Page 100 of Crimson Desires

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

I sent a handful of photos to Ava to be approved for posting. Usually, I didn’t have to get approval to post on my personal accounts. But I always liked to play it safe during tours.

After I sent the images, I locked my phone and tucked it away into my pocket. I gazed out the bus window, watching the trees whip by. We only had three more stops on our East Coast tour. Only a few more days before we got to go back home.

The East Coast was nice, don’t get me wrong. But in my opinion, there wasn’t a place on earth that could hold a candle to LA.

Fuck, I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed.

More than that, I couldn’t wait to share my bed with Aster.

Ever since we’d first breached the topic of her potentially coming to LA with me, I’d thought nonstop about what that might look like. Aster had thought the idea ridiculous at first—but it seemed that she was slowly coming around to it. All I had to do now was ask her.

And for that, I already had a plan.

I’d wait until our final show in Cleveland. After the show, at our tour wrap party, I’d pull Aster aside. I’d ease her into the conversation. I’d talk to her about all the great things in California that I wanted to show her. I’d mention our art schools. Our museums.

Once she seemed open to the idea, or at least wistful for it, I’d offer to let her stay with me for two weeks.

It wouldn’t be a big commitment. She wouldn’t have to worry about uprooting her entire life. I’d even let her bring her father along if she wanted.

At the end of the two weeks, I’d offer to let her live with me for a bit longer.

Rinse and repeat until I gained her trust.

Aster had already told me that, other than her father, there was nothing keeping her in Boston. She had no extended family. No connections. No job. Not even any friends. There was nothing keeping her there except her own fear of change—and her apparent inability to be selfish with her own life.

I wanted to show her that there was a better opportunity out there for her. That she would be safe living with me in California.

I had even planned the logistics of moving her father to California. I knew that Aster cared deeply about him, and I had no intentions of splitting them up. Plus, if he was in LA, I had plenty of connections that could get him the healthcare he needed at little to no cost.

The idea of Aster living with me in California was a dream. I imagined mornings in my penthouse bedroom with her curled up in my arms. Nights walking along Butterfly Beach. Lunches spent catching each other up on our respective jobs—me talking about our progress on Wicked Crimson’s second album, and her talking about her tattoo apprenticeship at Ultraviolet Ink.

It seemed almost too good to be true. Yet, after the life she’d lived and the struggles she’d fought through, Aster deserved something good.

I knew that taking this step would be scary for her.

But I was convinced that her trust in me would outweigh her fear.

“Alright,” Aster said, backing away from my leg. “You’re all done. Take a look.”

I twisted my leg to look at what Aster had drawn. I wasn’t sure what to expect. She had been working for a solid thirty minutes, and she’d refused me the pleasure of peeking.

When I saw it, my jaw dropped.

Somehow, with just a fine-tip Sharpie marker, Aster had etched a beautiful phoenix onto my leg. The bird’s wings were outstretched. Its beak was open in mid-cry. Flames swirled around the beast’s talons, blending in seamlessly with its tailfeathers.

I couldn’t tell if she’d done it on purpose—but the phoenix seemed to symbolize something to me. Rebirth. Jack Maverick the pop star bursting into flames, and Jack Maverick the rock artist rising from the ashes.

“Aster, please take a picture of this,” I said. “Because as soon as you become a licensed tattoo artist, I’m going to have you tattoo this design on me for real.”

Aster grinned, almost shy as she capped her marker and reached for her phone. “I’m glad you like it. Thanks for letting me draw on you. I followed Ultraviolet Ink’s Instagram account the other day, and ever since, all I’ve been able to think about has been tattooing.”

“You should seriously take Electra up on her offer for an apprenticeship,” I said. “This talent is surreal. Kane, Axel, look at this.”

Kane glanced away from his book. Axel looked up from his guitar. Both guys gasped at the same time.

“Dude! That’s sick. You should do one for me next,” Axel said.

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