Heather
Ironically enough, Heather spent so much time thinking about Rone’s upcoming appointment with Mike that she forgot all about it the day it actually happened. The shop was busy, with six out of seven artists working at appointments. She was in the back helping sterilize equipment when Rone came in. She didn’t even know he was there until she walked past Mike’s room. The door was open and Rone was sitting on the chair, head bent in conversation with Mike.
Heather scurried past the room. She sat down heavily behind the reception desk. She realized she hadn’t taken a breath since she’d seen Rone. She released a rush of air, hoping to dispel the heat that was rising just as quickly. It didn’t work. She felt sticky and uncomfortable, prickly in her own skin. It felt like someone had cranked up the heat in the shop too, but she knew that was just herself, internally combusting.
Like a wicked TV program, her memory played back images from the last time she’d seen him, shirtless, at the pool. Her lips tingled again, like they had so often in the past few weeks whenever she thought about how he’d kissed her. She’d never been kissed like that before in her life. It was the kind of kiss she’d always known a man like Rone could give her. No other man measured up. It wasn’t exactly like there was something wrong with her, it was just that she’d always known there was one person who could complete her and that was Rone.
“Heather, can I get a glass of juice? We have a fainter back here!”
Heather started at the sound of her name. She didn’t realize she was so lost in thought until she whirled around and came face to face with Kian, the owner of the shop. He had a menacing look, but deep down, he truly was a nice person. It wasn’t his fault his countenance was just naturally that dark, broody even. She used to be a little afraid of him, when she started working at the shop, but that had been years ago. She was young, only nineteen. Since Kian had met his wife and had a couple kids, he’d really mellowed out.
“What? Your client doesn’t look like a fainter. She never mentioned that on her form. She has three other tattoos!”
Kian shook his head. He rolled eyes that were so dark they were almost black. “It’s not for me. It’s for Mike. Apparently he just started up the gun and the guy passed right out. Didn’t even touch him or anything.”
“Oh my god!” Heather jumped up so fast that her chair nearly tipped over. Kian lifted a brow. “No need to rush or anything. The guy’s still living. He’s coming round. I just thought some juice would help. Usually does.”
“I’ll get it.” Heather hoped she wasn’t blushing. Kian’s eyes swept over her, sensing right away that something was more than a little off. She wasn’t the rushing, blushing kind. Ever.
She blew past Kian, walked down the hall and stalked into the small lounge area that served as staff quarters for breaks and lunches or just downtime. The row of cupboards also contained all sorts of sugary goodies she kept stocked for these exact moments. There were suckers, granola bars, juice crystals and power bars for clients who sat for long periods of time. They were sometimes just exhausted after a while and something to eat got them through the rest of the sitting.
The glass of juice she mixed up came together in record time. She rushed back down the hall to Mike’s room where Rone was sitting in the chair, pale as a ghost. He looked up, saw her and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pull it together. She was so concerned about him she didn’t even process the fact that he had his shirt off and was sitting there like a bronzed statue.
“What happened?” Heather stopped just short of the black tattoo chair. The thing looked far smaller than it usually did, with Rone’s massive size dwarfing it. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah- uh…” His gaze flew to where Mike was sitting, a few feet away. Heather could tell, by the lift of Mike’s brow, that he found the whole thing far too damn amusing. It was pretty ironic, when tiny women came in and sat for ten hours like a champion, but guys like Rone passed out or tapped out before their artist even started.
“Do you want some juice?” Heather held out the red plastic cup like it was some kind of precious offering. “It’s grape,” she added uselessly. Finally Rone’s hand reached out. She placed the cup in his palm and his fingers curled around it. She tried very hard not to study his hand, but her body reacted violently to the memory of it on her skin. His caress, so infinitely gentle despite his massive size and inherent strength. He’d touched her almost reverently. She blinked and retracted her hand before she could risk their fingers grazing each other.
“Thanks.”
Heather crouched down at the side of the chair, waiting. Rone pounded back the juice and handed the glass back to her. “Are you going to make it or do you want to reschedule? You didn’t have to come in if you weren’t feeling well.” She watched Rone’s throat bob as he swallowed hard. She knew right away that it wasn’t it at all, though his words tried to convince her otherwise.
“I said I wouldn’t stand up the appointment. I couldn’t cancel. You booked me in as a favor.”
“Don’t forget the fact that I had to come in on my day off for this.” Mike rolled his eyes.
“Mike, come on.” Heather didn’t know who was more surprised at the sharpness of her tone, her or Mike. She’d never once used that kind of voice with anyone at the shop. She knew she was the lowest on the totem pole when she started and though she’d been there nearly five years, she got along with everyone. She was usually the one who defused conflicts and hot headed emotions.
“Okay. I’ll come on. I’m ready.” Sensing the strange undertone in the room, Mike backed right down. He held his machine aloft, indicating it with a nod of his head. “Or if you want to call it off, man, that’s alright. If you’re sick, I don’t want to kill you.”
Rone ran his hand over his face once more, pushing a few pearls of sweat back from his forehead. His eyes looked tired, not altogether focused. His face was so pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he was every bit as beautiful as he’d ever been to Heather.
“No, we can do this. I don’t want to quit on you. Can I just talk to Heather for a minute first?”
Mike shrugged. “Sure. No worries. Heather can come get me when you’re ready to start.” He turned to her. “I’ll be in the lounge.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was so much softer, containing all the gratitude she currently felt. Mike inclined his head, set down his machine and headed out of the room, gloves still on. He closed the door behind him, which left Heather completely flustered.
She stood slowly, walked around Rone and sat down heavily on Mike’s stool. She tried to ignore the fact that it was still warm. Ew. Secondary ass heat. That thought alone made her smile and Rone, completely unsure, finally smiled as well.
“Okay, this is going to sound completely stupid,” he started. He paused, his words filling up the room.
“No, go ahead,” Heather urged. “Nothing you say is stupid. Remember the time when we were kids and you and my brother mooned me and all my friends? That was stupid. God, Jay got in so much trouble when I told on him.”
Rone snorted. “Fuck, he was grounded for a month. My own mother, of course, didn’t give a shit.”
Heather started. She couldn’t remember Rone ever really talking about his mom and for the first time, she wondered why. It was kind of like after she graduated, realizing that she wasn’t going to stay young forever and that everyone around her was going to get older and move on with their lives. It was really hard for her for a few months to truly realize that no one was immortal, herself included. She had the same kind of feeling, a realization that hit her deep in the chest.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said softly. “I didn’t tell on him again after that. He was so angry with me. We were way closer after we talked and we promised each other we wouldn’t rat each other out again. We had way more secrets after that, especially from my mom.”
“Here’s one for you. Jay has his entire back tattooed.”
“What?” Heather nearly fell off her stool. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope. Not shitting at all. I might have passed out, but it’s not as bad as all that.” Rone laughed, the sound deep and musical and merry in a way that was completely magical. She remembered how much she loved to hear him laugh.
“When did he get that done? How come my mom doesn’t know about it? How come I don’t know about it?”
“He kept it a secret from your mom for obvious reasons. All she does is complain about your tattoos.”
“Tell me about it.”
“At least she cares about you and wants to be a part of your life.”
Heather frowned. She wanted to ask Rone what he meant, but he rushed on, changing the subject in such an obvious way that it was clear he didn’t want to discuss his family. She remembered something, from when she was quite a bit younger. She was maybe ten and Rone and Jay twelve. Rone stayed at their house for an entire month in the summer. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. It was just a fun summer and since there was no school it seemed right that Rone should be there. Now, as an adult, she realized it wasn’t really right. Where was his mom doing during that time?
“Yeah, well… I get why Jay didn’t tell my mom, but why wouldn’t he tell me? Why wouldn’t he have come to the shop to get it? He knows where I work. Mike and Kian are some of the best artists in the city. Everyone knows that.”
Rone shrugged. “I guess that Jay just wants to be his own person once and a while. I didn’t even know he had it until I saw him stripped down at work. It was hot as hell in there and we were all shedding off our shirts for the afternoon.”
Heather gave herself a shake, as though dismissing the subject altogether. Rone nearly winced, clearly uncomfortable about saying anything at all.
“Anyway, are you going to tell me what’s really going on with you? I know you’re not sick. I can tell. You hammered down that juice in a second. If you were nauseous I think you would have thought twice about it. Plus you’re so pale. You don’t look flushed or like you have a fever or anything.”
Rone blew out a hard breath and Heather leaned forward in the stool. “The thing is… I’m terrified of needles. I have been since I was a kid. I had a pretty traumatic experience and I- well I’m just shitty at it. I can’t deal. I’ve passed out before, but I hoped it wouldn’t happen here. God, I’m so embarrassed. That guy, Mike, he must think I’m a total pussy.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“I can tell he does.”
“Oh well. Who cares what he thinks? He’ll do the tattoo all the same. He’s not going to broadcast it around either. We sometimes get clients in here that scream the place down the entire time. You would think they were getting murdered back here. It makes my skin crawl when people do that.” Heather reached over and touched the wrapped part of the tattoo machine, careful to keep it clean. She held it out for Rone’s inspection. “See, there isn’t just one long needle like when you get a shot. It’s not like taking blood either. Those needles are so painful and huge and hollow. Some of these guns have four or five or ten or twelve tiny needles in them. I promise it doesn’t feel at all like getting a shot. That stings and pinches. This isn’t like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. If you’re really so afraid, why are you here getting the start of an entire back? Are you trying to overcome fear by facing it head on? I swear that doesn’t work.”
“No. I’m just tired of being the only guy out there that doesn’t have one. I thought it was time.”
Heather set down the machine and stood. She walked over and set her hand gently on Rone’s shoulder. His muscles bunched and shifted at her touch. She bent and whispered in his ear, aware that he shivered at the feel of her breath. Her own stomach was doing somersaults and her blood was singing at the contact, innocent as it was.
“I’ll let you in on a secret. We’ve had a lot of clients ask for numbing cream. I can put it on you and it works pretty much right away. I’ll put it on your back and I’ll go to the kitchen and distract Mike. It can be our secret.” She didn’t tell Rone that of course Mike would know. He was an experienced professional and would wonder at the lack of muscle spasms at the very least.
Rone’s eyes narrowed. “Do you use it?”
“Hell no. I prefer the more- authentic feeling. Pain and all.” Because people who are a little fucked up sometimes need a jolt of pain here and there. It’s so damn therapeutic.
“Then I can go without it.” He didn’t look certain at all. Heather thought quickly.
“You know that though, I ordered this new brand, as a sample. I’ve been meaning to try it out but haven’t had anyone to use it on. Will you try it for me and let me know how it goes? It would be a big help.”
“You think it would help? Truly? Or would you look at me as the biggest wimp on the planet?”
“No. Of course not. I don’t take people’s fears lightly. If you said you had a traumatic experience, it obviously affected you deeply. That’s not something to make fun of or view as a weakness. You can do this. I promise. The numbing cream will wear off before Mike finishes anyway and you can see what it feels like without it. You’ll be comfortable by then though and you’ll see that it just burns and feels a little raw. It doesn’t feel at all like a needle.”
Rone shocked her by lifting his hand to her face. His hand was so large it took up almost the whole left side of her face, the cheek and her jaw. She loved the warmth of his hand and was scared at how much she craved the touch.
“You’re too kind, Heather. You’ve always been such a nice person. That’s what I liked about you, even when we were kids. You were nicer than Jay. He’s a bit of a prick sometimes.”
She was about to laugh when Rone pulled her face down to his. His lips met hers, shocking, burning. Flames burned up her skin, licked up and down her neck, spread through her chest and exploded in the most inappropriate places. She was thankful her bra hid the tightening of her nipples and that there was no way Rone could know that she was instantly soaked between her thighs.
When he pulled away, a strand of his saliva hit her bottom lip and her chin. She should have been disgusted, but she wasn’t. She wanted more. She wanted his kisses, his saliva, his wet, warm mouth on every inch of her heated skin. She thought about what he had promised her in the pool and a violent shiver hit her.
“I… I’ll get the numbing cream,” she said hoarsely. “And Mike, before he goes home for the day and decides to leave us in this room. This is my job after all.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
Heather was almost out of the room. Her hand hit the doorknob before she turned back around. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” She let herself out of the room before Rone could reply.