Текст книги "Masquerade"
Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn
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Chapter Three ~Bee~
I’ve never been the type of person who sits around and dwells on life. Bad things happen all the time and overthinking them has never done shit to change anything. I remember when I went back home—or to the place I should consider home—I didn’t really understand what was going on. At thirteen I should have, but people who are kidnapped are supposed to have been hurt. They’re mistreated and locked away. They aren’t happy and loved the way I had been, so the whole thing was hard to wrap my head around.
For about a week after they sent me home, that’s all I thought about. The people who raised me and the people who lost me. How they both loved me even though I didn’t know quite how to feel about any of them. Didn’t know how I felt about that screwed up word love at all. Rex and Melody had always told me they’d loved me but now I knew they’d stolen me. My real parents said they loved me but they didn’t really know me. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. How can you love someone you don’t know?
It hurt and I cried, my chest feeling hollow and broken, knowing I should feel so many things I didn’t know how to.
Nothing changed.
I didn’t hurt any less. My real family was still broken-hearted and confused, and I’d lost who I considered my mom and dad.
That’s when I decided I wouldn’t lose myself in the past anymore. I wouldn’t stress and dwell on things I couldn’t change or even things I could, because if I made that decision the first time, there was a reason. I would stick with my choices, even when someone didn’t get them or I got shit for being closed off or hard. And I wouldn’t worry about love or try to figure it out.
Girls aren’t allowed to feel that way, I guess.
This is why I’m pissed that I haven’t stopped thinking about Maddox since he walked out of Masquerade. I’m not daydreaming about the sex, though it was good. No, better than good. I keep seeing that look on his face when I told him no about apprenticing with me.
I recognized the expression because I’ve felt it before. It’s more than disappointment. It’s loss.
I’ve been lost since I was four years old, even though I didn’t know it until I was thirteen. Being found didn’t help that feeling of being misplaced, either.
It pisses me off and makes me feel soft.
With a towel, I wipe away the excess ink on the tat I’m giving before studying the daffodil. The girl has her hair over her opposite shoulder as she leans away from me while I work on her shoulder. She told me when she first came in that it was her first ink and she looked like she would dash at any second. She didn’t and she’s hardly made a peep besides to answer questions I ask her.
“What’s it mean?” I ask as I put the gun to her skin again. You can always tell those people who come and get something that’s forgettable. They pick a design off the wall or something like that. It’s obvious when people get tattoos because they mean something. The one this girl brought in means something to her.
After a short silence, I add, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I have some that no one will ever know why I got them.” When you engrave something into your skin, it’s personal—important. Or at least it should be.
“No, it’s cool,” she replies, but then still doesn’t talk for a few more seconds. “Daffodils are supposed to symbolize rebirth. I need that, I think.”
I almost pause and pull back the tattoo gun, but I make myself keep going. Rebirth. I’m not sure how I feel about that concept. “Do you believe it? That people can be reborn?” Even though it doesn’t really change anything, that’s kind of what tattooing is to me—rebirth. Not sure why, but Maddox pops into my head again and I wonder if he needs to be reborn from something.
“I want to.”
We don’t share any more words as I finish her piece. When I’m done, I wipe it clean. “You wanna see it?” I ask her.
She stands with her back to the mirror and looks at the yellow and orange flower.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says. There’s awe in her voice.
I love that feeling. Love knowing that I gave someone something that is a part of them. “Cool.”
After she’s done, I put some saran wrap on it and give her aftercare instructions. She lets her red hair fall over her shoulders again.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m Camie.”
Which I knew from looking at her ID and her consent form, but I still shake her hand. “Bee.”
She hands me the money before walking out. I feel kind of jittery, though I don’t know why. It was just a tattoo, but then I’ve been like this since Maddox came into my shop. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
It’s not a minute after I’m done cleaning the equipment and disposing of the used needle when I hear the door open again. Turning around, I see a woman with long, dark hair and this happy-go-lucky smile on her face that I’m not sure I’ve ever worn. Actually that’s a lie. I’m sure I have, but I was too young to really remember it.
“Hey,” I tell her, walking over to the counter. “Can I help you?”
Her smile falters slightly as she makes her way to me. There’s no question in my mind that she’s not here for a tattoo. I’m not sure what else she could want.
“I’m sorry to bother you while you’re at work, but I wasn’t sure how else to get a hold of you,” the girl tells me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my heart going a little crazy. I don’t like it when people come looking for me. Reporters wouldn’t leave us alone after Rex and Melody got arrested and I was sent to live with my birth family. I couldn’t go outside and they harassed everyone we knew. It’s been years since I’ve had to deal with it, but the cramping in my stomach reminds me of how fresh it all still is.
“If it’s not something you should bother me at work with, then you shouldn’t be here.”
I turn my back on her before walking toward my supply cabinet. Nothing will make me give this girl the time of day.
It’s not five seconds later that she speaks again. “I’m here about Maddox.”
I stumble, the ache in my stomach now replaced with anger. That piece-of-shit son of a bitch. This is exactly the kind of drama I don’t need.
Crossing my arms, I lean against the cabinet and face her. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. I don’t play games like that, but no offense, it shouldn’t be me you’re talking to right now. It should be him.”
Her eyes stretch wide, shock highlighting her features. She grabs hold of the counter, making me wonder what the hell is going on here.
“You and my brother?”
“He’s your brother?” I feel a little relieved because I’m not the kind of girl to sleep with a guy with a girlfriend, but family drama is almost worse than girlfriend issues. I definitely don’t want to be involved here, though I don’t know why she cares who her brother sleeps with.
There’s no way I’m answering her question. “Why are you here?”
“I’m Laney.” She holds out her hand, obviously over the surprise. She has that grin on her face again that shows how happy she is. For a minute I wonder what that would feel like but then shove it aside. What do I have to be so upset about? I have two sets of parents who “love” me—that one word that’s so important to people. I was treated well. I’m standing in the middle of my dream. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be smiling like her, but it feels too fake. There’s something inside of me that holds it back.
Still, I find myself moving toward her and taking her hand. “Bee.”
“I wanted to talk to you about Maddy apprenticing for you. I know you told him no, but—”
“Maddy?”
Laney rolls her eyes. “Why does everyone have to comment on the name? It’s really not that big a deal.”
I shrug because she’s right. Considering I named myself after an insect, I guess I don’t really have room to talk.
“I know this probably isn’t how things are done and my brother will freak out if he finds out I came down here, but I want to ask you to reconsider letting him learn from you. He’s really good and—”
“No.”
A little fire sparks in her eyes, making me see there is more to her than the smiles I saw. “No?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even give him a chance! He’s really good. It’s an apprenticeship. It’s not like you have to pay him or anything.”
Sighing, I shake my head, trying to figure out how to not sound like a bitch here. “Listen, I think it’s really cool you’re sticking up for your brother and all, but I’m not going to change my mind. I don’t play real well with others and I’m pretty sure you caught from the beginning of the conversation that Maddox and I working together could be a little awkward.”
“Do you care about him?” she whispers.
Oh shit. “No. I don’t know him. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, if you catch my drift. It didn’t mean anything and it’s not something either of us plan to do again.”
She frowns, making me see that even though she knows what I mean, she doesn’t get it. She’s the kind of girl my parents deserve.
“Then what’s the problem with him working here? You’re both adults. Maddox is good at keeping walls between himself and other people. It shouldn’t be hard for you guys to keep it professional.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her why he keeps those walls, but that would require me to knock down one of my own, and I don’t plan to do that. “Again, I think it’s cool you came over here for him, but it’s not happening. If you’ll excuse me, I need to close my shop for lunch.”
Stepping around the counter, I head toward the door. My hand is on the handle and I’m pushing it open when she softly says, “Please. Please. He would kill me for saying this, but he needs it. He needs something to help him find his way through our past.”
Her words hit me right in the chest. They’re honest and raw and painful. She’s really worried about him, and even though my brain is screaming at me that it isn’t my business, I stop pushing the door open. Still, I don’t move.
Laney speaks again. “I’m not sure this will help, but I don’t know what else to do. I want my brother back. He hasn’t really wanted anything for himself in so long and he wants this so badly. He’s spent years dealing with painful things and taking care of me. Maddy needs this for him.”
Don’t do this. Walk away. It’s not your business. Instead of doing that, I close the door again. What would I have done if the Professor hadn’t given me a chance? I wouldn’t have Masquerade and I wouldn’t be Bee. I would be even more lost than I am now, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I saw that in Maddox. Saw that he’s drifting alone in the world. It’s probably what made me go to the hotel with him in the first place, rather than dealing with someone easy like the pretty-boy bartender. But no, I knew he would get me, and here his sister is opening herself up in a way I could never do.
Because she loves him?
“I can’t help him if he’s not any good.”
Her face instantly brightens. “He’s good. I didn’t even know he could draw until recently, but he has books full. I took one from his apartment for you to see.”
That makes me chuckle. She obviously takes things into her own hands. I can respect that.
Laney reaches into her purse and pulls out a black book. After grabbing it from her, I sit in one of the chairs by the door and open it.
My eyes scan page after page, soaking in each and every line and curve of Maddox’s work. He’s got talent, that’s for sure, and he’s different. His drawings have a rough, raw edge to them that doesn’t look unpracticed but… rough in the way that you want them to look. Like somehow his pictures have seen and been through a lot but came out of it in the end. Even if it is with frayed edges and hard lines, they made it through.
I know that’s a crazy way to explain drawings, but it’s all I can think of.
And they’re beautiful. If he could transport this onto someone’s skin, it would be a waste not to share it with the world.
My hands are actually shaking when I hand her the book back.
“I have his number on my machine,” I tell Laney. “I’ll call him.”
Her eyes pool. “Thank you. That means so much to me. I hate to ask you another favor, but could you not tell him that I came down here?”
I open my mouth, almost telling her I didn’t do it for her but for him. For his talent is more like it, but I realize that would be rude. “I won’t say a word.”
My whole body freezes when she hugs me. I’ve never been a real touchy-feely kind of girl, especially when it’s with someone I don’t know. That thought reminds me that I’m going to be working with Maddox—with a guy I slept with. I don’t do things like that, especially when I can look into his eyes and see shades of myself. Suddenly, I feel a little nauseous.
Laney pulls away. “Thanks again. You won’t regret it.”
When she’s gone, I whisper, “I hope not.”
* * *
I don’t know what makes me do it, but instead of calling Maddox, later that night, I get dressed to go to Lunar. I don’t know if he’s even working tonight, but this is something I want to do in person. Maybe it’s because I can play things off better, which I know doesn’t really make sense. I’m good at schooling my facial features—good at looking like a bitch and I need to show him that part of me. I need to keep those walls up so we can both make sure we’re on the same page. This will be about tattooing and nothing else.
Lunar is even louder than it was last time I was here and even more packed with people. First, I head straight to the bar where Trevor and a few other bartenders are mixing drinks. He hands a girl with dark hair a glass before winking at her. I hate that kind of bullshit, but she seems to be eating it up.
He turns a little and his eyes catch mine and I see amusement there. “Corona with lime?”
“Yep. And then I’ll be out of your way.” I don’t want this girl thinking I’m interested in him in any way.
“You guys know each other?” she yells, loud enough so I can hear her over the music.
“Nope,” I say at the same time Trevor says, “I think she’s here for someone else.”
Shit. That means he knows I left with Maddox. “Jealous?”
“Now why would I be jealous when I have Adrianna right here?” He winks at the girl again. Ugh. Definitely time for me to get out of here.
“Can I get my beer?”
“You sure can, darlin’.”
I almost throw up.
As soon as he hands me my Corona, I walk away without paying. Over the music I hear him laughing before he shouts, “He’s working a private party in the Back Room! You need me to get you in.”
Yeah. That’s what he thinks. I don’t need anyone for anything.
Chapter Four ~Maddox~
I feel like such a fucking cliché as I lean against the wall of “the Back Room” with my arms crossed, watching people dance and drink around me. When I first started working security at Lunar, I didn’t even know the Back Room existed. Once I got hired, they told me, but new bouncers aren’t allowed to work it. People pay good money for the privacy you get back here—the way you’re allowed to touch instead of just looking as strippers ride your lap.
Tonight it’s a bachelor party for some senator’s son, or something like that, hence the strippers who aren’t usually in Lunar. I don’t even know why he’d be in a place like Brenton anyway, but here he is. Probably because no one would look for him here.
I push my hand to my earpiece when Trevor’s voice comes through it. “You got company. Open the door.”
Visitor? Who the fuck could be here for me?
“Got it.”
The small hallway that leads to the door is only a short distance from me, so I make it over in no time, opening it to see who’s there. My body tenses when I see blond hair and a star peeking out from under a shirt. Fuck. As I’m about to ask Trevor what’s up, his voice sounds in my ear again. “She’s hot. No one will know and she’s not the type to open her mouth. Let her in. If you don’t, you’re fucking stupid.”
As much as I hate it, I’m curious as to why she’s here. Still, that tense anger is pumping through my veins as I hear her tell me no about Masquerade. I couldn’t care less that I fucked her. That’s not what this is about because there were no emotions there. What gives me an ache in my chest is the fact that she has what I want. I haven’t cared enough about anything to feel jealous in a long-ass time, but that’s exactly what comes to mind when I look at her.
“You coming to the party?” I ask her.
“I’m here to see you.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to reply as she pushes her way around me and inside. What I would give to kick her out of this room just because I can, but since I don’t really know if she’s giving me shit or if she came for the party, I hold back. It’s not like Trevor to let someone in here for no reason.
Right on her heels, I follow her until she rounds the corner and pulls to a stop once she can see inside. Not having enough time to go around her, my body lines right up against hers, Bee’s nice little ass tucked right against me. On reflex I reach out, my hand grabbing her slender waist to make sure she doesn’t stumble forward. Damn it if that doesn’t bring up all sorts of thoughts about how it felt to strip her naked and touch her everywhere.
“You have your hands on me.” There’s a sexy huskiness in her voice that tells me she’s turned on too. It should make me rip my hand away from her as fast as I can, but I’m so pissed at her about Masquerade that I can’t stop myself from being a dick.
“If I remember correctly, you liked the feel of my hands on you. You were very enthusiastic about how much you liked it.”
Briefly her body stiffens and then she’s the one jerking away from me.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you just fucked up. Next time you’re pissed that you don’t have anywhere to tattoo, remember this moment and know you could’ve had it.”
Everything inside me screams to stop her, to ask her what she means and why she possibly changed her mind, but I don’t. I can’t make myself do it. Not when I’m this keyed up because there’s a part of me that wants to beg her to say yes. To show her how much this opportunity means to me and how much I fucking want it, but then I wonder if I even know how to open myself up anymore.
The door slams as she walks out, but I keep hearing her words in my head. Keep hearing her tell me I could’ve had it. I’ve even thought about leaving Brenton to find somewhere else to go. As fucked up as it sounds, I still can’t leave Laney. Not when there’s a chance she could need me. I wasn’t there for her enough already.
You could have had it. When was the last time I had anything I really wanted? When was the last time I gave a shit about anything?
The rest of my shift I’m thinking about it. About how I got teased with what I want only to have it taken away. I didn’t have much time in the last tattoo parlor at all, but here she is offering it to me. Or she was until I treated her the way I do everyone else.
Watching the people in the Back Room, I see them trip over each other and grab girls’ asses and see those same girls laugh while the guys are doing it. It gets old fast. I can’t wait to get out of this place. Maybe to some people tattooing isn’t a much better occupation, but it’s the only way I know how to show who I am. If I even know who in the hell that person is.
When I get off work and climb onto my bike, I head toward Masquerade. The rumble of the engine helps block out my thoughts because if I let them free, they’ll eat me alive. They’ll drag me under until I’m thinking about Dad sitting in prison and Mom trying to kill herself, and me missing something as stupid as football. Those thoughts will make me turn around and head home so I can then think about how much of a fucking joke I am because I ran away again.
It’s late, after 2:00 a.m., so chances are she’s not even at the shop, but I’m still going there anyway. When I pull up, her little Insight’s parked out front, even though it looks like all the lights are out inside. After pulling out my cell phone, I look through my recent calls and since the only person I call is my sister, her number is still there.
It takes six rings before her sleep-roughened voice comes through the phone. “This better be good.”
“Were you serious?”
She curses before complaining, “Your bike is too loud. Turn it off.”
I do it even though I’m not used to doing what anyone says. I’m also not used to anyone having something I care about. “Were you serious?” The words sound angry even to my own ears.
Bee sighs. “Can we talk tomorrow?”
“I’m here now.” Silently I’m begging her to say she’ll open the door, but those words are bitter in my head. There’s never been a time I’ve begged for anything. It makes my jaw tighten and my fingers itch to start my bike again.
“I don’t know why in the hell I’m doing this, but I’ll unlock the door.” As soon as she speaks the last word, the line goes dead. Again I consider driving away. Forgetting her and this stupid-ass dream of mine, to what? Be a tattoo artist? I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it’s what makes me get off my motorcycle and walk to the door.
The locks click before Bee pulls the door open, the light from outside enabling me to see her. My eyes scan her, taking in the really short cotton shorts and tank top she’s wearing. The girl has a killer body and she obviously isn’t afraid to show it, which makes her even more hot. You can tell she’s not flaunting; she just is who she is and whoever doesn’t like it, she won’t hesitate to tell them to fuck off.
I walk in and Bee locks the door behind me.
“You live here?” There’s a light on down the hallway. It’s dim like it’s only from a lamp or something, but I assume that’s where she was when I called.
“No, but it’s the place I’m the most comfortable, so I stay here a lot.” She clicks on the light. I’m surprised she admitted that, but I won’t call her on it. I know I wouldn’t want her to do that to me.
“Did you bring any drawings?” Bee sits at the chair behind a desk.
I hand her a book, but the second I do, I want to snatch it back. It’s always like that showing someone my work, even though I know it’s good. “That’s just one I had with me. I have more at home.”
She doesn’t answer as she starts flipping through the pages. After a couple minutes of watching her study each page, I start to get jittery. Feel like she’s looking inside me instead of at some pages, so to distract myself, I move around the room, taking in pictures of her work and other tattoos on the walls.
She looks at the book for what seems like an hour before speaking. “These are good. They’re different. Your artwork has a unique style that I haven’t seen before.”
I nod.
“Why do you want to be a tattoo artist?” she asks. The question shows me how serious she is about what she does because no one has brought it up before.
The urge to tell her it’s none of her business surges through me, but I want this badly enough to answer. “Because when I’m around it, I feel more like myself than I probably ever have.”
A brief flash of shock shows on her face, but she covers it quickly. “Good. I won’t screw around with someone who’s playing a game. This isn’t something you do to make a quick buck. Not if you’re working with me, at least. Did you get a chance to actually give anyone ink?”
“No. The apprenticeship only lasted three months before he bailed.”
Bee nods. “That’s good. I actually rather you have hardly any experience—that way I don’t have to train bad habits out of you.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“No one said you were. Chill out, Scratch.”
I tense at the name, but before I can really say anything, she starts asking questions again. “Do you lean toward liking only black work or are you into color too?”
Everything I have so far is only black, but as I look at her again, I see a variety of black and colorful work. “Depends. I don’t want to do only one or the other. I love work with shading too. I’ve seen some pieces that are really incredible just because of the shading.”
She nods and I wonder if that was the right answer.
“I’m not saying you don’t, but this is something you have to take seriously. There are a lot of dumb-asses out there who think it’s all fun, but it’s not. Stuff like being clean and safe is even more important than the picture you put into someone’s skin.”
“That’s a given, isn’t it?”
She grins. “You’d think, but it’s not always like that.”
We’re both quiet after that. Bee glances down at my artwork again. “I’m surprised I even let you in here tonight. It’s important that you know that. I don’t take shit from people.”
One look at her and that’s obvious. Part of me didn’t expect her to open the door for me either. “I’m surprised I came, so that makes two of us.” When she looks up at me, I’m not sure how I feel about the way her eyes take me in. Don’t know what I think about the fact that we have shit in common or that her look is familiar to me. I give it myself.
Bee stands, walks around to the front of the desk, and then leans on it. “If we do this, can we keep things from getting awkward?”
My answer comes automatically. “I can if you can. It was one night. We don’t know each other and I’m never with someone more than once anyway.” I’ve shared this strange sort of honesty with her tonight that makes my body overheat. I want all the words back because they’re a part of me and I don’t want anyone to see who I am, but this is it. Saying these things to her is the only way to get what I want.
“Now that you’ve asked your questions and realize this isn’t a game to me, I need to know if we’re doing this or not.”
Silently she walks toward the door and opens it. I hold in the groan, pissed at myself for fucking this up again and even more pissed that she’s in control.
Bee turns toward me, her blond hair messy from sleep, but it’s another thing she doesn’t care about. It doesn’t take away from how sexy she is either.
“We’re doing this. Don’t make me regret it. Now I need to get some sleep and then we’ll talk tomorrow about a schedule.”
I let out the breath trapped in my lungs. Thanks, echoes through my mind, but all that comes out is, “Cool. We’ll talk later.” Then I walk out the door.
Instead of going home, I head to the high school. It’s such a dumb fucking thing to do, but like I’ve done other nights, I jump the fence and head to the football field. Sitting in the middle of it, I let my eyes trace over the whole thing, trying to remember the time this used to be important to me. And trying not to concentrate on the fact that even though I got something I want, something I need, I still want to take out the fucking world because of everything I’ve lost.
