My life was filled with distractions. My addictions, at least by my own self-diagnosis, were all a result of me attempting to rid myself of the things that lingered in my mind. Never an easy task, the objects and events of my past seemed to not only overtake my thoughts, but become part of who I was.

I had always felt a joint or a drink was the best way to minimize my recurring thoughts and clear my mind. Now, even though I could declare sobriety as being something I had obtained, the distractions continued, but were in a different form.

“Listen, I’m not going to have you here fucking with me the entire time I’m trying to tattoo her. I promise, I’m not going to try and fuck her tonight. Hell, maybe never, I don’t know. But tonight? It’s not going to happen,” I said as I pilfered through my drawer full of tattoo machines.

“Gorgeous bitch like that? Dude, she’ll be sucking your cock as soon as you’re done with the shoulder piece. You and I both know it. She made that late appointment for a reason, she wants you,” Tyler said as he stood from his stool.

I shook my head as I gazed into the drawer, eventually shifting my eyes in his direction.

“You can be a prick sometimes. I’m trying to get better. I might end up wanting to do something with her, but it’s going to be a long time, and I’m gonna to do it right. Seriously, I’m getting better,” I tried to assure him.

“Lemme ask you a question,” he said.

“Ask away,” I responded.

“When she came in earlier, was she wearing her glasses?” he asked.

I nodded my head as I pulled the machine with the knurled brass grip from the drawer.

“Fuck yes, I knew this was in here,” I said as I admired the machine.

“Answer the question, Blake,” he said.

“Glasses? Yeah, she can’t see without them,” I responded.

“Whatever. Did she have her hair in a fucking ponytail?” he asked.

“Yeah, she had a ponytail, she’d been at the gym.”

“You’re a fucking blind idiot,” he huffed. “Tell me this, what was she wearing?”

I stood from my seat and placed the tattoo machine on the bench beside my box.

“Listen. She’s not what you think.”

“Oh really? Okay, tell me what you know about her, Detective,” he said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I know her name and her birthday. I know she seems a little nervous around me, and that’s a good sign. I know that she seems genuinely interested, and this isn’t the typical client-aritst…”

“You don’t know shit. Who wouldn’t seem nervous around you, you weird fuck?” he interrupted.

“Fuck you,” I snapped back.

“No dude. Fuck you. You asked for my help, and I’m trying to give it. You’re justifying things. You’re setting yourself up for a failure. You’re going to bend that chick over and shove her full of cock. It’s what you do, you can’t help yourself. Let me ask you something. One more question, then I’ll leave you alone,” he said as he lowered his arms and walked in my direction.

“Fine.”

“What was she wearing?” he asked.

“When?”

He stared down at the floor. After a long moment of appearing frustrated, he shifted his eyes upward. His gaze was one of question and concern.

“When she graduated high school, you dumb ass. Jesus. What was she wearing when she came in today? You know, when she stopped in out of the blue to get her shirt that she didn’t need and she very fucking well could have got when she came in later on today. What was she wearing?” he asked.

“Sports bra, workout shoes, and some of those little shorts,” I shrugged.

“Those little shorts? Jean shorts? Those big oversized swishy fuckers that the softball players wear? Cargo shorts? What kind of shorts, Blake?” he asked in a more demanding tone.

“Boy shorts,” I responded.

“Boy shorts?” he laughed, “She wore boy shorts?”

I nodded my head.

“Ass cheeks hanging out and everything, right?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Fuck I don’t know.”

“The fuck you don’t. She came in here half fucking naked and got a shirt she didn’t need. She’s testing you, Dude. She’s probably going to plop her face in your lap and swallow your rod and ask if you can do that piece while she sucks you off. Wait and see,” he said as he spun around and stomped toward his work station.

“She’s not a skank,” I said.

“Oh really? Comes in here with her ass falling out of some spandex underwear and her nipples so hard they can cut a fucking diamond, and she’s not a skank. Her nipples were hard, weren’t they?” he asked over his shoulder.

I was done listening to him. His efforts to keep me from acting on my addictive behavior had become more than annoying. I glanced at the clock. It was fifteen minutes until four.

“Listen,” I paused, cleared my throat, and changed my tone to a harsh demanding one.

“You said you’re waiting on walk-ins? Well, go home. You’re done for the day,” I barked as I pointed toward the door.

“Fuck that. I’m staying. Someone’s got to keep your dumb ass in line,” he responded.

“No. This is my shop. You’re fucking done. Now, get the fuck out in the next fifteen minutes,” I growled as I pointed toward the back door, “I’m going to go smoke and when I come back in here you better be gone.”

He waved his hand my direction as he turned toward the door. “Fine, Asshole. I hope that little bitch brings in a sack of weed, an eight ball of coke, and a jug of fucking scotch. And I hope you fall down on her dick first. I’ll be gone, don’t fucking worry. I’m about done trying to help you.”

I reached for my cigarettes, pulled one out, and rolled the remaining pack into my shirt sleeve. As I tapped the butt of the cigarette onto the face of my watch I walked toward the door.

“I smoke fast, so you better fucking hurry,” I said as I pushed the door open.

I stepped onto the sidewalk, leaned against the wall, and lifted my shaking hand to my mouth. Tyler may have become the brother I always wanted, but since my attempt at sobriety, he was more and more protective of me with each passing day. His manner of sheltering me from myself - at least when it came to Riley - was becoming more aggressive in nature than what I was comfortable with.

The cigarette calmed my nerves and allowed me to come back down to earth. As I took my last drag and prepared to toss the butt into the street, I recognized the headlights of Riley’s BMW.

I glanced at my watch.

Five minutes early.

Long before I suspected she noticed me, I flicked the cigarette aside and turned toward the shop. A precursory glance through the glass indicated Tyler had taken my advice. As I pushed the door open, the empty stool at his work station confirmed my suspicion.

I would spend the night alone.

Well, not exactly, but as close to alone as I wanted to be.