Leaving His Mark Read online

  “I think you’re getting soft in your old age, that almost sounded like a compliment.” The deep laugh that’s all Tony booms through the room. He puts the mirror down and walks over to me, shoving me on the shoulder.

  “Whoa there now young man, I really wouldn’t go that far.” I laugh as I grab the cling film to cover the new work on his back.

  “Get your arse over here so I can get you taped up. The quicker I get that done, the quicker I can get rid of you.” His laughter booms again and I feel my smile growing on my lips. Tony is a really good guy, spending time with him is soothing, quiet but it’s a comfortable quiet.

  I grab a wet piece of gauze to clean the worst of the ink from around the area. Rhys walks up behind me and I can feel the heat of her body against my arm.

  “It looks fantastic, Gabe. You’re not bad at this tattoo thing are you?” I hear Tony laughing at her comment and I bump against her, making her stagger to the side.

  “Do you see this abuse I have to put up with Tony? I swear I don’t know why I tolerate it, it’s not like the wages are that good.” I turn and glare at her back as she turns and walks towards Paul.

  “I like her.” Tony’s also watching her as she walks away. I smile to myself thinking of how well she fits in here even though she’s the only woman. The shop has two full time tattooists, me and Paul, but also two part timer trainees who are both blokes. Craig and Rory work in the extra chairs at the back some weekends, trying to relieve some of the backlog of appointments. Neither of them do big pieces yet but they can do the smaller popular designs.

  I go back to cleaning Tony’s back pressing a little harder than I need to. Let’s see if he finds that as funny as Rhys’s cheeky comment.

  “Fuck. Don’t take it out on me.” He turns meeting my glare with laughter in his eyes so I know I’m not really hurting him.

  “Sorry, was just trying to make sure it’s clean.” I give him a sickly sweet smile and he laughs his deep booming laugh.

  “Yeah I'm sure that’s what it was.”

  ****

  I open the fridge in my kitchen and grab a bottle of water. I really want a beer but I can’t drink with the medication I'm about to take. I’d debated which would make me feel better but after feeling the throbbing in my head return I decided that pain killers would be the best option. I walk through to my bathroom while drinking the first half of the bottle in one gulp. I grab three tablets from the packet, downing them with the other half of the water. I throw the empty bottle into the bin next to the toilet and go to my room.

  If I rest for a bit my headache might clear, stopping it from building into a full-blown migraine. The last thing I need just now is to have to take time off to recover. My appointment book is full, Tuesday to Saturday, for the next three months, so no, time off isn’t an option. I lie with my arm across my eyes, trying to block out as much light as possible. I really should get up and close the blinds but I can’t force myself to do it. I just want to sleep and let the medication work its magic.

  I can feel myself drifting off when the house phone rings. There is no way that I'm getting up to answer it, they can leave me a message and I’ll call them back. It’s probably someone from the shop or Clay. They’re the only calls that come through to that phone. I hear my outgoing message playing and wait to listen to see who is calling. If it’s really important I will force myself to get up. When the beep sounds there is a small silence before the voice of my nightmares starts talking.

  “Hello Son. I was really hoping that you would be home so we could chat. I will call you again really soon. Missing you.”

  I feel my heart rate speeding up while he speaks. My body has an unconscious reaction to his voice. No matter how much I try to not let him affect me he always does. My muscles tighten and my teeth grind together adding pressure to my already painful head.

  I know anyone listening to the message would only hear love in his voice but I know better. The man speaking doesn’t know anything about love. He spent most of his life making it his mission to hurt me, to ruin any happiness I might have had. My dad doesn’t know the meaning of love, I don’t think there was ever a moment in my childhood where I felt like he even liked me.

  When he finishes speaking I force myself from my bed. I need to delete it before it drives me insane. He’s called me a few times a month since he was put in prison, he does it just to torture me. He can’t hurt me physically now so he has changed tact to mentally torment me. I don’t know how he gets my numbers, I’ve changed them numerous times over the last few years but he always manages to get them. I have given up changing them now, there seems no point in all the work when he still rings. I'm pretty sure it’s my Uncle Troy that gives him the numbers even though I have asked him not to. He’s my dad’s brother and I think he must feel there is a way to mend the rift between us. The only problem with that is my dad took everything from me so there nothing that will ever make me forgive him.

  I press the delete button making sure that I don’t hear the message again. I feel pain throbbing through my head, not only from the migraine but also from the tension now working through my body. I walk to the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge, taking a huge drink. I don’t care now about mixing it with my medication, passing out is something I would welcome right now. I grab a second bottle from the fridge before making my way back to my room. I plan to drink myself into a deep sleep and let the darkness take me.

  Chapter Two

  I push my front door open and feel it snag on something behind it. I lean my head against the door and sigh. I hate it when packages are forced through my letter box, they always catch on the loose runner on the bottom of the door making it almost impossible to get in. I kneel down and reach through the gap trying to feel what is blocking my entry, but there is nothing within reach. I bang my head against the door a few times before standing again. I take my bag off my shoulder and push it through the gap, placing it on the floor just inside the door. I place my first leg inside and push my shoulder through after it. Sucking in my stomach I stuggle to fit my body between the stuck door and doorframe.

  I finally manage to fit through the small gap and close the door, freeing the package. I look at the parcel as I walk to my kitchen. I don’t recognise the handwriting on the front so I throw it on the table while I turn the kettle on. While the kettle boils I rush through to my room and get changed into my pyjamas. After a day at work the only thing I want to do is relax.

  I get back to the kitchen as the kettle clicks off and I make myself a coffee. Grabbing the parcel and other post from the table, I walk through the kitchen to my lounge, making myself comfortable on my reading chair. I love this chair so much, I actually designed my living room around it after spotting it in a shop. Placing my cup on the table beside the seat I get myself under my blanket, I throw the other letters on top of my legs but keep the parcel in my hands. I turn it over looking for a possible return address or a clue as to who it’s from. I don’t see anything but open it up anyway, it’s probably from my sister, she’s always sending me stuff. She is a lot younger than my twenty-three years as my mum had her with her second husband. Janie is thirteen and I adore her. To her I'm the really cool big sister. I work at a tattoo shop and drive a two seater car, there is nothing there that isn’t cool to a teenager.

  When the package is opened I tip the content out onto my legs and frown. This is definitely not from my sister. I pick up the little blue box and look at it. Its tied up with a red bow and looks like a jewellery box. I put it down and pick up the card that came with it. It has a love heart on the front and has writing inside.

  ‘From my heart to yours.’

  There’s nothing else written in it and it has me really confused. I pick up the envelope again and make sure it’s definitely addressed to me. It is and that confuses me more. Picking up the box I remove the bow and open the lid. I gasp when I look inside, my fingers reaching out and removing the beautiful necklace that’s inside. It is a heart made
from little clear stones that look like diamonds but I know they can’t be, no one sends diamonds to someone in the post. I twist the necklace in my hand letting the light hit the glittering stones. It is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen. I place it carefully back into the box and put the box in the envelope again. Someone obviously sent this in error so I will keep it safe until they contact me to get it back. The fact that it has my name on the front causes even more confusion, but it must be a mistake.

  ****

  Mornings always come around too quickly, and no matter how much I love my job I never seem to get enough sleep in between my shifts. I'm working on the computer, updating the appointment system for the day when yet another yawn escapes.

  “Don’t let the fact that you’re at work keep you awake.” I feel the smile twitch at the edges of my lips even though I'm trying to supress it. Gabe is always the best part of my day. I don’t acknowledge him as he walks past me apart from the finger I raise in his direction. I hear him laughing as he walks back to his office. When his laughter fades enough that I know he can’t see me I let the smile break through. I remember the first day I met Gabe, I thought he was possibly the sexiest guy I had ever seen. He is like a model crossed with a tattooed bad boy, chiselled features, messy but styled hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. It took me a little while until I felt comfortable talking to him but soon we were talking like old friends. He’s the single thing that has made this job perfect. I often daydream about him kissing me, maybe putting his hands over all my curves but I know that we’re work colleagues and he doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend.

  The bell above the door goes and I look up, seeing Paul entering the shop. I plaster a fake smile to my face and say good morning. I don’t know what it is about Paul but he creeps me out, making the tiny hairs on my neck stand up. He’s a friendly guy, a little too friendly if you ask me. He always stands really close to me, too close for me to feel comfortable, and I swear that he sniffed me one time.

  “Good morning, Rhys. Did you have a good night?” I look back to the computer hoping that he will take the hint that I'm busy and can’t stop to talk.

  “I did, Paul. A quiet one at home.” He’s quiet for a long time making me look up at him. He’s licking his lips and looking at my body. I feel a shiver running through me as he stares and I pray for some help. I breathe a sigh of relief when my prayers are answered and Gabe walks back through. Paul hears him and stands up straight, making sure not to look at me while Gabe speaks to him.

  I return to my work, feeling more comfortable when Gabe walks behind the reception desk to look at the appointment book, putting a physical barrier between me and Paul.

  “Nice to see you’re on time for a change, Paul. It’ll be nice to start the day on a positive note.” I look at Paul out of the corner of my eye and I see the muscles in his jaw twitch. He hates being spoken to like that. I don’t think he’s used to it, most of the people who come in and see him are in awe of him. He just grunts at Gabe and walks away, obviously not wanting to start something he might regret. When he disappears through the door I hear Gabe behind me laughing. I turn in my chair and look at him in surprise. He returns my stare.

  “What? I didn’t do anything.” I raise my eyebrows at him letting him know I’m not believing him in the slightest.

  “Fine. I just love fucking with that guy, it’s so easy to do.” I shake my head at him but I have to agree I love seeing Paul getting taken down a peg or two.

  “You’re just asking for trouble. He will be in a pissed off mood for the rest of the day and you will have no one to blame but yourself.” He shrugs his shoulders before throwing down the appointment book.

  “At least we will know why he’s pissed off today.” I laugh as I watch him walk away and I try to keep my eyes off his arse but fail badly.

  ****

  “Good afternoon Virgin Ink, how can I help?” I look at the clock and make sure it is actually afternoon. I was caught up working on ordering stock when the phone rang. I'm glad when I see that my greeting is right but I realise I’ve missed my lunch.

  “Hi. I'm looking to get a small tattoo and I was wondering how much it would cost?” The voice coming across the line is what I like to class as a pretty girl voice. She will want a tiny little tattoo in a very popular place, probably wrist or ankle. I know I’m totally stereotyping without knowing the girl on the other end of the phone but I have been working here a while now, I can usually guess what the customer is going to ask for.

  “It depends who you want to do you work. The rates are per hour so you need to decide how big you want the tattoo and where you want it.” I hear her giggle and I roll my eyes. If I had any money I would bet it all on the fact this girl has seen Gabe and wants him to put his hands on her.

  “Um, who’s the guy with the dark hair. I saw him when he was doing my friend’s tattoo. Oh and he has the bluest eyes.” I refrain from sighing at her. I wish I had made that bet with someone, I knew it would be Gabe.

  “That’s Gabe, he’s the owner. He’s eighty-five pounds an hour. There’s also Paul, who’s seventy five pounds an hour.” I barely get the last word of my sentence out when she jumps in.

  “Oh no, I want Gabe.” I think that she’s telling the truth, maybe not a tattoo from him but she wants Gabe. I can’t help the jealousy that floods through my body when I imagine her all over him. I shouldn’t be having feeling like this about Gabe but it doesn’t stop me.

  “Okay. His waiting list is about five months at the moment. So you’re looking close to Christmas for an appointment.” I smile to myself when I imagine her face falling. Nope, you’re not getting touched by him anytime soon.

  I finish up the call with the girl deciding she would come in and talk about what she wants. I'm pretty sure I can try and push her onto Paul when she sees him, after all he’s a good looking guy as well. I shudder when those words enter my head, it feels wrong thinking of Paul in that way. I can’t believe I'm trying to push this poor girl towards Paul the creep but if it’s him or Gabe, he wins. I close the booking programme as the bell above the door goes. I smile when I see that it’s Clay, Gabe’s friend. Clay is a huge guy but a total teddy bear. Big, burly and hair so short its almost a buzz cut, but I swear he would cry if you gave him a kitten. He visits the shop on a regular basis, he once said that he would never trust anyone else to permanently mark his body.

  “Good afternoon, Sexy.” I hate it when men use generic names for women. I mean how hard is it to remember a woman’s name? But with Clay, I don’t know why, it’s acceptable.

  “Hey, Clay. How are you today?” He returns my smile as he takes a seat next to the desk. I gather his paperwork together for him to sign.

  “I’m bloody good. Can’t wait to get this show on the road, once this one is done that’s it. No more tattoos.” I laugh at his comment, knowing that he’s lying. He’s told me that the last four tattoos have been his last, but here he is, getting another one.

  “Yes I know you. Nearly done though, you know, since it’s your last. Here, sign your life away, remember to leave me everything in your will.” I get up and hand him the clipboard with all the forms attached, I keep walking in the direction of the workroom to tell Gabe that Clay has arrived.

  “Gabe, that’s Clay arrived. Do you want him straight in?” I try to keep my eyes from Paul but it’s really hard to do. He’s staring at me while he rubs cream into the thigh of the girl he has just finished working on. An involuntary shudder flows through my body. I don’t know why I have this reaction to him, he’s never been anything but nice to me. He’s a helpful, polite guy but there is just something in his eyes, there’s a darkness there that I don’t like. It’s not like the darkness I see inside Gabe, it’s more dangerous. I can tell Gabe’s been through so much, that there is something haunting him but I feel safe with him. Even on nights when I’m here with him, just me and him, I feel totally safe. I'm not sure I could say that about Paul.

  “Yeah, sen
d the idiot in. There’s no putting of seeing his ugly mug any longer.” I giggle as I turn, letting out a shocked squeal when I connect with a hard body. Two large hands come out and grab my arms as I trip backwards. Clay actually lifts me from the floor and deposits me to the side as he storms past me towards Gabe. Any other person would be in a state of panic with a guy the size of Clay coming towards him but not Gabe, he just smiles and sits back in his chair.

  “Good afternoon, fucker. I see we have smart arse Gabe today.” Even though his words have a rough, dangerous tone to them, I can tell by the look in his eye that he doesn’t mean it in any other way than good natured.

  “Big talk, dude, especially since I’ll be the one with the tattoo gun against your skin today.” The look on Clay’s face is comical. The realisation of what Gabe says sinking in. He stands right in front of Gabe and pulls him up by the arms, grabbing him into a bear hug.

  “I love you man. You know, I have so much love for you since you’re such an awesome guy.” I try to hold in my laughter but a giggle escapes as I watch the two of them. Gabe pushes against Clay’s chest trying to get him to let go but he won’t. He’s kissing Gabe’s face, not leaving an inch of it without attention.

  “For the love of God Clay. Will you stop kissing me? Seriously dude, when I get out of this I'm gonna kick your arse…or tattoo my name on you.” Clay eventually releases him before sitting in the tattoo chair with a huge grin on his face. Gabe looks pissed but I can see the happiness in his eyes, showing he isn’t as annoyed as he wants people to believe. When looks over at me I smile before leaving the workroom to return to reception.