Rone
Rone shocked even himself and made it out of the tattoo alive. He came out the other side, body aching, feeling like someone had lit a match to his skin and burned up half of his back, but he made it. The area between his shoulder blades screamed every time he moved. He was sore and achy and couldn’t imagine putting on another shirt after he whipped his off the second he got home. He couldn’t actually imagine going back to finish it off either, but he knew it was something he was going to do. He had something to prove to himself. He was damn well going to have his entire back done, even if it nearly killed him.
Which it felt like it might.
Rone let out a low, feral groan as he leaned forward on the couch. He’d come home, made himself a sandwich and turned on the TV, hoping to get lost in sports highlights. Unfortunately his back was like a raging storm and he couldn’t find a position to get comfortable in. He felt a little like he’d been run over. Like he actually was ill. His body ached and cold chills swept over him. He felt like he had nothing left in the tank, no gas, not a single calorie. He didn’t realize how much a large wound took out of a person.
Half an hour after he consumed the peanut butter and jam sandwich, he started to feel a bit better. He forced himself to get up, though his head swam, and go into the kitchen for another. He slammed another sandwich together and this time brought a banana and an apple back. He sat back down on the couch, careful to keep his back from pressing into the couch.
He wished he had a blanket. He was freezing. Getting one would mean getting up again and he’d had just about all he could take for the moment.
Heather was right about everything. The tattoo hadn’t felt at all like a shot. It burned, not pinched. The numbing cream wore off half way through it, but he found he could take it. She was right about being warmed up. His adrenaline had taken over, kicking things up a notch.
Mike was a true professional. Once he started he worked quickly. He was easy to talk to and never mentioned the whole fainting thing. He said he didn’t usually talk while he worked, but he rattled on about his family, his wife and kids and it was evident that he loved them a lot. Hearing his stories helped get Rone through the hours of pain.
It did more than that. The love and pride in Mike’s voice, in his stories about his two sons, both young, made Rone feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy. Everyone said he was too young to start a family. Guys at work bragged about their conquests. He was a bit of an anomaly because he never talked about his. He didn’t need any of that. He would be just as happy settled down as he was not settled down.
A family was something he’d always wanted. Right from the time he was a kid. Maybe because he never had one. He’d been to enough therapy sessions over the years to analyze himself on his own. It wasn’t just that, though. He would have loved to have a mother and father growing up. Hell, even his mom would have been okay by herself if she could have got off the drugs and alcohol long enough to notice he was around. He had Jay growing up. The guy was more than just a friend, he was a brother. And he’d had Leanne, Jay’s mom, when he needed her. She’d treated him like a second son. In a way, he’d had his own family. He still had them. He knew he was always welcome.
His childhood wasn’t the reason he wanted what Mike had. Maybe it was part of it, but it wasn’t all of it. He wanted kids. He liked kids. All of them. Babies, toddlers, teens, whatever. It was Heather that made him want a family. He’d always had this irrational fantasy, not just of being with her, but of her becoming his wife. After being so close to her, in the pool and at the shop, he only wanted her more.
A shrill sound tore his mind away from thoughts of Heather and kids. The ringing of his cell was jarring, bringing him out of a place he didn’t quite want to leave.
His eyes landed on the name on the screen and a hot wave of guilt washed over him. It was Jay. He’d done his best to avoid the guy at work. Jay hadn’t really even noticed. He hadn’t hung out with him since that day Heather had come over. Jay was bound to figure out something was up sooner or later. Rone knew he couldn’t put it off forever, so he picked up his phone and slammed the device to his ear.
“Rone? Where the hell are you?” Jay’s deep voice drifted over the line. He laughed. “You seeing someone finally? Is that why you’ve been a ghost these past weeks?” Rone stammered something out, something that passed for words. Jay took it how he wanted. “I know you’re not going to tell me anything so I won’t even ask. I’m going out for a beer right away, maybe play a few games of pool after. Are you coming or not?”
The thought of physically moving at all made Rone want to vomit, but he mumbled something into the phone that clearly passed as assent.
“Good. Same place as always. See you in an hour.”
Rone hung up and let his phone fall through his fingers, into his lap. He couldn’t imagine getting his ass into his truck and tearing down to the hole in the wall shit bar they played pool at and drank at. All the things they did as single guys. He wondered how many other obnoxious friends he’d have to put up with the for the night. Jay was a great guy, but he often invited guys from work or friends he’d picked up here and there and they were hard to stomach at the best of times.
Slowly, with the pace of a snail, Rone shifted off the couch. He figured if he pounded back a couple of wimpy pain relievers, the stuff for headaches and what not, he’d survive. At least for a few hours, until he could make excuses and disappear back into his black hole of pain.
Somehow, though it took more effort than he knew he had in him, Rone forced himself off the couch. He walked down the hall into his room and pulled out a fresh t-shirt. It hurt like hell to get it on, but once it was done, the burning subsided a little. He grabbed up his keys, found his wallet and made his way to his truck.
The closer he got to the bar, the worse his panic became. Anxiety took over the pain, until he almost forgot about it altogether. The apprehension of facing Jay, who was bound to know something was off, churned his stomach into a mess. He actually wondered, as he parked, if he was going to puke.
He swallowed back the horrible nausea, the guilt and the anxiety and got out of his truck. If he played it cool, Jay wouldn’t know anything was up.
The bar stank of stale sweat and old beer. There were only a couple guys milling around, leaning over pool tables, sitting at the bar, enjoying the dank atmosphere and the flickering TV’s up on the wall. There were three and all three of them were tuned in to sports channels.
Rone spotted Jay right away. He was sitting at the booth in the corner with a few other guys. Rone slid in beside his friend and winced when Jay clapped him on the shoulder.
“What’s up with you?” Jay frowned as he removed his hand.
“Nothing.”
“What did you do to your back? Fuck it up at the gym again? I don’t know why you bother with all that weight training anyway.”
“No,” Rone ground out. “I- decided to get a tattoo.”
Jay’s mouth literally fell open. The guy looked like he’d been ripped off a billboard and slammed, out of place, into that dingy bar. He looked out of place at work too. Guys actually bugged him about being too pretty, with that flowing blonde hair, square jawline and blue eyes, to be a mechanic. There were always jokes about seeing him in this or that commercial or magazine.
“You finally manned up. I can’t say that I’m not surprised.”
“It was time,” Rone mumbled. The same waitress that always worked there, a middle aged woman with tired eyes, lank hair and cigarette stains on her fingers, brought him his usual pint. He stared at the bubbling amber liquid, pretty damn sure that he wasn’t going to drink even a sip. He usually only nursed one throughout the night, but his stomach was still churning.
“You start a back piece?”
“Something like that.”
Jay shook his head. “Always had to be just like me. Or one up me.”
“How can I help it if you’ve always been the cool one? Maybe I was just sick of being the only guy in the place without any ink.”
“So how’d it go? You pass out when they start?”
Rone nearly choked on the sip of beer he forced himself to take. Jay grinned. He stabbed a finger into Rone’s chest. “I knew it. How the hell did you sit through that with your fear of needles?”
Rone shrugged. “I survived somehow.” He was just thankful Jay didn’t take it one step further and ask where he’d been to get the work done.
Jay pounded back the rest of his beer, a dark, foul brew that Rone couldn’t stand. He leaned back in the bench while the guys across from them, some of Jay’s friends Rone didn’t really know well, swapped stories about their female conquests for the week. Jay pretty much ignored them. Rone tuned them out as well. He was just finally starting to get comfortable when Jay leaned in.
“How was the pool party? Sorry I couldn’t make it. The words pool and party should never be together though. Don’t call it that. We’re not fourteen anymore.”
Rone responded with an eye roll. He tried to keep his shit together on the outside, which was made that much more difficult by the fact that he was falling apart on the inside. His level of discomfort rocketed up into the stratosphere. A cold sweat broke out over his neck and shoulders and trickled down his back, making his skin burn with a ferocity that had so far been unrivaled. Every muscle in his body tensed and his stomach went back to feeling like he was going to hurl.
“Fine. It was fine. Just drank beers and got too much sun. You didn’t miss anything.” His conjured up images and his body burned for a whole different reason. He thought about the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, her breasts, the heat between her legs.
Jay eyed him up, but thankfully their waitress decided to save Rone’s ass by bringing another full pint to the table. She slid it in front of Jay and he was momentarily distracted. Rone made a mental note to tip well. If only Cheryl knew what impeccable timing she had.
“I’ve been seeing this girl,” Jay said, after a long pull of his pint. Rone knew right away that they were off, away on safer footing. He settled in and let Jay brag about his latest conquest. Some blond that he’d picked up from that very bar after his shift at work. “She was amazing. Best I’ve ever had in bed. Lord she gave the best blowjob…”
Jay prattled on and Rone tuned out. It wasn’t anything new, listening to Jay brag about the women he’d been with. Rone used to think they were just stories, made up to impress, but he’d learned, over the years, that they weren’t. Of course Jay could pick up any woman he wanted. He had the model good looks and a body that looked like it had been forged, not created of real flesh and blood. Over the years, he’d also learned that Jay never had anything more than one night stands. It was either the whole young dumb thing or there was something seriously wrong with his friend when it came to the whole love thing. He either didn’t want it or he wasn’t capable of it.
“Maybe I can hook you up with her sister or something. She has some hot friends.”
Rone shuddered. “No thanks. I’m good right now.”
Jay frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you? You act like there’s something wrong with having a good time.”
“Nothing wrong with a good time.” Rone sipped his beer. It did absolutely nothing to keep his stomach from rising into his throat. “You know that I’m not into hooking up, that’s all. I’m good right now, but thanks for the offer.” Rone wished Jay would stop staring at him like he was. Like he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on behind that placid surface.
“I get it,” Jay finally said. He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I know how fucked up it was for you growing up. I know what your mom- uh- well, I get that you don’t want to be like that.” Jay’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. It was his way of apologizing, Rone knew. “How is she anyway?”
Rone shrugged. He’d rather think about anything but his mom, but at the moment she was far safer grounds than skirting around that day at his house, in his pool. “Same as always. I haven’t talked to her in over a year.” His hand fisted around his pint, his knuckles whitening. He didn’t tell Jay that he was afraid one day he was going to get a call saying his mom had died. Overdosed or passed out and choked on her own vomit or maybe her liver would just up and quit. Maybe one of her many boyfriends, the abusive fucks that they usually were, would beat her into oblivion.
“I’m sorry man. That’s rough.” Jay moved back and slammed down half of his pint in one long gulp. He wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that shit. You never should have. You had the shittiest childhood. That’s why you should have a little fun now.”
“It wasn’t really that bad.” Rone forced a grin that he didn’t feel. Jay wasn’t completely fooled either. He knew how rough it got for Rone at the worst of times. Jay alone was privy to what Rone had gone through, every single fucking horrible detail. “At least I had you guys. You more than made up for it.”
Jay’s smile was real. “Remember that time you came over for dinner and my mom was trying to learn how to cook something French or whatever? She’d been taking that cooking class and I don’t even know what she was trying to make and it turned out so gross, half burnt and totally not edible. You didn’t want to be rude so you forced it down. I couldn’t even take a bite.”
And just like that they were off, talking about old times, some of the best memories Rone had. It should have made him feel better that he’d averted disaster for another day, but it only made him feel worse. He knew he wasn’t going to stop taking to Heather. He wasn’t going to stop doing more than that either. He wanted her more than he ever had and now… now he knew that she wanted him too. Sooner or later Jay was going to find out and he was sure, beyond a doubt, that it was going to be the end of a friendship that had made them closer than brothers.