I walk toward the garbage can under my sink then pour the cookie remains into my mouth. Movement catches my eye, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears when I turn quickly to find nothing.
I can’t help it. I run as if the devil’s chasing me and burrow under my covers as if I’m a little girl keeping the monster away. I clutch my extra pillow and fall asleep.
* * *
Surprisingly, my dreams do not include furry animals, and I wake rested and armed with a plan. My coffee cup clatters in the sink full of dishes when I deposit it, and I grab my phone to check my calendar for today's appointments. I'm booked solid but can stay late to gather what I need.
The idea of leaving clients in the lurch again scratches at guilt. Even more so, I feel bad about leaving my best friend, Sierra. Being a female tattoo artist is tough, and I wish I could keep her safe from the likes of men like Ray.
I don't look forward to telling her. I picture her eyes widening in her face, which is framed by jet-black hair cut in a bob. Sierra has talent. An art school drop-out, that girl can draw and has a modern style heavy on the florals that women love. Eager to prove herself, she practices with every spare moment she gets when working the desk.
I’ve made my way to the bathroom, and mint stings my mouth as I brush my teeth and take a good look at myself in the mirror. In a baggy T-shirt and loose jeans, I've stopped trying. I should do something about that. My father's voice plays in my head. You're going to be full of curves and soft places, just like your mother. Ignore those skinny girls because you're a knockout.
I whip off my tee as I walk to my bedroom, and it lands on my bed with a whoosh. I slip into a tight cotton tank top instead. I'm so not thrilled with the roll around my middle that shows now, but guys will be looking at my large tits anyway, and maybe they won't notice.
I grab a claw-like clip and return to the bathroom to tame my wavy hair with a loose up-do. Strands curl softly around my face. Smiling at myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, I'm happy to go to work today. I rub my tat lightly with a finger, and my smile widens as a twinge in my core makes me shudder. I envision my dream guy behind me, giving me a smoldering stare that captures mine and feeds my desire. It makes my smile grow.
4
Chapter 4
Sierra
The strong smell of fuck-me perfume floats toward my nose when a spray-tanned girl enters Tattoo Junkie. Skinny as a rail with fake hair, she's got to be a skank. The way she looks me over with disgust makes me hate her. I'm her worst nightmare with pale skin, sleeves of tattoos, and flesh on my bones.
"Is Ray here?" Even her voice is fake with its singsong lilt.
I hop off the gray reception counter in the almost sterile waiting area. "You must be his two o'clock. Leesa?"
She giggles. "That's me."
I walk her over to his tattoo room and watch Ray's face light up. A lanky attractive guy, right now he has a predatory look in his eyes that makes me think he wants to poke her with more than a needle.
I do a mental eye roll. "Leesa is here for you."
He stands and flexes a bit under his tight tee. Yeah, he plans to do her if she'll let him. What a fucktard. Carly will be here any minute, and she doesn't need to hear that. They broke up a couple months ago, and I can tell she still has a thing for him. Of course, hearing him grunting like a pig wouldn't be bad, because he never stopped screwing around when they dated. The reminder might help her get over him.
I hop back up on the counter with my sketchbook and start to draw when the door opens.
Like it's a beacon, the first thing I see is the tattoo on the inside of Carly’s wrist. It shocks me because she swore she would remain clean as a whistle until the right one called to her. "Whoa! You finally got one." My black heels click when I hop down to grab her wrist.
When I inspect it, my brow furrows. This is what I've been trying to draw. "This is a sweet design, but I'm kind of freaked out right now."
"Why?"
I don't let go of her hand when she tries to pull away. "Because I've been dreaming about it, but I couldn't draw it. You nailed it. It's your work, right?"
I stroke the tattoo, and Carly yanks her arm away. Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks redden. What is she embarrassed about? I'm the one getting off on furry things in my dreams. She answers. "Yeah, I did it. Tell me about your dream."
Carly is probably a little too vanilla to understand, so I don't get into the sex part. "Um, the image just appears." I wave my hand in the air. "Kind of like Batman's signal." I chuckle and then say, "I can't really describe it, but it sticks with me, and I keep trying to draw it."
"Yeah, it was--"
We're interrupted by Ray opening his door to let a flushed-faced Leesa walk out of his room. His shit-eating grin tells me he got what he wanted, and I grimace. He says, "Ladies, it's a beautiful day for body art, isn't it?"
A low sound of disgust escapes me. "It sure is. Did you see Carly's tattoo?"