More Than Lies (14 page)

I stop and think about everything from the past few weeks that I’ve been mulling over. I didn’t really consider someone taking the money. I think I was too worried that Adam would think I screwed up and even though I know I’m thorough, I considered the fact that maybe I did mess up. A light bulb comes on and I peer up at Shawn.

“You keep an appointment book of everything right?” I know he does which is why I don’t wait for his reply. “Sabrina keeps an appointment log for all artists too. If I can add up the costs and what should be deposited daily, then that will tell us if someone is taking money out before it hits the bank.”

“True, but it won’t tell us who.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’ll figure something out. Lie back. Let me wash this shit off of you.”

“No way. I want to see it.” I smile and rise, but Shawn places his palm onto my shoulder and stops my movement.

“I don’t think so.”

“I do think so, now move.” I push his hand off and I sit up. I’m dying to see what a tattoo designed by Shawn might look on me. I’ve wanted one for so long.

“Tara, just let me clean it off.” He looks really nervous. I don’t know why. “It’s not anything worth seeing. It was something I drew up for a chick that decided not to get it done.”

Again, I’m getting the feeling that isn’t true. Shawn isn’t usually one to lie, as in ever.

I push him backwards and get out of the chair before he’s able to stop me. There is a long mirror that runs the length of the back wall. It starts from the ceiling and ends where the countertop begins. The counter is thigh high so that artists can reach for anything they have on it when they are sitting down.

What I see when I look in the mirror has moisture pooling in my eyes.

Freakin’ hell, it’s beautiful and perfect.

Oh my God.

This is it.

The one.

I have to have this inked on me.

“Shit, Tara, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I told you to let me wash it out. Fuck.” I look in his direction as a tear slides down. God, I’m such a girl sometimes. Shawn looks almost hurt and maybe disappointed.

“I want it.” I declare because I really do. “Oh, my God, this is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Huh?” He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. Let me clean you off, now.”

“No way, I’m absolutely serious. I do want this tattooed onto my body and I want it now.”

The design is a thick storybook, opened and placed onto my hip. The spine of the book is on my hipbone. There are swirly words and birds placed as if they are flying from the pages. Black birds fly in every direction, trailing words behind them. Words like: love, hate, joy, tears, drama, pain, and so on. There is even a little birdie trailing an “HEA”.

There are almost no words to describe what I’m looking at.

Perfection is the closest.

“Now?” He’s questioning me. I don’t think he understands the way I feel, and I have to make myself clear if I’m going to talk Shawn into letting me have this and doing it himself.

“Yes, now. Come on, do this for me, please. Besides banging the first tramp you see in a bar, what do you have to do tonight? There will still be plenty of time to screw a random whore after you do me.”

That last part came out wrong.

“Tara, a tattoo is permanent.” Well, freakin’ duh. Does he think I’m stupid?

“Really? I had no idea. Thanks for the heads up Mr. Genius.” He huffs at my sarcasm. He deserved that.

“No. I’m not doing it. I’m not going to put something on you that you might regret. No, Tara, not happening.”

“What the hell makes you think I’m going to regret it? I wouldn’t. Shawn, you’re an amazing artist. The only person I’d want tattooing me, but if you aren’t going to then I’m going to get someone else to do it.” Apparently I’m not above blackmail here. “I want this design and I want it tonight.”

The chime of the door sounds. Shawn and I turn our heads just as Adam walks through the door.

“Forgot my GD phone.” He looks in our direction and is taken aback when he sees me. “You’re never here this late. What are you doing here, girlie?”

“Adam,” I sing, at the same time I turn to face him. “What do you think of this?” I widen my smile into a toothy grin. If I have to pretend I want Adam to tattoo me in order to get Shawn to do it, then so be it.

“Nerdy, but hot on you.” He strides over, not taking his eyes off of my body.

“Shawn won’t do it. Will you?” I raise my t-shirt up a little to give him a better look.

“Besides the nerdy side of it, it’s a pretty rockin’ tat and it looks killer on her. What gives, brother?” He aims his question in Shawn’s direction. I glance over, taking in the hard eyes that are staring at Adam. I don’t know if it has to do with the tattoo I want or what I revealed to Shawn about the business he’s buying.

“Because I said she’s not getting a tattoo, period, end of fucking story.”

I’m getting this done whether he likes it or not.

You see the thing about Adam is, he likes a girl with an extra-large chest. I don’t flaunt what I have around here. Heck, I don’t flaunt it anywhere, really. But if I need to use it to get what I want, why the hell not, right?

Taking the hem of my shirt into my hands, I pull it up and over my head in one swift move.

A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

“You haven’t seen it all. It goes all the way up my ribs.” The birds stop ‘an inch below my bra line.

“Fuck.” Adam’s eyes aren’t on the side of my body. He’s staring at the center of my chest. “I’ll do it.”

“Like hell you will.” Shawn grabs my elbow, pulling me away from Adam. “Put your fucking shirt back on.” His face is on fire. I’d laugh, but I’m not trying to piss him off; at least not in that way.

“The lady wants a tattoo. The lady shall get what she wants.” I twist, or attempt to, in order to face Adam. He’s saying everything I want him to say.

“What part of
no
do you not understand?”

“Shawn, stop.” My voice is stern. He needs to know how serious I am. “I really want this and if you aren’t going to—” He cuts me off.

“Fine.” Shawn throws his hands up. “If you’re determined then it’ll be me that does it.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.” I smile up at him as I wrap my arms around his neck. Shawn closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds, as if savoring the moment. I know he’s not. That’s only wishful thinking on my part.

He sighs and pulls away from me.

“You know this is going to hurt, right?”

“Probably.” I’ve seen every expression imaginable in this place. Tattoos bring some to tears. Others seem to experience pure bliss. There are even those whose whole being seemed locked in terror. “I’m guessing needles poking into my skin hundreds of times, over and over again, won’t feel peachy.”

“Peachy?” Shawn shakes his heads, but he smiles. “Get in the chair. You want this, let’s do it.”

I walk backwards a step and sit down swinging my legs onto the seat and lean back.

“Put your shirt back on, please.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I—”

“Tara, please.” It’s a plea.

“Fine, whatever.” I sit back up and pull my shirt over my head.

“Tuck the right side into your bra.” I do as he says, but I still think it would have been easier to leave it off. “Are you really sure about this?”

What’s a girl gotta do to get a damn tattoo tonight?

“Yes, Shawn,” I force out as I fall back into the chair. Why is he making such a big deal about this? His work is flawless and beautiful. The moment my eyes landed on this design I knew it was the one I wanted.

“Then relax. We’re going to be here about an hour.”

That hour turned into two. Apparently my threshold for physical pain isn’t as high as my capacity for mental pain. The needle jabbing into my hipbone and rib cage was enough to bring on the waterworks. Shawn eventually had to get Adam to come over to talk me through it, because he couldn’t do that and concentrate on the tattoo process. Adam not only talked to me, but he let me hold onto his arms too, never complaining once.

He’s a great guy like that. I don’t think he could have stolen from his own company. I don’t see that in him at all.

It’s been a week since I inked the book tattoo on Tara. The morning after she freaked and when I say freaked out, I initially thought she regretted it, but then realized she thought something was wrong with the wound. When I discovered it was a little plasma leaking, I laughed. She didn’t find the same humor in the ordeal that I did.

She was okay once I explained what happening was perfect normal a few hours and sometimes even the following day after getting a tattoo.

I have to admit her hysteria was cute.

It’s a Friday night and like any other Friday night after work I’m at Mac’s Pub. Eventually I’ll make it out to a club if I don’t find a prospect here.

The two jackasses standing at the bar catch my attention. They were having what looked to be a pissing contest when I walked in the door half an hour ago. Doesn’t look like their conversation will be mellowing anytime soon. Mac needs to get his ass out here and end this shit.

This may be a local whole in the wall bar, but it’s a good place to chill after a long day. Drama doesn’t have a place here. These two old fuckers either need to take their shit outside or go sit at the opposite ends of the bar, away from each other.

“Hey man, that was a pretty cool piece you did on Calvin’s leg.”

My attention on the two dunk middle agers at the bar arguing is interrupted by my now ex-boss. I’m now the proud owner of the tattoo studio in which I work at. We haven’t made the announcement yet, and I don’t plan on it until I found out who is stealing money from the company. Adam and I had it out on Monday morning. He swears up and down he’d never do something like that. I believe him and we both find it laughable that Tara would think either of us would think she was capable of something like that.

“Yeah, I thought it turned out pretty good too.” I glance in his direction momentarily before turning my sights back onto the bar. Calvin’s been a client of mine since my first week at the studio here in Oxford over three years ago. I’ve been fortunate enough to do every bit of ink he has on his body. It’s a cool feeling to know someone’s trust you enough to permanently mark their skin.

The old fucks conversation is starting to escalate and Mac is still nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t stand for BS in his bar. People come to drink and chill out from a stressful day at the jobs.

Honeysuckle blonde waves catch my eye. I glance a few feet around from the confrontation, seeing Tara and Holly talking. Tara looks frustrated. She can’t stand Holly and the feeling is mutual for Holly.

At a distance you might think their looks are similar. Holly has blond hair, too, but it’s straight and bleached. She’s of average height. Tara has an inch or two on her. They are both well endowed, but where Tara’s tits are real, Holly’s double D’s are enhanced with silicone. Tara is all curves with a plump ass whereas Holly has no ass, or waist or even legs for that matter. Up close, Holly is a big ole mess.

Something about Holly’s stance is off though. Tara clearly wants away from her, but Holly grasps onto her elbow. Yet, she is looking past Tara. I glance in that direction, turning my eyes on to the men I was previously watching. They have in fact escalated their argument into pushing and shoving each other. I glance down noting the glass item in one of the guy’s hand. He’s holding it too tight. I don’t register my quick movement in their direction until a body crashes into my chest. At the same time a beer bottle crashes into my shoulder blade making me clench my fist around blonde strands. A quick intake of air is pulled into Tara’s mouth, followed by a soft moan.

“Son of a bitch.” I shout as I release Tara’s hair. She steps a fraction backwards, looking up at me in confusion.

“Oh fuck.” I hear a tone of fear from behind me. Tara looks past me and I pivot around with what I’m sure is the fear of death coming from my eyes. The guy I’ve only seen in here on a rare occasion releases the remaining broken bottleneck of the beer from his hand. “I...I...I’m sorry, man.” He stutters.

“You’re sorry,” I push out. “You’re fucking sorry doesn’t cut it.” I walk forward, grabbing a hand full of dirty t-shirt, shoving him backwards. “Had I not seen what was happening, you would have hit her in the face with a beer bottle instead of me.” I jut my finger out, point in Tara’s direction. Everyone looks at her. The asshole looks ashamed, but I don’t care. His carelessness almost hurt Tara.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, but it’s directed to Tara. She stands there not knowing what to do.

“Get out of my bar.” Mac’s voice comes out loud and fierce from somewhere behind the bar. “I don’t want to see either one of you back in here again.” Both men leave without another word. The guy that swung the bottle has his head lowered as he walks out. He may regret what he did, but that doesn’t change what almost happened.

I take a deep breath. The pain in my back is starting to make its presence known. I turn around and when I do, looking past Tara, I see Holly’s mouth is a gap. That little scene didn’t play out like she wanted. I know she doesn’t like Tara. I know why she doesn’t like Tara. Me. But I never thought she would out right try to cause Tara harm. That pisses me off further. “Get out of my sight.” She knows it’s directed at her. She huffs, but does as I say, stomping off.