Page 76 of The Sounds of Her

The woman at the reception desk gave me two large books to check out while Archer went to talk to a tall, thin man wearing a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and black board shorts. He looks to be in his mid-thirties and doesn’t appear to have any tattoos of his own.

Nothing in the book is calling out to me. If I am going to go through with this, it has to be something I can live with.

Archer’s way of looking at my problems is not the way I would, but a part of me liked the idea of rebelling. I never did as a kid. Not until I was about to graduate law school and refused to join my father’s law firm, did I ever stand up to my mom, and her vision of my future.

It seems foolish to think of this as a way to get back at mom and dad. She’ll be horrified, but that’s not why I’m getting the tattoo.

I pause as my eye catches an image of a small padlock in the shape of a heart with filigree designs around the edges, and a pink diamond in the centre where the keyhole sits. It’s beautiful and the surrounding shadows make it appear as if it is coming off the skin.

It makes me think about being in control of my life. I’m the one who holds the key, and only I can open it to let in the things I want. The thought is a little terrifying, but it feels right.

“Decided?” Archer drops next to me.

He presses his chin to my shoulder as he looks down at the book in my hand. When I point to the padlock, a smile curves his lips.

“Perfect,” he says, as if he knows exactly what it symbolises.

I let him show the artist and I go over. He introduces himself as Brad and shakes my hand.

“Nice choice,” he says. “I’ll go draw up the stencil.”

I grow nervous the longer he’s gone. Archer sits beside the chair I’m in and talks about the shows he has left to do, the tattoos he’s gotten over the years, his brothers and their kids, anything and everything to keep me occupied and not let the anxiety sink in.

What the fuck am I doing? A tattoo?

Brad returns with the stencil, a soft blanket and a large paper towel, which he tells me to tuck into the waistband of my underwear. I’m grateful for that because I’m doing what Archer suggested and getting it on my hip, while wearing a dress. They step away as I arrange myself, making sure I’m covered where I need to be. Thank God I wax because I’ve had to pull my panties down a fair bit.

Brad goes through the process, explaining every step. Archer sits on the other side of the chair, one hand on my forearm, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin. I’m more distracted by that than I’d like to admit.

Not going to lie, tattoos hurt. The design isn’t small, about two inches high, slightly longer in width. Brad explained it needed to be larger than I envisioned to make sure he gets all the detail in.

I sit back and close my eyes, listening to Archer and Brad chatting. His fingers stay on my arm the whole time, soothing away any fear I might have. He glares at Brad when he has to position himself so his arm rests across my pubic bone.

There is nothing sexual about a man putting his arm across me while he’s stabbing me with needles, and I can’t help the amusement seeing Archer frown. His insinuation earlier that he wouldn’t be averse to us sleeping together keeps playing on my mind.

It’s a bad idea, but something about the way he is soothing me, how he has pushed me out of my comfort zone without scaring me, has my insides melting.

Now is not the time to get turned on and I’m surprised I even can, while Brad is torturing my skin.

“How do you feel?” Archer asks when Brad has finished and cleaned off all the excess ink.

“Okay,” I nod.

Archer comes to the mirror with me. I’m still holding the blanket over one side of me but have removed the paper towel from my panties. He stands behind me as I stare at the tattoo in the mirror.

The 3D style makes it look so real I want to touch and check it’s actually a flat drawing on my skin.

Archer puts one hand on my other hip and steps into me, not enough that we’re pressed together, enough to feel the heat of his body behind me. He’s staring at the tattoo, then his eyes lift to meet mine and they soften as our gazes lock.

“I need to get that wrapped up for you,” Brad breaks the moment and Archer steps back.

I’m pissed as hell when I ask how much and find out Archer has already settled the bill. I’m even more pissed when he gives me a look that says I’m being unreasonable arguing about paying him back.

“I’m not being an ass,” he says after I’m wrapped up and my dress is back in place. “It’s a gift, Brooke. Please don’t argue with me. I want to do this.”

Too tired to argue right now, I will pay him back. That is tomorrow’s problem. It’s after two AM so I let him take my hand as we leave the shop, thanking them all again.

Archer helps me into the back of the SUV and DiMarco drives us back to the hotel. I’m sleepy and manage to drift off.

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