Save Me: A TAT Novella

Copyright © 2014 by Melanie Walker All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2014

ISBN

This book is dedicated to Noah and all he stands for in my world. When I created Noah I saw this party boy with a damaged heart. I always knew he couldn’t have it all over night, but even as I wrote him, built him and created him in my mind… I saw him as strength. I started writing him with one thought in mind: What would I do?

Whatever my answer was I did the opposite, it was the only way I could make him real. I have seen addiction and so I know, if I ever, God forbid, were in his shoes, I’d never fall to an addiction and so he became an addict.

When I was going through my divorce after Trust Me I again asked myself what would I do, and in that light I killed Candy. I was fighting letting go of being a wife and so through Noah I gave him no choice.

There is so much of me in him, and it’s because we are fully opposites (With the exception of Alice in Chains worship). Noah is my alter ego, my inner God and everything he stands for, his strengths and weaknesses are mine reversed. Where he shines; I suffer. Where he suffers; I shine. Noah Beckett has changed my life and I love him so deeply. He is next to impossible to write. Where you guys ugly cry at the pain he endures, I am ripped to shreds because I get it on a different level. I know that at times you all hate me for what I put him through, but I promise if you stick with us to the end you’ll see him shine brighter than any star in the sky, love harder than any of the TAT guys and live in a way that will make you scream out in joy. It is NOW that I start the real story of Noah and you will absolutely hate me, hate him, love me and love him before I finish this series. But I promise you will understand in time why he needed to hit rock bottom…

So to Noah… you will rise my sweet and I will watch you, smiling in joy and relishing in such a beautifully broken man. You are the most epic of Bad Boys and you define it by simply being you. You are my hero in a world where hero’s can be broken. Thank you for Saving me along the way, now allow me to save you.

Acknowledgements

Otto Sturdivant for the rad cover, for letting me mold Sam after you and for being a patient and killer friend.

Jason Olson for always knowing my book Tat’s better than I do, but also for being such an amazing friend…hope you like the intro to Seven,

Aaron Bremer because you are loyal, loving and so to the point.

Mandey and Johnny Kuyper and all the misfits for being the best people I know. I love you guys!

My kids but mostly my TreyBug who brags to everyone he knows that his mom is an author.

Jessika Harper for helping me with Save me and being such a rad new friend. Girly, you are going to explode in this world of Indie’s because your talent is beautiful.

My Beta Readers: Cheryl, Stacy and Andrea- you are all loyal because you never fear telling me when I suck.

No 
one teaches you how to walk away from someone who you know loves you. No one teaches you how to say good-bye.

Hussein Nishah

Save Me

TAT A Rocker Romance Novella

By Melanie Walker

10 pm the night before the wedding….

Chad Blake

“Dude…” Cal says with his eyes drawn in. “A tramp stamp?” He’s laughing and I knew the guys would give me shit for this tat, but I needed my expression of love for my girl, where hers was for me. So small of the back it was.

I take out the black and white photo of Carrie holding our daughter Noelle and pass it to Noah. “Blue tones so it looks old.” I say indicating the color of the grays I want to use for the tattoo. I have a whole plan for the ‘something borrowed something blue’ tradition and this tattoo is her something blue.

I never thought I would be the romantic type but after falling for Carrie and actually succeeding in making her happy and mine, well, I can’t deny the fact I’m a sap these days.

“Think she’ll like it?” I ask Noah, because he is the only person who knows her better than me.

“Trust me bro, she’ll love it….almost as much as she’ll love my something new.” Noah winks and shrugs his shoulders and I know what the ‘something new’ is, and yeah he has me there.

“Still though….it’s a tramp stamp.” Cal says obviously refusing to let this go.

“Fucker let me educate you.” I say and grab a bottle of Modello off the counter in Noah’s kitchen and go to straddle one of his kitchen chairs. “A tramp stamp is for one, on a female. Two, they are usually one of five designs. A butterfly, a sun, flowers, pistols or tribal bands. They come along the line of low cut jeans and higher than the band of thongs.” I snatch the picture from Noah and hand it to Cal. “This is a picture of my soon to be wife and newborn daughter and its going in the exact same spot as the verse from Elegy XIX that Carrie has on her lower back.” I look at him, drilling him with my ‘don’t fuck with me’ stare. “That verse symbolized her innocence. Are you gonna tell me she bares a tramp stamp too?”

Cal being Cal, just rolls his eyes and calls me a pussy.

“Noah, hook me up with a tat when you’re done with this pansy.” Shamus says and takes a bag of pretzels from the cupboard and sits back with a beer pointing at me.

“What you thinking?” I ask and snake some of the pretzels as Noah sets up to do the line drawing of my girls.

“My dad’s name in
Old English
on my ribs.”

We all nod in respect to the internal fight Shame has made trying to forgive his old man for the years of turmoil they had after his saint of a mom died.

“Yeah I’ll hook it up.” Noah says, keeping his eyes on the machine as he sets his mag.

“I’ll do it?” I ask out of respect for the tattoo itself. I knew it didn’t matter if Noah or I did it. “As long as you hold still, we can do em’ at the same time.”

Shame shrugs with a nod and I look to Cal. “Can you head out to my truck and get me my bag?” I ask, referring to my tattoo kit. I don’t work the machine anymore, but still take my gear with me everywhere I go.

Cal nods, still looking at his phone like he wants to chuck it. “Yo?” I yell getting his attention. “What’s up?”

He slips his phone in the pocket of his hoodie before standing. “Nothing, just reading a text.” He doesn’t offer up more information, but he doesn’t have to. Lately he and Tay have been at each other’s throats and we all knew damn well who was giving him the stink face.

I look at Shame and Noah for insight. Cal Dorian tripping over any girl- for any reason, is out of the realm of normal. “You guys have any insight on the two of them?” I ask. Shame shakes his head no and Noah completely disregards my question.

“Ready?” He asks and scoots in behind me preparing to lay the transfer to my skin.

“Yeah.” I say taking my cue that he knows exactly what’s doing between them but he won’t be talking.

Fifteen hours later….

Wedding Day

Chad Blake

This place is plastered in bright pink roses, bright pink daisy’s, bright pink lily’s. All this pink mesh stuff too, lined and bunched around little white twinkle lights and giant black pillar candles lining the isle.

It was happening. In about thirty minutes. All day my mind was drifting to memories of Carrie and I in the beginning, but today all I can think about was the moment her lips uttered the words all in to me.

Her hair was a mess and her hat was on backward. She’d just gotten a tattoo that day. I had originally used that as my excuse to go into the Joint. It all came to a blinding clarity that morning when she had walked into the shop for her appointment with Noah…

“So maybe a butterfly, but with the wings broken.” The tatterfly on my table was saying. I was trying desperately not to roll my eyes. “Maybe we could do some words around it saying ‘Wild hearts can’t be broken?”

Jesus the days of quality tattooing were getting thin. The bigger Thick as Thieves got the more my clientele became cheap women, all with the same idea. I hated tattooing someone for the wrong reasons. Despised it.

These women came in with full pockets and an agenda. No idea that the same five chicks on my table before them all had the same rendition of her tattoo. They wanted me, Noah, even a shot at Cal or Shame.

The tattoo was the way in.

We were to blame for their behavior though. We were the bad boys of Gig Harbor, and we had made that name for ourselves with our actions. Our music drew the real fans in, and sure it got us laid, but we played with purpose.

Same with tattooing.

Noah and I loved art and tattoos. Being the artist behind that machine was a gig we never complained about.

In my twenties and single, I had made a name for myself as a musician, an artist and a damn good lay…all things I had once prided myself on until recently.

Noah’s sister Carrie, was home for the summer. Like all the years before, I was in constant hard-on mode when she was around. There was something about her I couldn’t name. She was sweet and innocent, but her innocence wasn’t the pure prude virgin type. It was more in your face than that. The Beckets weren’t innocent. They were badasses and Noah would kill me if he only knew just how deep I was in when it came to baby sis. He had an idea, but not the truth.

He’s known all along that I have wanted to date Carrie. Even though he called bullshit every time I brought it up. If I would have known that all my years as a bed hopping man whore would keep me from attaining the one woman I wanted most, I’d have been a saint and waited for her.

I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew that she deserved more than what I could offer on paper. I swore to myself on her eighteenth birthday, that if I was ever presented with the chance to date Carrie Becket and make her mine, I’d play every card, master every trick and make any deal, with any devil, to keep her.

Little had I known that Carrie, now almost twenty-one, was paying attention to me? We had been working a lot of shifts at the Joint together and I was stopping in more frequently to get a hit of my new favorite drug: her.

God she was beautiful, I use that term loosely. Carrie radiates awesome and vivacity. She always wears this lip shit that smells like peaches and whip cream… I swear to fuck it’s an aphrodisiac. Every time she places that stick to her lips and swirls the shimmery gloss, I leak pre cum from watching.

I’d stopped seducing chicks and sleeping with them a few months back. I couldn’t take wondering anymore. I had to try and get her to see me for more than Noah’s friend and the local male slut.

Lately…well…that was happening and much to Noah’s dislike.

Now here she comes, into Slave to the Needle and looking like every wet dream I have ever had. She’s wearing those yoga pants, that hug every fucking curve, with a thin strapped tank top that shows me the smooth skin along her shoulders and neck.  Black flip flops on her feet, her toes manicured in, come-fuck-me-red. Every single centimeter of her body makes me salivate and my dick is getting hard just seeing her in my space, my element. I’m fucked entirely if Noah ever caves and lets her come to one of our shows.

The tatterfly on my table notices my dick straining in my jeans and immediately assumes it’s for her. She places her hand on my thigh and amps her flirting. Chad Blake six months ago, would have closed off the partition and fucked her right then and there. Chad Blake today… just groans in protest . I can’t tell this girl ‘no my dick isn’t into you, it’s into that right there…’ I need the money and tatterflies, though annoying and against everything I believe in, pay my bills. I live with my grandpa and have my whole life, we take care of each other and the tatterfly business keeps gramps in bingo and a social life to rival mine.

So, I turn my wistful stare from Carrie and give my undivided attention to the tatterfly I’m about to ink. Carrie watches as I flirt with my client. She makes her way to Noah’s booth. Her eyes are telling me what her lips did last night.

To prove it.

I would.

Right then, the look she gave me as she passed me by, marked my fate. I’d go all in and risk fate for just a chance.

“Fuck man!” Cal snaps at me, waving his hands in front of my face to pull my attention from the memory of when it all changed for me. “Are you having second thoughts? Because if so, I am not calling you a cab so you can bail out.”

“Shut up jackass.” I say aware he is only half kidding. He wouldn’t face Carrie or Noah’s wrath if I had cold feet and ran. He didn’t need to worry though. I couldn’t wait to say I do and make her mine irrevocably.  “I was thinking about the day I asked her out for the first time. She’d come into Slave to the Needle earlier that day and I was tatting a chick. I remember the look she gave me when she walked past my booth. That look changed my life.”

I expect him to roll his eyes as he always does when we talk about our girls. He’s the lone TAT guy who is single, with no plans to change. But, right now, he looks at me like he understands… and then shocks me with his response. “It’s the eyelashes right?”

I’m kind of dumbfounded and unsure what he means. Is he talking Carries eyelashes or someone else’s? Before I can ask, he keeps talking, shocking me more. “It’s this look where their lashes kind of fall halfway, but their eyes are on you, reading way more than you’re comfortable with. Right?”

What. The. Literal. Fuck. Is. He. Talking. About?

“Huh?” Is all I say. Not only is he right, he also says it like he knows exactly the moment I’m talking about. Expecting an explanation, he just rolls his eyes, telling me to ‘fuck off’ before walking away.

I am confused.

Was I supposed to offer more than huh?

Was he attempting to let me in on some big secret? Is it possible he is in love?

I’m literally questioning my manhood here. I am fascinated by the possibility, as well as eager, to know who this half lidded lady is. Big deal if she is making Cal Dorian wax poetic and shit.

Then, I spot Tayla walking toward him slow and sure. It’s so far out of her usual fast-paced-business-mode self, that I catch myself paying attention. I watch, her hand slides along the lapel of his tuxedo, as she turns her face to the side, smiling at something he just whispered into her ear. I watch his hand possessively (if you will) grasp at her hip in a vain attempt to keep her closer…and then I saw it. Her eyes going half mast as she stares at him licking her lips…

Oh my fucking god.

Ohmyfuckinggod!!!!

I feel like Mike Stapleton right now!

I have to tell someone we know what just happened.

I refuse to be that guy… so I decide the next best thing… and quickly text Carrie.

You will never guess who Cal is fucking!!!!

Her response was immediate.

First off baby, ew! Don’t say fucking unless you’re talking about us. Second…um who?

I laugh to myself and respond all giddy and shit like a fucking girl.

So pathetic I know.

Tayla!!!

Then I send another so she knows I caught her point.

And I’ll be fucking you in every position, in every room. On the hour- every hour, for the next ten days baby ;)

Again her response was immediate.

Ohmyfuckinggaaaaawd!!!!!

Then another one right after.

Stop trying to get me wet, you’ll ruin the fact I’m wearing no panties.

Holy shit!

Oh my fuck, you just gave me a boner in a five thousand dollar tux.

Her response:

:p

My response:

Yeah I’ll use your tongue later baby xoxo

And I leave it at that. I know I’ve got her thinking of the next ten days. Though I’m as hard as a base-ball bat, I’m on cloud fucking nine and anxious to get this show on the road.

*

I hear the acoustic sounds of a guitar start to play, and every nerve in my body settles knowing this is it. A few months back, we were searching for songs that Carrie would walk down the aisle to. She found this song on
youtube
. It was our poem, our Elegy, that some guy on
youtube
channel
joelspenser’s
channel
had recorded…and it rocked.