Rone
At twenty-six, Rone was ready to give up his virginity. His tattoo virginity at any rate. He’d spent weeks doing research. He’d found a good artist, one with a style he liked. He was all set to jump in with both feet on a full sleeve. Nothing like playing to win. All he had to do was book the appointment and wait a few months and his first sitting would roll around and he’d be as inked as the rest of the guys who passed as friends.
Not like peer pressure was an issue or anything. He was just tired of being the only guy who walked around the shop in cheesy white muscle shirts and greasy blue jeans and didn’t even have so much as a heart on his upper bicep with some ex’s name in it or MOMMA scrawled over the surface.
He’d even take a bad tattoo over none at all. Even his best friend Jay had one he hid from his mother. Lord, what his mother, Leanne, would have done if she found out her golden boy had finally taken the plunge. He made sure his tattoo was on a spot his mother would never see. His whole damn back.
It didn’t help that he was terrified of needles. Anything that had to do with a little poke or prod, he’d just about pass right out. When he went to have blood taken, he actually had to lie down and be coached through it like he was a little kid. He had no idea how the hell he was going to handle an entire sleeve.
Rone stood on the sidewalk, debating with himself. The shop looked clean enough. He’d driven thirty minutes just to get there, combating traffic and performing a horrific parallel park on a one way street, on his lunch break. He’d even changed his clothes and scrubbed his hands, though the creases were permanently black. It came with the territory. A mechanic with clean hands isn’t really a true mechanic.
Squaring his shoulders, he finally decided the only thing to do was venture inside. He could always leave without booking. Maybe something would be sketchy or unclean and he could use that as an excuse.
The door was heavy, thick glass, the metal handle cold even though the day was warm. Rone gripped it and pushed hard. The door opened inward and the tingle of a little bell went off overhead. He glanced upwards and stared at the small metal bell. It was real, not just a chime. He let the door close and forced his heavy feet to carry him forward. He was still wearing his steel toed work boots, since he had nothing else. They clopped and clamped across the tiled floor over to what was obviously the reception area.
The desk was large and was clearly meant to separate the front room with the few black couches and white coffee table with artist’s books, the angel statue in the corner, the walls filled up with art and the small fountain at the other side of the room, from the back, where the real work happened. The front of the desk had white stacked stone. It looked expensive and he figured was built in place. That kind of thing would be far too large to move and weigh way too much…
Rone was so busy studying the desk, trying to calm the tremors ripping up and down his spine and the sloshing of his spinning stomach, that he nearly missed the shop’s receptionist come up to the front.
“Can I help you?” Her soft voice drifted over to him, so oddly familiar that it brought his head up with an audible crack at the back of his neck.
“I came to book-” The rest of that statement died a hard death as he stared at the familiar face before him. “Heather?”
Her mouth dropped open too. She looked so different, but still very much the same as she always had. Lord, Jay’s kid sister had tortured him. She’d been an off limits temptation as a teenager that he’d barely been able to resist. She was even more beautiful now, her hair grown out nearly to her waist, her makeup heavy, but flawless. Long lashes, unearthly gray eyes, sharp cheek bones, delicate jawline, a dainty heart shaped face and red lips brought back the start of a reaction he’d always had to quell whenever he went over to Jay’s and she was there.
His cock stiffened uncomfortably as he scented the sweet smell of her perfume. Or, at least, he imagined he did. Something breezy, like fresh air. She had on a tight fitting black dress that was cut modestly to the knee. It wasn’t fancy, but it certainly outlined every single glorious curve of her full breasts and delicious hips. Heather wasn’t tall. She was short enough to pass as a twelve year old kid. She was waif-like, almost like a pixie, in so many ways, but not those damn breasts.
Rone remembered the day he finally realized that Jay’s kid sister wasn’t a kid anymore. She was two years younger than him. He was sixteen and she was fourteen. She’d always been small, with a petite frame. One minute she still was and the next visit… bam! It was like she’d turned into a woman overnight. She started wearing tighter fitting clothes when she was fourteen, clothes that outlined the start of lush breasts, sweetly curling hips, a gently rounded ass and a flat stomach.
She’d pretty much been his dream ever since he was sixteen. Ten years later he was crushed to discover she was still his dream. Now that she was heavily inked, both her arms covered, her chest, her neck… she was only that much more alluring.
“Are you going to stare at me, Rone, for the rest of the afternoon, or are you going to come back here and give me a hug?” Heather grinned, showing off a line of perfect white teeth. They’d always been that way, so even and pretty. Perfect. Just like the rest of her.
Rone closed up his dry, gaping mouth. Heather moved, opening the small gate like area that he hadn’t realized was there, so that he could walk back behind the desk.
He knew it was a bad idea, that hug, but he went anyway. He was careful to hold himself back, just a little, as his arms closed around Heather’s back. Please don’t let her feel that I have a damn hard on right now. He’d die of mortification if she ever knew. That or Jay would finish him off first. His best friend had always kept him in line. There was no touching Jay’s sister. For him or any guy. Jay was a tough bastard and he wasn’t afraid to use physical force to keep Heather safe.
Rone’s head spun. That fresh air scent of Heather’s perfume went right up his nose. Her hair smelled good too. Like flowers or sunshine. Fuck, I’m an idiot. He wanted to keep her in his arms, the delicate of her soft curves and firm breasts just barely grazing his chest, the sweet satin of her arms grazing, torturing, his fingertips.
She pulled away before he could draw another breath. She was smiling at him, her light gray eyes twinkling. “It’s been a long time.”
“Four years? Is that right?” He knew damn well that it was, but didn’t want to make it obvious.
“I think so. What was it? Jay’s graduation?”
“Yes. I was a year behind him. I couldn’t focus like he did and he left me in the dust. Serves me right. Anyway, we work together now, so I guess I caught up.”
“He mentioned that.” Two delicate pink spots formed on Heather’s cheeks as she looked up at him. He was a good foot taller than she was, but she’d always been so tiny. Even as a grown woman she barely topped five feet. “I mean, that you worked together. I haven’t talked to him in a while. I don’t go home much anymore, but we meet up for dinner and stuff once in a while.”
“Good, good.” Rone glanced around the place. He felt awkward, out of his element. Seeing Heather again sent him on a real trip and he didn’t quite know how to get himself together. Finally the mushy particles of his brain realigned and he remembered why he was there in the first place. “I- I wanted to come talk to someone about getting a- some work done. A back piece.” He pulled out his reference photos from the back pocket of his jeans and handed them over. He was extra careful not to touch Heather’s hand or skin in any way. The last thing he needed was to get any damn harder than he already was. He was already paranoid it was noticeable and hoped like hell Heather didn’t glance down.
“Oh. Cool.” Grey eyes swept over the few papers, print outs from the computer at work. “I think that Mike would definitely be able to do this for you. He’s more into doing realism than the other guys are, if that’s okay?”
“Whatever you think is best.” The words were forced out and strained even to his own ears, but Heather never looked at him funny.
“I definitely think Mike is your guy. Have you looked at his portfolio at all?”
Rone nodded. His neck still hurt from the way he’d cranked his head up when he’d first heard Heather’s voice. “Yeah. Took a look before I came in. Online.”
Heather’s radiant smile was back. Her lips were red, a bright red that somehow suited her in a way it wouldn’t have suited most women he met. Most women aren’t like Heather. She had enough spirit packed into her tiny frame to pull off whatever shade of lip color she chose. And to entice half the male population in the city.
Rone turned slightly, so that Heather couldn’t see him wince. He had no business thinking things like that. He’d managed to steer clear of her for most of his life. Before she started looking like she did now, he didn’t even notice her. He’d had ten years of practice. He could get through this meeting.
“Excellent. Mike’s wait list is pretty long. I think it’s around eight months right now, but since you’re my brother’s best friend and I’ve known you my whole life, we’ll see what we can do. Maybe I can get you in early.”
That was exactly what he was hoping would not happen. “I’m good with waiting.”
“That’s silly. Let me take a look here.” Heather buzzed over to the other side of the desk and Rone watched helplessly as she deftly sifted through a huge appointment book. The thing was probably bigger than she was. “Right here! I can get you in two weeks from now. He had a day booked off, but I’ll ask him to come in. He won’t mind, just to get you started. He’ll probably want to do it in chunks. He’ll either start somewhere and do a complete part of the work or maybe do an outline of your whole back. He can tell you though. He’ll email you ahead of time with a drawing and confirm everything, if that’s alright?”
“Sure,” Rone mumbled. His insides clenched into a tight mess of knots. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t want the damn tattoo in the first place, not really, and the fact that Heather was standing there, smiling up at him, tore him up. His tongue felt like it had been glued into his mouth.
“Okay. I’ll give you a card here. Do you have a deposit? Although, I could just wave it. I know who you are and everything and that you won’t stand Mike up.”
It would be easier to not like Heather if she wasn’t so nice. She was always friendly with him, easy going, cool in a way that most of his friend’s little brothers or sisters weren’t. Certainly it would be easier for him to get a grip if she wasn’t so damn perfect and tempting. She was the kind of woman who was instantly captivating, the kind of person who took ages to figure out exactly what or who she was.
“No. No I won’t stand him up.” Rone pulled out his wallet. The thing was ancient, beat up and worn with the passage of time. Heather’s eyes widened.
“Oh my god. Do you still have that wallet?” She stepped back over to him, reached out and gripped the black leather bifold. “I gave this to Jay for Christmas when he was in grade eleven. He hated it. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but when he asked if he could give it to you a year later I knew that he just wanted to get rid of it. He liked those horrible ones, the kind you can loop a chain through. You know, because there were that many people trying to steal his wallet.”
Rone actually laughed. He didn’t mind handing over the wallet, but it was the graze of Heather’s fingers against his that caused a hot tide of heat to rise up in his chest. “He felt bad about giving it to me, but my other one went through the wash and it pretty much just shredded. He’d never used it once.”
“Well I’m glad that someone got some use out of it.”
“Yes.” He reached over and carefully took the wallet back. He pulled out a couple hundreds and passed them over. “Is this good? For a deposit?”
“Sure.” Heather beamed. She shuffled over to the edge of the desk and grabbed a white card. She wrote down something, he assumed the time and date and probably the amount of money he’d given her. She passed it over. When he took it, he imagined the heat of her fingers still lingering on the card, though he couldn’t actually feel it. For a second he was entirely self-conscious of his beat up gray t-shirt with the faded logo and the holes peppering it. His jeans were old and work stained, his steel toed boots beat up and probably oily. His hands were battle scarred and the blackness of oil and shop grime never quite washed out.
Embarrassingly enough, he found Heather studying his hands. He tucked the card in his wallet and she quickly looked away, blushing again to have been caught staring. She recovered a second later and smiled at him just as charmingly as she had when he walked in.
“That’s all you need. Thanks for coming in. It was good to see you again.”
Because Rone couldn’t stop himself, because he couldn’t quite force himself to turn around and walk harmlessly out the door, he found himself blurting words he wished he could take back. “I’m having a- uh- some friends over at my place this weekend. I have a pool in the backyard. It’s supposed to be hot. I don’t know- would you- want to come?”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Is Jay going to be there?”
Rone knew what she was really asking. It wouldn’t be right for her to go if her brother was there. Jay watched her like a hawk and he would know what Rone’s true intentions were in inviting her, that there was some ulterior motive. It had been four years since he last saw her and then to just have her over… it wouldn’t look right.
“No. He already told me he’s taking the day to work on his car. He bought this classic thing. It needs a lot of restoring. He’s all into it.”
Heather nodded slowly. “Ahh, yes. My brother. He never really had a girlfriend or a date in his life unless you counted all the cars. The metal mistresses.”
Rone laughed softly. “Metal mistresses. I like that. I’ll have to use it on him.” He didn’t fill Heather in on all the one night stands he knew Jay had. She was technically right. Jay technically didn’t date or have girlfriends.
Heather’s smile faded. “Don’t. Not unless you want him to know you walked into me here.”
“Would that really hurt? If he knew?”
She seemed to consider that for a minute. “No. Not really. I just… prefer to keep my life pretty private now. My brother and I talk, but it’s just that. He stays out of my life and I stay out of his. At least, on a deeper level. It’s not like how it was growing up. I can’t stand any more smothering. He doesn’t like the tattoos any more than my mom does. Or the fact that I work here.”
Ironic considering he has his whole damn back done. “At some point, Jay is going to realize you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions.”
“I’m still waiting for the day.” Heather rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll come, as long as Jay isn’t going to be there. If he shows up, it will be a bad scene.”
“Great. Uh… I mean, that’s not great. Just great that you’ll come.”
Heather nodded again. Her eyes burned into Rone and he felt entirely transparent. He snatched up a paper and a pen off the desk, scrawled his address and the time down and left it there, right next to the open laptop.
He made himself turn around and walk out before he could do any further damage. Heather turned him completely inside out. He didn’t know what to feel, what to think or what the hell he’d just done.