Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (31 page)

When I return from the back room, I dump all of the drinks onto the side counter where I usually have the portfolio books and announce, “I don’t know about you guys, but whenever I talk about emotional stuff, I need to have caffeine and sugar to get me through. I didn’t know what you guys liked so I brought a little bit of everything.”

Ashley turns to Allie, “I can leave if you need to talk to her privately. I totally understand.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about it at school, or at least you probably thought you did. People never actually bothered to ask me what was true. People assumed they knew what I was going through and if they didn’t know something they just made it up and it became like a sporting activity to spread nasty rumors,” Allie responds with a small shrug. “Finally, I just stopped fighting.”

Tears start to flow down Allie’s face as she digs around in her oversized tote bag and hands me a notebook. The notebook is dog-eared and torn. There are dark, rust colored stains on it. While I’m carefully holding this fragile item, Allie reaches across my hands and opens it. I’m confronted with a drawing of a pencil erasing a terrorist holding an assault rifle. As far as political cartoons go, this one is poignantly beautiful. I don’t know why she’s showing it to me. My confusion must be clearly conveyed as I look to her for an explanation.

Allie looks haunted as she responds, “Callum drew it for me after the newspaper attack in Paris. Of course, I didn’t know he was going to die in another terrorist attack — all he did was go to a concert.”

My heart breaks for her. I have my own secret piece of art like this. A scrap of paper turned into a memorial that I look at every time I take a shower. It’s my own reminder of a life cut unbelievably short.

I can’t stop myself, I reach out to hug her as I remark, “Memorial tattoos can be remarkably healing. I usually suggest inviting several members of the family. It’s like a little celebration of life event. How does his family feel about this since they’ll have to look at one of his drawings every time they see you?”

“I haven’t actually spoken to them. Callum and I couldn’t exactly be honest about our relationship because I didn’t turn eighteen until October, and we had actually been seeing each other for several months before Callum died. If anyone had found that out, he could have gotten in trouble, really big trouble. I don’t know that they even know that I exist, let alone that Callum and I were planning to get married as soon as he finished his degree.”

“Maybe you should tell them. Families are often desperate for tidbits about the last feelings and thoughts of their loved ones and that he stood up for something so worthwhile would make them so proud,” I suggest.

Allie wipes away a tear as she responds, “Yeah, being dead kinda makes the three year difference seem like not such a big deal, doesn’t it. What are they going to do? Punish him after he’s dead?”

Allie reminds me so much of myself. I felt the same way about Onyx. I knew so much about him that no one else knew but after he died, I never knew which secrets I should keep and which ones were safe to tell because nothing was going to happen to him even if the whole world knew — because now he was finally safe. “There’s a certain logic to that,” I acknowledge.
 

“I’m afraid. I haven’t told anyone, no one knows — I mean officially. People talk crap, sure. Nobody knows the real story. Even my parents don’t know anything about Callum. I don’t think anybody from his family knows. He might have told his brother, Mark, but I don’t know. Where do I even start telling people about our whole relationship history? People are going to think that I’m making it all up or that I’m lying to hurt people. That wasn’t our story at all. We just did it to protect our relationship. My oldest sister got pregnant when she was sixteen. I knew that my parents were not going to be okay with me dating an older guy. They would have never understood what I saw in Callum. Not to mention that he was everything my parents would absolutely hate on sight. He was an artist and a photojournalist. As much as he loved taking incredible pictures — and make no mistake, his photographs were spectacular; he even won some national awards for them — drawing political cartoons was his passion. One day, he wanted to make the cover of the New York Times. I want to be able tell his family all about the sides of him they didn’t even know about.”

Oh yes, I know all about the world of crushed dreams never realized because of a life cut too short. It is the saddest part for those of us left behind. We have to live with the knowledge of what should’ve been, could’ve been — what would have been possible if we could only go back and change that one split second in time.

Impulsively, I make Allie an offer, “Allie, you know at Ink’d Deep, we do memorial tattoos for free for service members and fallen police officers. Since your boyfriend was killed in a terrorist attack, I would like to extend that offer to you. If you want, I can go with you to meet his family. I have had a little bit of experience being the one left behind.”

“Why?” Allie asks me bluntly.

“Why what?” I clarify. “Doing memorial tattoos is just our way to give back to the community, we’ve done this for a really long time. It just seems like the right thing to do.”

“No, I get that,” Allie answers. “Why are you willing to do all the rest of it? You don’t know me and the part of me that you know, you probably don’t like because my friend was a jerk and I wasn’t much better.”

“The more I’m around you, the more I like you. We have a lot in common. I’m a little blunt and rough around the edges. Lord knows that my friends should never be judged by the way I am around people; I’m practically like a social wild animal. The social zookeepers let me out, but I have to be completely monitored at all times for fear that I’m going to do something wildly inappropriate. My good friends are pretty used to it by now, but newcomers are often a little stunned. Don’t let that worry you though, because I can be really diplomatic and spot on when it counts. I have my own reasons for wanting you to have the healthiest relationship possible with your boyfriend’s family. If I can help with that, I’d be honored.”

“I’d really like that. Callum had other drawings laying around and I think his family should have them. I just don’t know how to start the conversation. I’m sure that they would love to have them. It makes me sad to keep them knowing that they would cherish the memories if they only knew that they existed.”

“It might be best to wait a little while for your tattoo, but when I do it, that drawing is going to be phenomenal. I can’t wait to get started on it.”
 

I turn to Ashley Nicole and ask, “What about you? Do you have an idea?”

Ashley blushes all the way to the roots of her hair before she tentatively admits, “I don’t even know if this is a good idea. It seems like everyone else is getting this tattoo these days, and I don’t want people to think I just got it because it’s trending on twitter.”

I shrug as I answer, “It’s your body and your tattoo. If you like a design, own it and make it yours. Put your own little twist on it and just ignore what everyone else thinks.”

“You make it sound so easy, I wish I had your courage,” Ashley confesses as she flips through the portfolio again.

“Don’t worry about it. It gets easier the older you get. It took me while to grow a thicker skin. Look at me: purple hair with tattoos and piercings everywhere. I get comments all the time. It seems everyone and their cousin’s dog has an opinion about what I look like and what it means. They don’t know anything about me, but they seem to know all about my life based on a little piece of metal in my face. Piercing and tattoos are more popular now, but I’ve had these for years and when I first got them, they were considered odd. My advice is to get what you want because it doesn’t matter what art I put on your body, somebody’s going to disagree with your decision.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ashley agrees reluctantly.

“How about this,” I suggest, “I just did a huge back piece today and my shoulders are killing me. Why don’t you and Allie come back on another day when my arms don’t feel like spaghetti and she’s got this whole thing sorted with Callum’s family. Tell me about your design and I’ll come up with some preliminary sketches for you.”

“That’s a great idea,” Allie declares as she nods vigorously. “We could treat ourselves to our tattoos as a reward for surviving our first set of finals in college.”

“It will be if we actually survive,” remarks Ashley Nicole.

“I can’t help but notice you still haven’t told me your design,” I gently tease. “Is it a naked guy or something?”

Ashley turns bright red as she laughs nervously, “No, it’s not that complicated. It’s a really simple design actually, but it means a lot to me. It’s just a semicolon.”

Before I can fully absorb the impact of her announcement, Allie gasps and whispers, “I forgot that you knew Candace Jenkins.”

“She was my next-door neighbor when I was a kid,” Ashley explains tearfully. “They moved to another school district when her dad got a new job as the principal at the middle school. We kind of lost track after that. I didn’t mean to, but you know how it is... I heard she thought she didn’t have any friends. If only I had known—” she breaks off with a small sob. “We planned to be in each other’s weddings when we were little. We were going to be like ebony and ivory — two sides of the coin. Now, she’s just gone for no real reason. I saw her parents at the memorial service; they were so sad, it was hard to watch. Her little sister — oh my God! She may never be the same.”

I have to wipe away a tear before I answer quietly, my voice breaking, “No, I can promise you she will never be the same. Her life is forever changed.”

“Before Candace committed suicide, I have to be honest, I thought about it lots of times when my parents were getting a divorce. I thought that maybe the world would be a better place if I wasn’t here. After I saw what it did to Candy’s family and friends, I decided that I could never do that to the people I love.”

“I wish my brother would have made the same decision,” I admit as I wipe tears away.

“WHAT IN THE HELL IS she doing over there? She knows better than to start a tattoo and stop it in the middle. I thought she was ready to take over the business completely, but these days, I’m not so sure that she’s as dedicated to the business as she needs to be for me to be able to take a step back from Ink’d Deep,” Jett criticizes as he works on my rib cage and observes the interaction from across the shop. “Maybe she just doesn’t have the sense, this is a man’s world after all.”

The man is holding a sharp implement to a very tender part of my anatomy, so I don’t want to give away too much. He probably doesn’t need to know that I have more than a passing interest in Ink’d Deep’s beautiful young owner. Maybe it’s the long hair, my occupation or my current lack of permanent housing, but parental types like Jett are usually less than impressed by me. Street musicians are rarely who you wish for when you think of an appropriate suitor.
 

I stopped trying to justify who I am a really long time ago. I go where I’m wanted and if I’m not wanted, I leave. It’s pretty simple. If I’m honest with myself, it’s a little more complicated than that. Some weeks I do really well and can splurge a little and some weeks I eat a lot of rice and beans — or on some days, a whole lot of nothing. Lately though, I’ve been doing pretty well. I have a circuit of places that I’ve been playing that seem to like me a lot and tip pretty well. It’ll be interesting to see how that all changes after the beginning of the year when everyone’s vacation is over and life goes back to normal.

“For freak’s sake, now she’s crying over customers?” Jett mutters under his breath as he surreptitiously watches Jade. “What happened to my daughter who was hard as ice and never let anything bother her? I taught her to be tougher than that. Where’s her game face? Just a minute, Declan, I gotta go talk some sense into my daughter. For some reason, she’s decided to be a girly-girl. She wasn’t this emotional when she was five.”

For some reason, I feel oddly protective of Jade. I’ve been hanging out at Ink’d Deep for a few years. I like the vibe here. They play lots of retro music and the artwork is phenomenal. Jett Petros gave me my first tattoo here a few years back, but frankly, I prefer Jade’s style. She does amazing line work and shading. Her black and white tattoos have incredible depth. They look like they are going to leap off of your skin. I watch as Jade takes a few swigs of an energy drink. “Looks like she’s got it handled. If you talk to her now, you might just embarrass her,” I suggest.
 

“You got that right, Ailín. She’s as touchy as her mom when it comes to that crap. I don’t dare say a word that makes Diamond look weak.”

“I could see that. Your wife is one scary woman. I was at the library the other day, writing lyrics and I threw some paper away instead of recycling it and I thought Diamond was going to recycle
me
. If I hadn’t been ready to go on the road for a gig, I think she was planning to make me check out books on recycling. She takes her duties as a librarian seriously.”