I don’t think so. Unless you can change a lifetime of expectations. It’s really complicated and I don’t think there are any great answers. If there are, I haven’t come up with any and I’ve been trying to work it out for months, if not years.”

“I know that feeling. Sometimes you have to do what’s right for you even if it hurts the people you love.”

“Really? Because you know all the people I love. Do you think I’m big on hurting them?”

“I know you’re not. It’s all a really hard balancing act Sometimes you have to watch out for you, too. What’s your dilemma?”

“Declan, I don’t know if I should even tell you. First of all, you’re going to think I’m crazy and secondly, you’re technically my dad’s client,” she argues after the waitress puts our food down in front of us.

I silently ponder her arguments as we eat our lunch. After a few bites, “I usually try my best to see both sides of an issue before I make up my mind,” I counter. “I’m as much your client as I am your dad’s. Besides, where is it written that you have to have some sort of sacred relationship with me like a priest or a doctor? We’re just friends.”

Jade takes a deep breath and blows it out as she acquiesces, “Okay, it’s not like I have anybody else to tell this to. Marcus is too busy making googly eyes with his wife. Ivy’s friend Jessica is cool, but she’s got Mitch now. I can’t tell my own family because they’re part of the issue.”

“If there’s anything I can relate to, it’s family being the issue,” I commiserate.

“So, what you’re telling me is if I completely unload on you, you’re not going to go running to my parents to tell them what I said?”

“I told you I had broad shoulders and I meant it. If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”
 

“I hope I don’t regret this decision,” Jade remarks as she pushes her plate away. “Do you ever wonder if you are destined to do something with your life that’s completely different from what you’re doing right now? I mean, the whole world thinks that I’m wickedly talented at being a tattoo artist. I suppose I probably am, but I don’t know anything else. I’ve done this since before I could write my name. You know my dad had me practicing on old ham hocks when I was in preschool? I don’t remember a time in my life that I didn’t know how to handle tattoo equipment properly. I see objects in life as if they are tattoos. It’s the way I was taught to evaluate things. I know how to shade and layer designs instinctively. I’m grateful to my parents for that knowledge. I can never thank my parents enough for what they’ve taught me. I know so much about art because of what my dad taught me and so much about literature and books from my mom.”

“Your parents are great, so what’s the problem?” I prompt.

“My parents want to retire and travel. My dad really wanted my brother to take over the business, but now that’s not possible, so it’s all on my shoulders.”

“Maybe you could talk to your brother and ask him to share more of the burden,” I suggest.

Jade looks stricken for a moment before tears start to gather in her eyes. “I wish I could. I can’t. I forgot you were touring in Mexico when it happened, so you probably don’t know. My brother committed suicide during his third week of his freshman year of college. My parents never talk about him”

“
God
, I swear I don’t
try
to be a jerk,” I exclaim. “When I came back into town everything with the shop had changed and I thought something must’ve gone wrong with the remodel or something
—
they had your street shut down for weeks and I figured business was just slow. I didn’t ask any questions because I didn’t want to stress anybody out. I’m so sorry Jade, that must’ve been awful.”

“It’s the worst pain I’ve ever been through in my life. Even though he was older than me, we were sort of like twins. We lived out of each other’s pockets. People said we were like two sides of a coin. I don’t know that I’ll ever be whole again. It’s like part of my heart is missing
—
the syncopation is off in my life.”

“I can only imagine. But how would stepping away from Ink’d Deep help with that?” I ask. “That place is as close to a family as I’ve ever seen, even if you take your dad out of the equation.”

“Onyx was going to be my path out of the business. We had it all planned out. He knew what I wanted to do, and he was totally supportive. He was going to go to college to show my dad that it was safe for me to go away to school. The plan was that Onyx was going to go to school and major in art so that he could come back and work at the tattoo shop. He was the one who was supposed to take over for Dad. After he finished school, I was going to go to college and become a teacher. I wanted to be able to teach kids about the power of learning about arts and English and being creative. More importantly, I wanted to teach about being true to yourself in setting up for who you are and the power of believing in yourself and your dreams.”

“That sounds like an amazing plan, I’m sorry that it never had a chance to come true. The world needs more teachers with your kind of passion,” I reply.

“You have no idea,” Jade responds tearfully. “Onyx, my beautiful, talented, creative brother, probably killed himself because some strange kids that he barely even knew convinced him that he wasn’t worth anything because he was different from them. What if more people had been in his life to teach him to stand strong and believe in himself when others didn’t? Would he still be here today? What if my role in life isn’t to draw pretty pictures on people’s bodies, but to be that one voice in someone’s head that reminds them that they are worth it when they feel like they are out of choices?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Jade, but teachers make crap pay. Although I don’t know exactly how much you make at Ink’d Deep, I know it’s a solidly successful shop and your pieces go for a premium amount of bank. I also know that you’re booked up for months in advance. You are more booked up than any other tattoo artist in the shop; believe me I know. I’ve tried to make an appointment with you
—
I know personally how hard it is.”

“Yeah, so?” Jade snaps at me.

“All I’m saying is that you have an incredible, God-given talent as an artist and it would be a shame to lock that away in the classroom somewhere so that they could pay you pennies. You could be making tons of money that you could give to some charity somewhere where they could put qualified professionals in the classroom to help teach those skills that you want students to have,” I argue.

“Hey, Declan? Does your family think you’re pretty good at the art of the sale?” Jade asks me in the ultimate non sequitur.

“Yeah, they call me a natural, why?” I inquire, puzzled by the change in topic.

She throws her napkin on the table as she remarks, “Finish your lunch, Declan; suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going home.”
 

To everyone who’s hearts
 

have been stolen by your perfect

 
match of a different sort— this book is to honor them.

 
I write it in loving memory of my service dogs:

 
Molly, Boris and Caleigh.

THE LADDER SHAKES PRECARIOUSLY under my feet as I reach up to fill the hummingbird feeder. For the life of me, I don’t understand why Mrs. Bathwell decided that the hummingbirds need to be fed on the highest peak of the rafters. It makes absolutely no sense. As a big drop of the bright red syrup splashes on my cheek, the silent cursing that I’ve been doing under my breath becomes not so silent. Immediately, I apologize even though there isn’t anyone outside within blocks. Every other sane person on the planet is asleep at five-thirty on a Sunday morning in this sleepy suburban enclave. I can’t seem to outgrow my Midwestern farm work ethic nor my pastor’s granddaughter morals no matter how long I’ve been attending college in sunny Florida.

 
As I screw on the last feeding spout to the hummingbird feeder, something catches my eye. I’ve seen that souped-up car before. It was the same one that was racing from the scene where the senior citizen couple was spray-painted with a swastika the other day in front of the local market. Unfortunately, the license plate is partially obscured and they are driving too fast for me to see what it says. It looks like it’s not a Florida license plate though or if it is, it’s not the traditional plate. The only thing distinguishable about the car is that it looks like a Mustang, but it’s just grey. Grey and loud — very loud. It is so loud that at first, I don’t realize that there is another sound disturbing the early morning quiet in my neighborhood.