8. LeviBrigham, Who Knows?
eight
Thursday, it rained. I liked the rain. I liked the way puddles on the sidewalk created reflective pools. It made it seem as if the world had flipped upside down, and we were walking in the sky. I could relate to that. As a kid, though, I hated rain. Maybe because my mom would always say, “Don’t you love the rain, kids? Think of your baptism day. It’s like Heavenly Father is washing away all of the sins of the world and making it clean again.”
The sins of the world.
Bullshit.
The world was full of people who tried, messed up, and tried again. Sin was a construct invented for the purpose of control.
I headed out the front door of my hotel and straight into the rain without an umbrella. Let it try to wash away my sins.
Thea stood several yards away, dressed all in black. She fixed her intense gaze right on me, making my heart race. Thea looked beautiful standing in the rain under a bright yellow umbrella. It made me think of her squishy yellow couch and her favorite yellow mug that she insisted I use when I made tea for her last night. Where did the yellow fit into her black, purple, emo vibe? Maybe it represented the glow inside, whether she realized it or not. Maybe the yellow kept her vibrant and living when things in her head got too dark.
I still thought my initial impression of Thea as a wounded goddess was spot on. She fought her demons with her head held high. I had nothing but respect for that.
“You ready?” she grinned at me.
I shrugged. “We’ll see.” A random Thursday in a random city was as good a time as any to get my first tattoo. I’d decided to bite the bullet and let my family and co-workers think what they may. “So, how do you know this super-talented tattoo artist?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Uh, we dated.” Thea crossed the street, and I hurried to keep up.
“Recently? Seriously?”
Thea shrugged. “We broke up maybe six months ago, and he moved out a few weeks later.”
Jealousy twisted my stomach and laced my words with accusation. “Oh, so you lived with this dude?”
Thea stopped walking and raised an eyebrow. “I realize you weren’t allowed to live with people before marriage, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
I blinked and froze. Thea thought I was judging her. I hadn’t meant to, but I did come off critically. “No, I’m not judging.” I tried to backpedal. How else could I explain my reaction without telling her I had feelings for her? “I —”
“It’s right up here.” Thea cut me off and gestured toward a tattoo studio named Dark Horse. “Blane blocked out three hours for you today, so we’re not going to be able to get anything huge or detailed, but it should still be cool. He’s been doing this for over ten years and is now one of the most sought-after tattoo artists in the area.”
She pulled open the front door of Dark Horse, and we stepped inside a small but edgy reception area. The walls were painted black and adorned with artistic framed photos of tattoos. One, in particular, caught my eye— a woman’s back from shoulder to tailbone, transformed into dragon wings.
Well, shit. If all of these photographs depicted Blane’s work, he had more artistic talent in his pinky than I had in my entire body. So did Thea.
A back door opened, and a man walked out. He immediately became my least favorite person on the planet.
Thea’s ex-boyfriend looked like he ate dudes like me for breakfast.
How does one get biceps that large? I almost asked that out loud but luckily spared myself the humiliation.
“Blane, my favorite asshole.” Thea smirked and folded her arms.
Blane walked around the counter, wrapped his massive tattooed biceps around her slender waist, and lifted her with his embrace.
Thea gasped, and he set her down, saying, “Baby, when can I come home?” Blane winked at her and played with the end of her braid.
Thea patted his smooth cheek and smiled. “Baby. Never.”
Blane groaned and pressed his hands together in mock prayer, staring into her eyes with a playful, flirty look.
Was he wearing eyeliner? What a tool.
I cleared my throat, ready to stop watching Thea flirt with her ex. Maybe I was prepared to walk out of there completely. Did I even want a tattoo? And if I did, did I want this guy to do it? Did I honestly want Thea’s ex-boyfriend to ink me up with his art?
Thea glanced at me and backed away from Blane. “Hey, this is Levi, and he needs his first tattoo.”
“‘Sup, Levi.” Blane reached out to shake my hand and crushed my fingers. What was that? Some alpha show of power? And Thea found this attractive? Anger burned deep in the pit of my stomach.
I gave Blane a nod, too pissed off to speak without my voice betraying my anger.
“So, what sort of ink are you looking for, man?” Blane headed back behind the counter and leaned forward with his elbows resting on the shiny black surface.
Thea studied me for a moment and then answered for me, “We talked about a compass on his shoulder or maybe a broken chain.”
We did talk about that when we were high in my hotel room a few nights ago. We also managed to unlock all of life’s mysteries with those edibles. I couldn’t tell you what they are now, though.
“Sure,” Blane nodded, addressing Thea as if I weren’t even in the room. “A shoulder compass is classic.” He tore his eyes away from Thea’s chest and slid a black binder toward me. “Why don’t you check out some of these designs and tell me what you’re into.” Blane flipped through a few pages until he located a spread of compasses. Then, he immediately turned his attention back to Thea.
“Baby, you’re looking so damn hot. I like you with long hair.”
Thea threw her head back and laughed. This laugh didn’t sound right, though. It wasn’t that free, genuine sound I’d grown to love. “Baby, you know I love it when you call me baby, but you need to stop.”
I stared at the page of compasses without seeing a single thing.
Blane stepped closer to Thea, close enough to touch her. “Why can’t I call you baby?” He glanced over at me, and we made eye contact. Blane’s dark, angry eyes told me to back down. I squared my jaw and stared back at him, refusing to look away first. Finally, Blane turned to Thea and hissed, “That dude? Are you dating him?”
All eyes were on Thea as we waited for her response. What did she honestly think about the idea of dating me?
Thea laughed.
She laughed.
My stomach sank, and my brain could hardly process her words as she answered her ex-boyfriend. “No, Blane. I’m not seeing anyone. I don’t want you to call me baby because I never liked it, and you have a listening problem.”
I slammed Blane’s book of designs shut. Thea found the idea of dating me laughable. Of course, she did. Why would someone like her be interested in someone like me? I was a pathetic project to her, nothing more.
I found my voice and cut Blane off as he tried to convince Thea that she did, in fact, enjoy being called baby. “I think I’m good on the tattoo, man. Thanks for your time.” I pushed open the door and strode into the autumn rain without waiting for a response from anyone.
A few seconds into my walk of shame and fury, Thea yelled after me, “Levi! What the hell?”
I didn’t turn. This friendship wasn’t going to work. I had feelings, she didn’t, and my trip to Durango would be over in two days. I had a whole mess of a life to figure out back in Cedar City, Utah. I might as well get a move on that.
A few seconds later, Thea managed to catch up with me. She shoved my arm and yelled again, “What the hell? I had to talk to my awful ex to get you that appointment! And you’re going to walk out like an asshole? I told you that you didn’t have to do it! Why did you agree to it?” Rain beaded on her gorgeous face and dampened her twisted Viking princess braid. She’d left her yellow umbrella in Blane’s studio.
He’d be more than happy to return it to her later.
I thought about answering Thea’s question, but then her laugh replayed in my head—the sound she made when she thought about us together. Knife in my fucking heart. I kept walking.
“Seriously?” She shouted at my back. “This is how you want to play things all of a sudden? I spend two weeks doing shit for you, and now I get the silent treatment?”
Finally, I turned. The rain fell harder now, soaking straight through my light jacket. “Stop doing shit for me then. I’m not a sad little charity case. I don’t need your pity or your help.” I kept my voice level and calm. My stony expression didn’t falter, even when I saw the shock and hurt in Thea’s eyes.
Her mouth opened and then closed, jaw tight. Drenched tendrils of purple hair that had escaped her braid stuck to her forehead. Thea shivered slightly and folded her arms — her signal that our conversation had reached its end. Then she turned and walked right back to Blane’s studio.
Good. Let her fall into his strong, “super talented” arms right where she belonged.
Fantastic.
I stormed back to my hotel room and paced around it, leaving soggy, wet footprints all over the carpet. I seethed with rage, but it didn’t belong to Thea. This red, hot fury was directed at none other than yours truly.
How did I end up here? I came to Durango to figure myself out, and here I sat, more twisted up and confused than ever. The church that molded me still tortured my mind. My heart still ached for something childish like unconditional love. But maybe that was as big a lie as god.
I ripped off my jacket and tossed it on the floor, followed by the rest of my clothes. I turned on the shower and stepped in without waiting for the water to warm. I let the icy flow hit my shoulders, back, and face. Instead of extinguishing my rage, the cold water seemed to ignite it, to fill every cell in my body with it.
“FUCK!” I screamed and turned off the water. I left the shower and stopped in front of the mirror. Who was I? My reflection used to be so sure of itself, so sure that Joseph Smith was the only true prophet of God in the latter days, so sure that heaven not only existed but also consisted of three kingdoms of glory, so sure that God and Jesus Christ loved me.
I knew what my life would bring and that I would feel blessed at each stage.
I thought that I loved Gina.
I believed that I would always be Brigham Levi Thomspon, a proud member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
But all of that was wrong. Now, I was Levi because some random girl in a bar decided I should be. Now, I was unsure of everything.
Maybe I was as lost as they all said.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed for my suitcase. I should go home and pick up whatever pieces of my life remained— carve out some existence for myself. I tossed my suitcase on the bed, and the motion caused the napkin on the nightstand to flutter.
I picked it up and rolled my eyes. I’d had a lot of fun with Thea the past few days, but the list was childish. No wonder she treated me like a sad little project.
My eyes settled on Have a one-night stand. I shouldn’t—or maybe I should. Maybe I’d cross off one more thing before I left.
I dressed and headed out to any bar but The Station. The one I ended up in was called Silver Bullet. Now, I only needed to get sufficiently drunk and find a woman lonely enough to hook up with me. She couldn’t be a blonde like Gina. Luckily, avoiding stunning goddesses with purple hair like Thea wouldn’t be hard. She was one of a kind.
I downed a double shot of Jamison with minimal coughing, then tried a beer. I couldn’t figure out why people voluntarily drank beer, but I powered through. Next, I tried red wine. Fun fact: Wine doesn’t taste at all like grape juice. Somewhere around the bottom of my wine glass, I felt warm, fuzzy, and dizzy.
Then I locked eyes with a cute brunette across the bar. She smiled at me and gave me a shy wave. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Were there that many achingly lonely people on this planet?
I ordered one more shot of whiskey, downed it, and headed over to the brunette. She seemed to be drinking alone tonight, too.
“Hey, I’m Brigham,” I said, intentionally rejecting Thea’s use of my middle name. But my given first name now felt wrong on my lips. “Mind if I join you?”
The woman shyly smiled and tilted her head. “Anna. I would love some company.”
We ordered a few more drinks and had one of the most shallow, boring conversations of my life. I didn’t mention my new journey of self-discovery or that I’d never consumed this much alcohol before. We didn’t discuss our families, life views, or anything remotely personal. I was dull, but she laughed like she sat beside the world’s funniest comedian.
Anna even placed her hand on my thigh and gave me a seductive look after I told her I was an accounting professor. Really? Maybe she’d once had a crush on a college professor because there was nothing hot about my job.
Anna batted her eyelashes at me and bit her lip. “You’re cute,” she giggled, hand still on my leg.
As sheltered and confused as I was about sex, Anna clearly waved a green flag in my face. Go time. I drained my glass, slurred my words, and asked, “D’you wanna get outta here?”
Her dark blue eyes lit up, and she said, “Absolutely.”
Why did she say yes? Why did I ask? What was I doing?
I led her down the street and back to my hotel room. She pushed me up against the door, kissing me and burying her hands in my hair.
I didn’t want it.
I felt nothing but panic and nausea.