A tattoo Lille got but Jack did not

 

“What the hell….” said Lola in confusion. I took this to mean that Jack wasn’t normally the kind of man who chased after people. It was more likely that they chased after him…or ran away from him in fear, my brain provided.

“I think he wants to come with us,” I replied in puzzlement, perhaps even more confused than Lola.

When Jack finally reached us, he bent over for a second to catch his breath before drawing himself upright. “You left without me.” Oh, wow, the way he was looking at me hit me right in the chest, like thump. He was just so striking physically that any extremes of emotion in him were quite…arresting.

“I thought you made it clear you didn’t want to come.”

One eyebrow went up as he shook his head. “I never said that.”

We stared at each other for several seconds, almost in challenge, before Lola interrupted with a laugh that seemed to hold secret knowledge. “Okay, you two. Let’s start walking, or you’ll be having that staring contest all day.”

Jack was still looking at me when I fumblingly turned on my heel and followed Lola. Strangely, all the way into town he walked behind us rather than beside us. Lola and I chatted away, and the only sign of participation from Jack was the odd grunt or low chuckle. I really didn’t understand why he was insisting on coming with us, because he’d seemed so sardonic about the whole idea earlier.

As we searched for a tattoo parlour, we came by a little curiosity shop selling all kinds of pretty ornaments and trinkets. Lola and I stood by the window, admiring the display. Just behind a big purple vase I spotted a small object and gasped, taking it as a sign. It was a little hot air balloon forged in copper. I pulled out my drawing and unfolded the paper.

“It looks just like my tattoo design. See?” I said, holding the picture out for Lola, aware of Jack looking just over my shoulder.

“Okay, that’s spooky. I officially have goose bumps. Go ahead, feel my skin,” Lola declared, and held her arm out to me. I obliged her by running my hand over it, and it was true, she did have them. I craned my neck to try to make out the price tag on the ornament. There on the little old-fashioned handwritten price tag it read seventy euros, which was way too pricey, considering I currently had less than four hundred to my name, and I was responsible for supporting myself for the entire summer. It must have been an antique.

“Yeah. I’d buy it, only it’s way too expensive. Maybe if I make enough money before the week is through I’ll come back for it.” I sighed wistfully.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Lola before linking her arm through mine and leading me away from the shop window. I turned a little to see Jack still standing there, staring at the ornament. Or maybe there was something else in the display that had caught his eye. A moment later he began following us again.

It took another twenty minutes to find a tattoo parlour, where a French girl with a septum piercing and an undercut told me in broken English that she could do the tattoo, but I needed to have something to eat first. We left her to practice sketching my hot air balloon and went in search of food.

I was delighted when we came across a crepe stand that also sold waffles covered in chocolate syrup – so obviously I went for the waffles. It also surprised me when Jack ate with us, because it felt like he was there to perform some sort of strange guard duties rather than to actually spend time with us. I think his silence put Lola on edge a bit, because at one point she leaned close to me and whispered, “This is…weird.”

I only nodded, not saying anything because I thought Jack had heard her, and in a strange way I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I made eye contact with him for a second, trying to convey that I really didn’t think it was weird. In fact, there was something both soothing and exciting about his presence. He possessed a stoic sort of strength I felt like I could somehow siphon off for myself. I definitely needed some of his bravery if I was going to go through with the tattoo.

I was happily full of waffles and chocolate syrup by the time we arrived back at the parlour. When we reached the door, Lola went in ahead of me, but Jack cut me off when he put an arm out to stop me.

I turned to see what he wanted and gasped when he lifted his thumb up and dragged it over the corner of my mouth. His lips curved at the edges.

“You had some chocolate there,” he explained.

I arched a brow. “You could have just told me, and I’d have gotten it myself.” His touch had thrown me off kilter, and I think he knew the effect he had on me, which was why I was getting snippy. It was like he enjoyed the tease, knowing it was never going to lead anywhere. Kind of like the way a cat might toy with a mouse.

He had both hands braced on either side of the doorframe now, penning me in. Bravely, I made eye contact with him, holding my head high.

Out here in the bright light of day, his eyes looked the colour of whiskey. They weren’t really black at all. They softened, went all “bedroomy,” but you know, I didn’t think he realised just how bedroomy his eyes went at times. I think I might have even seen him giving Marina bedroom eyes the other day. So yeah, he definitely didn’t know. It must have been one of his default settings.

“And where’s the fun in that?” he asked, teasingly. Okay, maybe he did know about his bedroom eyes…which only made the Marina thing all the more unsettling. Did he use them on every woman?

“Are you playing with me?” I asked outright. I didn’t want to fall victim to the games of his strange and unexpected flirting. I wanted him to know I was onto him. Because, you know, I was such a cool and experienced woman, and I didn’t take any shit.

If only.

He feigned a small look of shock. “Me? Never?” His gaze trailed to my lips then, and I recognised a definite expression of interest.

“Stop it,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop…what you’re doing,” I sputtered. “We don’t have time for this, and I – I have a tattoo to get.”

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked before placing a hand on my shoulder and running it down my arm. “Are you sure you want to mark this untouched skin?”

“It’s just skin,” I answered, shivering, and then winced, remembering his burn scars. Perhaps he couldn’t understand why someone would choose to mark themselves in this way. Ridiculously, I felt like apologising to him. It was actually surprising when I noted that he didn’t have any tattoos himself, because he looked like the kind of person who would have them.

“Skin is important, Lille. Some marks last forever. You have to decide if they’re worth it.”

My eyes flickered back and forth between his, somehow feeling like he wasn’t talking about tattoos anymore. I swallowed, mustering determination, and stepped backward, pushing the door open with my bottom and escaping his unnerving closeness.

“I believe this is worth it,” I said to him with conviction, then turned to greet the tattoo artist. The parlour had an open-plan layout, which meant you were sitting right there for all to see, rather than in a private room. I thought that maybe they only went to the back room to tattoo bottoms, or penises, or something. I didn’t even have a penis, and I still grimaced at the idea of having one inked.

Ouch.

Lola sat on a couch, casually flicking through folders of artwork, but Jack didn’t sit. Instead, he stood by the wall, folded his arms, and watched me. Great. Like this wasn’t going to be nerve-wracking enough already.

The tattooist, whose name was Jasmine, instructed me to lie down stomach first on a mechanical chair that she’d flattened out for me. I realised the error I’d made when choosing what to wear today, because the only way to expose my shoulder and back was to pull my T-shirt off halfway, holding the front to my chest. It was a good job I could turn my head to the side and face away from Jack to hide my blush.

I was probably imagining things, but I swore I could feel his eyes on my body, trailing down my spine, over the flare of my hips. A tingle made its presence known right between my legs. Jack’s attention had such an exhilarating effect, even if sometimes I wasn’t sure I wanted it.

Jasmine cleaned my skin first, then pressed a stencil of my tattoo onto my back just below my shoulder.

“You look in mirror, see if you like,” she encouraged me with a smile. I climbed from the chair, holding the T-shirt firmly to my chest. I frowned at Jack in annoyance when he gave me what could only be described as a lascivious grin. He knew I felt awkward being the semi-clothed centre of attention. Perhaps I should have done the wise thing and come alone.

“It looks great, Lille,” Lola enthused, looking up at me from her place on the couch as I turned to inspect the stencil in the mirror. I think she saw me glancing nervously at Jack when she said to him, “I don’t have a disease, you know. You can come share this lovely big couch with me. You won’t catch anything.”

Jack very subtly arched his brow, arms still folded over his chest. “I’m fine where I am.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, sit down! You’re putting us all on edge, standing over there like the angel of death.”

I sputtered a laugh at her wry expression and made my way back to the chair, telling Jasmine it all looked good. I heard Jack let out a long breath before he finally gave in and took a seat beside Lola. The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun came on, a sound I recognised well after my many days spent hanging around the parlour back home, hoping Shay Cosgrove might offer me a job, i.e., the position of girlfriend.

Looking back on it now, my crush felt so juvenile. I glanced at Jack just before Jasmine brought the needle to my skin. Yeah, I’d definitely moved on to bigger and better things. And sadly, more unattainable, too.

It was painful at first – a sharp, dragging sort of pain that was uncomfortable but at the same time tolerable. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes, trying to meditate. When I shut them, though, all I could see was Jack’s whiskey eyes from earlier, staring at my mouth and giving me grandiose notions that he might actually have wanted to kiss me.

Jasmine was almost done when she asked, “You like your boyfriend fill in the last dot of blue here? Some couples, they like to do that. The intimacy,” she explained as best she could, a look on her face like she was doing me a wonderful favour. I was struck speechless for a second and was about to set her straight as to my boyfriendlessness when Jack spoke up.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” He stood and walked to the chair. What the hell? I glared at him furiously, my expression distinctly telling him no, it wasn’t going to happen. But then he knelt down and put his hand on the base of my spine, and I lost the ability to think. “How are you holding up, baby?” he asked deviously, and I heard Lola let out an amused squawk of laughter.

“Just fine,” I bit out, and then Jasmine was presenting the gun to Jack and showing him how to hold it. She was basically doing all the work, her hands on top of his, but I supposed this was something certain couples would class as “fun.” A special moment, even.

A second later it was over, and I had no idea why I didn’t tell them to stop, that I didn’t want Jack to be involved. Maybe in the back of my psyche, I did want him to do it. I certainly knew my libido was a fan. Jack’s eyes blazed when I sat up, because my T-shirt slipped a little, exposing the top of my breast. I was irritated only for a second before Jasmine showed me my finished tattoo, and I gasped. It was beautiful, almost identical to the picture I’d given her, and it bore the distinct mark of my own work. I felt like I’d just painted onto my own skin, and it would last for the rest of my life.

Incredible.

I was in a daze as Jasmine talked through the aftercare and handed me a card with detailed instructions. She covered the tattoo in cling film, and it stung a little when I reached up to put my top back on. I sucked in a breath, and before I knew it, big, warm hands were tugging the T-shirt down over my head. I stood there, frozen, as Jack set my top back to rights. It was strangely intimate, like we were two lovers who’d just had sex and he was helping me dress afterwards.

I thought I might be dreaming when he leaned close, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “You’ve got me under your skin now, Lille.”

The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing; his tone was sombre, regretful. And I was shivering again. I widened my eyes, and Lola gave me a look that asked frantically, What? What did he say?

I’d never felt more like the mouse in the whole cat/mouse scenario than I did right in that moment. I could hardly meet his gaze on the way back to the campsite. We stopped at a shop to pick up a few items we needed and then continued on our way. Things seemed quiet at first when we arrived back, but as we got deeper into the campsite, I heard someone yelling. Turning a corner around one of the camper vans, we discovered a heated argument going on between Winnie and Julie.

Drama practically sizzled in the air, and almost the entire circus was there to witness it.

“That lion almost bit my hand off!” Julie screamed, tears streaming down her face while one of her sisters held her back.

“He doesn’t bite unless provoked,” Winnie countered angrily. “You provoked him, you stupid, bored little girl! You go poking sticks into my animal’s enclosure, what else do you expect to happen?”

“I expect you to have fucking trained it properly so that it.wouldn’t.try.to.attack.me!!” Julie yelled, enunciating each word with a vicious bite.

Winnie turned to Marina, who was standing nearby. “She is an immature spoiled imbecile, and I have had enough. This is not the first time I’ve had trouble from her.”

“She’s a lying bitch,” Julie cut in, throwing her body forward like she might swing for Winnie, but her sister continued to hold her back. “I’ve been nothing but nice to her.”

“Oh, you call trying to seduce my Antonio nice? Yes, I love it when women pathetically throw themselves at my husband.” Winnie laughed disdainfully.

Marina watched the argument unfold quietly, and I couldn’t tell if she was bored or angry, or maybe just amused.

Julie gave Winnie the most disgusted look before spitting, “You think I want your husband? He’s, like, a hundred years old, and has more hair on his chest than he does on his head. I’m sorry, but I find that laughable.”

“What a load of bull,” Lola, who was standing right next to me, whispered under her breath. Then she stepped forward, siding with Winnie.

“I have to intervene here and agree with Winnie. I’ve seen you come on to Antonio with my own two eyes, Julie. We all have.” 

I glanced at Jack for a second, expecting his attention to be on the women, but he was looking at me, frowning. I wondered if he felt embarrassed that I’d seen Julie leaving his camper this morning, since it was now quite clear she was a just a little bit of a bitch.

Beautiful, yes, but also the kind of woman who goes after other women’s husbands and provokes lions.

“Thank you,” said Winnie, nodding gratefully at Lola and putting her hands on her hips as she returned her attention to Julie, who proceeded to burst into tears. When she spotted Jack standing there, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him in distress. He stood still, seemingly not knowing what to do for a second. It would almost be funny if it hadn’t made me so jealous. He patted her hair, and I saw Marina give him an exasperated look. He just shrugged and led Julie away.

Suddenly, I realised that there was a whole history among these people that I knew nothing about. A whole set of intertwined relationships, feuds, and allegiances. It made me feel a little like an outsider.

“Okay, everyone, back to work. The drama’s over. There’s nothing more to see here,” said Marina, shooing the circus workers away. She went and spoke a few quiet words to Winnie, placing a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. When she saw me, her eyes lit up in a smile.

“Lille, how are you? I have to thank you for all the work you’ve done on my accounts. Everything’s so organised now, it’s like a dream. Come, have tea with me.”

I allowed her to lead me back to her camper, where she sat me down on the couch and went about turning on the kettle. There was a loud thump on the door, and when Marina went to answer it, I heard a gruff male voice muttering to her, sounding annoyed.

“You’ll find no alcohol here, King, so you’re out of luck. It’s about time you sobered up, anyway.”

I heard rather than saw it when he slammed his hand into the side of the camper and swore loudly. My heart jumped in my chest.

“Just give me a fucking drink, Marina. I swear, just one more, and then I’ll quit. Please.”

There was a struggle in her voice as she said, “No, I won’t. I can’t enable you anymore. Now please go. We’ve had enough drama on this campsite for one day.”

She slammed the door shut and took several deep breaths before turning back to me. “Sorry about that. He’s my brother. I love him, but the man is going to kill himself if he keeps drinking.”

“It must be difficult,” I said sadly.

She sighed and walked to the kitchen, lifting the kettle and pouring the boiled water into a teapot. “It is difficult. King’s lived a bizarre life. If you could have seen him in his day, you’d never connect the man he was then to the man he is now. He’s not a bad person, but his addiction makes him horrible to live with at times.”

Her words had my mind racing with questions I wanted to ask, but I felt it might be rude. I went with something simple. “King’s a very unusual name. Is it a nickname?”

She shook her head and set the teapot down on the table, pouring us each a cup. “No, it’s his surname. His given name is Oliver, but nobody ever calls him that anymore.”

“But your surname is Mitchell.”

“That’s right. We’re only half-siblings. Same father, different mothers. That’s why there’s such a large age gap between us.”

“So you weren’t raised together?”

Marina lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip. In contrast to how distressed she’d been a moment ago, she now seemed relaxed and open. “Oh, goodness, no. King and I had very different upbringings. My mother was a lounge girl…King’s mother was a concert pianist. British upper crust. So you see what I mean when I say life used to be a lot different for him.”

Well, that was certainly interesting. I wondered what great tragedies must have befallen him to bring him so low. Not that living with the circus was low, but he didn’t even have a camper van. From what I could tell, he slept rough most nights. A small pang of emotion swept over me as I considered the loneliness of an existence like that, the pain he must be going through.

I thought back to the first time I’d seen him the other day, and how I’d felt like his eyes held a multitude of experiences, sinner and saint all rolled into one. I was about to ask her more questions when I realised that King wasn’t really the person I wanted to learn about. Jack was just as much of a mystery, one that pulled at my curiosity far stronger than anything else.

As we drank our tea, I tried to figure out a casual way to work him into the conversation, but then I didn’t need to. Marina did it for me.

“I saw you show up with Jack today while Winnie and Julie were arguing,” she said, and her observation made me self-conscious. It felt like Marina saw a lot more than most people. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, he, uh, came into town with me and Lola.”

“Really? Did you ask him to come?”

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but I answered anyway. “Um, yes. Well no, actually. I invited him, but then he was rude, so I withdrew the invitation. Then he decided he’d come anyway.”

“You know,” said Marina, plucking a biscuit from the plate on the coffee table and taking a bite, “I first met Jack a number of years ago in Dublin. He was practically still a boy back then. Had been performing fire tricks on the street for passers-by. His skill at such a young age was incredible. I’d never seen anything like it. So I waited until he was done and expressed an interest in recruiting him into the circus. I tell you, I’d never come across such a mistrustful creature as I did when I first met young Jack.” She paused and chuckled.

“He was angry at me, came right out and said he wasn’t a gigolo. He thought I was trying to buy sex from him when I’d made the suggestion of work. It was a terrible misunderstanding. I left, but returned the next day and tried to convince him that I wasn’t a madam or some washed-up old woman looking for sex, but that I ran a circus and I thought he’d be ideal to perform with us. Still, he wasn’t having any of it. I gave him a card with my information, and every time I saw him chuck it in the bin. I knew real talent when I saw it, and I wasn’t going to give up on him. So I came back every day for a week until he finally agreed to have lunch with me. And the rest, I guess, is history. But my point is, Jack doesn’t trust easily. I’ve seen him in your company a number of times now, and it’s heartening. The fact that he’s letting you in means something.” Reaching across the table, she took my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Promise me you’ll be careful with his trust, Lille.”

There was genuine affection in her voice, and I knew that, for whatever reason, Marina cared a great deal for Jack.

“I will be, I promise.”

“Thank you, love.”

A moment of quiet went by before I spoke. “You know, he may not be as mistrustful as you think. I’ve seen him with Julie….”

Marina cut me off with a sound of derision. “Jack doesn’t trust Julie. I think we both know what that relationship is all about. It’s a friend he needs, not a pair of open legs. You, Lille, are his friend. He needs a friend.”

What she said took me by surprise. Was I his friend? I wasn’t sure my feelings for him were entirely friendly. In fact, I was certain they weren’t. Still, there was such hope in Marina’s eyes that I felt I needed to make an effort to be his friend. Whatever had happened to him to make him so untrusting of people must have been horrible, so I supposed, despite his behaviour sometimes, he deserved a friend he could trust. I resolved myself to being that person. It would also allow me to tick an item off my list. I’d thought it contained only selfish endeavours, things that would make me feel better, make my life better, but I was now seeing that wasn’t the case at all. I could use my list as a means to make better the lives of those around me, too.

Yes, Jack would be my number seven:

Make a new friend.