4. Chapter 4
The beat of the music flows through my body, making every cell vibrate. With the firmness of the sweaty chest behind me, I lean back, my hand finding its place around the stranger’s neck. With a seductive sway of my hips, the atmosphere becomes charged with lust.
I push out the echoey voices in my head and find the quiet among the noise. Just like when I paint, getting lost is what I’m searching for.
Painting allows my mind to create while dancing channels my energy. I silence everything and let my physical body find its rhythm. Tonight, it’s reveling in the hard body of a man whose cock is pressed up against my ass.
“Let me buy you a drink,” the stranger whispers in my ear.
“No thanks. I’ll pass,” I shout over the music.
“Oh, come on. What about a shot?”
“I don’t drink.” It’s a lie, but he needs to shut up. He’s killing my vibe.
He wraps his arms tightly around my waist, drawing me closer to his strong, muscular frame. His breath against my skin makes me want to vomit.
“Umm, are drugs your choice of poison? We’ll do a line in the bathroom.” His voice is dripping with sleaze. “I wanna see you fly while you’re on your knees for me,”
Oh, fuck no!
I release my arm from around his neck and unleash a swift, bone-jarring elbow to his side. It’s quick and precise, stunning the asshole.
“I think I’ll pass, plus I felt your dick. It’s not that impressive. I can do better.”
“Fucking slut,” he chokes out, but it’s sounds more like an old man wheezing.
A defiant smirk spreads across my lips, and I give him a cute finger wave before making my way through the mass of sweaty bodies.
Well, that just boot-stomped over my mood and added an ankle twist for good measure. Why do men have to be such assholes?
Touche.
Since the night of the incident, the effects have lingered in the recesses of my mind, a constant reminder of the dark I fight to resist. I’ve succeeded in staying away from drugs and pills. Except for weed, it calms me the fuck down, plus Marcus approves it. It’s not that I crave drugs or need them; they’re just something I used to do from time to time, but I don’t make the best decisions while on them.
Deciding I’m done with this fucking day, I make my way to the coat check, praying my baby is still there. I mean, come on, she’s pretty .
That’s when I hear it…
“Oh, look at that hunk of beef, Cookie. I’d like to slide down his pole. I could so teach him a thing or two.”
I shudder at the mind poke.
“Mmmm, we could tag team that ass.”
What in the ever-loving fuck am I hearing? And what the fuck are they wearing?
Standing off to the side, overlooking the packed dance floor, are Ms. Brandy and Ms. Cook. Why does this not surprise me? It’s just two old ladies out clubbing at one in the morning in their… I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing… fucking slippers.
Good for them, I guess. Don’t let life pass you by, ladies. Seize the day!
I make it to the coat check and the attendant hands over my baby, still looking sexy as ever, and relief washes over me. Still pristine white and fabulous.
Once I hit the night air, the breeze cools the droplets of sweat still clinging to my body, and a shiver runs up my spine.
I light up a smoke as I head to my bike. This entire night has been a shitshow. First fighting with Olly and then with that asshat. The smoke from my cigarette fills my lungs and that doesn’t even take off the edge.
I’m stressed and freaking out, which is why I went dancing. I’m just feeling too many emotions and needed a moment to get lost.
What was I thinking when I kissed him tonight? I was desperate for some sort of physical touch, the genuine kind. I wanted to feel something good, but I was not expecting the spark that radiated down my spine and nestled into my groin .
There’s something about Olly. Just being around him makes me calm. It’s why I’m so intrigued by him, somewhat obsessed, really. How does he have the power to calm me when, historically, very few have?
I didn’t mean to get defensive but fuck, I’ve been on my own for a while, so when people want to come in and act as if they care, it’s a hard pill to swallow.
In the foster care system, I learned to depend on myself and nobody else. Do I believe the social workers tried their hardest? Few were willing, and most simply hurried me through the system.
Even as a kid, I realized that once they pushed me out at eighteen, I would have to take charge of my own future.
Painting was my escape. Well, whenever I could get paint supplies; otherwise, I’d just sketch on any scrap of paper I could find. I knew I couldn’t make a steady income through art, so I racked my brain trying to think of ways I could still create and still make money.
While getting my third tattoo, a string of pearls on my hipbone, the needle pierced my skin, and countless moments spent alone flooded my mind, intertwining with the pain. A flicker of inspiration ignited, showing me a path toward a future I could call my own.
I did my homework on tattoo shops in the area, hoping to find an opening to get me started.
There were rumblings of a place called Ink Me that was owned by a queer man a couple of towns over. Despite doubting Camden’s queer friendliness, I’m always up for taking a risk. Under the guise of getting a new tattoo, I scoped out the place as soon as I arrived .
The town itself looked like one of those perfect small towns you see on TV. Think Gilmore Girls . It even has a cute little park with a mother-fucking gazebo.
Walking by a small diner with a rainbow sticker gave me hope.
I stuck out like a sore thumb. Crazy hair standing up all over the place, and don’t get me started on my leather pants. There’s just something about the right pair that will caress your skin and cradle your junk.
As soon as I walked into Ink Me, I instantly knew I belonged there. With another rainbow sticker on the door and the crazy-looking chick at the front counter, I felt a sense of belonging; more than any other tattoo shop I had stepped foot in.
Since I had already been looking to get new ink, I talked to the girl behind the counter, learning her name was Mira, and she got me in with Dom. He was as intimidating as fuck, but his tattoos… beautiful. He’s so talented.
We were talking and bullshitting about life when I took my shot. Dom urged me to return the next day and meet Jaxon, the owner. I was disappointed when Jaxon informed me they didn’t have enough work to hire another tattoo artist.
It was going to be back to the drawing board for me until Jaxon cocked his head and asked me the one thing I knew would get my foot in the door.
“What are your thoughts on piercings?”
I simply pointed to all the metal; ears, nose, lip, tongue…
“Well, all right, you’re hired if you want it? We will have to get you licensed through the Department of Health, but I’ll cover the costs. And when the business grows, we can see about getting you some tattoo clients if it all works out. ”
And that’s how I ended up at Ink Me.
When I finally walk through the front door of my studio apartment, my mood is shit. My mind is racing, anger and resentment building.
The world has pissed me off since I can remember. A deep-seated frustration that has my soul in its grips. A resentment that goes beyond any specific grievances and makes me doubt my very existence.
Never knowing what it feels like to have a family. Or having to get a test done on my heart and being scared that too many years of recklessness have caused damage.
My mind swirls, needing an escape.
I kick off my boots and socks before walking to the fridge to grab a beer, my shirt coming off as I go. The cool liquid slides down my throat, chasing away the dark thoughts rising to the surface in an unhealthy way.
I love my apartment. It has vaulted ceilings, with giant windows, and exposed brick. The look of an artist’s den. In moments like these, I find comfort in my safe haven. A familiar scent of paint floats through the air, a sizable canvas positioned in the room’s corner, the window nearby casting mesmerizing colors at sunset.
I stand and stare at the blank canvas. My restless fingers tremble with uncontrollable energy, racing to unleash an explosion of color. I pick up my paints, and with a flick of my wrist, a bright red splatter lands on the canvas.
My heart, bleeding.
Anger.
I see life catching up to me, and it’s making me spiral even harder. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so snippy toward Olly. I know he sees it. They all see it, but I’m not ready to be splayed open, every crack shown for them to see .
Black goes next until it blends into a deep, velvety red.
I don’t know how long I’m at it, but when the morning sun cascades through the darkness of the night, I know I need to pull myself back. As the adrenaline wears off, my limbs, heavy with exhaustion and colorful smears, protest as I drag myself over to bed and collapse onto the mattress.
It’s gonna suck trying to get this shit off in the morning.
“Hey, Jasper?” Jaxon calls out to me before I’m even halfway down the hall of Ink Me. “You got a second?”
I sigh, turn around, and reluctantly pop my head into Jaxon’s office. “Yeah, boss?”
“Hey, man. Have a seat?”
I cock my brow.
“Oh, shut up and have a seat. It’s not like I’m firing you.”
My ass lands in the most uncomfortable plastic chair known to man.
“If I’m being summoned daily, can we upgrade the chairs at least?” I complain.
“Ohhh, no. Then you yahoos would be in here constantly.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve got all the good snacks.”
Jaxon gasps.
Shit!
He shakes his finger at me. “It’s you! You’ve been the one eating all my toffee bars!”
“Listen, I was doing you a favor. That shit’s bad for your teeth,” I say with a mischievous grin .
“Just great.” Jaxon throws his arms up in the air, grumbling. “Now I’m gonna have to find a new hiding spot.”
Man, it took me three months to find his dang hiding spot. And I need those toffee bars!
I could get them from the source, which was my original reason for stopping at Olly’s in the first place, but he’s probably still a little pissed at me for breaking into his house. Which, whatever, I guess it’s technically breaking and entering, but Olly said I was always welcome in his house.
Apparently, not.
“Earth to Jasper.”
“Huh, what?”
“I asked how you were doing, but apparently I just answered my question.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night, but I’m fine. Nothing a couple of cups of coffee can’t cure.”
“Um, are you supposed to be drinking coffee?”
“Oh, my God! I’m fine,” I say, casting my gaze at the ceiling. “It’s just a little high blood pressure.” And I will keep telling myself that.
Jaxon gives me the look. You know the ‘disapproving father’ look?
Whatever he and Alex get up to is their own business. I mean, I totally get it. Jaxon is perfect Daddy material.
But I need someone who will get me dirty.
Jaxon takes a deep breath. I can tell he wants to argue with me, but I appreciate it when he doesn’t and changes the subject.
“Your client scheduled for two o’clock tomorrow wants to move her appointment earlier. ”
Fuuuuuck ! Maybe the subject isn’t dropped. I brace myself for the inquisition.
“Actually, I can’t. I have another commitment in the morning, and I don’t know how long it will take.”
Jaxon’s assessing eyes are on me, and it makes me jittery.
“Just… know I’m here if you need me, Jasper. We all are,” he says, his voice filled with genuine concern, much like Olly’s. “Even if you just want to talk or vent.”
“I appreciate your concern, but honestly, I’m fine. It’s just a routine follow-up.”
I lie.
He nods his head, “All right, get to work, or next time Ms. Cook comes in here, I’ll make you handle her.”
I get up from the deathtrap of a chair. “You can send that crazy old lady my way any time. She is a hoot.” Fuck, did I just say hoot?
Now I want to wash my mouth out with soap.
“Mira!” I yell. “You got any soap up there?”
“Oh no, what did you say this time? Because I don’t think anything can beat fiddlesticks,” she yells from behind the front counter.
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
“He used the word hoot in a sentence, and it wasn’t about owls,” Jaxon yells from his office.
“Excuse me, you literally just called us yahoos, and you don’t see me throwing you under the bus.” I can hear Jaxon gasp in his office, and I smirk.
Why do I work here again ?
Since we started these so-called family dinners, they have slowly become more than just work colleagues. I just need to figure out how to let them in.