Page 20 of Forbidden Harmony

Blinking back tears, her stomach rollingwith nausea, Addison practically ran out of the Walgreens. She pushed past agroup of tourists standing near the bus stop and dodged a teenager flying down thestreet on a skateboard, his elbow pads flapping uselessly from one hand.

She took a quick glance up and down the streetbefore crossing to the other side that was quieter and in the shade. Her planwas to go to Grind My Beans, find a quiet corner at the back of the café andcry into an iced coffee, but her footsteps slowed as she stared at the brightred door in front of her.

Crimson Door Tattoo.

She’d never been inside Preacher’s shop.Why would she? She was a good girl and good girls didn’t get tattoos. She hitchedin a breath as a hot tear slid down her cheek.

So, stop being a good girl. For once inyour life, show the small-minded assholes in this town that you’re more thanHarrison’s ex-fiance, more than a schoolteacher, more than just a good girl.

She reached for the handle, yanking thedoor open and stepping inside before she could change her mind. The shop waslarger than she thought. To her right was a seating area with a large leathercouch and a matching armchair. Binders, a few of them open to show the tattoodrawings they contained, were scattered across a glass coffee table in front ofthe couch.

The walls were covered with tattoo drawings.The ones featuring women in the nude, their legs spread in invitation and theirlarge breasts bordering on obscene, sent a flush of colour to her cheeks and shelooked hastily away from them.

A glass counter was to her left. A laptop anda small printer/scanner sat at one end of the counter and a display of whitemugs with ‘Crimson Door Tattoo’ was sitting on the other end next to a spinningrack of ‘Crimson Door Tattoo’ keychains. Inside the counter were two glassshelves displaying gleaming jewelry.

A long table with sketchpads and pencilswas tucked against one wall and the far wall had three doors, one marked discreetlywith a washroom sign.

The air smelled strongly of antiseptic andshe found that oddly comforting. The tile floor was cleaner than her floor athome and the glass counter was free of fingerprints and gleamed in the light. Thewhole place was much cleaner than she pictured and some of her nerves eased alittle. She didn’t know why she expected Preacher’s tattoo shop to be smalland grungy. He was a man who took pride in his work, she knew that just by theway he spoke to her class on career day.

There were three curtained stations, althoughall three of the curtains were pulled back at the moment. Each station had a tattoochair, a small rolling stool, a large rolling cart with a tattoo machine, anautoclave, and a small bookshelf filled with boxes of disposable gloves, stacksof towels, different coloured ink and scraps of paper, some with tattoodrawings. Biohazard and sharp containers were screwed into the wall behindeach station.

Music from a New Cassel rock station driftedout of small speakers affixed to the ceiling. She waited a few minutes andwhen no one appeared from the other rooms, she stepped over to the counter, herhand hovering over the small ‘ring for service’ bell sitting next to the rackof keychains. She bent and stared into the top of the glass counter at the jewelry.There were rows of silver barbells and hoops, belly button rings, and some shedidn’t even know where they would go. She had her ears pierced but she’d nevergone beyond that.

“Can I help you?”

She jumped, her hand smacking the bell inher surprise, making it yell out a strangled ‘ding’.

“Sorry,” she said before smiling at the man.He had neon green hair pulled into a man bun on the top of his head, revealing adark brown undercut. His septum was pierced with a big metal hoop andstretchers had turned the holes in his lobes large enough that she could haveshoved one of the markers from her classroom through it with room to spare.

She stared in fascination at the fullsleeve of tattoos on his left arm until he made a sound of annoyance and movedbehind the counter. “Can I help you, lady?”

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m here for…”

He arched an eyebrow at her before pointingat the jewelry. “Let me guess… belly button piercing. Or maybe you’re gonnaget real wild and get a nipple pierced?”

Hot colour flooded her cheeks. “No, no, I’mhere for a tattoo.”

“Shop’s closing in ten minutes,” the youngman said.

“Oh right. Of course. Could I book anappointment for tomorrow?” Her resolve to do something crazy like permanentlyalter her body would probably fade by tomorrow but maybe if she had anappointment, she wouldn’t chicken out.

The guy laughed. “Lady, this ain’t likeTV. We do walk-ins during tourist season, but we’re already fully booked forthose for the rest of the week. And Preacher’s regular appointment schedule isbooked three months in advance.”

“Three months?” She blinked at him insurprise. Were there that many people in Harmony Falls who wanted tattoos?

“Yep,” he said. “I can book you for thenif you’d like.”

“I’d really like to try and get it donesooner,” she said. “I don’t want a very big tattoo. Is there anyway that Preachercould squeeze me in tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?” she wheedled. “We’refriends, he knows me.”

The man laughed out loud. “Yeah, sure youare.”

“No, really, we are.” She supposed thatmaking out with him once didn’t exactly qualify them as friends, but a littlewhite lie never hurt anyone. “If you just mention my name to him, I’m surehe’ll make an exception and -”

“Nope, he won’t,” the man said. “You know howmany women come in here every day telling me they know Preacher personally?You ain’t the first to try and you won’t be the last. Now, you can book forthree months or you can leave. Makes no difference to me what you do as longas you leave so I can close the goddamn shop and get the hell -”

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