Page 18 of Scorching Lies

Slowly turning to face him, “I don’t know, ask your brother if it’s too late, he loves to fuck me.” I jab, my taunt left to hang in the air.

With that I slam the door behind me and head out into the cool spring night, heading to the one place that gives me peace. It’s almost enough to make me forget the eyes that track my moves the whole way. Feeling the piercing gaze observing each step I take. Each rustle of wind, snap of a twig, it all sets me on edge. Until the door of the tattoo shop opens, casting a bright red light onto the sidewalk. Time to erase tonight with ink therapy.

“Back already?” A low gruff voice says, startling me.

Jerking my head to the left, I spot Jax sitting at the counter smoking a cigarette.

“Shit Jax, I didn’t see you so I figured you had a client. Scared the hell out of me!” I laugh, stepping further into the tattoo shop.

Artwork covers the walls expanding in both directions and a long hallway. Tattoo rooms lining both sides each dimly lit with a casting blue hue. Being here has a way of calming my nerves, so I come here often to take back something that was stolen from me.

Standing from the desk, Jax steps around it, crossing his arm and eyes me closely.

“What brings you back so soon? I thought I told you, your leg needs time to heal before we do anymore work.”

I know he’s only worried about me, but I’m sick of men thinking they can tell me what to do. Yeah, it’s his job and his craft, but if I want another tattoo I’ll get one here or somewhere else. I just so happen to like this place. It’s expensive as fuck but if I’m going to spend a dime of that blood money it’ll be on this. On the one thing that gives me something back from that night. My fresh ink itches at the reminder of the artwork that I had done two days ago.

“Plenty of people get tattoos more than once a week. Hell, sometimes more than once a day. You turning away my business?” Resting my hands on my hip I give him an annoyed look.

Tossing his head back on a sigh, he breathes out his nose before looking back at me.

“No more leg work this week. Pick somewhere else, but I won’t touch that piece until it’s healed up more. Tattooing on scars is hard enough, the last thing we need is to fuck up your skin grafts with an infection. Stop trying to push it, sweetness.”

Flashing him a soft smile, my chest aches with the nickname he gave me a few weeks back. Jax has become a safe place for me to find comfort in and I don’t have to worry about him wanting anything from me other than his money when the work is done. He isn’t hitting on me when he calls me sweetness, instead he’s giving me a reason not to hate what I see when I look in the mirror. He understands how it is to be different. To have nightmares. He’s lived his own.

Jax has a scar stretched across his throat from his past that affects his voice, giving it a gruff, low rasp sound. Standing over me like a mountain man I chuckle under my breath at the fact that this huge muscled up man is such a softie. Thank god he isn’t heavy handed when it comes to ink, because his are massive. Covered in his own form of art, not an inch of skin left untouched, his muscles tighten under his tight grey shirt.

“Pick your poison. I don’t have time for a large piece, but I’ll give you two hours tonight.” He says, heading to the back where his station is.

Most of the guys, and girls, are gone for the night. Jax is the only one who has seen me fully and that’s only for the purpose to work on me. I make sure to come when everyone’s gone for the night, and for that reason, I pay him good money. He's always here when I need him, even if he isn't expecting me. When the sun falls, and the moon rises, the open sign blinking at me; shining down on me like a beacon of hope. On nights like tonight, when my head is a mess, and the only thing that can numb the pain is his needle piercing my flesh.

The sound of metal clinking against each other echoes from the back room. I head towards the couch and sit, scrolling through Pinterest, trying to land on inspiration while he prepares his station. With only two hours I have to be smart, I won’t waste my next appointment with finishing up a last minute edition. No, I need to finish what I started on my leg. It’s been a week and he’s only giving me one appointment, so I have a feeling that project is going to take time. My other tattoos are smaller and hidden, but this one will be on display for everyone.

Spreading from my ankle up and around my leg where it ends at my hip. Taking over the entirety of my scarred flesh. My fingertips trace over the pattern over the top of my sweatpants lost in thought while I scan through the books, looking for something to soothe my need for the needle.

“Find something you like?” Jax says, walking up behind me.

My hand flies to my chest, a squeal breaking free from my lips.

“Fuck! You need a bell on your big ass.”

Grunting out a reply, he steps past me to grab a large blue binder with his name scribbled across the top.

Holding it out for me he says, “Page 73, take a look and let me know if it’s what you want.”

Grabbing the book our gaze connects for a second before he’s gone again to the back room. Flipping through the pages, I stop when I see a small scribbled 73 in the bottom corner. Chills spread over my arms, my next breath frozen in my lungs, my entire being in agreement. This tattoo was made for me and I know just where to put it.

“This will take longer than two hours, Jax.” I say, loud enough for him to hear me.

When I don’t hear his response I stand, heading down the hallway, peeking through the blue light trying to see Jax.

“You spying on me, sweetness?” His whisper echoes behind me, bouncing off the surrounding walls. My body instantly pinches forward, my hands flying to my bent knees while my chest heaves from fear. .

“Fucking christ! That’s the third time tonight Jax!”

“Hmmm.” He grunts. “You decide on the tattoo?” He questions, leaning on the doorframe.

He assesses me with a heated gaze, crystal eyes cutting into me, trailing over my face.

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