Page 1 of Smudged Lines (Tattooed Hearts Duet 2)

The bartender slida beer across the wooden surface, part of the foam spilling down over the chilled glass as he hurriedly passed it off. The club was busy tonight. The bass of the music pulsed through the place as the bodies moved to the song on the dance floor. A hand trailed up my arm, pulling my focus, and I looked up to find a beautiful statuesque brunette.

“Hey, handsome. Care to buy me a drink?”

Smiling, I motioned for the bartender to bring her one while she took the seat next to me. “Come here often?” she teased, and I laughed at the long-time joke between us.

“Just killing time until I meet the one.” Chuckling, I twisted on the stool to face her fully, dropping the act as I took in my friend. “How was your day?”

The bartender passed her a beer, winking before moving on. She smiled coyly at him as she took a drink, glancing back at me. “Not too bad. Yours?”

“The usual. Long, hot, and tiring. The real question,” I shouted, wanting to be heard over the noise. “Now that it's the last week, are you finally going to hit that?”

Vanessa’s head fell back, the laughter rolling through her at my question, not at all taken aback by it. “Who says I haven’t?”

“Hmph. I think you’d be walking funny and bragging if you had,” I said, teasing her.

Sighing, she rolled her head, sipping her beer as she looked longingly at the man. “He is dreamy. I should just bite the bullet and do it, shouldn’t I?” Vanessa asked, some of her earlier confidence slipping.

“No time like the present,” I agreed. “Besides, it’s our last week here, and you need a story to take back home.”

“You make a valid point, my friend. I think my dance card just got punched.” She smiled, drumming her fingers on the surface as she tracked him with her eyes coming to a decision. Kissing my cheek, she slid off her stool. “Don’t wait for me.”

Chuckling, I nodded and watched as she headed off to the dark hallway to the side. The bartender who’d been serving me all night stood in the frame, a seductive look on his face as she approached. Happy for her, I grabbed the barely touched beer and downed it, not wanting the stuff to go to waste. Especially since I’d bought it at this overpriced establishment.

Though, as much as I grumbled about the cost, it was the best place in the city to wind down after a grueling week. As with most things here, you paid for the safety—both from disease and violence—without question, knowing it was necessary.

This wasn’t just any bar in any club.Neonwas a bar in Monrovia, Liberia. My home for the past two months. I’d been working with Vets Without Borders to advance human health and livelihood by sustainably improving animal health. Stopping diseases like rabies from being transmitted into their food sources and educating them on veterinary services. I’d been working to improve their wellbeing while also helping enterprise development and trade around them. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it.

Most people didn’t know V.W.B even existed, but I was no stranger to the organization. I’d completed my first short stint in college since my school partnered with a university in Africa, and now, I helped lead the program. Once a year, I spent a few months at different locations assisting and training. It kept my perspective focused and gave my life a purpose. Something I’d needed to forget about the girl who’d captured my heart.

Yet, it was hard to forget about someone who was constantly on your mind. Even here, across the world, I still thought of her.

Lennox James was hard to forget. I still remember the first time she captured my heart.

10 YEARS AGO

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t concern you.” Slade slammed his notebook shut, sliding it under the books piled on his desk. He narrowed his eyes at me, daring me to ask him about it.

“Yeah, because that’s not suspicious.” Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms as I leaned against the doorjamb. “Dad’s going to be late, so we’re on our own for dinner. I’m headed over to a pool party at Carrie’s.” When he didn’t respond, I sighed and turned to leave before stopping despite my better judgment.

Slade and I had grown distant over the years, and I missed him. We used to be so close, but lately, we’d practically become strangers. I knew he blamed himself for the divorce and Mom’s death, but I didn’t. Never had. It sucked, but neither of them were his fault. It seemed like this last move had been the hardest for him. The school here was cliquey, and filled mostly with preppy kids. Two things Slade hated to his core. Add in the incident with the weed and me telling Dad… Slade had barely talked to me in months, hiding stuff from me now, constantly in that notebook of his.

“I know you don’t like this school, but it might do you some good to try. It’s our senior year, and I think this move might last a full year. I can get you in if you want to come.”

The glare he sent me could’ve cut ice, it was so sharp. “Haven’t you heard, Thane? I’m aloser. I wouldn’t want to bring down your image by associating with the likes of me.”

“You know that’s not true. They… just don’t know you. You spend all your time in your notebook doing God knows what, and you put off this ‘stay away’ vibe. No one dares to even approach you.”

“Good, glad it’s coming across correctly.”

“Fine, Slade,” I huffed. “I tried okay. If you want to be miserable, then be miserable. I’m tired of waiting around for you to brush that chip off your shoulder.”

I kept going this time, but I heard his mournful mutter, piercing my heart. “I don’t know how, but Mom would.” Dropping my head, I took a deep breath. Mom’s words of sticking together had me wanting to turn around, but the chime of my phone pushed me on, vowing to try again tomorrow.

A few hours later, I returned to a vacant house, my brother was nowhere in sight. Hopefully, he wasn’t out getting himself in trouble again. We were eighteen now, and I didn’t think the judges, or our father, would be as forgiving now. Walking past his room, his door stood ajar, the space inside dark. The dark feeling I often ignored emerged, and I felt the tug to do something impulsive.

Most days, I could reign it in, run out my energy through sports or helping others. Other times, the need was too strong and I gave into the part of me that liked the rush. The high from doing something reckless. The impulsive freedom of not thinking of the consequences, of not having to be perfect for a single second longer. The tension between my brother and me had grown into a gaping chasm, and I feared it would never close.

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