Masquerade (6 page)

I’m about halfway to her when Bee turns around and shoves him. Mohawk stumbles backward, but she doesn’t stop, she keeps going at him, screaming something as she does.

“Settle the fuck down, you crazy bitch. I was only dancing,” Mohawk yells.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me unless I say you can.” When she tries to leap at him again, I grab her around the waist. She’s twisting and fighting the whole time but I stay between her and him.

One of the bouncers on shift grabs Mohawk.

“She told you once. Stay the fuck away from her,” I grit out at him as I stand between them. Bee’s trying to get around me. Everyone’s yelling. When I turn to look at her, she’s shut down again, nothing but fire in her eyes.

“Don’t want the bitch anyway.” The asshole laughs.

I don’t hold back this time; letting my fist fly forward, I hit him in the face. He drops to the ground as Bee tries to go for him again, but I grab her waist. She doesn’t stop trying to get free.

When she almost slips out of my arms, I squeeze tighter, hefting her over my shoulder like a goddamned caveman or something, her fists coming down on my back the whole way out of the club.

I’m not the type of girl to make a scene. I don’t freak out for no reason, and I definitely don’t get thrown over a guy’s shoulder because I went postal on someone in a club.

Yeah, I’m on edge because of the call from Mom and maybe a little bit because of Maddox, too, but that’s not what this is about. The second he put his arms around me from behind, I had this strange flashback. A weird almost déjà vu of being grabbed. It was familiar, too, and a part of me wants to dip back into that flash from my mind and explore what it was.

The other part is pissed it was there in the first place.

“Let me go!” I shove at Maddox, trying to get out of his arms. A chilly blast of night air hits me as he steps outside.

Maddox doesn’t listen but walks around the corner until we’re a good distance from Lunar. When he sets me down, I realize we’re next to his bike.

“What the hell was that?” My voice cracks as I scream at him.

His voice is more measured but equally as angry as mine. “That was me saving your ass. By the way, I’m not the hero type. I’ve dealt with enough shit in my life.”

His words make my thoughts stumble slightly. He did save my ass, even if it was from me making too big a fool of myself. This strange urge rumbles through me, to ask him what he’s dealt with, why he’s so adamant not to be a savior; then I realize it’s not like I need that from him anyway.

“And I don’t need a guy on a white horse to save me. I’m drunk. He grabbed me—”

“He deserved what he got for putting his hands on you. Just don’t give me hell for pulling you out of a bad situation.”

I don’t call him on the fact that he pretty much admitted that, regardless, he would have tried to be the hero tonight. I can see that in him. I didn’t realize it until right now, but Maddox is that guy who can’t stop himself from doing the right thing, even when it goes against who he thinks he needs to be.

Why?

“Thanks. I…” I let my words trail off there. Even if I was the type to tell him everything on my mind, I’m not sure what I would say. That it made me wonder if I was ever grabbed like that before. Or that it made little flashes of something pass through my mind that I don’t understand. Not going to happen.

“I know you’ve already done your hero duty for tonight, but I need a ride home. I don’t think I can drive. Do you mind?”

A slow grin slides across Maddox’s face before disappearing. “Don’t have another helmet. It’s a bummer because that could have been fun.”

“Stop being a sexy flirt. You’re too angry for that,” I tease him. This time he doesn’t laugh or smile but kind of squints his eyes as though he’s working something out in his head. I don’t want it to be me.

“I can call a cab. People won’t mess with my car here, will they?”

“You’re drunk. You’re not taking a cab home by yourself. Give me your keys and I’ll drive you.”

I shake my head. “I can handle a cab, and that leaves your bike here.”

My breath hitches when Maddox steps so close to me I smell his masculine, spicy scent. He reaches for me as I say, “And I’m not that drunk.” Though I kind of am.

When his fingers push into the pocket of my jean skirt, I try to step back. It gives him enough time to grab my keys and pull them out. “I’m not asking what you think I am either. Although I’m sure you wish I was.”

“Shut up, Scratch.” I’m trying to be pissy at him, but the smile on my face is ruining it.

And he’s ruining me because I’m supposed to be annoyed by him right now.
It’s the tequila
, I tell myself. He doesn’t give me much time to think about it, because Maddox is already walking toward my car. And I’m following him.

In the car, I’m thinking about the fact that he grabbed my keys, and I let him.

“Where do you live?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, instead of replying. He’s a struggle to figure out, and I’m not sure if I want to or not. I’m already feeling comfortable with him, and that’s not what I’m looking for.

“Okay, I’ll bring you back to Masquerade, then.”

A foreign feeling of respect for him hits me. I don’t mean that I didn’t respect him before. It’s just not something I let myself think about often. But here I am, thinking about it, about Maddox. There’s no doubt in my mind that he will take me back to Masquerade, and even though I do stay there sometimes, I’m not thinking it’s a good idea tonight. Not with the scent and memories of Maddox and I still so fresh.

“Go left on Canopy. It’s a few streets up.”

I cross my arms, not sure if I’m suddenly annoyed at Maddox, myself, or both of us.

My house is only about a ten-minute drive from Lunar, so it doesn’t take us long to get there. It’s on the tip of my tongue to again ask Maddox why he’s doing this, but he didn’t answer the first time and I don’t beg.

If he wants to play the quiet martyr while denying he’s doing it, that’s his business.

Still I can’t stop myself from wondering about him. Wondering what he hides. He doesn’t pretend, even though it’s obvious there’s more to him than he lets come to the surface. Maddox is a contradiction. He’s so closed off in some ways, yet in others he is who he is and he doesn’t disguise himself as anyone else…
Like me?
Or how I want to be?

“Shit. You passed it. I’m a few streets back.”

“I don’t know where you live. I didn’t pass it. You did.” That’s all he says before turning around and heading back the other way.

I point to my house and Maddox pulls into my driveway. He kills the engine and sets my keys in my lap.

“You can stay,” I tell him without thinking about it. “You can have my spare room and I’ll take you back to your bike in the morning.”

“What’s your address?”

“It’s rude to ignore people or not acknowledge when they offer you something.” The words make my chest tight. They’re true, but they don’t sound like me. They sound like my mom. It’s a scary thought. Not because there’s anything wrong with her. Someone would be lucky to be like her. I’m just not.

Maddox sighs. “I’m not staying here and you know why. You don’t want me to and I know I shouldn’t.”

The back of the seat catches my head when I drop it back. He’s right. We both know what will happen if he stays, and we’ve both already broken our rule with each other once. The second time we slept together never should have happened, so boundaries are a must right now.

“You’re right. I’m drunk and not thinking.” I almost tell him it’s his fault for being so hot, but I have a feeling that would break the floodgates we’re trying to hold in place.

“Let me pay for your cab.” It’s the least I can do.

“You’re not paying,” he snaps.

“Why? First I couldn’t leave by myself and now I can’t return your favor? I’m a big girl, Scratch. I can take care of myself.”
But thank you
…

He pulls out his phone and I can’t help but wish I could see the expression on his face in the darkness.

“Tell me your address.”

He’s more like the Maddox from the first night, even more locked tight with short, angry answers. Maybe that’s a good thing.

He dials information and asks for the number for a cab. When he gets them on the line, I give him my address.

“They’ll be here in twenty.” He drops his cell to his lap.

We’re both quiet for a few minutes. The whole time I know I should go in the house, but my legs are a little weak, the alcohol taking the energy out of me, so I don’t move.
Really? Is that really why?

“You coming in tomorrow?” I ask, needing to fill the silence. It’s a stupid question because he’s at Masquerade every day.

“Yeah. We got anything?”

“A couple appointments. I have a piercing. You can watch me in action and see how good I am.”

At that he chuckles. “Still ain’t happening.”

“Who said I still want to pierce you? I don’t do people who are scared.”

He laughs a little harder at that. “I’m so scared I could cry.”

“Wuss,” I toss back at him in this easy banter that I refuse to let myself question right now.

It’s more silence after that. The quiet makes me a little jittery, though I’m not sure why. “Did I frighten you away?” My voice sounds light, but there’s a part of me really begging for the answer. Sometimes I’m too much for people and usually it works fine for me. I should get out of the car right now and tell him he can’t come back because of the way I’m waiting for his answer.

“Nah. You just made me go over my word quota for the day.” His voice is honest.

Lights shine through the window, burning my eyes. “Cab.”
Yeah, like he didn’t notice that.

We both get out of the car and Maddox says, “Go inside.”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off. I can handle standing outside my own house in the middle of the night if I want to. But he’s been cool tonight. He drove me here when he didn’t have to, and I think there’s a white knight inside him who really couldn’t let himself leave if I stayed out here.

And then he would hate himself for staying too.

“FYI, I’m going in because I’m tired. Not because you told me to. See ya tomorrow, Scratch.”

When I get inside, I don’t turn on the light. There’s a window right by the door and I peek out, watching as the cab takes Maddox away.

My sister wants to talk about everything. If she’s upset, happy, sad, whatever, she has words for it. Mom’s like that too. Not in the same way Laney is. Mom goes off—yells, screams, cries, and tries to make people feel bad. Laney likes to be close to people. She has this big fucking heart. I don’t know where she got it from because no one else in our family is like that.

I grew up around this woman who wanted to tell me about every fucking thing, and sometimes it was hard because all I wanted to do was fix it, but I’ve never been able to.

It’s been two weeks since I went to Lunar with Bee and she hasn’t mentioned it. Not the sex or the fight or sitting in her car. It’s a relief. I was tense as hell the next couple times I saw her, but she just went on with her life the way I like to pretend to go on with mine.

I respect that about her.

So, when she mentioned she planned to come in on Monday when Masquerade was closed to organize some of the shit inside, I told her I would help.

She didn’t react, which means I didn’t have to be a prick, and here I am, parking my bike in front of the shop, knowing it’ll only be the two of us all day.

I don’t usually do one-on-one real well, but I also want to be a part of everything when it comes to Masquerade.

The door’s locked when I get there. Bee’s not in the front, so I have to knock for her to let me in.

“You need a key,” she says as she closes and locks the door behind me.

My pulse spikes in a way I actually enjoy. She’d give me a key? Bee doesn’t trust and that’s a huge fucking bit of it right there. “Would make things easier.” I shrug.

“Of course, I’d have to kill you if you screwed with anything in my shop.”

“You think you’re so fucking tough, don’t you?” Playfully, I ruffle her hair before realizing what the hell I’m doing and jerking my hand back.

She laughs. “No, but I know a guy who knows a guy.”

That makes me laugh too. “Your guys ain’t shit.”

She rolls her eyes and it’s something so normal, it takes me back for a second. Bee is so different from any girl I know, that even something as simple as rolling her eyes is too ordinary for her.

“So what are we doing?” I need to get my mind off her and stop having fun and get to work. That’s what I’m here for.

“I started a little already. I have tons more supplies I’ve been organizing in the supply closet and I have a box full of pictures. I’m thinking about changing out some of the samples in my portfolios. I don’t like to put it all out, but if I switch it up from time to time, it gives my clients fresh material.” She winks. “Makes it look like I’m doing a lot more work than I really am right now.”

Crossing my arms, I also shake my head. “That’s dirty.”

“You don’t like dirty?” she tosses back, making me smile.

“I didn’t say that.” My gut clenches when I think about this back-and-forth we have going. It’s easy when nothing’s been easy in so fucking long.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Without replying, I go toward the back. There’s not much more to say without dragging on this moment that I’m still unsure how I feel about. We rearrange the boxes, pulling out what she needs and packing away what she doesn’t. I take what she needs to the supply closet while Bee unpacks and puts everything where she needs it.

She’s had enough out for Masquerade to run, but something makes me wonder why she hasn’t unpacked everything before now. It’s almost like she wasn’t sure she’d stay, but I know this place is hers, so that doesn’t make sense.

Why does it matter? It’s not my business either way.

A couple hours later we’re done with all that, so I pull out the small box with her pictures of her tattoos. We go into the front of the shop, Bee sitting at the table at her desk and me in another chair in front of it.

I open the box and stick my hand in before something makes me meet Bee’s eyes. She nods as if to say,
Go for it
, so I pull out a stack and start looking through them.

I only make it through a couple photos before I think,
Jesus, she’s good. Really fucking good.

“How’d you get into tattooing?” I ask.

“Same as you, I guess. I asked someone if I could apprentice and they said yes.”

My first reaction is to be pissed at her half-answer, but I bury it with all the other thoughts and feelings I want to keep as far from the surface as I can. I don’t really need to know every detail about her, do I?

“We should make an art portfolio for you that you wouldn’t mind sharing. We could put it up in the shop, or if you wanted to wait until you start tatting, we could put it out then.”

“Nah. Not yet.” What’s the point when they’re only drawings?

“You should. Think about it, Scratch. Eventually you’re going to want to leave your mark in someone’s skin. They’re trusting you to create art on their body. You don’t have tattoo experience to show them, but you have some really incredible raw talent that’s going to get their attention. You’d be smart to do it.”

This urge fights to make it to the surface—one that wants to ask her if she really thinks I’m talented. She’s said so before, but words are just fucking words sometimes. They don’t always mean something. She doesn’t strike me as a person who says something she doesn’t mean, though.

And as much as I don’t like them to, her compliment feels good. “Hey—”

Knock, knock, knock.

Turning, I look at the door to see who’s there. Everything inside me seems to shut off in an instant when I see Laney on the other side of the glass.

In what feels like a second, I’m standing, unlocking the door, and pushing it open. “What happened?” Adrian stands behind her. His friend Colt is behind him and Colt’s girlfriend, Cheyenne, is next to Colt.

Then I’m disconnected for a different reason. Nothing’s wrong, but they’re all here, pushing their way into the only part of my life that actually feels like it’s mine. It’s a clash of my worlds. Laney doesn’t feel like she belongs here.

Laney says, “I didn’t know the shop was closed today. I want a tattoo.”

“Me too!” Cheyenne pipes in from behind them.

“We’re closed.” Which they obviously know. My hand tightens on the door handle, selfishly not wanting to share this with them.

“Who’s this?” Bee walks up behind me and grabs the door. It takes everything inside me to let her open it.

I’m going to kill my sister. She won’t look at me because she knows I’m pissed. Before she came down here, she knew I would be. “My sister.” I fight to keep my voice steady.

“Laney,” she says, looking at Bee. “This is my boyfriend, Adrian, and this is Colt and Cheyenne.”

“Hey.” Bee nods at them. “You want ink?”

“We’re closed,” I remind her.

Bee doesn’t hesitate to lock her eyes with mine. “And I own the shop, so I can change that whenever I want.” She pulls the door open wide and all four of them file inside.

My hands sink into my pockets so no one will see how tense they are.

“Yeah, I wanted to get something. Cheyenne too. Like I said, I didn’t know you’d be closed, though. We can come back,” Laney tells her.

“Nah, it’s cool. We can do this.”

“What are you talking about, Laney? You’ve never said you wanted a tattoo.” I step between her and Bee. I’m not completely sure why it bothers me so much—maybe because it doesn’t feel like something my sister would do? Because it’s easier for me to keep my worlds separate? It feels wrong.

“So. I do now. What’s wrong with that?”

I know why she’s doing this. It’s because of me. She’s trying to do what she always does and fit herself into a situation so she can try and fix things or check on me. How many times can I tell her I don’t need her to fix me?

“Where do you want me to start? Don’t be stupid.”

“Hey.” Adrian grabs my arm. “Back up. You talk to her like that and we’re going rounds again.”

I jerk my arm away. Who the fuck does he think he is? I’m her family. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of her.
I’m the one who failed her. Failed them all
.

“And I’ll kick your ass again.”

He steps up and Laney grabs him. I try to step forward, too, but then… Bee grabs me.

“Hey… Scratch.”

My body’s tight, so fucking tense, my jaw locked. It would feel good to hit Adrian again. To hit something, but then, as if on autopilot, I’m turning to face Bee instead. “What?” I grit out.

“What? She’s too good for ink? I’m not and you’re not and all the people you plan to tattoo in the future aren’t, but it’s a big fucking deal if it’s your sister?”

My jaw starts to slacken. “That’s not what I meant.”
Is it?
“She’s being impulsive and that’s not usually like her.”

Bee’s green eyes penetrate the fog around me. Work through this anger that I don’t get about my sister getting ink. The urge to pull away tugs at me, wants me to escape so she can stop trying to read me.

She lowers her voice, looking at me pointedly. “She’s a big girl. Don’t worry about it, Scratch. I’ll take care of her.”

The honesty in her words rolls through me. It’s a stupid thing to get pissed about, I get it, but she’s my sister and I don’t want anything for her that’s not perfect. She deserves it.
Don’t worry about it, Scratch. I’ll take care of her
. I kind of hate that I believe her.

Bee’s hand briefly squeezes mine. Fuck, I hadn’t even realized she was holding it. I yank away.

“Whatever.” Eyes on the desk, I walk over and lean on it. Bee starts talking to Laney, getting ideas about what she wants. My sister keeps glancing at me before looking at Bee again. Adrian has his hands on her hips, not letting go of her, while Colt and Cheyenne walk around, looking at the pictures on the walls.

I see the questions in Laney’s eyes, but I fight to ignore them, even in my own head. She’s trying to see something in the fact that I quit arguing.
It’s a tattoo. It’s what I want to do with my life. Not a big deal.

Then why was it at first?

Bee walks over as Adrian and Laney head to the chair.

“Look at you, being such a papa bear over your sister.
Tsk, tsk
. It’s only a little ink.” She fingers the tattoo on my arm, and I jerk away again.

“You’re pouting. She wants two Chinese symbols. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of what?” I grunt because at least if she’s going to get work, it should be something cool.

“Love, I’m assuming for him.” She nods toward Adrian. “And family for her brother.”

Her words hit me harder than the satisfied look on Bee’s face. It does exactly what it’s supposed to, guilt spreading through me like wildfire.

I look at the four of them on the other side of the room and whisper, “It’s not a big deal. I really don’t care if she gets inked. We’ve been through a lot. I don’t like to see her hurt. I don’t want her to have any regrets.”

There’s movement in the corner of my eye, so I glance back at Bee. Her head’s cocked a little, her eyes trying to work me out. As if she realizes it, she straightens up and offers me a small smile. “I said I’d take care of her. Come watch. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

I nod because she’s right. “I’ll set up,” I tell her before walking away. Bee sits down at the desk and prints out the images for Laney’s piece.

As I walk to the sink, my sister steps up to me. “Still freaking out over nothing?”

“Nope.”

She pauses. I hate that fucking stall because I know it means she’s going to say something I don’t want to hear. She’s always trying to look for emotional shit that’s not there. She wants to analyze me when I don’t need it. “You… you listened to her.”

My jaw ticks, but I don’t turn to look at her. “I don’t listen to her. It’s not a big deal.”

Without another word, I wash my hands before getting everything set up. Only a few minutes later, Bee’s placing the thermographic transfer paper to the back of Laney’s neck, leaving the two symbols behind.

“Look good?” she asks my sister after handing her a mirror. Laney uses the refection from the one behind her to check it out.

“Perfect,” she answers before looking at Adrian.

“So sexy, Little Ghost,” he replies before nuzzling her neck.

My body tenses up when Laney leans over the chair. Adrian sits in front of her, smiles, and grabs her hands. I watch as he raises one to his mouth and kisses it. I feel like a pervert for watching them, but I don’t fucking get it. I don’t understand that need to touch and hold someone, or how it helps when things are shitty. But it does help her, because I see the nerves leak from my sister’s body, which makes the same thing happen to Adrian.

It’s like they’re one fucking person and even though I hate it, I can’t help studying it too.

Bee washes her hands and snaps on her gloves. That steady
buzz
of the tattoo gun fires up. I flinch when it comes down on Laney’s skin. She doesn’t. Not when Adrian is sitting in front of her, holding her.

How?
I don’t get how they can trust someone like that.

As Bee works, I can’t help moving forward until I’m standing next to her and watching as she puts a permanent mark on Laney’s neck.

The top symbol—love—is red and the other in black. It takes Bee longer than I thought it would since it’s not that in-depth. When she’s done, leaving behind the tattoo and red, puffy skin, she looks up at me and I know—I fucking know she took her time, made it perfect to keep her word. To take care of my sister.

Thank you.