Nine

Chapter 9. Consumed

We had one hell of a night, and this morning I woke up with a new outlook on life. After I fell asleep last night, I had a dream about Jenny. She was in our old kitchen in Las Vegas and she was making me a sandwich. She brought it over, and then she sat down next to me on the couch. She smiled in the way she used to. I asked her why she was so happy and she said, “You finally get it. You finally understand how to let someone in. Love doesn’t have to be painful, and you don’t have to be afraid of it. ” She held my hand and said, “Everything is going to be okay. Trig won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Then she vanished.

After hearing those words from her, I was definitely prepared to take my famous flight, just like the eagle. It was obvious that I had already accomplished the self-inflicted wounds part.

“Trig,” I whisper and gently shake him.

Trig stretches and then opens his eyes.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go get breakfast.”

He rubs his eyes and then stares at me.

“You’re already dressed? What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Give me a few minutes to wake up and throw some clothes on.”

He looks down at his hand. A white bandage is wrapped around his knuckles.

“Did you do this?”

“I woke up really early. Housekeeping had a first aid kit. They let me borrow a few things.”

He sits up, leans over, and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you.”

He pulls back and examines my face.

“Your freckles really stand out today.”

“I didn’t think you noticed that I had them.”

Without missing a beat, he answers. “I notice every mark on your body.”

I clamp my lips closed and briefly look away. I’ve never been one to blush, but he makes my cheeks feel hot. Trig seems to have that effect on me. I look back to notice that he’s staring at my hair. It’s probably because it’s the first day I’ve tossed it up into a messy bun.

“What color is your natural hair?”

I can see him looking at my roots.

“My roots are pretty bad, huh?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know much about that stuff.”

“My real color is a mousey brown, but I’ve had this red color for as long as I can remember. I was thinking of changing it. You know, part of the whole rebirth thing.”

“You’ll look good in whatever.”

I play with my fingertips, scared to ask after last night.

“Do you think I could have some money to go to the hair salon here? I saw one when we checked in.”

Trig stands up and lets the sheet drop.

“You don’t have to ask me for money. It’s here. Take what you need.”

I look down. It feels weird to ask him for cash. It’s not mine. I didn’t earn it, but at the same time, I’m broke. Everything I made in Vegas is gone.

“Would you want to come with me?” I reluctantly ask.

“To get your hair done?”

Trig looks confused.

“Never mind. I can go by myself later.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare down.

“Do you want me to go with you? I’ll go. It’s just I’ve never been to a chick’s salon before.”

I look up at him surprised.

“No girl has ever dragged you into one?”

“No.”

“That’s shocking.”

“Not really,” he says.

“No. It is,” I confirm. “Most girls love that sort of thing. I used to see boyfriends dragged into the salon all the time when I would go.”

Trig stares at me.

“I don’t really date. I don’t do relationships. Not that I haven’t before. It’s just that I never found the right girl, and dating became more like a game instead of an investment. It became easier to just implement the clichéd no strings rule, and keep everything simple.”

I can’t control the disappointment in my face. I see his expression change.

“Not to mention my previous job. It’s not really something the ladies look for in a man.”

“Those girls are missing out,”

Trig tosses on a shirt and spins around. He smiles at me.

“You think so?”

I nod. I’m still thinking of what he said. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t do relationships, but then again, I don’t either.

“If both of us have a rule about dating, then what are we both doing, Trig?”

He walks over and squats down in front of me.

“I’d say we’re breaking the rules, but they no longer apply once the game is over.”

I lean forward and rest my forehead against his.

“I’m sorry about last night. I was just scar—”

He puts one finger up to my lips.

“We both said what we needed to say last night. Leave it at that.”

I nod. He stands up and finishes getting dressed and ready. I sit here on the bed and watch him. He’s so fucking hot. I can’t even tolerate it. He glances back at me, and I remember him angry in the sand last night, and how much passion was in his voice. I smile and he smiles back. When he’s finally done, we walk out of our room and down the hall to the hotel restaurant. It’s a beautiful day so we choose outside seating. I watch as a male waiter approaches the table.

“Good morning! What can I get you?”

“Pancakes and an orange juice, please,” I say.

He looks at Trig and smiles.

“French toast and a black coffee is fine,” he replies.

“Coming right up.”

The waiter disappears with the menus. Trig’s head falls back against the booth, exposing his neck. I look at his tattoo.

“What does your tattoo mean?”

“Consumed. It’s pretty straight forward.”

“Come on. There has to be a story behind it. Every tattoo has one.”

“That, coming from the girl who has none.”

I toss up my hands.

“I’m still waiting on a story,” I remind him.

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

“My brother used to say this world was built with good intentions, but saturated with so much evil that we’d never see the good if we let life consume us. He’d say,‘Don’t let life consume you.’It was his go-to phrase. He said it about a million times to me, and I took his advice. That was, until he died, and then life swallowed me up and forced me to do things I would’ve never done. I was swimming in all the evil he used to mumble about and it was then that I understood exactly what he meant. This tattoo was done in his honor, and to remind me that somewhere out in the world, people with good intentions still exist.”

“That’s darkly beautiful.”

Trig nods. He stares at me, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. We’ve both done things in this life that we didn’t want to. We’ve both made choices that were for the best at the time and both of us were completely and utterly consumed by life.

“Would you be upset if I wanted to get that tattoo?”

Trig looks down at the table. I can’t tell if he’s bothered or not.

“I hope that when you’re with me, you don’t need to be reminded that good still exists. Despite what I’ve done, I’m not a monster.”

I lick my lips. “I used to call you my dark hero. At least, in my head I did. I’d sit there and question if you were good or bad, and then I realized you and me, we aren’t so different. I did things to protect people and you did things to protect people, and we both hurt ourselves in the process. This life has finally given us time to shed our skin, and I see that now.”

He looks around the restaurant.

“This tattoo will have a whole new meaning,” I add.

“I won’t stand in your way if you want it.”

He doesn’t sound convincing, but I’ve already made up my mind. I’m getting it.

The waiter brings our drinks and then our food next. We scarf it down while we make small talk about our favorite desserts, places we’ve always wanted to visit and things we’ve never done.

“You’ve really never had any piercings, beside your ears?” he asks.

“Nope. I’ve wanted them, but being in the business I was, I kept a clean body.”

“What about you?” I question.

“I had my dick pierced once.”

“Really?” My ears perk up.

He chuckles.

“Just messing with you. I’ve never had any piercings either, but look at your face. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“It might be interesting. The barbell sliding around. It could make for a good time. I don’t know.”

He rubs his hands together and gives me an evil smile.

“Care to play a game – loser has to get a piercing of the winner’s choice?”

“Depends. What’s the game?”

“Stare off,” Trig says.

I smile. “This sounds fun. Let’s do it. You know if I win, the soldier in your pants is getting a little upgrade.”

“Okay. Ready?” he asks.

I prep my eyes and then I stare at him.

“Ready,” I say.

“I can do this all day. You won’t win.” Trig smiles.

I don’t reply. I squint just enough to ease the burning sensation.

“Those eyes must be hurting, huh?” he teases.

“Shhhhh,” I say. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

He blows a gust of air my way, and my eyes can’t take it. I blink.

“Cheater,” I yell.

He laughs. “I win.”

“You cheated. That’s not fair.”

“Take your loss and don’t complain.”

He motions for the waiter to bring the check. He smiles and comes over with a paper receipt.

“Enjoy your day!” he says.

Trig tosses some money down on the table.

“Come on, loser. We need to find a parlor around here.”

I frown as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the booth. We exit the restaurant and just as we turn the corner, there, conveniently located across the street is a tattoo and piercing place. I take a deep breath and grunt.

“It’s not that bad. I promise.” He grins.

“Says the guy with no piercings,” I poke fun at him.

We make our way across traffic and enter the building. I take in all the art on the walls as Trig breaks away to talk to the girl at the counter.

“He can take her back now if you like,” I hear her say.

I jerk my head their way and freeze.

“What did you want done, hun?” She looks at me.

“Well, he’s picking the piercing and I’m picking the tattoo.”

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes, while I go get Max from the back.”

Trig turns to me. “Clitoris piercing?”

My eyebrows shoot up. He laughs.

“Relax. I’m joking,” he says.

He takes a good look at me. I pray to God that he doesn’t pick nipples. I heard it’s extremely painful during and after the piercing.

“I’ll pick…your belly button,” he finally decides.

I sigh in relief. Thank God.

“I was going to say tongue, but then I can’t kiss or do dirty things to that mouth of yours for weeks.”

“Damn. A piercing and a tat in the same day. You like to torture a girl, don’t you?”

The tat artist, Max, comes out and smiles at me. He waves me toward him.

“Come sit here, pretty lady.”

“In this chair?” I ask, nervously.

The tat artist nods.

“So what are we doing?”

“Belly button piercing,” I say through my teeth as I look at Trig. “And a tattoo on my rib cage.”

Trig crosses his arms against his chest and winks at me.

“Do you know what tattoo you want?”

“The wordconsumed,” I say, keeping my eyes on Trig.

I lean in and whisper something to Max.

“I can do that. I’m good at freehand. I got you, girlfriend,” Max says.

Trig looks slightly uncomfortable. I show the artist exactly how I want the placement of words. Every so often, I look up at Trig who can’t take his eyes off me. I smile. Max brings me a box of belly jewelry to look though. I choose a cute little pink butterfly.

“Let’s do the piercing first. It will only take about a minute,” the guy says.

He leans the chair back and instructs me to pull up my shirt. I watch as he wipes the skin down with alcohol. He pulls out what looks like a clamp and needle and goes to work.

“Breathe in,” he says, as the needle pokes through the skin. I scrunch up my face in pain. I feel a little pressure. “Okay, all done.”

“That’s it?” I look down to see the butterfly dangling. “Oh, that’s pretty.”

“What do you think?” I say to Trig.

“I like it. That’s sexy, baby.”

“Are you ready for the tattoo now?”

My adrenaline is still running from the piercing. I’m more than ready for it.

“Yeah.”

I watch as he pulls out clean needles for the gun. He starts prepping for my tat. I stare over at Trig and wince. He smiles. Max motions with his hands for me to lift up my shirt. He swings his chair closer to me. I lean my head back and close my eyes as the needle dips in and out of my skin. It’s not painful at all, just incredibly irritating. I want to push him away and stand up, but I refrain. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Minutes are passing and after a while, my side becomes numb. I can’t even feel the needles anymore. I look over to see Trig reading a magazine.

“You are done, baby girl,” Max says. “What do you think?” He points to a mirror.

I stand up and gawk at my very first tat.

“Holy shit,” I say, as I swing around.

I thank the artist profusely and run over to show Trig. I stand above him, with my shirt pulled up. He takes in the gun pointing down toward my hip. It’s partially shaded in on some areas and it’s pretty big in size. It runs about two inches below my armpit and ends right at the bottom of my ribcage. It’s really gorgeous.

“That’s sexy,” he says.

He stops to read the words that run slightly above the handle of the gun. “Consumed by love.” He looks at me. “I’m jealous. What man consumes you?”

He gives me a naughty smile.

“You’re kidding, right?” I ask.

He nods.

“It better be me, or some asshole is getting his dome smashed in.”

I smirk.

“All done in honor of my dark hero.” I bite my thumbnail.

“It’s hot. You’re hot. The whole damn thing is hot.”

“Let’s get you bandaged up, girl,” the artist says.

I stand on my tiptoes and give Trig a peck on the lips before I turn to get my side doctored up. I’m in so much awe of my tat and piercing that I can’t stop smiling. We pay before leaving and then we walk down the street, and I’m still running high off adrenaline.

“It’s just ink on my skin, but I kind of feel free now. Is that weird?” I say.

“No. You’re doing things that you want do, and these things make you happy.”

“I feel so alive today. Ohhhh look!” I yell, and point.

Trig turns to see what I’m staring at.

“No way. I’m not going in there. It looks very girlie.”

“Come on, please,” I beg.

His body slumps forward. I drag Trig over to the shop. It takes even more effort to get him inside. A man wearing eyeliner and glossy lipstick greets us as we approach the front desk.

“Welcome to Vivi’s hair spa. How can I help you two?”

His eyebrows look like they were drawn on with way too much fierce this morning, because I can’t tell whether he’s upset or excited. Trig immediately spins around and tries to leave. I grab his arm and pull him back.

“I need a dye and cut.”

“Mariella can take you back in just a second. How about that one?” Eyeliner guy says, and points to Trig.

“I don’t need anything. I’m fine. Thank you,” Trig replies quickly.

“Yes. You. Are,” eyeliner guys shoots back, as he drinks in Trig with his eyes.

Trig looks at me. “You’re on your own. I’m going out to get more coffee. I’ll be back later.”

I laugh at the situation. Trig hurries out of this place like his pants are on fire.

“Mariella will take you now.” He walks me back to a short, pretty blonde girl with scissors in her hand. I sit down and stare into the mirror. She stands behind me.

“Are we cutting it today or just styling?”

“Chop it all off,” I say to my surprise. “Chop it and dye it...blonde.”

“Do you want to do a shoulder length bob?”

“That’s perfect.”

I sit there as she throws the smock around my neck. She leaves to go mix some color and then she returns. My mouth gets dry and part of me wants to jump up from this chair and run. The other part of me reminds myself that this is necessary. I watch her as she paints the dye on my hair with a brush. My fingers tense up and grip the armrest, because my red hair is gone. At least it will be soon. It’s been a part of me forever and now it’s about to be washed down the drain like nothing. When she finishes with my whole head, she then moves me to go sit under a hair dryer to let the color set in.

Time passes and my hair has been washed out, towel dried, and then I’m back in my original chair. I’ve already been here for about an hour and a half now, and I’m starting to wonder if I should have just stuck with my red color, which is easy to do myself, or maybe that’s the part of me still trying to hold on to the past. I can already see the red has vanished from my hair and it makes my stomach hurt. She raises the scissors to my head and with each snip, I feel like a bad, dirty memory is being shed. The more the hair falls, the lighter I feel. It’s supposed to be just a haircut, but it’s more than that. At this very moment, it’s a life changing experience and the hairdresser has no idea. I feel a tear fall down my face. The stylist stops cutting and looks at me. I know she’s going to ask me if I’m okay, so I stop her before she has the chance to.

“Keep going,” I command.

She doesn’t say anything. She does as she’s told and keeps snipping away. She then picks up a blow dryer and starts to style it. Finally, after another twenty minutes or so, she spins me around so I can no longer see my reflection. She’s drying and brushing and I can feel her movements slowing down. She reaches for a bottle of hairspray and spritzes all around my head. I’m hitting the two-hour mark of being here at the salon, and I’m getting impatient, but I know I’m close to being done.

“What do you think?” She spins me around to face the glass.

I take a good look in the mirror, and I almost don’t recognize myself. The blonde color in my hair slightly glimmers under the salon lights. I take a strand and run my fingers down it. It’s so short. The ends barely touch my shoulder. I look like a new girl.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She worries.

I stare at her and then back to the mirror.

“No. It’s not that. I look amazing. It’s just difficult to see the actual change.”

She removes my smock and shakes all the hair off.

“It looks really good on you. I suppose any color would though. You have a beautiful face, and now with the short hair, it just shows more of it off.”

“Thank you for everything,” I say.

“You are very welcome. You can pay up front.”

“Oh, my boyfriend’s going to pay when he comes back.”

I freeze up as the words leave my mouth. I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t call Trig my boyfriend just now.

“No problem. Just flag me down when he gets here.” She smiles.

I go and take a seat in the waiting area. I see Trig walk in about five minutes later with his cup of coffee. My leg starts to jiggle in anticipation. What if he hates my new hair? I guess the better question is, why am I so worried about what he thinks? I sit up straighter to get his attention. He walks right past me, and then he looks around the salon. Finally, he turns and stares down. I watch him do a double take.

“Damn,” he says.

“Is that good or bad?” I smile.

He sets his coffee down and comes over to me.

“You look beautiful.”

“I feel beautiful,” I say. “It’s really short, but it’s nice.”

“I like it a lot.”

He drinks me in with his eyes, and I’m glad that I made the decision to do it.

“Is this the boyfriend?” Mariella shouts, as she works her way to the front desk.

Trig looks at her and then at me.

“Yup, I guess it is.” I blush. “Or something close to it.”

Mariella looks at me strangely. It feels really odd to claim him as mine. We haven’t really discussed what terms to use for each other, and in this moment, I wish we had.

Suddenly, eyeliner guy pops up.

“Hello, stranger!” He winks at Trig. “I see you returned. Hopefully to see me.”

Trig slightly turns and looks at me as if he might just throw up in his mouth.

“What’s the total?” Trig says to Mariella, ignoring the guy.

“One seventy five.”

“For a haircut and dye? Ludicrous.”

“Oh baby, this ain’t no cuts-for-less type place,” the guy teases.

Trig takes out money and pushes it toward Mariella.

“Keep the change.”

Trig turns toward me and nods for the door.

“Come back anytime, and bring that stallion with you,” eyeliner guy yells out from behind us.

Trig just tosses up a hand and politely waves bye in a sloppy kind of motion.

As soon as we get outside, he looks at me and smiles.

“Boyfriend?”

“I’m really sorry about that. It slipped and–”

“Nine. We’re living together. We’ve slept together multiple times, and last night I just beat the hell out of a guy for you. Let me also mention the fact that some form of deep affection was expressed from both sides. Maybe it was the anger that made me say it, and maybe it was the drugs that made you, but if I’m not your man then I don’t know what else to call it.”

“So, this is us giving it a go then?” I question.

“If you’re down, then I’m down.”

He stops walking, turns and grabs my waist. His hands are planted firmly on my back.

“What if we mess this up?”

“What if we don’t?” he counters.

I think about it for a few seconds. I look away and nod.

“Okay.” I say. “Boyfriend and girlfriend. Let’s do it.”

I now pronounce us two sick and twisted fucks in love. I just know with Trig being the way he is, and me being me, things are guaranteed to get interesting.