Inked Armour

26 HAYDEN

At Inked Armor, Tenley wandered around the private room, inspecting the bottles of ink and plastic-labeled bins of supplies as she waited for me to set up. I drew it out to allow both of us to adjust to the environment and what we were about to do.

When I was done, I pulled her file. I kept it in there after she’d left, rendering and rerendering the color scheme when I got frustrated with my design. I pulled out the newest versions and spread them over the worktable. The tone of the piece had changed over time and revisions. The original design, which had initially drawn me to Tenley’s art, and to her, had been altered considerably.

The blacks and deep blues and purples, along with the bursts of flame, had all been tempered, subdued by an overarching golden glow. The change in color was most concentrated at the shoulders. It gave the allusion that the sun was shining down on the wings, bringing them back to life, the blackened, damaged feathers falling away, newer growth replacing the destruction.

“I’ve made some alterations.” I spun around on my chair, expecting her to be across the room.

She was standing right behind me. “I see that.”

“We can go with the original if you prefer, but I thought I’d give you choices.”

Tenley put her hands on my shoulders and leaned in, looking over the various designs spread out over the table. She moved from left to right, from original to most recently revised. “You’ve made a lot of changes.”

“A lot has changed since we started the tattoo.”

“Mm.” Her fingernails slipped under the hair at the back of my neck and dragged down. “That’s very true. I like these. They’re beautiful.” She skimmed across the last few.

“You want to go with one of them?”

At her nod, I put the others aside, except for the original design we’d started from and the ones she liked the most. Then I pulled her into my lap. We spent another good twenty minutes going over the finer points before she made the final decision. She went with the second-to-last revision, which was my favorite. I loved that we seemed to be on the same page on so many things.

I cranked the heat in the private room. As I picked out the ink and set up the tattoo machine, Tenley stripped from the waist up. When she was half-naked and everything was laid out, she dropped down in the chair, making no attempt at modesty.

“You’re a hundred percent sure you can handle this today?” I asked, keeping my eyes on hers.

“Yes. If it’s too much, I promise to tell you.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Her broad grin eased some of my anxiety over doing this on such a critical day for her. This was exactly what I had wanted to do during my first holiday without my family. Instead, I went on a bender that nearly killed me. By that time I’d already been introduced to Chris, who’d tried to get in touch with me afterward without any luck. He kicked my ass when I finally showed up at work three days later. The black eye and bruised ribs that resulted marked the official beginning of our friendship. It was the last time I was allowed to be alone during a holiday. Aside from the Thanksgiving that had just passed.

Tenley stretched out in my chair and her hair slipped over the side. It was so long, it almost brushed the floor.

“I’m starting at your shoulders. I’m thinking a couple hours max, but it depends on you.”

“That sounds fair.”

I hit the music, washed my hands, and snapped on a pair of gloves. Next I prepped Tenley’s back, wiping it down with antiseptic spray. The hum of the tattoo machine filtered through the room. As soon as it touched her skin, she relaxed. Her eyes closed and she melted into the chair, a tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth. I worked in silence for the first few minutes, aware Tenley needed time to acclimate to the sensation.

“How does it feel so far?”

“It’s not bad.”

“It’ll be more irritating because I’m shading instead of outlining, so if you need a break, say the word.”

I started on the scarred side on purpose. Although the ones at her shoulders weren’t bad in comparison to the ones by her hips, they were still sensitive. If I could get the most uncomfortable part out of the way at the beginning of the session, it would make the rest easier to tolerate.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Tenley asked the question I’d been waiting for.

“Will you tell me what happened last night?”

“With Cross?” I dipped the needle in the yellow and brought it back to her skin.

“And Officer Miller.”

“Cross was his usual dick self. I don’t know what his deal is, but he seems to have a penchant for pissing me off.” I made a pass with a fresh, damp cloth. “I know I was an asshole kid, but he’s got one hell of a hate-on for me.”

“I wonder why,” Tenley mused, echoing my thoughts.

I was quiet for a minute, but I couldn’t think of anything beyond my attitude. “I have no idea.”

“What about Officer Miller? The conversation with her seemed okay.”

“She looked into my parents’ case. Like she said before, they need new evidence to have it reopened.”

“What about that painting you mentioned from your parents’ bedroom?”

“Maybe. If it made it to the storage unit.” I stayed focused on her tattoo, switching from yellow to gray ink to add depth.

“We could go this week and have a look while you have time off.”

“It might not even be there,” I said, voicing my predominant fear.

“It wouldn’t hurt to check, though. Unless you don’t want to.”

She was giving me an out. “It’s not that. I mean, I’ve been there before.” I tried to go a bunch of times, but always ended up sitting in the front of the door. The one time I made it past the threshold I ended up on a drug binge that lasted a month and almost cost me more than just my job at Art Addicts.

Tenley glanced at me, her unasked question on her beautiful face.

“It’s just—” I turned off the tattoo machine and put it down. I wanted to find a way to say it without sounding like a huge pussy. “I always believed whoever killed my parents would eventually be caught. Even when they closed the case, I still held on to that hope. If that painting isn’t there, or I’m remembering things wrong, then I’ve got nothing. I’ll be back where I started. I don’t know if I can face the possibility of never having an answer.”

Tenley sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, coming knee to knee with me. “But if you could know either way, wouldn’t that be better? Even if the answer isn’t the one you want?”

I got where she was coming from. Tenley would never have the answers to some of her questions. At least I had the option. I needed to take it so I could move on, regardless of the outcome.

“Okay. We can go sometime this week.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

If it had been anyone other than Tenley looking at me that way, it would have been emasculating. But she got it in a way no one else ever could.

“Why don’t we take a break?” I suggested.

I had reached her shoulder blades and wanted to switch sides. That way she wouldn’t feel compelled to go for hours, and the color would be balanced.

“Okay.”

I stripped off my gloves and hit the back room for bottled water. When I returned, Tenley was standing in front of the three-way mirror with her hands on her hips, admiring the fresh ink. It was flushed pink around the edges, irritated from the shading, but it looked amazing. The shades of bright and pale yellow, along with white and light gray, gave the illusion that the wings were shimmering.

Seeing my ink on her back along with those damned barbells pierced through her pert nipples made my physical reaction impossible to control.

“Ready for me?” she asked.

“We should probably finish the session first.” My brain had clearly taken a vacation; what was in my head came out of my mouth unfiltered.

“What—” She appeared confused at first, until her eyes drifted from my face to my fly. She smiled coyly as she sauntered back to the chair. “When aren’t you ready for that?”

She settled in, shifting around. I could tell her hip was bothering her by the way she moved, but she wasn’t limping. I waited until she was comfortable before I snapped on a new pair of gloves.

“Can I ask you something?” I wheeled around to her left side and turned on the tattoo machine.

“Sure,” she said with a hint of apprehension.

“How often do you have to take painkillers?”

“You mean because of my hip?”

“Is there other pain?” It hadn’t occurred to me there might be additional issues, although it should have.

“Sometimes I get headaches. At first I had them almost every day, but they’re fairly infrequent now.”

“Are they like migraines?” The needle touched her skin, pigment pushing under the surface, giving dimension to the outline almost immediately.

“I guess that’s the best way to describe them. It used to feel like someone was stabbing me in the head. They’d come on without any warning. One second I’d be in the middle of doing something, and the next I’d be on the floor. It was scary.”

“Did they ever figure out the cause?”

“There was nothing concrete, just lots of hypotheticals. I think it might have had to do more with the trauma. My vision would go white and I’d have vague flashes of what happened. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t hold on to the memories—not that I wanted to anyway. After a few months the headaches started to subside, and I could remember most of what happened.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Sorry, that’s not what you asked about. Now it’s just my hip that causes problems.”

“It’s cool. These are all things I want to know, if you want to tell me.” I kissed her temple.

“It’s easier to talk about than it used to be,” she said softly. “You mean since you came back from Arden Hills?” A few seconds passed before she replied, and I worried that I’d pushed too much.

“Before I left, I was trying so hard to keep my life here separate from what had happened. It’s not like that anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” She was quiet for a minute. “Anyway, you were asking about my hip.”

“So it’s better now than it was?”

“Most days. The cold seems to be a problem, but fortunately I don’t have to take anything too strong anymore.” She took a deep breath before she continued. “The doctors had me on a morphine drip in the beginning. I was in such a haze, I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t for the longest time. I couldn’t figure out why Trey was the only person I saw. I’m sure it was better that way.”

I put the tattoo machine down. “You mean you didn’t know everyone was gone?”

She shifted to look at me, her eyes ancient. “Not at first.”

“How long was it before you found out?”

“A week—maybe two at the most? My memories of that time aren’t very clear. I was in and out of consciousness, so I can’t be sure. Trey was the one who told me, obviously. I had a complete breakdown. It was . . . awful. Deep down, I knew the nightmares I was having weren’t just dreams, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

I couldn’t fathom waking up in traction, with broken bones and third-degree burns, only to find out everyone I cared about was dead. Just thinking about it gave me the chills.

“Anyway”—Tenley cleared her throat—“I don’t know if this is the best my hip is going to get or not, but it’s much better than it was.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“As far as they’re concerned, the surgery was a success. I was in bed for weeks before I was allowed to start walking. But I can walk fine most of the time and I have full range of motion, at least for now. There was a lot of damage; the doctors say I’ll need a hip replacement eventually.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” I didn’t like the prospect of her having to endure something like that again.

“It won’t be for a long time, though.”

I wondered if we would still be together by then. I couldn’t imagine my world without her, but I hadn’t anticipated losing my parents the way I did, either. Heart attacks I understood; car accidents; even freak plane crashes. But murder . . .

That was the fear that had petrified me into distancing myself from even the most important people in my life. It was why I hadn’t pursued Tenley initially. I’d had a feeling that getting close to her wouldn’t stop at sex, and I’d been right. She’d found a way between the cracks in my armor and blew it apart. I wanted to have the same effect on her.