Authors: Jenni Wilder
Bo frowned and placed a hand on her back. “Hold still,” he said sternly.
The girl sighed and turned back around. Bo offered his lips up to me, and I kissed them quickly in a friendly way like we always did before he returned his focus to the ink, and I stepped into the girl’s view.
“It really is beautiful. I’m kind of jealous,” I told the girl to ease her mind. She was clearly nervous.
The girl snorted. “I’m sure you could get Bo to do you.” She paused as she realized what she said. Her face turned bright red, and she looked mortified. “I mean, he could tattoo the same one on you.”
I smiled and flicked a glance at Bo, but he was concentrating on his work. Bo would never tattoo me. Least of all a piece some other chick had.
“Oh, Bo refuses to ink me. These”—I gestured to my tattoos—”were all done by Charlie and Gretchen.”
Charlie and Gretchen were two of Bo's employees. They were the only ones Bo allowed to put ink on my body.
The girl cocked an eyebrow. “Bo doesn’t tattoo you? Aren’t you, like, his girlfriend?”
I raised my eyebrows at this nosey bitch. What was with people today? “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but no.”
“Ives,” Bo said and looked at me sternly. He knew this chick was pushing my buttons, but she was a paying customer.
I uncrossed my arms and slowly walked away. Keeping my eyes locked on her surprised expression, I stared her down until I was out of her line of sight.
I flopped down on an old couch Bo kept in his shop on the other side of the room and sighed as I lost myself to my iPod and my homework.
Bo sat down on the couch next to me and tugged gently on my earbuds, pulling them out of my ears. “Ready to go?” he asked, and I nodded and began gathering my things.
As we were leaving, we passed Charlie who was tattooing an eagle on a guy’s chest while a girl sat next to him holding the man’s hand. The man looked to be in quite a bit of pain, and I suppressed a giggle. Sometimes it was the big tough guys who ended up being the biggest babies when it came to pain.
Charlie paused and looked up from his work, and I watched as Bo looked over it. Charlie was one of six artists Bo employed at his shop along with two full-time piercers. It was kind of mind-boggling to me how busy Bo’s shop always was. He was the best in Vegas—at least I thought so—and I was insanely proud of him.
What blew my mind, though, was the sheer number of tourists who felt they needed a tattoo to commemorate their vacation to Sin City. But whatever. They paid well and kept him in business. And really, I was the last person to judge anyone for getting a tattoo. If the man with the tattoo machine was an artist, my body was his canvas.
I had sexy, delicate shooting stars that swooped from my upper thigh around my hip and up my back. Watercolor plumeria flowers covered my upper left arm in a quarter sleeve, and I had a heart and infinity symbol on the underside of my right wrist. Might not seem like a whole lot now, especially compared to others, but technically I’d only been of legal age to get inked for two years.
It was really impressive when I thought about how young Bo was to be a tattoo artist and have his own shop. I think Bo knew from a very young age this is what he wanted to do. He was always hanging out at tattoo parlors and drawing and sketching new ideas. I use to let him draw on me with pen and markers when we were younger. In fact the heart and infinity symbol was my most favorite thing he ever drew on me, and I cherished it until the pen wore off. I thought highly enough of it to have it be my first tattoo which I got on my eighteenth birthday. Bo stayed right by my side that day and held my hand as the tattoo needle pierced my skin and I lost my tattoo virginity.
He was doing his apprenticeship at that time, and his mentor was a sweet older gentleman with long hair and sun-worn tattoos. When he smiled, you could see his tobacco-stained teeth. In fact, shortly after Bo finished his apprenticeship, the old man died from lung cancer and left the shop to Bo in his will.
I thought it was slightly odd, but I didn’t question it too much. Bo had told me once that this man hadn’t had any children and considered him to be as good as his son. So maybe it wasn’t so odd he left Bo his shop.
Bo realized quickly if he was going to make a living owning a tattoo parlor, he was going to have to find a new location. As much as it pained him to sell the old man’s store, Bo got a reasonable price for it and bought the abandoned storefront next to my uncle’s store and set up shop. It was a good location, which was why my uncle had chosen it, and Bo’s business quickly flourished and expanded.
Bo finished talking with Charlie, and we walked through a curtain that separated the back of the store where the tattooing was done from the front of the store. The lobby of the store faced the street and had big glass windows that let in plenty of light during the day, making the shop seem bright and friendly. There were couches and chairs as well as a coffee table and several shelves lined with books containing tattoo examples. Framed pictures of some of the more elaborate tattoos hung on the red and black painted walls.
In the glass counter under the cash register were rows and rows of body jewelry for the piercing side of the business. Navel rings, barbells, and plugs of different gauges for stretched lobes. Anything you could want. And behind that counter sat Destiny, the girl who had called me Bo’s girlfriend earlier.
I was still annoyed and puzzled as to why she did that, but some girls are just bitchy for no reason. Myself? I might be a bitch, but usually I have a good reason.
“Butterfly girl pay up, Dessy?” Bo asked as we paused by the counter.
I wanted to vomit at his nickname for her.
She gave him a sickly sweet smile and batted her eyes at him. “Of course. Gave you a nice tip too,” she said and leaned forward to hand Bo some cash. Her movement accentuated her cleavage, and I rolled my eyes at her blatant attempt to get Bo's attention. Bo thanked her and quickly ushered me out the door and into his deep blue Shelby Mustang.
“Why do you gotta be mean to Dessy?” Bo asked as we sped down the street.
“I wasn’t mean to her. I didn’t even say anything to her.” I hoped he hadn’t heard what I said when I first entered the store.
“I saw that disgusted look you gave her. She didn’t do anything to you. I like her. She’s a good worker.”
“You like her? Oh, please do not tell me you have fallen for her act.”
“What act?”
“You know…” I turned toward him and pushed my boobs together. I overexaggerated batting my eyes and pouted my lips. “Oh, Bo. The lady gave you a nice tip. Maybe I could see
your
nice tip.” I reached out to grab his crotch, and he batted my hand away. I fell back into my seat, laughing.
“That’s exactly what I mean. She’s not like that.”
“Oh my God. You did fall for her act! You fucked her already! No wonder she hates me.” I wasn't surprised. Bo was a healthy, young, normal man. She just honestly didn’t seem like his type.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “She doesn’t hate you, and we haven’t slept together. We were hanging out, and she mentioned how hostile you are to her.”
“When was this?” Now I was surprised. Bo’s not one to keep secrets from me.
“The other night. You were out with Kammy.”
Hmm… that would be the night I went back to the cell phone salesman from Montana’s hotel room. “Are you going to see her again?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
I shrugged. “I’m just wondering ’cause, ya know, you work together. Not just work together. You’re her boss. Aren’t there laws against that?” I laughed at my teasing, but Bo didn’t respond. “Always a bad idea to fuck around with coworkers, Bo.”
“So you’re saying you never would?”
“Never have and never will.”
“What about Axel?” he asked, watching me from the side of his eye.
“Axel? Why the hell are you bringing up Axel? That was ages ago.”
Axel was my cousin’s friend in high school. I had the worst schoolgirl crush on him. He was hotter than hot. One look from him and I would have been dropping my panties in a heartbeat. But at that point in my adolescence I was too young, too skinny, and too gangly to ever have him notice me as anything other than Jaxson's little cousin.
He got busted dealing drugs when he and Jaxson were in high school and he was sent to prison. I remember all hell breaking loose at our house the night he was arrested. Jaxson had been with him but swore up and down he didn’t know anything about the drugs. The only redeeming factor about Axel was that he had backed up my cousin's statement to the police confirming Jaxson wasn’t involved.
“Plus he’s kinda, ya know, in prison,” I added, pointing out the obvious.
“Theoretically, then,” Bo pressed. “If Axel worked for your uncle now, would you keep your no-coworkers rule?”
“This is stupid. I would never have anything to do with that lowlife anymore. I realize I was pretty obsessed with him when I was young and dumb, but he’s scum of the earth for dealing drugs. Not worth my time.”
“Glad to hear you say that ’cause he’s starting security for your uncle on Monday,” Bo said with a slight smile.
My jaw dropped. “WHAT! How? He’s in prison!”
“Out early for good behavior, I guess.” Bo shrugged. “They let him out a few weeks ago, and apparently he can’t find a job, which is a condition of his release. Your uncle took pity on him and hired him as a bouncer for the pawnshop.”
“Holy fuck.” I was silent for a long moment. I couldn’t believe Uncle Paul had hired him. He had a zero-drug-tolerance policy. I think watching my mother slowly decay and neglect me took a huge toll on him, and because of that he did not tolerate any business with drugs. I inherited his ethos. I was grateful to have this life, and drugs had very nearly taken that away from me.
I suppose technically prison is for rehabilitation. People can change. Axel might come back and never even think about drugs again. But I guess I was jaded and bitter because, even if that did happen, I was still going to hold his past against him.
Bo interrupted my thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked sadly.
“Thinking about what?”
“Axel. Working with him. Wondering if he’ll notice you now that you’re older and hotter than hell.”
I sighed. “No, I wasn’t thinking about that.” Bo gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me. “Really! I wasn’t! The whole drug thing really bothers me. I can’t believe Uncle Paul would hire him.”
“Maybe he believes in second chances.”
Bo pulled his car into the garage that sat underneath his loft apartment. I think the building was an abandoned mechanic’s garage before some real estate developer got hold of it. The walls of the lower level where Bo kept his car parked were cement brick and steel metal, and the windows were frosted, giving it that classic-old-industrial-building look. It was rugged and edgy. Just like Bo and me. I loved it.
Bo got out of the car, and I was gathering my things when my car door opened. I looked up at him with confusion, and he held his hand out for me. I paused a moment, wondering what he was up to, before he tugged me out of the car and enveloped me in a tight hug. Bo was at least a foot taller than me, and he lifted me off the ground as I hugged him around his neck.
“Don’t worry about Axel. Uncle Paul and Jaxson and all the guys will keep him in line. And if he does cause any problems, you let me know.”
I squeezed him tighter and rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Bo. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you.” he said, setting me down and giving me a quick kiss. He grabbed my book bag and led the way upstairs. I sighed. He really did spoil me.
We spent the evening at Bo’s eating pizza and drinking beer. I worked on my schoolwork while some zombie show Bo had recorded played on TV in the background.
When it got too late, we crawled into bed and cuddled with each other like we always did, and I fell asleep in his arms. It was just natural for us.
The next morning, Bo made me breakfast as I got ready for the day, and he drove me to my class like always. It was our routine. Bo dropped me off, and Kammy gave me a ride after.
Uncle Paul had bought a beat-up old Chevy Cavalier for me to drive when I turned sixteen and got my license, but I rarely drove it, and I never invested in a better car for myself once I got older. It was just easier to not have to park on campus.
“Text me if Kammy can’t give you a ride afterward,” he said as he dropped me off outside the building where my class was. Kammy was waiting for me on the sidewalk.
“I will. Thanks again, Bo.” I leaned in to kiss him quick before exiting the car and met up with Kammy. I smiled and waved back at Bo as he drove away.
“When are you two going to admit you’re dating?” Kammy asked as we started walking to our building.
It was the beginning of October, and while we were past the surface-of-the-sun temps during the summer, it was still hot as hell outside, and I had beads of sweat forming by the time we reached our air-conditioned classroom.
“Um… never, Kammy. ’Cause we’re not dating.”
“Oh, please. He fucking worships you, and neither of you have ever dated anyone else seriously. You’re so hung up on each other, and you don’t even know it.”
“We’re friends. Yes, we spend a lot of time together, and we care for each other. We love each other as friends, but that’s all. And frankly I’m getting sick of defending our friendship to people who can’t mind their own business.”
Kammy was my best friend after Bo, but damn, she could be annoying.
“I’m just saying you two would be a lot happier if you just fucked and got it over with. Not that pathetic 'lose your virginity on prom night to your best friend' kind of fucking either. I'm talking the lustful, passionate animal kind of fucking. So-good-you-hurt-the-next-day kind of fucking. Mm… can you just imagine what Bo is like in bed now that he's not a horny teenager? Shit, it makes me hot just thinking about him.”
Jesus. She needed to get laid. “Well, then you sleep with him.”
She laughed. “Hell no! He hates me. You know that.”
I laughed back at her. Bo really did hate Kammy. I didn’t know why other than she was the one who usually encouraged my late-night activities. Only she wasn’t as picky with her guys as I was, and she wasn’t as careful with her safety, either. At least I carried pepper spray. I assumed Bo thought she was a bad influence on me.
“Enough about Bo,” I said as we walked into class. Talking about lustful, passionate animal sex had gotten me worked up. “Are we going out tonight?”
“Hells yes. Gotta find someone to get naked Bo off my mind.”
I shook my head at her and took my seat as class started.
Once our class was dismissed, Kammy and I walked slowly to the cafeteria. We had an hour break between our first class and our next one. I wasn’t really hungry, thanks to Bo’s breakfast, but the cafeteria was a good place to spend the next hour. I found a table and checked my phone while Kammy went through the food line. Bo had texted me show times of a new zombie movie for tomorrow night. I rolled my eyes at his zombie obsession, but agreed to a late movie and texted him back.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone?”
I looked up and saw a guy I didn’t know pulling a chair up to my table. He swung it around and sat down backward in it next to me.
He was relatively cute. He had a decent body and a cute smile, but there was something about the way he wore his hat backward and his too-tanned skin that gave off an air of cocky arrogance.
“Not interested,” I told him as I looked around for Kammy but didn’t see her. I focused back on my phone, not giving him another glance.
“Come on, baby.” He grabbed my bare thigh just below my shorts with his rough hand. “Why don’t you show me all your tattoos?” His voice was deep, as if he was trying to sound sexy.
I didn’t even look up from my phone. “I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it. Get your fucking hand off my leg.”
Instead of removing his hand, he began sliding it higher on my leg. “You know you want to. I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you scream.”
His fingertips were now inching under the edge of my shorts.
I turned to look at him with a sickly sweet smile as I reached for the heavy metal napkin holder.
“How about I make
you
scream?” I asked with fake innocence. I saw a flicker of triumph in his eyes seconds before I bashed his head with the napkin holder.
The edge of it caught the bridge of his nose, and immediately there was blood gushing from it. The sleazeball screamed, grabbed his face, and pitched backward off the chair, falling on the floor. I stood over him, watching with satisfaction as he writhed in pain.
“WHAT THE FUCK! YOU BITCH!” the man shrieked from the floor.
The cafeteria had grown quiet. Everyone was watching us as three of his friends rushed over to help him up. Kammy was now by my side, holding a tray of food.
“Dude. You are such an idiot,” one of the men said, looking down at his friend whose nose was already swelling. The skin around his eyes was turning black and blue. “I’m sorry about him. He’s never been very smart,” the friend said to me.
The custodian arrived, shoved a rag under the man’s nose, and told his friends to take him to health services before spraying the floor with a cleaning agent.
”I’m sorry about the mess,” I told the custodian awkwardly.
The frail older man stopped cleaning and lightly patted my arm. “Don’t you worry about nothing, young lady. Boys his age think they are God’s gift to women and don’t think nothing about disrespecting them. Glad you let him have it.”
I surveyed the custodian. He was old, probably several years past retirement age. He looked worn and exhausted from life, but he had a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face. He seemed like one of those people who just rolled with the punches no matter what life handed them.
“What’s your name?” I asked him, feeling ashamed I never gave this man a second thought before.
“Name’s Doug.”
“Are you married, Doug?”
“43 years next April,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Got three girls too. They’re a little older than you, but I tell them the same thing I told you. If a guy don’t respect you, he ain’t worth your time.”
“Sounds like they’re lucky to have you as a father.”
He smiled and blushed. “Oh… well, I don’t so much know about that.”
I smiled in return. I liked him. He was very sweet. “Well, thank you again for cleaning this up.”
“Just doing my job. No need to thank me. You keep yourself safe now,” he said and went back to his cleaning.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Kammy said and grabbed her sandwich and apple off her tray. I followed behind her as we walked across the courtyard to class in silence.
Since our lunchtime had been cut short, we still had quite a bit of time to waste before class started. Kammy suggested a study lounge near our next class, but I had something to do before I could concentrate on studying.
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you there,” I told her.
“You calling Bo?”
I didn’t want to admit I was, especially after her comments this morning, but I didn’t want to lie to her either. Besides, she clearly knew what I was going to do, so I nodded, and she smiled uncharacteristically and walked away, telling me she’d see me in class.
I swiped my phone to unlock it and hit the call button next to Bo’s name.
“All right, all right. If you don’t want to go to the zombie movie we don’t have to,” he said when he answered without saying hello.
“I told you I’d go see your dumb movie, didn’t I?” I said with a shaky voice. I didn’t want to admit it, but the incident in the cafeteria had shaken me a bit. I was used to guys hitting on me, but most didn’t touch, and I really wasn’t a violent person.
“What’s wrong?” Bo asked in a serious voice. He could tell I was upset.
“Some douche bag in the cafeteria,” I said as I kicked a stone off the sidewalk.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine. Just upset.”
I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I bashed his nose in with a napkin holder before he could really do anything.”
Bo chuckled. “That’s my girl,” he said, and I smiled into the phone but didn’t reply. “Want me to beat the shit of out him?”
“I think I already took care of that.” I smiled, secretly grateful he offered.
“Yeah, I think the last time I had to beat anyone up for you was in seventh grade when Henry Bishop knocked your books off your desk.”
“Oh God. I forgot about that,” I said while laughing. “Poor Henry never saw your fist coming.”
I could hear Bo laughing on the other end of the line. “You know, I got a week of detention for that.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t want you to feel bad.”
I sighed into the phone. “Thanks, Bo,” I said. Not for defending me in seventh grade, but for being here for me right now. I couldn’t explain how but he had made me feel better. I think Bo understood.
“Anything for you,” he said, and I smiled. We said our good-byes, and I felt much better as I walked into the building where my next class was.