Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2) (19 page)

Another Friday; another night alone. I tapped my hands against the steering as I stared up at the stop light. Last Friday Maggie saved me from myself, but there wasn’t anyone there to save me this time. Well, except for my automatic lockout screen which meant I couldn’t work straight through the weekend. My eyes dropped down from the stop light to the tattoo parlor up ahead. The walk-ins welcome sign blinked a bright pink against the dimming evening like it did every single night. Most nights I went to a spin or Zumba class–anything to keep me away from home or away from that steadily blinking sign, but tonight the person who usually held the class had something special going on– an anniversary or birthday — I hadn’t paid enough attention to know.

And that light was drawing me in as if I were a moth without enough of a brain to resist. The light must have turned green because the car behind me laid on its horn.

“Okay! Okay!” I said to myself as I threw my hands up and headed forward. My fingers seemed to gain a life of their own, flicking the turning signal on and then pulling the steering wheel to the left and into the parking lot of the tattoo parlor.

I could do this. Last time it didn’t even hurt.

But you had Bobby then.

I shook the thought from my head, putting the car into park and getting out before I could change my mind. When I walked in two guys around my age looked up and smiled at me, but kept talking as I turned to look at the wall covered in typical designs.

The butterfly Bobby wanted me to get stuck out without having to look. It was obviously something every tattoo parlor must have with its lacey wings, swept by invisible wind in pale pastel pinks and purples. I wondered how many teenage girls had the thing on their lower back. I smiled at the thought, knowing for them it was just an unfortunate decision. For me, it would be a permanent reminder of Bobby. Now I just needed to figure out which one of the hunky tattooed guys was going to give it to me. My face flushed hot as I thought of where I was thinking of getting it, on the middle of the back of my ribs. I’d have to either pull my shirt off or hike it pretty far up. At that moment, I became aware of the guys and their conversation.

“What appointments do you have?”

“You’ll have to take the girl. I have Beckerson in fifteen minutes.”

My jaw went slack, and the room was suddenly too hot.

“Again?”

“Yeah, he got that one a few months ago for his brother and now, with the record signing, he’s getting something else. Lyrics to a song, I guess.”

Fucking Christ. Adam would be here any minute. I turned too quickly, and my stiletto popped from under me, causing me to lose my footing with an almost inaudible squeal. I didn’t know how he did it, but before I could fall on my face, a tattooed arm wrapped itself around my waist.

“You alright?” the guy asked, and I looked up from the rippling muscles of his arm into a bright green set of eyes.

My mouth was still perched open, and my eyes fell in embarrassment, only to be greeted by his pec muscles showing nicely beneath his cotton t-shirt. I blinked hard, his arms still around me.

Stop checking him out!

I shut my mouth as discreetly as I could before standing up straight. His arm lingered around my waist as a smile curled up the edges of his lips and he waited for a response. I was having trouble breathing, let alone forming a thought other than
holy hot hell
. I’d just been caught by a younger, taller, even more gorgeous version of David Beckham.

“Yeah,” I finally managed to squeak out. I breathed in, calming the erratic beat of my heart. It picked up again when he smiled, lip ring pulling tight against his thin mouth. Now there were two people in the world I thought could pull off that facial hardware. I swallowed, pulling away as he cocked his head, brows deepening over those speech-removing eyes. “You’d think I’d be used to these things from wearing them seventy hours a week.”

The guy’s eyes dropped to my legs, and the lip ring tugged against his lips as his gaze made its way back to my face.

Oh.My.God. He was checking me out.

And Adam was five minutes closer to walking in the door behind me.

“I don’t know how chicks manage to walk around in those things ten minutes, let alone that many hours,” he said as he walked around the reception table. “So what can I help you with? First tattoo?”

“Second actually,” I replied, and his eyes quickly ran over my arms, looking for it. “Hip bone.”

His lips already pulled up in a smile, twitched slightly as if he liked that idea. I was going to have to take my shirt off for him. My eyes went back to his chest, and my mind went to
him
without a shirt. I flicked my gaze back up to his smiling face. Being single was apparently reeking havoc on my hormones.

The guy looked down at the watch on his wrist. “I have an appointment in a little under ten minutes,” he said before nodding over his shoulder. “Paul can help you if you want, or I can book you an appointment with me?”

“An appointment would be great,” I replied, and the response was a little to quick and airy. I’m sure he took it for me wanting
him
to do the tattoo, but it had more to do with the panic that Adam was going to be here any minute. Plus, if Adam trusted this guy to give him ink, then I did.

He pulled a red appointment book from under a pile and a pencil. My heart hammered against my chest as he opened it up to this month. He tapped on it with his finger before looking up. “I have Sunday at 2?”

“Great, I’ll take it,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder as a bead of sweat dripped down my spine.

“Cool. I just need your name and number.”

“River Ahlers — 508-555-2222,” I replied watching as he wrote the details down in neat scrawl with his left hand.

“Great, I’ll see you soon. My name’s Westley, by the way– but everyone just calls me West,” he said, holding out his hand.

I laughed, reaching forward and shaking it. “See you Sunday.”

He nodded, and I took a deep breath as I fought the urge to run to the door. Once I was in my car I tipped my head back, exhaling slowly through my nose as I pressed my hand to my forehead. I froze as an SUV pulled up next to me.

Mark’s SUV
.

My stomach rolled as I caught the movement of the doors opening. I reached up flicking my visor down to cover half my face as four guys walked around the front of my car. Adam lead the way, followed by Mark, Joey and some guy I didn’t know. I bit my lip as Adam’s laughter filtered in through my half rolled down window. Somehow they didn’t notice who I was. I closed my eyes, my head now dropping to my steering wheel. Thank God for my popular black Honda Civic. There was nothing unique about it, and nothing that made Adam think of me, obviously. Guilt flushed white hot in my veins as I thought of the fact I’d just been drooling and flirting with the guy about to affix ink permanently to his skin. I shouldn’t feel guilty, but a part of me couldn’t shake it, even after I drove away–even after a glass of wine and a book. As I stared across my backyard to the tree house, I realized it wasn’t guilt. It was something heavier– the fear that maybe Adam was better off without me. His laughter triggered the emotion. His band was signed, and he was happy, because if I knew anything about Adam still, it was that the laugh I heard was real.

Kind of like mine when West shook my hand.

When arrived at the shop on Sunday afternoon West was waiting, the playful smile he first gave me coming to his lips as he looked up. He stood, coming to greet me and his eyes fell to my feet.

“Too bad,” he said, nodding to my Converses. “I was hoping you’d fall into my arms again.”

Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips. “You’ll get to see me with my shirt off, though.”

His jaw went slack as he flushed from his exposed tattooed collarbone up to his cheeks. I hadn’t thought someone so bold could be flustered. He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “So it’s another hidden one?”

“Those are the best kind, aren’t they?” I asked, cocking my head at him.

His eyes widened. “I like tattoos anywhere on a woman, especially one who wears a suit and stilettos to work.”

“I’m secretly a bad ass,” I replied wiggling my brows at him.

He laughed, and it was a deep rumble that raced through me, causing tingles to go down to my toes. “The Cons were a dead giveaway that you have a secret rebel inside you…aside from the fact I already know you have a tattoo. So what am I going to be able to grace that body of yours with?”

The flirting was so obvious, but I had to admit it made me feel good. I nodded over my shoulder. “A butterfly– and I know it’s one from the wall, and it’s cliche, but it’s not to me.”

His bold smile softened as he glanced over my shoulder and then back at me. “I don’t judge. We all have reasons for everything we get– some better than others, of course.”

His green eyes were so sincere that I lost my train of thought; that is if I’d had one other than
you’re so pretty. 

“So which one?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, turning and then placing my finger on the butterfly. “This one.”

West stepped next to me, crossing his arms as he looked at it and then my face. “Someone died.”

My eyes remained on the butterfly, clouding at the edges. “Yeah.”

“Boyfriend?” he asked as I followed him to his chair.

“Best friend. He came with me when I got my first one. He wanted me to get that one…but we were never really on the same page, so I didn’t,” I replied as I watched him sit.

He chuckled to himself as he began selecting the bottles of color and filling the tiny caps. “So where do you want it–other than the vagueness that you’re going to take your shirt off.”

I turned, pointing to the area. “Here.”

I faced him again, and he nodded for me to take a seat as he pulled a pen from out of a drawer. “Do you mind if I freehand it? This way you get something that’s a little bit unique but still faithful to the design.”

“Sure,” I replied as I pulled my shirt over my head to reveal a black string bikini. When our eyes met again, his were locked on my own, and not on my body, but his face was red again.

He coughed as he wheeled his chair around me, pulling his movable cart with his gun to be within arm’s reach. He rinsed off the area, which caused a rash of goosebumps to race over my skin and just when they were about to go away he rested his arm against my bare skin. I inhaled, not because of the sharp pen but because of the warmth of his touch.

“So I get the reason you’re getting this one off the wall…but how about we give you another one where people can see it,
not
off of the wall,” West said, and I could tell he was concentrating from how low his voice was.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and his face rose to look at me, pen hovering over my side. “And how much are you going to charge me for one of your original designs?”

He shook his head, nodding to the ink laid out. “As long as it’s one of those colors, nothing. I already have the ink out.”

“I have no idea what I would get or where,” I replied, realizing I wasn’t totally against the idea– or against it at all for that fact.

West placed his pen behind his ear before reaching into one of the drawers of the mobile station and pulling out a sketch book. He flicked through a few pages before turning it and showing me a picture of an arrow.  It was made of fine little dots that varied in size leading to a detailed and soft looking feather on the opposite end of its opposing point. Soft swirls around the arrow seemed to symbolize its movement through the air. My fingers reached out to run over its shape before my gaze lifted to his.

“Why an arrow?” I asked, and my voice was as soft as his when he mentioned it.

“An arrow can only be shot after being drawn back– it symbolizes pushing through dark times to get to positive ones,” he replied, and his hand reached forward, over the top of my palm to my wrist. His fingers gripped it lightly twisting my arm, so my forearm showed. He let his fingers run over my wrist, goosebumps trailing after his touch. He stopped halfway up my arm, and his eyes lifted from my skin to my face. “Here. Where everyone can see it.”

Tingles shot up my spine yet again, and my breath caught in my throat. The feeling only intensified as his eyes flicked back and forth over my face, his lips slightly parted as he waited for my response.

“Okay,” I managed to say. “It sounds perfect.”

“I thought it might be.”

He pulled the pen from behind his ear and started drawing on my skin again. This time, I was able to see the concentration as he did it. Lines creased his forehead as the pen moved in smooth, soft motions against my skin. As the arrow came to life, I wondered if I could do what it symbolized; if I could win this battle.

Work too late. Go to some crazy workout class. Go home and read until I fell asleep.

Repeat. Until the weekend. Those started with a day with Dad, then grocery shopping on Sunday, and last weekend I took Jesse’s advice and went to the beach. I took a book, and it wasn’t too bad– no worse than reading the book alone at home. At least I got a good tan.

The next weekend was an entirely different story. Saturday meant more work, but of a different type. Instead of Marketing– paying invoices, signing off on designs, and fixing people’s screw-ups I was on my own, entirely reliant on myself and my camera. The day started early because I wanted to get shots of Maggie getting dressed, framed with the perfect August sunlight as it streamed through the windows. As I stared down at my camera screen, looking at the last picture I took, I smiled to myself. This wedding was easier than the last, but then again, no one was loaded off their ass yet. Plus, Maggie and Tom were perfect for each other. I kept my camera over my face as their happiness sunk into me, and while I wanted to me happy, I couldn’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Or the flash of Adam holding a box in his hand. My body rushed with tingles as I licked my lips and closed my eyes for a moment as I took a breath. I kept my finger pressed on the shutter, making sure it took pictures as I composed myself. When I opened my eyes, the two of them were walking back down the aisle. I changed angles taking shots as I walked backward. My heart raced as they left the room and I moved to the corner, out of the way of the exiting guests.

Please. Please say I got it.

I pressed the viewfinder button with shaking fingers, skimming through the pictures until I landed on the shot. Jared held Maggie’s face in his hands, and her hands laid on his wrists as they kissed.

I looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the church, exhaling through my mouth before following the stragglers. The next hour passed in a well-planned blur. I gave instructions, and to my relief, people listened. The mother of the bride asked for some special photos and Maggie kept us on track by telling her I could get them at the reception. Her eyes brightened as she looked over at me, her words pointed. “Besides
Beck
is already there by now. You don’t want to call him all the way back for a handful of photographs do you?”

I rolled my eyes, and we kept going, getting through a mind-numbing amount of pictures in a short period. Then it was time for the reception and as my stomach growled I was glad I caved and let Maggie make sure there was a place for me to eat. It just happened to be with Jesse and his wife– thank God, no hot forbidden cousin appeared to be at the table filled with middle-aged friends. Jesse’s eyes narrowed as I reached for the basket of bread, and then his hand was around my wrist.

“What? I’m not allowed to have bread?” I asked, looking at him out the corner of my eye.

His lips pursed as his gaze ran over the arrow on my forearm. “I was wondering why you’d been wearing blazers every time we video-chatted.”

He released my arm, and I put my bread on my plate, buttering it before looking up at him. “I’ve been wearing blazers or sweaters every day, all day.”

Jesse glanced over at his wife, and his blue eyes were enhanced by the wrinkling next to them as he laughed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

He put his hands up as he shrugged. “We have a loose tattoo policy, as long as it’s not huge, distracting or offensive, you can show it. Board meetings– wear a blazer, though.”

“Well, that’s a given,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess I should’ve just asked in the first place.”

He nodded as he leaned forward, placing his chin on his fist. “But you’ve been pretty busy. How are you doing?”

“Jesse,” Janice, his wife, said. “This isn’t work–well, it’s not marketing firm work.”

Jesse sat back, signaling to my plate. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“So where’s this bad boy I’ve been sworn away from without even meeting — the infamous cousin — I haven’t seen anyone fitting a famous description yet,” I asked as I lifted the piece of bread to my lips. It was warm and filled with little chunks of garlic and Parmesan cheese. The whole meal could be that bread, and I’d be happy.

Jesse picked up a roll for himself, looking up at me through his eyebrows as he buttered it. “You’ll know him when you see him.”

“Mhmm,” I said, rolling my eyes before changing the subject because I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere. “I went to the beach like you suggested.”

“You took my advice? How shocking!” Jesse replied, smirking at me as he took a sip of wine.

“Most of the time it’s not bad advice, but no I didn’t meet anyone fun. Well, besides this little beagle that kept licking my toes,” I replied, and I felt a smile tugging at the edges of my lips as I thought of the too big ears practically tipping the little guy over, and then his owner apologizing profusely as she scooped him up.

“Are you a dog person?” Janice asked as a waiter came and began placing salads in front of us.

“Yeah, but I’m really fond of beagles. I’ve always wanted one since I was a kid, but my parents always said they’d howl too much.”

“Why don’t you get one now?” Jesse asked as he picked up his salad fork. “Does your condo complex allow for animals?”

“Yeah, there’s even a little dog park, but I’m not home all that much–“

“They have a doggy daycare, and you’d have a cute, furry alarm system,” Janice said.

Jesse pointed his fork at me, finishing chewing his bite. “She’s right. There are benefits to having a howler.”

I laughed at that, and then Jesse was dragged into a conversation with the person across from him about the very thing his wife chided him not to talk about– marketing. I tuned out then, looking around the room in between bites of food as I tried to determine who in the hell the famous person was but no one stuck out. I gave up when dessert came out — a crème brûlée with raspberry drizzle. When I finished the last bite I wished I didn’t eat it so quickly because that meant it was time for me to start working again. Music filled the room, and I stood to begin taking pictures. After all the important dances I was able to blend in with the crowd, as much as that was possible with a Nikon glued to my face.  My camera scanned the room, stopping at irregular intervals and snapping action shots of people dancing or talking. Just like during the ceremony I felt removed from the happiness around me, a casual observer with a camera covering my frown and sad eyes. I continued to capture the moments, catching the backside of a guy with gorgeous yet dangerously bad boy styled hair talking to Maggie. As my finger moved to snap the picture, it stopped, suddenly as limp as my jaw was. The guy turned, and my finger moved involuntarily, catching the corner of his lips lifting as he reached over the top of his casually pushed back length of blond hair and looked directly at me with stunning green eyes.

Beck as in looks like David Beck
ham
, and that was exactly who West looked like.
Tattoo Artist
West.

And he was looking right at me with a golden eyebrow arching.

I twisted around so my back was to him, keeping my camera hovering over my heated face as I moved it without taking shots.

Famous? West, was famous? The burning in my face ignited throughout my body, just like when his fingers ran over the skin of my wrist up to the spot where he put my arrow tattoo. How was he famous? Maybe it was a different guy that just happened to also look like David Beckham that was the womanizing cousin. Although, the womanizing part did seem plausible. We openly flirted before, during and after he gave me my tattoos.

A cough came from behind me, and I turned back, the camera still covering my expression to find the very man staring down at me.

God, he’s tall.
I already knew that, but suddenly I was examining everything about him, more so than I did before. His nose was angular, fitting into the perfection that was his chiseled jaw line. Part of the length of his hair had come undone and was hanging over his eyes. He put his hand on the exterior of my camera lens and lowered it from my face.

“River,” he said, and his voice sent heat rushing to my face again, but I managed to push an eyebrow up as my frown trained on him.

“West,” I replied, and my voice was far more breathy than I wanted it to be. He looked even better in a button-up than his black cotton v-neck t-shirts. The hunter green shirt was unbuttoned to show the tattoo gracing his collarbone, and the pushed up sleeves to showed his tattooed forearms.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said as he put one hand in his slacks, the other holding a whiskey glass. “Well, unless you wanted another tattoo.”

“It’s not like you don’t have my phone number,” I said, cocking my head at him. “So if you wanted to see me again, you could call.”

West pursed his lips and shook his head. “That would violate client-artist privilege.”

My heart beat quickened. “Not telling me you’re famous kind of did that already.”

“Shit. Who said that I’m famous?” His neck flushed up to his cheekbones as he pushed the stray hair back over his head.

“Maggie mentioned her cousin nicknamed
Beck
 was famous. I would never put two together…I mean how
are
you famous?” I asked, and I felt my body leaning towards his.

“I wish she’d stop calling me that. As for why I’m famous…” He stepped forward and my eyes fell as his chest rose. I blinked hard before looking back up and waiting for a response. West took his hand out of his pocket and reached for my wrist, flipping it, so the tattoo faced up. His fingers traced the shape, and my body trembled before I could stop it. My eyes rose slowly as his finger reached the tip of the arrow. “It’s because of these.”

My mouth worked before my brain as I asked,”So you’re like Kat Von Dee?”

He chuckled, brows rising. “Not really, but I guess so.”

“I didn’t see any cameras.”

“They aren’t there all the time,” he replied. “I do get a break, and besides, we always ask if clients want to be on camera, and I get the idea you wouldn’t have been receptive to that.”

“You already know me too well,” I replied, laughing a little as his fingers lifted and left my skin cold.

He stuck his hands into his slack pockets, tilting forward slightly as his lips pursed and he shook his head. “I know your name and your tattoos, but I don’t really
know
you.”

Jesse hadn’t wanted me to talk to West, but I already had– not that he knew that. I scanned the room, wondering where he went. My eyes landed on Jesse at the bar where he was slowly shaking his gray head of hair at me. I rolled my eyes before returning my gaze to West.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, green eyes fixed on me. “I’d like to be your friend, River.”

“Why?” I asked, tilting my head up as the air in my lungs hitched.

“You need a friend, and I could always use a real one,” he replied, and his teeth raked over his lower lips as his eyes paced back and forth over mine.

“A real one?”

“One who wasn’t nice to me because they knew I was a famous tattoo artist and they wanted something for free,” he explained, and despite how tall he was, his face was inches away from mine. I realized why–he was leaning down, and I was on my tip toes.

Oh god.

I dropped back on the balls of my feet. “Friends?”

“That’s it,” he replied with a nod. “For now.”

For now.
The thought made my cheeks burn, and as I looked up at him, he was blushing too. It was adorable that someone so obviously brash could be embarrassed. I bit my lip, and his eyes dropped to them, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.

“I’d like that,” I finally replied.

“Great,” he replied, and his eyes moved to the camera. He signaled with his hands for me to give it to him. “We’ll start with relieving you from your photographer duties.”

“But–” I began, and he nodded over my shoulder. My gaze followed where he was looking, right at Maggie whose smile confirmed it was okay. “Thanks,” I mouthed. I turned back to West and pulled the camera over my head, handing it to him. “Someplace safe.”

“Of course, and what can I get you to drink?”

“Moscato?”

His lips tipped up at the edges. “My pleasure, if I get a dance out of it.”

“I think I owe you two.”

“Even better,” he replied with a wink before turning away.

I was really, truly smiling and the warmth spreading through my limbs felt amazing.