Five
FIVE
Graham
“I’m so glad I waited for you.”
It was a phrase I heard often but still hadn’t gotten used to hearing.
“You like it?”
The woman standing in front of me looked over her shoulder at me in the mirror, her eyes dancing. “It’s perfect. Way better than I thought.”
No matter how many times I’d gotten similar praise for what I was capable of doing, it still felt like I was receiving the compliment for the first time every single time. I often wondered if that feeling would ever fade.
For nearly fourteen years now, I’d been doing this job. The last ten of those years had been at this place, a place I co-owned with a buddy of mine, Mick. But the journey started when I was eighteen, and I was still just as excited about the work I did now as I had been in those first few months and years.
Becoming a tattoo artist was all I’d ever dreamed of, doodling on every surface I could find as a kid. Instead of taking notes in school—I was an awful student—I would draw. Every class, I drew something. Sometimes, I’d get multiple drawings done in a day. Other times, I’d spend weeks on a single design.
My art, my creativity, was the only thing that mattered. It was all I cared about. Everything I’d done had been about getting to this point in my career. Not just owning my own tattoo parlor, but also being in such high demand.
I was booked months in advance, and the shop was wildly successful. If there was one thing that I could say I was proud of in my life, this was it. This job, this career, this business.
Smiling at my client, glad she was satisfied with the job I’d done, I said, “I’m happy to have exceeded your expectations. At least, like you said, you feel the wait to get in with me was worth it.”
She nodded, her eyes roaming over the tattoo I’d just completed for her. Without taking her eyes off it, she replied, “Absolutely. And it’s going to be worth every overtime shift I’ve worked to be able to pay for this. Thank you for doing such a good job. I can’t stop looking at it.”
My chest swelled with pride and that sense of worthiness. No matter how many tattoos I’d done or how many satisfied clients I had, this never got old. It was always nice to hear the appreciation, to feel like the work I’d done was valued.
“Well, you can keep your eyes on it while I go over your aftercare instructions. After that, you might need to figure out how to tear your attention away from it long enough to get yourself home.”
My tone was light and teasing, and a chuckle escaped. As good as my clients made me feel, I wanted them to feel just as much at ease.
“I’ll do my best.”
With a nod, I stood and crossed the room toward her as I shared the instructions with her for the care of her tattoo. Admittedly, I took a bit longer with her than I did with some of my other clients, because this was her first one ever. Whenever I had anyone who was new to getting tattoos, I always spent more time making sure they understood what they needed to do for proper tattoo aftercare.
Once she was confident in what she needed to do, I led her out to the front reception area, where Rosalie, who handled all our appointment scheduling and front desk operations, was able to get her squared away with final payment.
After saying goodbye, I went back to the room I’d just been working in, cleaned up from the job, and made my way to the break room for lunch.
When I walked in, I wasn’t surprised to see most of my other coworkers doing the same. Omar, Lydia, Shiloh, and Winston were my tattoo artists. Celeste was my shop manager. And Stanley handled all our marketing.
Celeste, after tucking a lock of her chin length blonde hair behind her ear, was the first to notice me. “Hey, Graham. Coming to join us?”
“Yeah, I just finished up with my client.”
“How’d it go?” Omar asked. “That was a first timer, wasn’t it?”
I jerked my chin down as I moved toward the refrigerator to grab my lunch. “She was. And surprisingly, she did really well with it. She definitely had a high tolerance for the pain, because I heard not one peep.”
“That’s good.”
“What’s going on in here? Did I interrupt some conversation about the bosses?” I questioned them, my tone teasing.
Shiloh, the most talkative of the bunch, was quick to fill me in. “Actually, we were just talking about you. And it was decided that I’d be the one to confirm details with you.”
I pulled out my lunch, stood, and turned. My eyes slid through the group, their faces tentative. I braced, shifted my attention to Shiloh, and questioned her. “Confirm what details with me?”
It was no secret that tattoo artists were creative people. Shiloh was not only expressive when it came to conversation, but she was that way with her look as well. She had long raven-colored hair, one arm covered entirely in tattoos, and her makeup was always bold. Her look suited her personality.
“Well, Celeste and Stanley have both been working on the annual birthday party for Bell the nights were rough.
And when I didn’t feel up to attending the yearly birthday celebration for the business that I was responsible for building, none of them held it against me. They understood the circumstances in my personal life, and they offered tremendous love and support.
As cheesy as it might have been, these people had become my family. They represented what a family was supposed to be. And between all of them and Andy, I really couldn’t complain.
“It could be like a celebration of sorts for you,” Lydia reasoned.
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
In so many ways, I felt like I’d already experienced that on the day the divorce was made final. And that wasn’t simply because I was no longer connected to that woman.
Nope.
It was because I’d met someone who had made me forget everything for hours that night.
A week and a half had passed, and I still hadn’t been able to get her out of my head. But I realized that what I was thinking about when it came to Kat didn’t have anything to do with her specifically. It was about what we’d had that night.
The sex.
I didn’t know if it was because it had been so long for me, or if she had just been that good. But I wanted to say that Kat was the best I’d ever had.
Maybe I only felt that way because she was the first woman I’d been with since the separation and divorce from my ex-wife.
Or, it was entirely possible I kept thinking about her, about our night together, because she’d given me her number before she left. Maybe that was my whole problem. I had a way to contact her, to have another night with her, and my brain knew I hadn’t acted upon it yet.
The rational part of me, the sane, logical part, understood it’d be a mistake to go back for more. I’d only be setting myself up for trouble.
But the other part of my brain couldn’t forget the way it felt to be inside her, to hear her moans, and to feel her touch on my skin.
I’d been waging the battle with myself for more than a week now, and every time I thought I’d convinced myself to steer clear and pretend I didn’t have her number to begin with, something would happen that would make me think about her.
It felt like a never-ending battle I was desperate to win.
Unfortunately, I had a feeling the only way I stood a chance was to just reach out to her, hook up once more, and get her out of my system. Then I’d be able to prove that everything I was feeling was simply the result of Kat being the first woman I’d had in such a long time.
“Celeste and I will work out the rest of the details and keep you all posted on the specifics,” Stanley promised, his voice snapping me back to reality.
“Is there anything you need me to do?” I figured I should have had some level of involvement, especially considering my absence last year.
Stan shook his head as Celeste answered, “We’ve got it covered, boss.”
Boss.
They often called me that, and while I appreciated that they respected my position in the company, I never felt like I was any more important than they were. There was no question that Mick and I couldn’t do this, wouldn’t have been this successful, without each and every one of them.
“You’ll let me know if anything changes.”
“Of course.”
I jerked my chin up, pulled out my food, and ate. And for the next thirty minutes, I joined in the conversation with my employees, some of them finishing their break fifteen minutes after I’d walked into the room. As some filed out, others came in—Rosalie followed by Mick.
The conversation shifted throughout the remainder of my lunch break to a variety of topics, and I simply went with it, chiming in whenever I felt compelled and allowing my mind to drift at other times.
The only problem was that when my mind drifted, it kept going back to the woman who’d been writhing beneath me in my bed not quite two weeks ago.
I had hoped I’d be able to keep my distance, but by the time I’d finished my lunch, I realized I couldn’t fight it any longer. Today, after work, I needed to reach out to Kat. And hopefully, she’d be willing to meet up with me soon for a few hours of fun.
The best thing about the work I did was not only the creative aspect I craved, but also that it kept me occupied and distracted in a way nothing else could.
Maybe that was the other thing I’d been so grateful for when I was in the midst of a life-altering experience.
When I worked, especially when a client only gave me an idea of what they wanted and gave me free rein to make it come to life, I got lost in it.
And so, it was no surprise that my afternoon passed in a flash of focus, concentration, and creativity.
But no sooner had I ended my day and walked out to my car to head home, the dilemma I’d been having for days now popped back into my mind.
I couldn’t put it off any longer.
So, as soon as I got behind the wheel, I pulled out my phone, opened a new text field, and typed in her contact at the top.
Graham
Hey, Kat. It’s Graham. I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting together again soon.
I dropped my phone in the center console and drove home, thinking about how much I didn’t like what I’d just done.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have time in bed with Kat again. It was just that, had I not been through hell already, I never would have reached out to her via text message. The old Graham, the one who hadn’t been burned in the worst way imaginable, would have picked up the phone and called her. And he’d likely have done it much sooner than this.
But I was not interested in sending Kat any mixed signals. We’d both agreed—this was just about sex. Nothing else. And if I was going to make sure it stayed that way, I couldn’t do anything to make it seem like I was a man who had a heart.
I made it home, picked up my phone, and noticed Kat hadn’t responded. I didn’t think twice about it, getting out, heading inside, and grabbing a shower. Afterward, I made some dinner, turned on the television for a bit, and simply relaxed.
By the time I’d decided to call it a night and head up the stairs, I still hadn’t received a response from Kat.
I thought the worst.
Maybe she had left me with her number, expecting me to call or reach out sooner, and when I didn’t, she moved on.
That idea shouldn’t have made my gut twist the way it did. I had no claim to her. We were nothing more than two people who’d hooked up for a single night.
Maybe Kat had only left her number to leave on a good note. Of course, that would mean that everything she said hadn’t been true. Everything that had been a boost to my confidence I hadn’t realized I needed, the way she declared that I’d been unbelievably good in bed—amazing, even—had all been a lie.
No, that couldn’t be right.
I was there.
I saw and felt and heard the way she responded to all of it. I might have overlooked a lot of things in my life that I regretted now, but I couldn’t miss what had been right here in front of me. Kat had thoroughly enjoyed herself that night.
Once I locked up the house and turned out the lights downstairs, I went upstairs to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. It was mere minutes after I slid under the blankets when my phone buzzed from the nightstand.
Immediately, my stomach clenched, my hand reaching out for it.
It was a text from her.
Kat
Hi, Graham. Sorry, I had a late day at work. I’m up for getting together again. When are you free?
Relief swept through me, just as a handful of questions did, too. Where did she work? What did she do?
As soon as those questions popped into my head, I shoved them out. It didn’t matter what she did.
This was only sex.
Learning about her, about her career and hobbies and likes and dislikes, would turn the arrangement it seemed she was still interested in having into something else, something we’d both decided was not an option.
Graham
No worries. I could make Saturday night work.
Kat
Your place again?
All the grim feelings that had been moving through me all evening had vanished. Kat hadn’t been lying to me; she had enjoyed herself. And she wanted to get together with me again.
Graham
I’m good with that, unless you want to change it up.
Kat
No need to complicate things. When do you want me?
My fingers itched to fly across the keyboard and tell her she could come over around six, so we could have dinner together first. But that wasn’t how this was supposed to go. As someone who’d always preferred a relationship, this new way of doing things was going to take some adjustments.
As much as I knew I didn’t want to get seriously involved with someone, I wasn’t very good at this, either. Maybe if I tried to appear indifferent, it’d get easier.
Graham
7? 8? It doesn’t matter to me.
Kat
I’ll see you at 7.
Graham
That works. I’ll see you then.
Before I wound up sending another text, one that might be considered unnecessary, I set my phone down and turned out the light.
I had just a few days left before I’d see Kat again. Then we’d have one more night together, and hopefully, it’d be enough for me to get her out of my system and be ready to move on.