Chapter Twenty-Two #2
An hour later, June and Hazel are here with their tattoo machines, tray table set with various inks and needle sizes.
It looks like a regular tattoo appointment.
Until you see the restraints, the damage inflicted on Gavin from the chemicals, and from Josh’s fists.
Really it’s the whole background in general.
Richie decided not to come. He went home, he said he wanted to see Tommy.
He hadn’t seen him in so long, that he was ready for a “reunion.” I knew what that meant, and I knew how much I was looking forward to one of those with Brenden, so I totally understood.
He sent me a text with like forty-seven heart emojis, telling me to kick ass though.
“I think,” June starts talking while putting the wrap around her machine, “that I will be putting the shop’s logo on his chest. It feels fitting, him dying with what he destroyed on his body.
What do you think?” She looks to Hazel. Hazel just nods, a wide smile like the cheshire cat plastered on her pretty face, making it look far more evil.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to tattoo someone’s finger nails.
” That’s all Hazel says before she brings up an entire roll of grip tape and begins to wrap Gavin’s hand open to the arm of the chair.
Once secure, she takes rope and secures it around his hand and wrist for added security.
“There,” she says. “All set. Ready, you fucker?” Without waiting for Gavin’s consent, she brings the needle to Gavin’s middle finger and begins to tattoo through his finger nail, wrenching a blood-curdling scream from him as he tries to get away.
“Now, now, Gavin. That isn’t the only tattoo.
Hold still so I can take a look at your chest. Fortunately, I know the logo really well.
I did design it, after all.” June keeps talking, looking at Gavin's chest. She had cut his shirt off him before setting up any of her supplies. “Now I’m going to draw on your chest for an outline. So hold still.”
A few hours later, and every one of Gavin’s fingernails has been tattooed blood red.
Or possibly, that’s the blood and I have no idea what color she used.
Either way, I don’t really care. But June, she created a masterpiece somehow.
Covering the entirety of Gavin’s chest in the logo of Tattoos On The Bay.
Hot pink, black, you can even see the Kraken layered in. It’s somehow…beautiful.
“Do you think I can take a picture of this for my portfolio?” June asks out loud, and Hazel and I start cracking up. That has to be the most Juniper thing I have ever heard in my entire life.
“What the fuck, June?” Josh asks, but he can’t stifle the laughter that bursts from his chest. Brenden is in the back, hacking a cough from snorting. He was mid-drink when she said that and breathed in the liquid instead of swallowing it.
“Do it, how morbid. I love it,” is my answer between fits of giggles. The thought of his tattoo living on without his consent, allowing June’s business to continue thriving? It is absolutely karma’s way of fucking with Gavin even in the afterlife. And I’m here for it.
June snaps a few pictures, hands steady even though the air feels thick with exhaustion.
Then, one by one, they begin packing up their things—ink bottles twisting shut, the buzz of the machine falling silent for the last time.
Their movements are careful, methodical.
I focus on them because it’s easier than thinking about what comes next.
When everything is tucked away, June, Hazel, and I link arms and head toward the elevator. Brenden had asked for a moment alone with Gavin, now that he finally looked steady enough to stand on his own. But not until I made him swear—swear—he wouldn’t kill him without me there.
He wants his revenge. Not for his apartment. Not for the pain he received. He want’s it for me. The support system of a survivor. He wants that all for himself. So I let him.
We ride the elevator down together, quiet except for the soft hum of the machinery. When the doors open, the air feels colder. The faint smell of dust and oil from the old mattress store wraps around me as I step out to see them off.
My dad had already taken my mom and sister home earlier, but Samuel and Alisha waited behind for the rest of us. I think Sam’s afraid to let me out of his sight—or maybe he’s just not ready to see me walk into another fight.
“You doin’ okay, a leanbh?” Sam’s voice is low, careful. He’s always careful with me.
Alisha moves beside me, looping an arm around my shoulders, warm and grounding. She hadn’t wanted to go upstairs—didn’t need to see any of it.
“Yeah,” I answer after a moment, though it comes out softer than I mean it to. “Yeah, I’m as okay as I’ll ever be, I think. I just… I want this to be done, Sam. Once he’s gone, maybe I can finally stop looking over my shoulder. Maybe I can finally breathe.”
They both nod, quiet understanding passing between us. I love them for it—for not needing to fill the silence with false comfort. Just being here is enough.
And even as I look at them, something small and selfish flickers in me—a spark of normalcy. I can’t wait for the day they stop pretending there’s nothing between them. I want to laugh with Alisha about it, to tease them both like old times. But not tonight.
“I’m gonna head back up,” I tell them, forcing a small smile. “If I leave Gavin with Brenden much longer, he’ll be dead before I get my turn.”
That earns a laugh from both of them, shaky but real.
Sam steps forward, wrapping me up in his arms. “We’re headin’ back to your place. Waitin’ for you there, alright?”
I blink up at him, half-smiling. “You do remember it’s Alisha’s place too, right? You don’t need my permission to go home.”
He opens his mouth to argue, and I cut him off with a grin.
“Yes, our home, Alisha, Hazel, Richie, and myself. Ours. Go. I’ll meet you there when it’s over.
Good luck with Richie though. Tommy is there, so I have no idea what you’re walking in on when you get there.
” Alisha and I giggle, and Sam rolls his eyes.
He presses something into my palm—Brenden’s keys. His hand lingers around mine. His eyes search my face, worry written all over him.
“We picked up his truck. It’s out front. But if you need me, Surry—if anything happens—I’ll be back in a heartbeat. Don’t hesitate.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But Brenden’s here. And I think…” My voice falters. “I think I might actually be okay.”
It comes out like a question, like I’m asking him to believe it for me.
Sam’s expression softens. “I think you will be too, a leanbh.”
He kisses my cheek, and Alisha pulls me into one last hug before they turn to go, June, Josh, and Hazel close behind them, each taking their own turn to hug me goodbye.
I watch them leave, hands tucked into my jacket, heart pounding quietly in my chest. Their taillights fade into the dark, and the street goes still again.
Then I turn toward the elevator, toward the storm waiting above.
Two men. One who broke me. One who pieced me back together.
And tonight–only one of them walks away.