The Mad Tatter Page 3

  I look at Jenny. "I’m guessing you’re twenty-one, then?"

  She smiles. “That’s what my ID says."

  Lark laughs. “I’ve seriously gotta get one of them. She’s younger than me and they don’t even question it."

  Younger than me. “Eighteen?"

  “Seventeen."

  Jenny, oh Jenny… you’re definitely too young for me.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse us, Jenny, your friend and I have some, uh, business to attend to,” I say, tugging Lark toward her front door.

  “Wait!” Lark says. “I thought she could join us."

  I thought she could join us. The greatest words ever spoken, ones a man like me always yearns to hear. But while seventeen might be the age of consent to the great state of New York, in my world, it’s still too damn young to be playing these games.

  “Sorry, pretty little birdie,” I say, pulling Lark inside and slamming the front door, leaving her friend outside. “It’s just you and me, baby."

  She smiles… smiles like those words make her special, like she thinks I’m confessing she means something to me. I don’t let her dwell on it, though. I can’t.

  I lead her right back to her bedroom, and fuck the memory of them right out of her head.

  I fuck her until she’s gasping, until the only word she seems to remember is my name. Fuck her until she convulses with pleasure, until she’s exhausted and satiated, until she wants nothing more than to go the hell to sleep.

  I fuck her until I forget… until I no longer feel anything… until my mind is a haze and I’m tricked into believing that’s actually okay.

  Because days always blur together in a collective stream of nothingness when I lose myself in familiar patterns, where nobody means anything and nothing really matters.

  Nobody, and nothing, that is, except for my little miss.

  "Seriously think about this," I say, sitting on the black leather stool in my workspace. It's Saturday, the shop's busiest day of the week, and my afternoon is fully reserved. Not with the usual clients, though. No, this is a special day. Two weekends a month and the occasional weekday, my schedule is blacked out for a VIP. My VIP. "It isn't a decision to make lightly."

  "I know," she replies. "I already thought all about it."

  "And you're absolutely positive?"

  "Uh-huh."

  She seems certain, eagerness in her expression telling me she isn't going to back down, no matter what I say. Sighing, I grasp my hat, turning it, cocking it on my head nearly backward. This shit is serious business. "Well, I guess if you're really sure..."

  "I am," she says, matter-of-fact. "I want a dinosaur!"

  Not flowers. Not hearts. Nobody's name.

  Nothing feminine or frilly.

  A fucking dinosaur.

  I grin, reaching over and playfully nudging her under the chin with my tattooed fist. "That's my girl."

  Lexie beams at my words, showing off the gap in her pearly-white chompers from her first missing tooth.

  "You know the drill," I continue, waving her away. "Pick your tunes and we'll get this party started, Little Miss."

  As Lexie noisily rifles through the cassette box, Ellie strolls to the doorway and pauses. She watches Lexie for a moment, smiling, before turning to me. "There's someone here to see you."

  "Nobody should be on the books for me today."

  "Nobody is," she says. "They just walked in."

  I shake my head. Hell no. "Give them to someone else."

  "They asked for you specifically," Ellie says.

  “Nobody asks for me specifically,” I say with a laugh. “They ask for Kevin and end up with me instead."

  “Not this time. The girl's pretty adamant about seeing you. I asked why and she said… well, she said she wasn't sure."

  My brow furrows. "She's not sure why she's here?"

  "Nope."

  My gaze drifts to Lexie momentarily, contemplating, before I sigh. Please don’t be somebody I fucked and forgot about the next day. "Send whoever it is back here. I'll talk to them."

  The music of the day is some boy band… the out-of-sync new kids on a backstreet or something. I feign annoyance, scrunching up my nose and dramatically groaning as I stick the tape in the boombox, earning an enthusiastic giggle. I knew she would pick it. It's the only damn reason I have a copy of it in my collection—for her.

  I press play and reach into my desk drawer to pull out an array of sharpies, everything from plain black to the pinkest of pink. I spread them out on the desk for her to choose a color as my eyes drift to the doorway when the woman appears.

  Goddess.

  She's more subdued today, wearing a pink sweater and the darkest, skinniest skinny jeans, making her look curvier than ever. I scan her instinctively, exhaling slowly. Jesus, she manages to be even more tempting leaving so much to the imagination, like whatever is beneath those layers of clothes is possibly the eighth wonder of the world, and damn if I don't want to explore it.

  Conquer it.

  Check that shit right off my bucket list.

  "What can I do for you today, Aphrodite?"

  Her eyes widen, taken aback by the greeting. "It's Avery."

  "I know," I say. "You change your mind about getting that tattoo?"

  "Uh, no." Her brow furrows as she glances around the room with confusion, her eyes settling on Lexie. "I just came to… well, I don't know why I'm here, honestly."

  "So I heard."

  A few sharpies are ultimately chosen, of course… Lexie usually always wants a lot of color to match my tattoos. I have full sleeves, the whole way down to the faded words inked above my knuckles, and part of my back and chest done.

  "Well, if it helps,” I tell her, "I know why you're here."

  "You do?"

  "Yes."

  Avery just stands there, not at all pressing me to elaborate, as I grab black and shove the rest of the sharpies aside. I lower the table, pushing the back of it up to form a chair for Lexie to climb up. She settles in, holding her arm on the armrest. I grab her gently, pinning her arm there with my left hand, as I start drawing on her bicep with my right. Lexie giggles, since it tickles, but she tries her best to stay still for me.

  Good girl.

  "What in the world…?" Avery trails off. "What are you doing?"

  "What does it look like I'm doing?" I cut my eyes at her. "The girl said she wanted a tattoo, so I'm giving her one."

  “Her? You’re giving her a tattoo?"

  “Yeah, why not?” I ask. "Who am I to tell her no?"

  "An adult," Avery says. "She's just a kid. It's your job to tell her no."

  "Ah, well, I don't like to say no," I reply, "so I usually don't."

  "But she's just a kid," Avery says again.

  "So?" I cock an eyebrow as Avery takes a few steps into the room to get a better look. "It's not like I'm using the needle or anything."

  "You should," Lexie says, chiming in excitedly. "I want a real one, like yours!"

  "Not today," I say casually.

  "Tomorrow?" Lexie asks.

  "I don't work tomorrow."

  "The next day?"

  "You won't be with me."

  "Next time I'm with you?"

  "We'll see," I reply. "Ask me then."

  Avery lets out a laugh of disbelief as she grabs the folding metal chair and drags it closer to take a seat beside me. I catch a whiff of her perfume and briefly close my eyes as the scent washes through me.

  What the hell is she doing to me?

  It only takes me about ten minutes to draw the outline of the T-Rex, then another five to color it in with shades of green and brown. As soon as it's finished, Lexie jumps onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly, before running out. I can hear her screeching as she tears through the busy shop, growling and raising hell, showing her brand new tattoo to anyone who will look at it.

  Chuckling to myself, I put the markers away and turn off the cheery pop music. My gaze shifts to Avery as s
he stares at the empty doorway, lightly biting her bottom lip.

  "So you, uh…" She glances at me, raising her eyebrows as she seems to riddle it all out. "You have a daughter?"

  "I do."

  Avery smiles. "She kind of looks like you."

  Understatement. Lexie is practically my clone, with her pale skin and wild hair and bright blue eyes that mischievously twinkle whenever she's up to something, which is pretty much always.

  Instead of responding to that, I merely nod before changing the subject. “So you figure out why you're here yet?"

  "No."

  "It's out of curiosity," I say. "But the million dollar question is, what are you really curious about? Do you want to find something that's you, do you want to learn more about me, or...?"

  "Or?"

  I wheel my stool closer, gazing at her. "Or are you just curious what I can do to help you figure it all out?"

  Avery is quiet for a moment, her breath hitching when I lean even closer in her direction, our knees touching. She's beautiful. I still can't put my finger on it. She's kind of like sunshine. She's bright. And warm. And yellow.

  She's yellow.

  I don't know how else to explain it.

  "Maybe it's all three," she says eventually.

  "Maybe," I agree, testing her as I reach out slowly, waiting to see how she'll react. I graze her cheek with my knuckles before tucking some hair behind her ear, grinning when she shivers from my barely-there touch. "I can't help you today, though. As you see, I've got the little miss, and well…" Standing up, I lean over and whisper in her ear. "The things I'd do to you aren't for the eyes of the innocent."

  I pull away from her, turning toward the doorway when I hear the screeching tear through the shop, heading our way. Lexie bursts into the room, her hair all over the place, her eyes wild like an animal. "I wanna 'nother!"

  "Another what?"

  "Tattoo!" She points at her other arm. "I need a try-terry-pops!"

  My brow furrows. "A what?"

  Lexie growls, her eyes narrowed as she yells, "try-terry-pops!"

  I stare at her, confused, as she holds her fingers up like devil horns. What the fuck?

  Avery starts laughing. "A triceratops."

  "Yes!" Lexie exclaims.

  Five years into the fathering gig and I'm still not fluent in kid-ese. Her newfound toothless lisp doesn't help matters, either. I let out a chuckle as I shake my head, patting the tattoo table. "Let's do it."

  Lexie picks out new music this time, but it isn't much better: the Spice Girls. I wheel my stool around to the other side of the table and flip up the other armrest, grabbing the sharpies and getting straight to work. Avery scoots her chair over even further to occupy the spot I had been in moments ago, and peeks over the table as I work.

  "So you like dinosaurs?" Avery asks, glancing at Lexie, whose eyes light up with excitement at the question. The kid loves dinosaurs. It doesn't take her long to launch into it, rattling off facts and statistics, spitting out names I'm sure have to be made-up on the spot. What the fuck is a Gasosaurus, anyway? I remain quiet as Avery engages Lexie in conversation with ease, asking questions like she genuinely cares to know the answers.

  It's nice, yeah, but weird for me.

  I'm not sure how I feel about a woman I’m hoping to get naked talking to my kid like this. I try to keep those worlds separate for Lexie's sake.

  Less messy that way.

  I only do the head of the dinosaur, having no room on her skinny arm to fit its thick body. After shading it in, I set the markers aside and wheel my stool back against the wall. "There you go. One try-terry-pops."

  "That's not what it's called," Lexie says defensively, looking at her arm. "It's a try-terry-pops!"

  I grin. Exactly what I said.

  Lexie jumps down, growling again as she bolts from the room back out into the shop for round two. I lean back against the wall, not bothering to shut off the obnoxious music, and glance across the table at Avery, noticing her mouthing along to the lyrics. She freezes when she catches me looking, her cheeks tingeing light pink.

  It's a gorgeous shade.

  Timidly, she ducks her head, refusing to meet my eyes. "I should probably get going."

  I eye her intently as she stands up. "I work most days, so come by anytime."

  "I wouldn't want to bother you," she says hesitantly. "I know you're probably really busy. So, I mean… I don't know… I shouldn't have even come today, but…"

  "But you're curious." Her nervousness is endearing, but unwarranted. There isn't shit about me intimidating. "There's a bar just down the street. The Spare Room. I usually grab a drink after work. So if you don't want to see me here, you can probably find me there."

  Her blush deepens as she nods. "I'll remember that."

  Avery heads for the door the same time the growling once more tears through the shop. I glance over as Lexie bursts in, slamming right into Avery and nearly knocking them both to the floor. Avery startles, laughing, while Lexie barely misses a beat. She swings around to me, pulling her shirt up to point at her stomach. "Breaky-sores!"

  "Brachiosaurus," Avery says quickly, translating.

  I shake my head, reaching over to snatch Lexie's shirt back down, before tugging her into my arms. She giggles as I nuzzle into her neck, smothering her in kisses. "I don't think so. You know my rules. No more than two tats per session."

  "But—"

  "But nothing," I say, tickling her sides until she shoves away from me. "The long-necked brute can wait for next time."

  "Next time," she echoes, her face lighting up. "It can be my real one! Right, Daddy?"

  "We'll see."

  Lexie is running off again before I can say anything else. I stand up, stepping toward the doorway as Avery walks out of the room. She lingers just outside my workspace, shooting me sly looks, like she doesn’t really want to go. "Well… bye, I guess."

  "I'll see you later, Aphrodite."

  I watch her leave before cleaning up, putting the markers away and turning off the music. Shutting off the lights, I lock up my room and set off through the shop, greeting a few clients waiting to see the other artists. I can hear Lexie behind the receptionist's desk with Ellie, making all sorts of ruckus.

  "Come on, Little Miss," I say, calling out to her. "Time to go."

  Lexie shoots out from behind the desk, running for me. I hold my hand out, and grinning, Lexie slides her small hand into mine.

  "I'm gone, guys," I shout, earning goodbyes from the others as I head for the door. Lexie skips along beside me, gripping my hand tightly.

  "Where did she go?" Lexie asks when we step outside, her footsteps slowing as she looks around.

  "Who?"

  "The girl that visited you."

  "Ah, she left."

  I tug my daughter away from the shop as I glance down at her, my chest tightening at her expression. Suspicion clouds her eyes, like she isn't quite sure what to make of anything. Moments like this, she reminds me of her mother, and that isn't someone I like to think about more than necessary.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. "What's wrong?"

  "Is that girl your girlfriend?"

  I let out a sharp laugh. "What? No. Of course not."

  "Mommy says you have lots and lots of girlfriends."

  I scoff. "I do not."

  "Don't you like her?"

  I blink a few times, taken aback. "Your mother?"

  Wrong question to ask. I'll smile, for Lexie's sake, but I'm not sure I can lie about that with a straight face.

  I’d be hard pressed to name someone I like less.

  "No, that girl."

  "Oh, uh… sure," I say. "She's nice, I guess. Why do you ask?"

  Lexie shrugs. "If she's not your girlfriend, then you must not like her."

  "I like Ellie and she's not my girlfriend," I say, unsure of how to explain it. "That means nothing."

  "But that's different."

  "How so?"

  "Ellie doesn't gi
ve you goo-goo eyes, Daddy." Lexie laughs, dramatically rolling her eyes as if to prove her point. "Ellie says you have boy cooties."

  "She does not."

  "Uh-huh! She does."

  "Did she really say that?" I ask, hesitating before shaking my head and backtracking. I'm seriously asking if someone thinks I have cooties? "Look, a guy can have friends that are girls without them being girlfriends."

  "So she's your friend?"

  "No… well, I don't know. We just met."

  "Do you want her to be your friend?"

  "Uh, sure." I shrug. "Why not?"

  Lexie looks away from me and starts walking. Glancing down at her as we stroll, I contemplate her question, rolling her words around in my mind. Why did she just ask me that? "Lexie?"

  Her eyes dart up to meet mine after a few minutes, the suspicion giving way to pure doubt. She's seriously questioning this shit.

  "Do you want her to be your friend? Is that why you're asking?"

  She hesitates before nodding slowly.

  "You like her?"

  Another nod.

  "Why?"

  Shrugging, she turns away again to look at her arms. "She likes my dinosaurs."

  I slide onto my usual wooden stool at The Spare Room. The bartender glances over, nodding once in greeting, before swiftly grabbing a can of Genesee and sliding it my way.

  It's shortly before eleven at night on a Thursday, and I just finished up a grueling back tattoo of the solar system. My mind is still stuck back at the shop, continually critiquing my work, agonizing over mistakes and what I should've done differently, as I sip my beer, waiting for the alcohol to soothe my nerves. The bartender pours a shot of whiskey, forgoing asking about my day as he nudges it my way.

  The high from my visit with my daughter has fully worn off, leaving me once more a frazzled, fucked-up mess of a man.

  One who really wants a cigarette…

  One who could use some company...

  One who desperately needs to get laid.

  It's getting to the point that I'm tempted to call Lark, even though I've been avoiding her all week.

  The stool beside me shifts as I consider that, downing the shot of whiskey. I look over, doing a double take and nearly choking on the liquor when Avery casually slides into the seat. I stare at her, stunned, before a slow smile spreads across my face.