Page 18 of Hide Me Darling

Chester nods, his mismatched eyes twinkling with amusement. "Whenever you're ready, the studio is open. Feel free to drop by anytime."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I say, glancing around at the artwork displayed throughout the studio. Each piece seems to tell a story, capturing moments and emotions in vivid detail.

He watches me closely, almost like he’s assessing if my interest is real or not.

"Would you like to see some of my latest work?"

"I'd love to," I reply, genuinely curious.

Chester leads me over to a section of the studio where several finished canvases are displayed. Each piece is vibrant and full of life, with scenes of the beach, ocean waves, and local wildlife. The colors are striking, and the detail is impressive.

"You've got a real talent," I say, admiring a painting of a surfer catching a massive wave.

"Thanks," Chester replies, looking pleased. "I've been painting since I was a kid. The island's beauty is a constant source of inspiration."

I turn to face him, my curiosity piqued. "Do you ever stay open late? I thought I saw someone painting through an upstairs window pretty late last night."

Chester's smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Yeah, sometimes I lose track of time when I'm in the zone. I do my best work at night when it's quiet and peaceful."

"That's understandable," I say, filing away the information. His momentary falter intrigues me further, and I decide to probe a bit deeper. "Is the piece you were working on last night here? I’d love to see something that I actually saw you in the process of painting."

He chuckles softly, but there's a hint of something guarded in his expression now. "No, that series is a lot different than these ones. Not exactly for the tourists' eyes."

We stand there looking at each other for a long moment before he speaks again, his grin more devilish now, the charm now feeling more calculated than genuine. "Maybe I might show you that series, eventually."

The bell above the door jingles again, announcing another visitor to the gallery. I turn to see an elderly couple entering, their voices filled with admiration as they discuss the paintings on display. Chester glances briefly at them, then back at me with a knowing look.

"Looks like I have more visitors," he says casually, gesturing towards the elderly couple before leaning closer and dropping his volume. "You should definitely come to one of the classes, for free, I’d love to see what you can do."

"Maybe, sounds like fun," I reply, trying to sound casual despite my swirling thoughts. "I might swing by again soon."

"Anytime," he replies with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "See you around, Taylor."

With that, I make my way towards the exit, casting one last glance over my shoulder at Chester as he engages the elderly couple in conversation. His charm seems effortless, yet beneath it lies an air of mystery that intrigues and unsettles me in equal measure.

As I step back out into the bright sunlight, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve only scratched the surface of what this island—and its inhabitants—have to offer.

Deciding to check the time, I find that it's almost ten o'clock, so I head towards the tattoo parlor again, hopeful that it's open now. As I approach, I notice that the lights are on inside, and there is movement.

Pushing through the door, another little bell announces my presence.. I wonder to myself if all the small businesses here have the same quaint bell system for announcing customers. I guess it makes sense for places like this where the owner might be busy and not always stationed near the door.

Inside, the tattoo parlor is dimly lit with an array of flash designs covering the walls. The air is heavy with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

A gruff voice calls out, "Be with you in a sec."

I take a tentative step forward, glancing around at the various designs. Traditional anchors, skulls, and intricate Celtic knots vie for attention alongside more modern motifs of abstract art and Japanese-inspired designs. The contrast between the serene gallery and this edgier atmosphere strikes me. Both have beautiful art, but the difference in the tone is noticeable.

The space is small but open, with no walls separating the entryway from where the tattoo artist must work. It seems the tattoo chair is already set up, clean and waiting for the first customer of the day. What surprises me, however, is when I finally spot two men to the side of the room. One of them appears to be assembling new shelving while the other watches attentively. Both are heavily tattooed, but it’s the one supervising the shelving who catches my attention.

As he turns towards me, I recognize him instantly from magazines and online articles. Tyson Santiago. He’s a well known tattoo artist, and I knew he had left the city but I didn’t know this is where he moved to. But he’s not just famous for his tattoos, he is also the brother of Lucien, the lead singer of Saints in Hell. Seanna and I were fans of both the brothers. With us swapping jobs sometimes we steered clear of any permanent change in appearance though, plus we have different tastes in what we like so we would never be able to settle on a tattoo we both wanted.

Tyson is covered in tattoos from his neck down, and he wears a black shirt with the parlor's logo that seems to darken his brown hair further. I notice his blue eyes flare slightly as he taps the other guy on the shoulder to catch his attention. Without waiting for a response, Tyson steps toward me.

"Hey there," he greets, his voice deep and raspy. "Looking for some ink?"

I smile, trying to match his easy demeanor. I don’t intend on getting any ink, but I would play along if it got me more information on the main residents of the island. "I was thinking about it, but probably not today. I’m curious to see what kind of designs you have. Do you have a portfolio I could flip through?"

Tyson nods, a smile of his own forming. "Got a bit of everything. I do custom work too, if that's your thing. Names Ty," he introduces himself, extending a hand.

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