Fresh Ink

(Violet)

The last place I thought I’d end up was in a tattoo chair. The guy staring at me was named Rocko. Mason stood in the corner with his arms crossed, grinning.

I agreed to get a tattoo after I studied, touched, and kissed every tattoo on Mason’s rock-hard body. So I decided on something simple yet effective. A little butterfly on my hip. A place where nobody would know I had a tattoo except Mason. It seemed fitting to have a butterfly tattooed on me considering how wildly changing my life had been lately. Everything that happened with Mason, and then add to that my career and business. It was all just so much to take in at once.

“You ready?” Rocko asked.

He was thick, covered in more tattoos than Mason, and wore big black glasses.

“Sure,” I whispered.

Mason moved from the corner and came to the other side of me. He crouched down and grabbed my hand.

“Look at me, babe,” Mason said. “It’s going to sting and burn. But breathe through it. Stare at me. Think of everything going on in your life right now.”

I heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun.

My body tensed.

I shut my eyes and braced for the initial sting.

It came and I winced. I let out a long breath and opened my eyes. I blinked fast and a tear escaped my eye.

Mason quickly wiped it away and winked at me.

“Everything,” he whispered. “That’s what this is for. Let that memory and that story match the tattoo and then you’ll have it forever. No matter what.”

“Mason…”

The needle kept whirring and my skin kept burning.

“What?” he said.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Violet,” he said. “Now enjoy your fresh ink. Your old man is going to kill me for letting you get a tattoo, isn’t he?”

“Probably not,” I said. “For some reason he really likes you. It’s kind of weird.”

“Who wouldn’t like me?” Mason asked.

Rocko let out a snicker, reminding me that someone else was in the room with us.

I held Mason’s hand. I shut my eyes. And I let it just sink into me. My life. Reality. The ink. Everything.

It hurt. But it was supposed to hurt. I sort of understood why Mason got all the tattoos he did. Yeah, he wanted to see someone different in the mirror, but it was really about the stories. The pain. Remembering what it was like to feel pain, to feel anything. I was just getting a little butterfly tattoo on my hip but I could totally see the attraction to more tattoos. Once again, Mason had found a side of me I didn’t know existed.

And I needed it.

That moment. In the chair. The needle, the ink, the pain.

Because when we were done at the tattoo shop, we were going to my parents’ house for dinner.

They had news to share…about Dad.

* * *

“Does it hurt?” Mason whispered into my ear as I stood at the sink. His hands ran up my hips, gently over the new tattoo. He made me shiver and he turned me on.

“Hurts a little,” I said. “But I’ll survive.”

Mason moved away from me and leaned against the kitchen island.

“Why don’t we eat and chat?” Mom asked.

We turned and Mason jumped to take the food from Mom. Actually, Mason had done almost everything but cook the food. There was nothing like watching my tattooed hunk set the table and bring food to the table.

Dad was already at the table, looking really tired and really weak. He was sporting a red bandana to hide what was left of his hair. The treatments were just like the doctors said they’d be: strong. And that meant a lot of beating up on the man who was my first hero in life.

We all sat down and ate.

Chicken parm. Dad’s favorite and Mom’s specialty.

I barely took two bites before I put my fork down. “You said you had news. I can’t eat with my stomach in a knot.”

“Violet,” Dad said.

“Tell me it’s about you.”

“It’s about us,” Mom said. “We’re going to sell the house.”

“What?” I asked.

“The upkeep is too much,” Dad said. “And the money…”

“No,” I said again.

“Violet,” Mom said. “It’s okay. We can get something smaller. Better for us.”

I stood up. I left the room as everyone called for me. I grabbed my bag and came back to the table.

“I refuse it,” I said. “This is the house. My house. I’m not letting it go. I refuse.”

“Violet…”

I looked at Dad. I saw the hurt and worry in his eyes.

“I’ll buy it,” I said. “Name your price. I’ll buy it and give it to you.”

Dad blinked fast.

He reached for Mom’s hand.

“You have an amazing family here,” Mason said. “Honestly. This woman is the most special person I’ve ever met.”

“Just like her mother,” Dad said.

“I’m being serious, too,” I said. “I have the money. I want you both to be comfortable. I want Dad to get better. I want Mom to smile.”

“Well, I expected you to get upset,” Mom said. “But I didn’t expect this.”

“Then it’s settled,” Dad said. “I guess we’ll stay put, huh, Barb?”

“I don’t…the money…”

“Mom, I promise you. I can show you my bank statements if you’d like.”

Mom smiled. “No. I trust you.”

Dad looked at Mason. “Well, sorry you got pulled into that for a minute.”

“I don’t mind,” Mason said. “I never had this. I always wanted it.”

“And you’re always welcome here,” Dad said. “That’s the truth.”

“Speaking of truth,” I said. “Dad, can you take that thing off your head?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“You look like a fool, Hank,” Mom said.

Everyone laughed.

“Hey, I used to ride with a tough crowd,” Dad said. “I had a motorcycle.”

“It was your cousin’s,” Mom said. “And you couldn’t ride it.”

“I was tough,” Dad said.

“You should just shave it,” Mason said. “Go really tough.”

“Yeah? I’ll do that when you do yours,” Dad challenged.

“Get the buzzer,” Mason said.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m over it,” Mason said. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. Right, Hank?”

Dad smiled. “Right.”

“Is this really happening?” I asked.

“After we eat this delicious food,” Mason said.

I looked at Mason.

I mouthed to him Are you fucking serious?

He just winked.

One thing I knew for sure with him…he would never fail to surprise me.