Page 14 of The Tattoo Artist

As the rain pours outside, I insisted to Joey that I would be fine taking the bus. But he was persistent, expressing concern about me catching a cold. He suggested he could at least drop me off at the bus stop. I agreed, knowing he wouldn’t leave the library until I did.

We step outside, and to my surprise, a sleek black SUV is parked right in front of the entrance.

I cover my hair with my jacket as Joey opens the car door for me. I slip inside, and he settles into the front seat. But what caught me off guard was when he addresses the man in the rear-view mirror as ‘Ares.’

Those striking eyes stared back at me, even in the dim light, radiating an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

Ares is Joey’s grandson?

It couldn’t be.

No way.

Before I could react, Joey speaks. “We are taking my friend to the bus stop first.”

“Actually, it’s fine- I can walk-” But as I reached for the door handle, I realise the locks were engaged with a small ‘thuck.’ Panic washes over me as I look back at the rear-view mirror, only to find a sinister smile spreading across Ares’ face.

“And she calls me the stalker.” He mutters.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I swallow hard, sinking back into the leather seat, trapped.

In all the years of knowing Joey, why hasn’t it come to sense that Ares is his grandson? I mean, I know his wife-Anna, but he has never brought up having grandchildren.

The car pulls away from the library, and a tense silence envelope us. I try to make sense of the situation while the rain beat relentlessly against the car windows. Questions flooded my mind, but I didn’t dare utter a word. I stole glances at Ares whenever I could, trying to figure out his intentions. His gaze remains fixed forward, unreadable. As we approach the bus stop, a surge of adrenaline courses through me. Should I make a run for it?

The rhythmic swishing of the windshield wipers accompanied the sound of rain as they cleared the droplets away.

“Alex, let us drop you home.” Joey insists.

“Just to the next bus stop is fine,” I interject, not wanting to be a burden and in the same car as him.

Ares shook his head firmly, “no. It’s dangerous out there in this weather.” I decided not to argue, secretly relieved by the free ride home. His hand rested confidently on the steering wheel, while the other casually hovered near the gear shift.

“Well, I should be getting off here, Ares-drop her outside her door! If anything happens to her, I won’t have any good book recommendations.” Joey warns him, stepping out the car.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Ares smirks.

I step out of the car to give him a tight hug, thanking him for his kindness. Ares asserts that I sit in the front seat, closing the door behind me. Now, I found myself inches away from him, but I kept my gaze focused on the road ahead, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me.

“Where do you live?” Ares asks in a deep, smooth voice.

“Canes Street,” I reply, my heart beating a little faster than normal as the rain continued to pour outside. As the car glides through the rain-soaked streets, a palpable tension filled the air. Neither of us spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it held a certain magnetic energy. I couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at him from the corner of my eye, and each time I did, I notice his subtle smile, as if he knew something I didn’t.

We end up at a red light, he turns his face and I grip my sketchbook tighter looking ahead of me. By the time we reached my destination, the rain had started to subside.

I hesitated to get out of the car, “there’s something about you.” I whisper, gripping onto the door handle. “Something weird.”

“Something weird. Care to explain butterfly?” He faces me, our eyes locks.

“I feel like I have seen you before…”

“You have. Twice.”

“I don’t mean that, I mean…” Am I really considering that this man may be the killer? That this man may be the same one in my room the other night? “Thank you for the ride,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep my composure as I open the car door.

“Anytime.”

As I step out into the fading rain and hurried to my front door-he didn’t move, not until I opened the door and slipped inside. I hear his car turn on as the tyres drive past, I relax myself against the door.

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