Chapter 4
Birdie was unaccountably nervous. She told herself this so many times as she got dressed in her staple jeans and T-shirt.
She knew she looked good in it, but she didn’t spend much time thinking about it.
She had woken up with the clear knowledge that she simply had to work with Adam Simpson. But it was just as important that Marley be on board with having Adam around for quite a while. She would understand if he decided he didn’t want that. But she wanted him to say yes.
For one thing, their business was still taking off financially and they needed the money. From Adam’s description, it sounded like it would be a long and painstaking tattoo. From what she had gauged from him, she was sure that he would want a demanding and intricate design, too.
So, it would be extremely good for business.
She didn’t think they could count on publicity, though. For one thing, the tattoo would be on his thigh and back. Unless he got comfortable enough to show those parts of him in public, nobody would ever see her art.
Women he slept with would see them. The thought wasn’t a welcome one; neither were the feelings that accompanied it.
Birdie had never been a jealous woman, and she didn’t want to start now, for no reason. She knew envy, of course. Everybody who grows up without much knows envy when they see people who don’t need to worry about where the rent money was going to come from.
Birdie didn’t realize how closely her thoughts mirrored those of Adam’s from not too long ago. If she’d known, she would’ve been shocked.
Birdie had spent some time looking up everything she could about Adam. She’d felt like a voyeur, really, but how could she have helped it? She had been fascinated by the man and she had acted like a complete fool around him.
At least if she could get more solid background on him, she would be able to get a grip on herself.
Or so she hoped.
But there wasn’t all that much. There were the usual tabloid rumors. If they were to be believed, he’d been engaged seven times, divorced thrice though married only twice, for some odd reason, and he’d won a few extreme sports prizes.
He had been a serious hobbyist, she’d realized as she read that bit. To have been betrayed by something he’d counted on for relaxation and a connection to who he was – that must’ve been difficult.
An idea was beginning to dawn in her mind. She didn’t know what his scars would be like, but she had been doodling for a few days now. Weeks, really.
Birdie picked up her sketchbook and turned the pages until she came to an intricate sketch of a bird with a tail of stylized fire.
She had found the process of creating that difficult. It had almost been painful.
Birdie hadn’t really considered turning it into a tattoo. It had just been one of those things that had been torn from her subconscious because keeping it bottled inside her had become just too painful.
It reminded her of herself. It was why she was called Birdie. It was a firebird – a phoenix.
After meeting Adam, she was beginning to realize that she had drawn that for a reason. It had come out of her because it would be needed.
She had known, somewhere deep inside her, that it was time. That it would be needed.
Now she saw why, superstitious as it sounded.
But Birdie had always believed in instincts, and in following them. Without them, she would never have found herself knocking on an unlikely door at seventeen, looking for a job because she had given up on everything her life had been until then.
But she hadn’t been Birdie then.
With a jolt, she came back to herself and quickly grabbed her bag and keys. There was no time to lose. She’d be late if she didn’t hurry.
When she got to Visions, she saw that it was already open. Marley, thought Birdie with an affectionate smile.
But when she walked in, it wasn’t Marley she saw first. It was Adam.
Birdie stopped in her tracks and gaped, again. She seemed to do a lot of gaping when Adam was around. He must think her a bimbo without a thought in her head.
“Adam,” she said, and was grateful, again, that she didn’t stutter or stammer.
“Birdie, it’s good to see you. I said I’d be by midmorning, but Marley said he’s free early. If you don’t have time, we can do our consult later as planned.”
Birdie shook her head, then nodded.
Adam raised an amused eyebrow.
Damn it, she was doing it again.
“No, I have time now.”
Adam smiled and followed Birdie in to sit in the comfortable chair.
“How did it go with Marley?” blurted out Birdie.
Adam smiled.
“Marley and I are playing nice. He has given the green light for the consultation, at least. If I behave inappropriately or mysteriously, I’ll have to deal with him.”
Birdie grinned. That did sound very much like what Marley would say.
“So, what do you need to know?” asked Adam, his voice deep.
Birdie suddenly felt very hot.
“I need to see the scar,” she said.
She was asking Adam to take his shirt and his pants off. She would see Adam in his underwear.
She was being so unprofessional, it wasn’t even funny. Was she having a hot flash? Was his body as spectacular as his face?
“I have a few photographs of the scar here, so you can have an idea of the size and shape. I have the dimensions written down, too.”
Birdie nodded.
“That’ll do to begin with, but I’ll need to actually see the scar, too, Adam. I know it’s not easy, and I know you can’t be comfortable with it. But trust me, we want the same thing.”
Oh, shit, thought Birdie.
“About the scar and the tattoo. We want the same thing about the tattoo,” she added hurriedly, trying not to look guilty and look away.
Adam bit back a grin.
“I know we do. But if you see the shape and size, can’t you give me a preliminary sketch or idea?”
Birdie nodded with too much reluctance.
“Of course. I had an idea already, actually, but I should see the photos before I jump into it.”
Birdie took the photos from the envelope he offered. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d had an envelope in his hand. She’d been far too distracted by how cute he was.
And hot. He was hot.
She looked at the photos and all those inappropriate thoughts vanished, to be replaced by compassion. No wonder he wanted a tattoo, thought Birdie. Getting one instead of getting plastic surgery to get rid of the scars was an act of courage in itself.
But she also saw that the sketch would be perfect.
“Some of them are burns. From when the bike fell on me.”
His tone was nonchalant as he said it, but she could see that he had to make an effort. She could hear the very slight tremor in his voice.
“I think the sketch I had in mind was right all along. Here.”
Birdie dug the sketchbook out of her bag, flipped the pages and handed it to him.
“This is just a quick pencil sketch. I’ll need to modify it considerably. But… Well, if you like art, you’ll know that the feel of a piece doesn’t change.”
Adam was silent.
“If you don’t like it, we can toss around more ideas. If there’s anything that you prefer, that’s cool, too. I can work with your ideas. I just woke up with that sketch so clear in my mind and felt that it was for a reason. But it’s your tattoo, so it’s all up to you.”
Adam shook his head as if he needed to clear it.
“Rising from the ashes,” he whispered.
Birdie moved closer to him.
“If it’s too much, we can do something else altogether. It doesn’t have to have anything to do with fire at all.”
“Explain how it will look to me.”
Birdie was so close to him that she could feel his body heat.
“The phoenix will be rising from the ashes, like you said, and flying up – soaring, wings spread. The tail will be made of fire and will swirl down to your thighs. See, these parts of the scar? They’ll be part of the fire of the tail. I’ll work with color, of course. I’d have to, for something like this. Now, for the back, the spread wings of the phoenix will use these scars. You will literally be rising from the ashes and flying with your scars. Not despite them, with them.”
Adam watched how her hands flew over the photos and the sketch, and he could almost see it. He could almost see it, and for once, looking at his scar didn’t hurt so much.
“You’ll need to see the scar if you’re to do a final version of this.”
Birdie nodded. “It can wait till you’re ready.”
Adam’s laugh was harsh and mirthless.
“That would be never. So, it might as well be now.”
Birdie felt none of her earlier inappropriate reactions now. All she felt was a compassion so strong that she felt herself burn with it. But she made sure that absolutely nothing like pity showed in her eyes as she nodded.
“You can use the dressing room there, if you like.”
Adam smiled.
“What’s the point, when I’d have to come back and show you? I’m fine, Birdie. I’m not such a wilting violet.”
Birdie fought the urge to look away as he pulled off his T-shirt and turned around. He unbuckled his jeans and let them drop to his knees.
Birdie stepped closer to him and wouldn’t let how she felt get in the way. She took the photographs she needed – she always worked from her own, as much as possible. But she didn’t really need them. She knew she would never forget.
Thankfully, her artist’s eye already saw what it could be. Now, her aim was to show him what she saw. When he saw it, too, it would change how he saw himself. Birdie had seen that happen so many times, and it was still her most favorite part of the job.
“You can pull up your pants now,” said Birdie, finally, feeling very proud of herself. Now that was self-control, she told herself, all but patting herself on the back.
“Are you sure?” asked Adam, a teasing note in his voice as he turned around.
Well, that did it. There was no professional objectivity to hide behind now, was there? There was Adam, nearly naked, showing off all those beautiful lean muscles. He was definitely on the lean side, but he had such muscle definition.
Birdie almost leaned forward and took a nip at him.
She got hold of herself, though with considerable difficulty.
“I’m sure,” said Birdie, and her voice sounded strangled even to herself.
“That was fast,” said Adam as he pulled up his pants, all trace of self-consciousness gone now. He didn’t pull his T-shirt back on.
Birdie wished he would, before her brain turned into complete mush.
“So, how long will you take?”
If he just lay there and let her do all the work? About a couple of minutes would do, thought Birdie.
“Birdie?”
“Oh, right. Well, it can take a couple of weeks. It isn’t a generic job, and there’s a lot of detail. It’s the most intricate design I’ve ever attempted, really, so I’ll want to be extra careful while I go about it.”
“Right, that’s fine. Would you mind if I popped in now and then, and checked up on how it’s going?”
Birdie shook her head.
“Of course not. I could also email you updates, if you like.”
“I like the more… personal touch.”
Was he flirting with her? He sounded like he was. Maybe it was her fevered imagination.
“However you like,” she muttered, and was more thankful than she’d ever been when Marley walked in.
“How’re things going here?”
“Great. We’ve got the photos, I’ve eyeballed it pretty well and we’ve got a sketch to base the design on, so it’s excellent progress.”
“Great,” said Marley, giving Adam what could only be a wary look. Birdie brushed it off. Marley still hadn’t gotten over the anonymous business.
That was fine, he’d get over it soon.
Adam pulled his T-shirt back on, to Birdie’s regret, and left with a wave and a smile. Was that a special smile for her? Maybe it was.
Marley turned to Birdie.
“So, you spoke to him and said you’re fine with working with him?”
Marley shrugged.
“He’ll pay whatever we ask and he’ll work on your schedule, not his, though he wants to be involved in the process, whatever that means. Doesn’t mean that I like him.”
Birdie grinned.
“And why don’t you like him? He seems fine.”
Marley shook his head.
“He seems to be one of those people who’re used to getting everything he wants.”
Birdie bit back a bigger grin.
“And yet, he came here when you asked him to, and basically agreed to work with us on our terms, all around. If he’s used to getting what he wants, then that must mean that all he wants is the tattoo he came for. We can give him that, Marley. We can help him find some peace. That’s what we do.”
Marley relaxed. Birdie loved her work. She could never bear to not help anybody who came to her. Marley knew that Birdie often cut rates for people who couldn’t afford it. He could never ask her not to do that. It was as essential a part of Birdie as those beautiful eyes.
So, they couldn’t really afford to turn down a billionaire who wanted a detailed and fairly elaborate tattoo, because no business could afford to do that. They were running a business, at the end of the day.
The fact of the matter was that he didn’t like how Adam Simpson looked at Birdie. He didn’t like that slightly awed expression on Birdie’s face when he’d come in, either.
In biding his time, had he gone far too long? But if it had, it was his own fault. He couldn’t let it get in the way of their vision.
“Show me the sketch you’ve got,” said Marley, changing the subject.
Birdie smiled as she got her sketchbook again and showed it to him. That meant that Marley had decided to go with the flow, she knew that. She was grateful for it. She hated fighting with Marley, but it would’ve ended up as a fight if he had decided to be stubborn.
The moment Marley saw the sketch, his face lit up. His hazel eyes glowed.
“Birdie, this is beautiful. It’s wonderful. Are you sure you want to give it to him?”
Birdie nodded.
“I woke up this morning, not even knowing what his scars looked like, but knowing that this was for him. It’s perfect for him, Marley. He needs to rise again, from fire. That’s what this tattoo will help him do. That’s what we’ll do for him. His wounds have healed, but not all of them. He’s still struggling with some of them. This will change everything for him, I know that.”
Marley nodded.
Knowing him as well as she knew herself, Birdie handed him the photographs – the ones Adam had brought and the ones she had taken.
“Yes, I see where you’re going. The wings, they will be across the back, right here?”
Marley pointed out the scars Birdie would turn into feathers.
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve got in mind. And the tail – I’ll need to change it some, but I can already see the flames. It will be perfect. It will be my masterpiece.”
Marley was silent for a minute, looking at all of it. “Birdie, are you sure about this?”
His words were soft and full of affection. Birdie’s eyes filled as she heard it, and she leaned closer to him. Marley was a wall of unflinching, unstinting support to her. She knew she took that for granted far too often, but that was a luxury she loved. Marley knew that.
“It’s part of me, too. I know that. But I think it’s time for me to share that. Marley, you know I’ve tried to sketch a phoenix before. I’ve tried, so often. But I’ve never been able to. When I was sketching this one, I knew something was different. I felt it.”
Marley slipped an arm around her shoulder and held her close, giving her all the strength that he could. “Then maybe it’s time. Maybe you’re ready, my firebird.”
Birdie smiled. Not many people knew her story, but Marley knew everything there was to know about her.
“I think I need to be ready. It’s been long enough, Marley. I need to get this one right. It’s important to me. It’s always been important to me. I knew I could never have a phoenix on me. I have a songbird on me. But I need to do the phoenix. I need to let it out.”
Marley stood there, lost in thought as Birdie was lost in her memories, and wondered where all of this was going to end.
Adam Simpson had sent an anonymous email and changed all of their lives. Maybe it was unfair to hold him responsible for the upheavals he was unwittingly responsible for, but Marley was in no mood to be fair. Things were changing. He needed to figure out how he was going to deal with it, because he’d have no choice, soon.
But he was damned if he’d let Birdie get hurt in any of it. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe.
Birdie felt his arm tighten around her shoulders and felt only relief and comfort. She knew she could be strong. She was strong. But sometimes, it was a relief to lean on Marley and know that he would always be there.
*****
Adam got in his car and sat there for a while. He needed the time.
He wasn’t too sure what had happened. But when he’d seen that sketch… Well, something had happened inside him.
He looked around himself and saw only one thing that he disliked: the car.
Two years ago, he would’ve been on his bike. It had been a part of him. He had felt free when he was on the bike, until it had trapped him and nearly killed him.
Adam knew that he should be happy that he was still alive and in one piece. Well, he was held together with some patchwork inside, of course, but he was healed, in most ways. But seeing that sketch had brought home to him the one thing he had failed at, miserably.
He had never been able to get on a bike since that day, and that was a failure.
A phoenix, rising from the fire, stronger than ever – a phoenix wouldn’t have a problem riding a bike, thought Adam, irritated.
If phoenixes could ride a bike.
Maybe he should call Birdie and ask her to scratch that beautiful sketch and do a cartoon of a phoenix riding a bike on fire. That would be amusing. Not to most people, but he would get the joke.
Maybe he should just call Birdie, anyway.
And there it was – the second thing that was making him feel unsettled and restless. He had had a bit of an effect on Birdie. He knew that.
What Birdie didn’t know was that she was the first woman he had taken his clothes off for, in daylight, since the accident. Apart from his mother and his grandmother – and, all right, multiple medical personnel – no woman had seen his scars. Birdie had.
She didn’t know how terrified he had been to take his t-shirt off. She didn’t know how much he had wanted to run screaming out of the place, declaring that he had changed his mind.
But he hadn’t. He had pushed all of that uncertainty firmly out of the way, and he had taken his shirt off.
Birdie’s reaction…
Adam chuckled.
First, she had been all professional. There had been compassion, too, and Adam had accepted it because there had been no pity. He couldn’t take pity.
He never wanted pity.
Birdie had seen scars, so many of them, and she would’ve felt that compassion every time. She was a special woman.
But when he had turned around, she had changed from professional tattoo artist to all woman. Her tongue might very well have been hanging out.
Somehow, the memory of that made him chuckle, and feel better.
Birdie Campbell was definitely not his type, but she was undoubtedly gorgeous. Making a gorgeous woman look like she’d forgotten she could talk at all was a sure balm for a bruised ego.
Maybe he was beginning to heal a bit already.