The buzzing sound of the tattooing machine relaxes me at the point I am completely absorbed in my thoughts while working on my customer’s leg.

‘Grace has not come’.

It’s middle afternoon and by now she is at work. I hate to admit it, but this bugs me. I suddenly regret having been polite this morning. It doesn’t go this way. They always show up when I invite them to my shop. They giggle and flirt and then they are mine. What’s with this girl?  I wonder.  

“Ouch!” The client frowns.

“Sorry, Nate.” I realize I pressed the needle a little bit too much into the skin of my client, and that hasn’t happened since I was just an apprentice at my friend’s studio. 

‘Shit!’

“Ok let’s take a little break. Go smoke a cigarette outside if you like,” I tell him.

“Oh ok, that’d be cool! I really need it.” The young man replies.

Once he is gone I call my sister, “Hey Chelsea? Anybody called for me?” 

She’s also my secretary at my main studio.  I wait a couple of seconds before she walks in. 

“Um, yeah, two guys booked the day, like in six months from now? You are fucking full before that!”

“Yeah, alright, that’s it?” 

“No, actually Ashley called.  She said she needs to talk to ya but you weren’t answering your phone. I was gonna come and tell ya but I know better not to interrupt when you are working, so.”  She giggles.

“Oh, yeah, ok. Fuck her.” She’s only one of the many girls I got laid with last month. Some of them don’t get it right off the bat, and despite being always clear with them, they sometimes try to get in touch anyway. That’s never going to happen, though. I don’t date women. I fuck them. Only once. That’s my rule.

“It’s good to know how much you love your women after all.”  My sister squeals sarcastically before going back sitting at her desk in the small but very trendy lobby.

“Yeah, it’s great to know I have a cool sister reminding me that all the time!” I growl.

“Shut up Zac!”  I hear her squeaking.

 

At the end of the session, my eyes ache and I feel dizzy. I need to go lift some weights at my building’s gym. There is a lot of machinery I don’t have in my loft, so I often use that too. But before that, I need to do something important.

“Alright, Chelsea I’m outta here. Gonna visit dad. You coming?” I tell my sister while grabbing my black leather jacket.

“Oh yeah, Zac!” She frowns. Her eyes get watery. “I’ll go a little later ok?”

“Sure. See ya tomorrow.” I groan, before stepping out of the shop.

“Ok see ya!” She squeals.

***

 

It’s almost twilight.  I’m standing in front of my father’s grave. Today’s been five years since he died, alone in his house.  My mother left him for another man when I was a teenager and I think my dad never really recovered from that. He took care of me and Chelsea, but he wasn’t the same man anymore. “Women are all a bunch of whores, don’t ever fall in love or they’ll screw your entire life.” He’d tell me when my sister wasn’t present. 

I didn’t want to believe him. Women were not like he said. He couldn’t be right.  But one day when I was a high school freshman I did fall in love. My first love.

We dated and spent time together almost every day. Until one day she left me without explanation like my mom did with my dad.

“I’m sorry Zac, I think we better stay friends,” she had said. A tear glided down one of her plump smooth cheeks.

“But why? I love you, Kate!” I frowned.

“I’m sorry Zac,” she repeated, just before standing and running away.

I was left on that bench, alone. I cried for days and I skipped school for a week.  But then something changed.

‘I don’t wanna end up like dad.’

I didn’t want to die alone, heartbroken, with two children to raise. I promised myself that would have never happened to me. Never.

I started enjoying life in every possible way, and that meant girls too. I made the oath of never getting involved again. I’d never fall for a woman again. From that day I’ve become smooth with women and careless. And the funny thing was the more indifferent I was, the more girls I seemed to attract. Wow, that’s awesome! I thought at the time. None of them ever got me into a romantic kind of way though. I have always managed to put a wall between me and them, and I completely sealed my heart.

I crouch on the ground and touch the white stone. There’s a thin layer of dirt on it. My eyes get watery. I swallow my own saliva feeling a notch in my throat.

“You said it right daddy.” I murmur.  “Never trust women. Never fall in love,” I repeat his words.

“Rest in peace. I love ya dad.” I slowly get up and stand, staring at the grave for a few seconds; then I leave.

I take the subway to get back home. A couple of teenagers are joking around, loudly and annoyingly, but my mind is elsewhere. Before getting into my building I stop at ‘D’Agostino’ to get fruit and vegetables. Once in my loft, I change outfit and head down to the building’s gym. I start with half an hour on the treadmill, and then I attack the weight training machines. I’m sweating profusely, and I feel the urge to take off my T-shirt, remaining with my torso exposed. Is there something wrong with the air conditioning?  I wonder, annoyed by the unusual heat.

I lay on the pectoral bench and I grab the bar lowering it on my chest and lifting it up and down for ten reps. I do it three times with a few seconds break between one series and the other. Then I stand. My breath catching. My pectorals red and swollen.

I grab my power drink and I chug it thirstily, smacking my lips satisfyingly afterward, and when I turn to use the ‘lat–machine’, I see her.

‘Shit!’  

Grace is walking on a treadmill, apparently reading something, and she doesn’t seem to have noticed me. I don’t want to talk to her. I’ve been polite against my nature this morning.

Knowing I completely don’t care about that bitch, I walk nonchalantly past the treadmill she’s using, and without even looking at her I blurt, “Weren’t ya supposed to be at work?”