Chapter Nine
Nick
Evie James. She was thinner than she was the first time we met. Her hair was a bit shorter, and so were her clothes. Although at the moment she was naked on my table. She no longer seemed innocent, that was for damn sure. If anything, she seemed jaded. But she was still beautiful, she still made my mouth water.
And once again, she’d picked a great tattoo. She was unpredictable that way, I guess. The first time I’d inked her, I thought she’d seemed so sweet. And tattooing that hidden skull on her smooth skin had felt a lot like foreplay.
This time? She was shaking, her body humming. I knew it wasn’t nerves, I could tell the difference. She wasn’t timid, she wasn’t scared, and she didn’t jump at the sound of the gun. She never had. No, this was all chemically induced. She was on something, and that right there showed how much she’d changed in the last two years.
I was stalling, and I was pretty sure she could tell. The longer I spent getting everything set up, the more she shook.
“So, tell me how you’ve been, Evie? It’s been a while.” I’d hated waking up to find her gone. Her note had eased the sting, no doubt, but it still sucked. I’d had fun with her, and I thought she’d had fun with me. I worried about her. I thought about her every day for weeks. I wondered if she regretted what she asked of me. I wondered if she hated me, or worse, hated herself. “Tell me about life.”
“Great, everything is so great.” Her smile was too big, her eyes too wide. I’d only spent one night with the girl, yet I knew she was lying.
I paused with my gun hovering over her perfect skin. I’d had no real plan to dig into her life when she first lay down. If I was being honest, I’d wanted to ink her and then send her on her way. Evie James was a weakness of mine, and it’d taken me a long time to shake thoughts of her after the night we’d spent together. I didn’t need a weakness that came in the form of a leggy coed with snotty friends.
But as soon as I’d placed my palm against her body and felt her ribs, I couldn’t help myself. “Really?”
“Yeah, you know, things are going really well. I’ll be a junior next year. I’m in charge of spring rush.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder, her hand shaking before she could hide it back under the blanket. “I moved into the Kappa Delta house today.” She nodded, her smile only going wider. “I’ve been busy, you know, charities.” She let out a fake-sounding laugh that made me want to punch something. “I know. I’m shaking a little. I, uh, I went to barre class this morning and then had a couple meetings I couldn’t miss. I haven’t had a chance to eat but—”
“Stop.” That was it. I’d seen and heard enough. I put my gun down and watched as panic filled her dark eyes. “Shaking? You’re basically vibrating in your seat, your pupils are pin points, and you’re thin as the rails you’re no doubt putting up your nose. You look like you’re three fucking seconds away from passing out, and I honestly don’t think I can, in good conscience, tattoo you today.”
She sat up suddenly, clutching the blanket to her chest, barely covering her breasts and grabbing my arm. “You have to tattoo me. You have to. I need it.”
She needed it? The way she said it, like it was a fucking release for her or something. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t in the fucking realm of okay. “Jesus, Evie, what the fuck happened to you?”
“I just, uh, I’ll pay you double okay?” She nodded her head frantically, pulling my hand back toward my gun. “Please, Nicky.”
I closed my eyes at the sound of my name leaving her plump lips. She was in front of me, high as a fucking kite and all it was all I could do to keep the memories of our night together from bombarding my brain and making my dick swell. She was in no shape to get a tattoo, let alone get bent over this table and fucked.
“Triple. I’ll pay you triple.”
I opened my eyes and scooted back, hands up, shaking my head. I knew she was on something, I knew she was different. But the way she was acting right now, it wasn’t okay. It was like she was jonesing for something, for anything. Like she needed to feel, even if it was the sting of the needle on her skin. “No. Evie, I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I’ll go somewhere else.” She swallowed, her eyes growing hard and defiant. “We both know no one else will turn down triple payment for tattooing me.”
“You turned into a real bitch, you know that?” She shrugged. “That’s not going to work again, not this time, princess.” She winced at my words and started to worry her bottom lip. “Get dressed.” I was done. She needed help, not a damn tattoo. I had half a mind to call my uncle. He’d be able to contact her dad. Let her family deal with her shit.
“You sure about that?” She was challenging me, and she was pissing me off a bit.
“You aren’t my problem. You never wanted to be.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You made that pretty clear when you snuck out of my bed before the sun was up. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” Her eyes raked boldly down my body. Who the hell was this chick? She’d stayed in a permanent state of blushing the whole night we’d spent together. I think I asked her if she was okay like a hundred times.
She finally stood, but instead of getting dressed she wrapped the blanket around her tighter and opened the door. “Hey, Bleu?”
“Yeah?” Bleu stuck his head into the hallway, his eyes darting between her and me. “Uh, what’s up, hot naked chick?”
“Nicky doesn’t want to do my rib piece.” She moved the covers, flashing him the side of her breast, the thin strap of her thong and the transfer I’d done before I’d realized how far gone she was. “You in?”
“Hell yeah I’m in.” He hopped over the half wall that divided part of the front desk and sauntered into the room. “That is going to look—”
“Get out.” I uncrossed my arms and made my fists dangle, letting out an annoyed as fuck sigh. Because that was how I felt. Annoyed. As fuck. As well as jealous and territorial, and worried. I’d tattooed her first, I’d been the first one in that tight little body of hers; her skin was mine. Fuck if it made any damn sense. “Now.” I eyed my best friend, pointing toward the door.
He hung his head like a scolded child and then left, shutting the door behind him.
“That was rude.”
My eyes went wide. “I’m rude? You’re extorting me. Again.”
“Turned out okay for you the first time, didn’t it?” She narrowed her gaze, daring me to tell her she was wrong.
“Yeah well, the first time the package was a lot more appealing.” Now that was rude. And a damn lie. Evie was still as gorgeous as she always was. But she was also high and too thin and seemingly out of control.
“Fine. I’ll leave.” I knew she wasn’t bluffing, and I knew that tattooing her like this wouldn’t hurt her. If anything, she’d probably pass out from the release and get some of the real rest she no doubt needed.
I was weak the first time I’d met her, and apparently not much had changed. On my end at least. “I’ll tattoo you on two conditions.”
“You want another night? Is that what it’s going to take? Sex? Fine.” She rolled her eyes and laid back down, sounding bored with the thought. Like sleeping with me in exchange for this tattoo wouldn’t be anything abnormal for her.
I shouldn’t have been shocked at her insinuation, but I was. “Evie, what the fuck is wrong with you?” She was making me feel almost ill.
She didn’t answer—instead she kind of curled up into a little ball, wiping at her eyes with the edge of the blanket. She was crying, silent tears, and that was the beginning of my downfall.
“I’ll tattoo you if you tell me what’s really going on. All of it.” I picked my gun back up, hoping to give her some motivation. “And you let me feed you after we’re done.” If I could find out what she was on, maybe I’d know how to help her. At least I’d have something for Uncle Waylon to tell her dad.
“I have plans after this.”
“That’s the deal.” I sent her a small shrug. “You want me to ink you, you let me take you to dinner.” Evie wasn’t my problem—she wasn’t. But she was a girl I’d once known, and I owed it to that young girl to find a way for her to get some help.
She nodded, and when I started in on her outline, she let out a deep breath. She liked it, she’d liked it from the first time the needle had touched her skin two years ago. Why had she waited so long for another one? Most people who were addicted to the release got another one within weeks if not days. She was either stronger than she gave herself credit for, or she cared that much about what other people thought.
“Start talking, princess.”
She wiped at her eyes again, her tears still flowing slowly and breaking my damn weak heart. “Please don’t call me that.” She looked down, meeting my gaze. I nodded and she continued, “Life sucks.” She took a deep breath, her chest expanding under my hands. “My ‘friends’ are hollow and vapid. All they care about is money and power. It’s like they already strive for it. They party nonstop. They sleep around, but never talk about it. Like, they’re all whores, but everyone acts like they’re saving themselves for marriage. It’s so stupid. Classes are hard. I was smart in high school, like really smart. Here? I have private tutors and study into all hours of the night. I got everything I wanted. Friends, popularity, a full social calendar.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Everyone wants to be me, except me.”
I’d gotten her to admit one little truth, and all the other ones had come pouring out. How long had the dam been that close to crumbling? I hadn’t seen Evie in two years, and she’d opened up to me like I was her therapist. It was no doubt a mixture of whatever she was on and the adrenaline that came from getting inked, but still. “What’s your poison?”
“What?”
She knew what I was asking, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her out of answering. “Uppers?”
“No. I uh, I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” She sniffled a little. “I have the Adderall to help me study, it’s a prescription. I don’t do drugs.”
“I’m not stupid, despite what you might think.” Even if she had the Adderall script, she was abusing it. Adderall was nothing but small manageable doses of speed for the rich and hungry. “Keep talking.”
“Vicodin too sometimes, you know, to take the edge off at night.” She wasn’t meeting my eyes; she was staring at the wall behind my head. But she kept sharing, kept telling me things that I knew she wasn’t meaning to. Maybe tattooing her, giving her this relief was the right call all along. “There are a lot of, um, events I have to attend. I drink, at those. I mean, I drink socially. It’s not a big deal.”
“Coke?” I paused, wiping off her skin to get a better look at my progress.
“Occasionally.” Her voice was small, quiet, more like the Evie I’d first met. She’d been honest, for the most part, and it had taken all of her false bravado out of her. Between that and the release of the pain, she was stripped down and bare. Vulnerable, and all the more beautiful for it.
I had thought about seeing her again. I thought about how I would react, what I would say. I thought it’d be fun, I thought we’d have another few nights together. Maybe I’d take her on a date or two. But this? Her crying and shaking, melting under the weight of my tattoo gun? This was one scenario I’d never imagined.
“You need some food, some water, and some real sleep, dove.” I glanced up in time to see her wiping her eyes again. “Why don’t you come spend the—”
“Are you almost done? This is taking forever, Evie.” I stopped, more than irritated that her stuck-up friend had come in without knocking, like she owned the damn place.
I looked at Evie, giving her a slight shake of my head. If she wanted me to continue, she’d play by my rules, exactly like the first time we met. Damn, was my life on an odd loop with this chick? History was repeating itself, in an even more fucked-up way.
“No. Tattoos take time, Chasity.” Evie’s voice came out strong and extremely annoyed. “You should go. I’ll meet up with you guys later.” Her whole demeanor changed when she spoke to her friend. She spoke like the girl was beneath her and not worth her time or words.
“Are you sure?” The blonde girl’s eyes darted to me then back to Evie.
She scoffed. “He’s a tattoo artist, not a fucking rapist.” She waved her hand in the direction of the door. “Go or you’ll be late for the Pike BBQ.”
Chasity, I guess that was her name, nodded dramatically. “Oh, that’s right, and I’ll need to shower off all this tattoo parlor funk.”
I barely stifled a snort. “This tattoo parlor is no doubt cleaner than whatever frat house you did the walk of shame from this morning, sweetheart.” I could put up with a lot of things, but disrespecting my shop? Not one of them.
“Wow. Asshole much?” Her expression was snotty, and so was her tone.
“Chasity. Get the fuck out and let him finish.” Evie rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the direction of the door, dismissing her “friend” like she was nothing.
“Fine.” She sent me a glare, then a girly wave to Evie. “Bye.” The way she said “bye” made it sound like a two-syllable word, and it made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. People really talked like that? Wow.
As soon as the door closed, Evie’s face went back to normal, or back to the way it was before her friend walked in. Her fake smile was gone, and replaced with a real one. It was smaller, less obvious and somewhat apologetic. “Sorry.” And her tone dropped an octave or two.
“You should be an actress.”
She scoffed. “You have no idea.”
But that was where she was wrong. I was starting to get a really good picture of Evie’s life. And every part of it made me sad for her. She didn’t seem to have any real friends. She’d acted like a completely different person the second that snotty little head had poked in the room. She was taking uppers to keep up with the pace of her life and downers to take the edge off how shitty it felt when she was falling. She partied too much and too often. And hell only knew what else she did to make people think she was rock royalty.
The Evie James I’d met two years ago was a different girl. That Evie was buried under too many lies and so much shit, that she was literally about to suffocate. I could see her drowning in front of me, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to pull her out of the water or swim the other way so she didn’t take me down with her.