Clipped Wings (13 page)

Jamie’s place wasn’t far from the shop, so I hopped into his car with the intention of walking home later. Chris followed on his crotch rocket, which gave Jamie a chance to grill me.

“Chris told me about your blow out with Damen.”

“He had it coming. Damen’s always on Chris about merging, like he thinks it’s Chris’s decision.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Come on, Hayden. Chris thinks you’re mad at him.”

“I’m not.”

“You sure about that?”

I’d been short with Chris, maybe a little less patient than usual, but I didn’t think it was that bad. “I ran into Sienna on my way out. It didn’t go well.”

“Well, that puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“I’m guessing Chris didn’t tell you Sienna propositioned him after you left?” Jamie asked.

“Are you shitting me?” Sienna could mess with me all she wanted, but there was no way I’d let her use Chris to get to me. She’d manipulated him before, and I wouldn’t let it happen again. “What kind of proposition?”

“The usual kind.”

“Please tell me he didn’t take the bait.” Chris had made some bad decisions in the past, but I couldn’t see him falling for this one. Not again.

Jamie shook his head. “Chris was riled, man. I don’t think he expected it. Anyway, you know how he gets. He’s stressed. He can’t deal when he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“He should have said something.” Chris didn’t usually keep things from me, even if he expected me to get pissed.

“He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to make things worse.”

“But I’m not pissed at him,” I said, exasperated.

“Maybe not, but he’s got it in his head that you are. You know the way Chris is. He’s not going to be himself until he’s sure everything is copacetic between you two.”

“Christ. If having a girlfriend is anything like dealing with Chris, I’m not interested.”

Jamie snorted. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard come out of your mouth in a long ass time.”

“Keep fishing, I’m not biting.”

“Whatever, man. That’s confirmation enough for me.” He gave me one of his all-knowing smiles. “Anyway, what I’m saying is cut Chris some slack. He’s family.”

“I hear you. I’ll let it go.”

Chris and I had been through some rough times, but he was still one of my closest friends. When we didn’t see eye to eye on things, he got antsy. I couldn’t hold it against him, when I’d made my share of unfortunate choices.

“Maybe now he’ll get why I don’t want to associate with those people anymore. Sienna isn’t happy unless she’s causing problems.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jamie said.

“Lisa’s not with any of those girls tonight?” That would be a recipe for disaster. When Lisa ran into the girls from The Dollhouse, she was usually a mess for a few days afterward. I could imagine Sienna baiting Lisa for information, especially after my altercation with her. Lisa’s loyalties might lie with me, but Sienna was good at manipulating.

“No, thank God. She’s out with some girls from one of those classes she takes.”

“She and Tenley seem to like each other. Maybe they’ll start to hang out more or something,” I said.

“Maybe. You want to talk about that situation?” Jamie pulled into his driveway.

“I’m good.” I got out of the car, ending the potential train wreck of a conversation.

Jamie and Lisa lived in an old two-story detached home complete with white picket fence and elaborate gardens. The front porch was painted a vibrant red with black accents because Lisa was in charge of the color scheme. Her imprint was stamped all over the interior as well. Their fridge was one of those ’50s era aqua blue vintage jobs, and the furniture looked like it had been stolen from the set of
Leave It to Beaver
. It was like standing in a time warp. Except without the plastic covers on everything.

“Beer or liquor?” Jamie asked as he crossed through the living room to the kitchen.

He left his shoes on. It made me cringe. I unlaced mine and arranged them on the mat at the door, beside Lisa’s yellow army boots.

“Beer’s fine.”

I traveled the perimeter of the living room, taking the long way around to check out Jamie’s newest art. He always had one wall in each room on the main floor painted as a mural. The living room boasted a view of a dirt road lined with summer-full trees. The one in the dining room was a work in progress, but it looked like it was going be a full-size portrait of Lisa. Jamie passed me a beer when I came through the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I took a swig. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing.”

He didn’t comment when I bypassed the bathroom on the main floor. There was always a mural in the one upstairs, which gave me the perfect excuse to check out the second floor. I felt better when I knew all the rooms in the house were safe. Residual shit from when my parents died. I flipped on the hall light and climbed to the second floor. The stairs near the top creaked, and a shiver traveled down my spine. As I passed the office and the bedrooms, I reminded myself that Lisa was out with friends. All the rooms were relatively tidy except the master bedroom. Lisa’s clothes were strewn all over the bed like she couldn’t decide what she wanted to wear tonight. It would have driven me insane, but if Jamie was fazed by it, it didn’t show.

I headed for the bathroom. Inside was a huge claw-foot tub. The wall behind it was painted to make it feel like the room was underwater, with vibrant fish swimming toward the ceiling. The white floor was pristine, but the teal and black hand towels sat askew on the rack. I fixed them so they hung parallel to each other. When I was done admiring the art, I turned off all the lights, save the one in the hallway, and returned to the kitchen, beer in hand. Chris had arrived while I’d been upstairs. He was almost finished with his first beer, a second one waiting for him on the counter.

“Everything good, man?” Jamie asked.

“Yup.” I clinked my bottle against Chris’s in greeting.

We headed down to the basement. The walls were covered in old movie posters, and a set of decked-out recliners arced around an oversized flat-screen. On the other side were a pool table and a dartboard. The space was perfect for beers and watching action flicks. Chris racked the balls, and I chalked a cue.

“So what’s the deal with Tee?” he asked as he removed the triangle and I set up to break.

It annoyed the crap out of me that he had a nickname for her. I tamped down the emotion and played dumb. “You talking about the ink?”

“I guess. You’ve got a thing for her and now you’ve agreed to that huge back piece, so you can’t do anything about it. It must be driving you crazy.”

“I can handle myself.” I lined up the shot and broke the balls with a crack, scattering them across the table. A stripe went into the corner pocket.

“If you say so,” Chris said, “but I’m willing to bet my left nut you can’t make it until the end of that tattoo to get into her pants.”

“She’s not just some chick I want to fuck.” I jumped the white ball, and Chris caught it before it hit the floor.

“Whoa, simmer down.” He put the ball back on the table. “I didn’t mean it that way. Tee’s a cool girl. It’s not a bad thing that you’re into her.”

“She’s different.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Chris rounded the table and clapped me on the shoulder. The apology went much further than the comment about Tenley. “Now try that shot again.”

He dropped it, but that didn’t mean I could stop thinking about her.

It was close to one in the morning by the time Lisa came home. Chris was too wasted to drive, so he took over their spare room. I wasn’t tired, and I generally avoided sleeping anywhere but my own bed, so I walked home as planned. Besides, Tenley’s design was sitting on my drawing desk, waiting for me to finish it.

Once inside my condo I flicked on the hall light, shed my coat, and unlaced my boots. Out of habit, I hung my jacket in the closet and arranged my shoes neatly inside. Tension made my stomach clench as I walked down the hall. I checked each room, turning on lights, leaving the bedroom for the end. The bed was as I’d left it: slate gray duvet folded down, navy sheets pulled tight and tucked in, pillows arranged against the headboard. The normalcy eased some of my anxiety. Retracing my steps I shut off all the lights, save the one in the kitchen. I grabbed a glass and the bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and poured a hefty shot. Downed it. Filled. Repeated. Some days the OCD got out of hand; today was one of them.

I wandered around the condo to make sure everything was in its place before I worked on Tenley’s design. Drink in hand, I sat down at my drafting table and pulled out the original. Typically wings were symbolic of freedom, but with Tenley’s, the consuming fire and decimation of the wings would make flight painful. As though gaining freedom had been the cause of great agony. But even through the pervasive darkness, there was still a hint of light. I wanted there to be balance in the design, because right now it felt like the darkness was winning. I understood that only too well; most of my tattoos reflected the same theme.

I still didn’t feel right about putting such a beast of a tattoo on her back without at least attempting to persuade her to start with something small. I pulled out a fresh piece of paper and set to designing a separate piece I could use as a bargaining chip when she came by on Monday. Afterward I worked on the wings. They were already adapted to fit my vision, so all they needed now was color.

I made a copy of the completed design and sketched the outline of her body, including a side profile of her face, as if she was peeking over her shoulder at me. The dip in her waist and the swell of her hip completed the piece. Distracted and no longer capable of working, I put the sketches into her folder. It was after three in the morning, but I still wasn’t tired.

Instead of bed, I headed for the shower and rubbed one out under the hot spray. It took the edge off, but my balls still ached from the off-and-on erection I’d sported every time I’d thought about Tenley today. My brain wouldn’t move on from the seminaked images of her now that I’d drawn the stupid sketch.

I threw myself on my bed. Eyes closed, every perverse fantasy I concocted over the course of the past few weeks got airtime. Tenley, in the bar, in the antiques store, in my chair, naked in my bed. It didn’t take long before my body locked down and I was groaning through clenched teeth. She was like a damn tornado, throwing everything into upheaval. Whatever was happening to me was unsettling. Control was how I functioned. Everything made sense with order and consistency. But there was none of that in this situation.

It reminded me in some vague way of the aftermath of my parents’ death, when my life was in turmoil. Unable to cope, I drowned myself in booze and drugs. Narcotics were the great escape. Damen was an excellent provider in that capacity. I was looking for anything that would dull the pain and take away the nightmares. The relief was short-lived, though. Even when I started in on the body modification—first the piercings and then the ink—the release of pain was never enough.

The downward spiral went on and on. At twenty I developed what quickly became a problematic coke habit. I didn’t kick it until I left Damen’s shop and opened Inked Armor. Being fucked up all the time wasn’t a good way to run a business. Chris and Jamie put up with a lot of shit while I got mine together. By that time I’d traded one addiction for another. Sienna offered me a new release; sex with no boundaries. The coke had been bad, but Sienna was worse. Eventually I kicked that bad habit, too. It took almost four years.

In the midst of all the chaos I found a way to manage the pain. Order had a calming effect. There was peace in perfection. Ultimate control over everything in my life, from the way my condo was set up to the people I chose to affiliate with, made living bearable. There were times when the isolation was difficult to handle, but it served a purpose. I decided who got close and by how much. But that wasn’t working with Tenley. She was the new variable, defying all my boundaries. No matter how much I controlled my environment, it did nothing to stop the storm raging inside me.

On Saturday, Hayden showed up at the store, unshaven and unkempt, looking more beautiful than any man covered in tattoos and piercings had a right to. His hair was an insane mess. He ran his fingers through it, which did nothing to force it into submission.

He rounded the desk to peer over my shoulder at the pile of books I was cataloguing. The titles would have been just as visible from the other side of the counter.

“I had a dream about you last night,” Hayden said conversationally, making goose bumps rise along my arms.

“Really?”

“Mm. Really.” His voice was liquid smooth.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” I asked, sounding embarrassingly breathless.

He leaned in, and I could feel the warmth of his breath as it caressed my neck. “I’m not sure you’d be able to handle it.”

I sucked in a sharp gasp when his lips touched my cheek. I wasn’t as good at this game as Hayden was. He was dangerous seduction, and I was limited experience.