Chapter 6 Phoenix
Phoenix
I push open the door to the studio, and the scent of antiseptic and ink cuts through the air.
“Take a seat. I’ll be right with you, Phoenix.” He turns back to his call. “Gotta go, firefly. I’ll pick you up from rehearsals later. Love you.” He slips the phone into his pocket and turns back to me with an easy shrug. “Sorry. My wife barely gets a break these days.”
“No problem,” I say, settling into the chair.
“So, the design you sent me, you want it on the back of your neck?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a fresh piece on my back, so just above that.” I pull my T-shirt over my head, the cotton dragging across my skin before I twist in the chair.
His brows lift, and a low whistle escapes. “Nice…” He shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m a little hurt you got someone else to do these, man.”
Tobias has done all my tattoos that I can’t reach myself since I found him in New York.
“You know I would’ve come to you if I’d been here, but I had them done when I was in Indiana.”
“They did a hell of a job. Clean work.” He leans in, examining the lines. “How long has it been?”
“Not even a week.”
“It’s healing really well,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before looking at me again.
“I’ll work around it. The last thing I want is to irritate anything that’s still settling.”
He snaps on a fresh pair of gloves, and the tattoo gun whirs to life. Seconds later, I feel the familiar scratch and burn of the needle biting into my skin.
Soft rock drifts through the speakers—something from the nineties. Between songs and silence, when he’s focused on a particularly tricky line and the conversation dies down, my mind drifts back to the same place it always does.
Shannen.
Always Shannen.
She was furious with me today, but she can’t actually believe I’m going to stop checking in on her now that I’m finally in her life.
I mean, it’s cute.
Naive, but cute.
I’ve always kept tabs on her. I’ve always known where she was and what she was doing. I’ve kept her safe without her even realizing it, like some twisted-up guardian angel she never asked for. I’ve made sure the vultures stayed the hell away from her business, but every empire has its cracks.
James Lawson is the biggest one.
Entitled, power-hungry fuckhead.
If she wants space, then fine, I’ll give her some—the illusion of it, anyway.
A pretty little lie with a bow on top.
“So what was in Indiana?”
“High school reunion,” I say, though it was really just a Shannen-and-me reunion. “I won’t be going back there.”
“That bad?” He laughs.
“Nah… but everything I need is in New York.”
“Ah, yeah, your girl’s here.” I feel him shading as he leans into the back of my neck. “No better reason, to be honest. I followed Amelia here, and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“How long have you been married now?”
“Almost two years. Just waiting for the day she tells me she’s ready to take a break so I can be a daddy.”
“She’s not ready?”
“Not yet.” There’s a pause, the buzz of the gun filling the silence. “She’s the lead in Sleeping Beauty right now. I’m proud as hell, but man, she works herself to death. I can’t wait for her to say she’s ready to slow down.”
“Do you think she will?”
“Yeah. She’s itching for babies, but she loves her career. She’ll tell me when it’s time.”
I can’t stop picturing Shannen’s belly full with the baby I’ll put there one day. Barefoot in the kitchen, the sun catching the edge of her smile, humming some old song with her hair a fucking mess and a curve under her shirt that says I’ve marked her in the most permanent way possible.
“Alright, you’re done,” Tobias says, tugging off his gloves, snapping me back into the moment. “Wanna take a look?”
He hands me a mirror and holds one up behind me, showing the black rose in full bloom, thorns buried, with petals falling like drops of ink down the back of my neck.
“Perfect, thank you.”
“Looks good, right? You’re gonna have to sleep on your front though. With that back piece still healing, you’ll feel it every time you move.”
My phone’s already in my hand before I even bother flipping the light switch, the screen glowing in the darkness of my room.
It’s a compulsion at this point, and yeah, I know exactly what I am, but I don’t care. I need this.
My thumb swipes across the screen until the feed to her apartment loads, and I drop onto the edge of the bed, sinking back into the pillows as my body finally relaxes.
My eyes are glued to her figure, watching as she curls up on the couch in the same spot she always goes when she wants to disappear from the world.
She has no idea how fucking pretty she looks when she forgets anyone’s watching.
Her hair is down tonight—long and red, falling over her shoulder in waves and trailing down her back like fire. I want to reach through the screen and touch it. I want to feel the silk of it between my fingers, wrap it around my fist, and pull her close.
I recognize the cover of the book in her hand from here. I saw her with it the other night and made a note of it, then downloaded the damn thing myself the second I got home.
Three guys. One girl. A “why choose,” or whatever the hell they call it.
She can swallow every line in that book, get off to as many hands and mouths as she wants, but it lives and dies in her head. I won’t share her, not anymore.
I reach for my other phone—the one I actually use to talk, not the one I use to break into places I’m not meant to—and I fire off a message, eyes never leaving her on the screen.
You want company, pretty girl?
She grabs her phone, frowning, confusion flashing across her face before she stands up and disappears out of frame.
That’s not very polite, baby. I’m hurt.
SHANNEN: What do you want?
You. Obviously.
SHANNEN: You’d have a better chance with my father’s corpse. Now leave me alone. I’m waiting on someone.
Who’s the lucky bastard? Did you tell him to bring flowers or just skip ahead to the body bag?
The screen stays still. She doesn’t reply.
She just leaves me there, staring at the space she was in, like I’m supposed to take the hint and fuck off.
That’s when the amusement drains out of me because now I can’t tell whether she’s playing with me or if I’m about to have to do something she really isn’t going to appreciate.
I find her again on the feed and watch as she picks up her phone when my first message hits.
Then the second, and the third. I watch her read them.
I observe the way her eyes flick across the screen and how her mouth twitches just enough to piss me off before she sets it down like I’m not even worth a reply.
She ignores everything I send after that.
Every. Single. Message.
A knock on the door pulls her attention. She stands, smooths down her clothes, and fluffs her hair like she’s trying to make an impression. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was getting ready for a date.
Which is absolutely not fucking happening.
I’m already sitting up, my muscles coiled, ready to haul ass to her apartment, but then I hear a familiar voice through the feed.
“You look hot. You know I was only joking about scissoring, right?”
Lianna.
Meeting her is going to be… interesting.
Fuck it.
Might as well get it over with now.