10. Jax
JAX
I follow my client, Brad, out to reception once we’re done.
I’ve spent the last three hours putting the finishing touches on the large eagle that’s spread across his back.
It’s taken me five sittings to complete it, but it was worth the time that I put in—it looks amazing.
I made sure to get a photo before he put his shirt back on.
I love seeing the look of satisfaction on my client’s faces once the job is complete.
“I wanna get my kids’ names on my arm next,” he says. “I’ll need a few weeks to save up the cash though.”
“No problem. Just speak with Candice on your way out, she can slot you in when you’re ready.”
“Thanks again, mate,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m in awe of your work.”
“You’re welcome.” When I let go of his hand, I turn my attention to Candice. “I’m gonna head out and grab something to eat. You want anything?”
“Nope,” she barks without making eye contact with me. “Oh, you’ll need this.” She slaps my wallet down on the counter.
I scratch my head as I walk over to pick it up. “I was wondering where I put that. Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t.” She looks at me briefly before lowering her eyes, continuing to flip through the diary in front of her. “You left it on the floor beside some girl’s bed last night. She dropped it off earlier.”
I hear Brad chuckle from beside me, but I’m not amused. I went out for a few drinks to drown my sorrows and ended up going home with some random chick. Not because I was attracted to her—the total opposite.
I needed to forget Candice for a while. She’s consuming me .
The crazy thing is, I thought of her the entire time. I even closed my eyes and pretended it was her so I could blow, which is so messed up. But just like the others, last night was all in vain. My heart won’t stop pining for the one person I know I can never have again. I’m a lost cause.
Picking up my wallet, I leave Brad with Candice as I head out into the street.
I hate that she knows what I got up to last night but there’s nothing I can say to undo what happened.
I shouldn’t be concerned about it, but I am.
Candice made it quite clear the other day that we’re only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.
But the last thing I want to do is rub my conquests in her face.
If the shoe was on the other foot, I know I’d hate it.
When we talked the other morning, I almost professed my love for her.
Thankfully I had the sense to shut my mouth before the words fell out—it would’ve only made this awkward situation worse.
I could never give her what she wants. I’d only fuck it up and ruin everything we have.
I refuse to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship.
Candice is quiet for the rest of the day. She’s still talking to me, but she’s not her usual bubbly self. I’m not stupid; she’s hurt, or maybe just angry. She probably thinks I’m a hypocrite for the way I carried on about Jason.
I’m cleaning up after one of my clients when she knocks on the door. “Hey,” she says, “can I come in?”
“Of course.” Initially, I think she’s going to bring up the wallet, but she doesn’t. She’s a better person than I am.
“Sophia wants to know if you’re coming over for dinner tonight.”
I grin. “Do you want me there?”
“I’m asking you, aren’t I?”
“Okay, I’d love to.” I’m relieved that we’re all right.
“Great, I’ll let her know.” She turns to leave, but then stops. “I’m right to get a lift home with you then?”
“Of course. It’s pointless getting Sophia to come all this way when I’m going to your place anyway.”
She glances over her shoulder and smiles before disappearing down the hall. I’m grateful she’s at least trying to keep things normal. I pray in time it’ll get easier for us both.
It has to.
The next few days are uneventful. That is until I walk out into reception to find Candice missing. Shane, one of my artists, is sitting behind the counter in her place. “Where’s Candice?” I ask, thinking she may have stepped out for a minute.
“She’s with Gus. He’s popping her cherry.”
“He’s fucking what?” I yell.
“Calm down, man. She asked him to ink her. He’s popping her tattoo cherry, not her, you know … cherry cherry.” He chuckles.
I’m not amused … like hell Gus is inking her. She never mentioned getting a tattoo to me, and there’s no way I’m letting anyone else put their hands on her. I’m her best friend for Christ's sake. Why wouldn’t she ask me to do it? I spin around and storm down the corridor towards his room.
I open the door without knocking. This is my business, so I can do whatever the fuck I like.
“What the hell, Candice?” I grumble, stalking towards the reclining chair where she sitting.
Gus’s surprised eyes spring up to meet mine.
I’m relieved to see he’s still putting the transfer on her arm and hasn’t started inking her yet.
Thankfully, it’s just her arm—if it was anywhere else on her body, I may have completely lost my shit.
Candice eyes me sceptically when I come to an abrupt halt next to the chair.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” she replies. “I’m getting a tatt.”
“Why?”
“Um … because I want one?”
“Don’t be a smart-arse, Candice. Why didn’t you ask me to do it?” I see red when she lifts one shoulder. Is she for real? This may not be a big deal to her, but it is to me. “If you want a tattoo, then you’ll be getting it from me. End of fucking story.”
“Easy there, boss,” Gus says, rising from his stool.
He’s twice my size and built like a brick wall, but I’m not backing down here. I can’t wrap my head around the fact she didn’t ask me. I give him a look, warning him not to push any further—I’m already teetering on the edge.
“Butt the fuck out, Gus,” I snap when he opens his mouth to say more, before turning my attention back to Candice.
“I want to know why you didn’t ask me to do this?
” I’ve never been great at dealing with rejection.
I’ve experienced this from my family my entire life.
I never thought I’d have to face it from her as well.
“Because…” She pauses before releasing a defeated breath.
I stand there and wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.
Her eyes dart between Gus and me and I get the impression she doesn’t want to tell me her reasons in front of him.
I reach for her hand, and when she stands, I pull her from the room and towards my studio. I need to get to the bottom of this.
“You can do my two o’clock appointment, Gus,” I call over my shoulder as Candice tries to tug her hand out of my iron grip.
As soon as we’re inside my room, I close the door and stand in front of it, blocking her escape. She’s feisty when she’s mad, and the look on her face tells me she’s about to let me have it. Bring it on, my little spitfire . I’m angry too.
“Why did you embarrass me like that?” she says as she takes a step towards me, pushing my chest. “You had no right.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to give you a tattoo?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question, Jax.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I like.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too,” I say.
What in the hell is happening to us? We’ve never been this volatile before.
“You had no right to do what you just did.”
She’s right. I didn’t. I’m acting like an arsehole. “Fine,” I eventually say. “I may have overreacted slightly, but in my defence, I’m hurt that you went to someone else.”
“Slightly … huh,” she scoffs. “Overreacting is where you’ve moved to apparently. What happened to the easy-going Jax I once knew? Who replaced him with this … this … overbearing, controlling … jerk?”
“I’m supposed to be your best friend.”
“So?”
“How do you think it makes me feel knowing you don’t want me to do your tattoo? That’s like me going to see someone else to get a stupid facial.”
When she laughs my anger spikes.
“I’m sorry, I’m just picturing it in my head. Your face covered with a pore-reducing mask and sliced cucumber placed strategically over your eyes.”
Like that’s ever going to happen. “Shut up and sit.”
“What if I don’t want to?” she says, folding her arms over her chest like a child. “And don’t tell me to shut up.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. Please, sit.” I extend my hand towards my chair.
“Fine,” she mumbles under her breath as she spins around in a huff.
Wonders will never cease. I wasn’t expecting her stubborn arse to give in so easily.
Taking a seat on the stool beside her, I look over the large transfer of the hibiscus flower Gus placed at the top of her arm. “What colour do you want the flower?” I ask as I grab the equipment I’ll need out of the drawer beside me.
“Pink,” we say in unison, followed by, “Jinx.” We laugh. We’ve always been in sync like that. It’s not unusual for either of us to finish each other’s sentences, or think what the other is thinking.
I can feel her watching my every move as I mix up the colours and get everything ready.
“Ouch. That hurts,” she complains the minute the needle connects with her skin.
“You didn’t think it was going to tickle did you?”
“I guess not,” she says with a shrug.
“Stay still.” I use my free hand to stretch the skin tight. When my eyes dart up to hers I find her studying me intently. “What?”
“Nothing.”
There’s a comfortable silence between us as I outline the first few petals of the flower.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you.”
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come to me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
What does being friends have to do with it? “What the fuck is Gus then?” If she says they’re more than friends, I’ll lose it.
“A friend.”
“Well?”
“Gus and I don’t have a history.”
“It’s just a tattoo, Candice, it’s not like I’m going to jump you or anything.”
“Right, been there, done that.”
There’s sarcasm in her voice and her words sting. I wish she’d stop saying things like that. She’s nothing like the others—they don’t hold a candle to her.