Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

brISTOL

T he weekend was over so quickly and I felt like I slept most of Sunday away at the clubhouse then after we had gotten home, I slept even more. It's been a week since my phone call with the insurance agent and no funds have been distributed. He called back and said that he had gotten some things wrong and that we would need to do a little more paperwork, and by a little more, he meant any at all. Evidently it was his first week on the job and he had heard about my family's story and just wanted to get himself involved somehow, while ignoring all protocols in place at his job. The one he doesn't have any more due to his lack of efficiency and ability to do said job correctly.

Our case was escalated to a manager, and I've been having dealings with her all week. She said we needed to get an attorney to take care of the paperwork. Sebastian set up a meeting with Reaper's go-to attorney and we are on our way there now. My birth certificate came in earlier this week, I got my state identification card, and Sebastian has been trying to teach me how to drive the truck. I don't love the massive hood, but I'm making do. I really want to get my license. I don't know why this is so important to me. Maybe because I had only driven a handful of times as a teenager and then before I got my license, Patrick snagged me and stole that from me too.

It's hard not to lose myself in focusing on all of the things that I've lost at the hands of someone else. At the hands of an absolute fucking monster. But I try so hard not to let myself get too deep into the thought process of everything he's taken from me. Some days I lose the battle, but Sebastian has been so amazing in this process. I think he's terrified to rattle my cage.

We drive through town and turn down a street between two very old buildings. One looks like it used to be a bank, built in the 1800s, or so the historical sign out front says.

Sebastian opens my door for me and we walk into the old building. The walls are a light mint and the chairs are large and old. I'm almost scared to sit down in one because I'm terrified I'm going to break an antique relic and don't want to be sued for it.

Sebastian greets the receptionist and checks us in as I sit softly on one of the chairs, hoping for the best.

He takes a seat next to me, his large frame taking up most of the chair. There's a bronze plaque-like sign on the wall that reads, Law Offices of Terrance Bregman & Associates. Sebastian rests his hand on my thigh and I place my hand inside his. He squeezes it once for reassurance and I sigh, letting my shoulders relax. I keep telling myself there's nothing to be nervous about, but this just feels like such a huge thing I don't know how to not be nervous about it.

"Miss Tullier?" A lady calls my name and Sebastian tenses beside me. I look up at her and recognize her face immediately. Mack. Walter's wife .

I stand up and follow her down the bright hallway with paneled walls and an old carpet floor. The heels she wears would normally make a clicking sound on hard floors but that is drowned out by the carpet, leaving only a soft thud in its place. Sebastian is right behind me as we enter her office. She closes the door and makes sure it clicks shut before she sits down behind her desk.

"Kent said you needed some help with collecting an insurance policy. First, I want to say I am so sorry for your loss and I'm terribly sorry about everything you've been through lately."

"And what exactly is it that you think I've been through?" I ask, trying not to snap at her.

"I—just—Walter told me about arresting you. I can't imagine how terrible that must have been. My husband can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, and I'm sorry you had to endure that. That's all."

"Thank you," I say, sitting down in one of the two chairs opposite her desk.

Sebastian sits down next to me, resting an elbow on his knee. He doesn't sit back and doesn't get comfortable which tells me he is not comfortable here.

I read the name plate on the desk in front of me. Shelley McCreary. I like Mack better.

Mack grabs a pair of glasses from her desk and places them on her face, flipping through a stack of papers on her desk. She licks her thumb to separate the pages as she skims over the information that's displayed on them.

"Okay. So pretty much what we need to do is have you sign a few of these papers. I'll get them notarized. I'll need copies of your driver's license or a valid state identification card as well as your parents and brother's death certificates. "

"I don't have the death certificates. Can you tell me how to get those?"

"You normally would have to go to the vital records department in the state that issued the death certificates, but we can likely get around that. It will involve some leg work on my end, but nothing that I can't handle. With a copy of your license, I'll be able to get someone to issue it to you."

"Thank you."

"Okay, do you have a license?"

"No, but I have a state ID."

"That's perfect. I need to make a copy of that and then I'll start working on getting you those death certificates then we will be able to finalize all of your paperwork and get you your money."

She takes my ID and disappears down the hall.

I can feel the anger vibrating off of Sebastian.

"What's wrong?"

"Fucking Reaper. I don't know why we are working with Mack. I didn't get a chance to ask him, yet, either, but I fucking need to."

"She seems nice," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

He just stares at me, with eyes that hold no emotion. I hate that he's so frustrated. She seems like she's going above and beyond to help me.

"She's doing a lot to help us. She's literally saving us a trip to freaking Wisconsin."

Sebastian shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. I think she's just kissing ass because of her ties to Reaper. I don't trust her."

"We don't have to trust her with anything other than acquiring the things we need in order to get the money that is mine."

Sebastian nods. "You're right, baby."

Mack returns with my ID and sends us on our way.

She wasn't kidding. Mack went to work right after we left and within a week, she called us to come back in, having acquired everything we needed and got it all sent off to the insurance company. Kendra brought me this time though because Sebastian and Reaper were MIA and had been for the last three days.

Kendra and I walk into Mack's office and the two of them hug each other with huge smiles on their faces. "It's so good to see you, K!"

"I know! It's been too long since we've had a girls' night. We have to change that soon when you get some time off."

"Okay. Bristol, here's what we have." Mack sets a check down in front of me that is addressed to me in the amount of nine-hundred eighty-nine thousand dollars. It feels surreal to hold this in my hand.

"Holy shit." My mouth is parted and I'm staring at this check like it's going to talk or do a back flip or spontaneously combust in my fingertips.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Bristol," Mack says, extending her hand. I shake it as I try to hold back the emotion clawing at me.

"If you need anything else, anything at all, you let me know. If my husband gives you any more trouble, you let me know that too."

"I sure will. Thank you so much."

Kendra and Mack hug and we exit the building. I climb into Kendra's car, which Reaper spared no expense on. She has a brand new, Mercedes Benz S-Class that has a custom metallic candy apple red paint job and a copper interior. The sunroof ties it all together, making it the most expensive and the most beautiful car I've ever ridden in .

"To the bank?"

"To the bank."

Kendra whips smoothly through the daytime traffic in Gulfport and we arrive at the bank in a few short minutes. I go inside and tell the teller at the counter I need to make a deposit and pull out the paperwork from the account Sebastian helped me open last week and the check.

It's quick and mostly painless as she types on the computer then tells me my funds will be available in the next few days. She didn't seem surprised at all by the amount on the check and that in itself surprised me because how often does she see amounts like this? Is everyone rich and I'm just late to the party? Because that is a whole hell of a lot of money to me.

Sebastian put a few thousand dollars in my account until my money clears, but I haven't spent any of it yet. That is until now.

I sit back into the car with Kendra.

"Who do you know around here that does tattoos and is good?" I ask.

Her eyes light up. "Oh! Bosco has a guy that we've all been using since he started prospecting. He's about thirty minutes north of here and his work is bomb ."

"Can you take me there? If you don't have time to wait with me, then that's okay. I can go another day or… I don't know. I would figure it out."

"Oh, girl. I can definitely go with you. There are a few good artists at that shop and I've been dying to have this tattoo on my hip fixed. It's god-awful because I was allergic to the lotion they used and the ink has been ripped out in some spots."

"Perfect," I grin. I'll get to surprise Sebastian. I've had this idea of a tattoo in my head since I was held in captivity and now I've got the funds to bring it to life .

The ride to the tattoo shop is peaceful. That's the only word that comes to mind as we wind down a curvy back road with the sunroof open. The sun beats down on my skin, the sky is blue and there is not a cloud in sight. I feel so… free. It's a random Wednesday and I'm on my way to a tattoo shop. I never would have believed a year ago that this is what I would be doing. That this is what my life would look like. My wildest dreams of life outside of captivity could never have figured it up this good.

The back road ends and we come to a red light in a small town. I see the flashing neon sign up ahead with an arrow that says, Tattoos Here. The sign makes me smile. I've never gotten a tattoo before and I'm pretty sure for my first tattoo I should not be getting what I want to get, but nothing in my life has ever been what it's supposed to be so why should that change now?

Kendra puts the car in park and we walk in through a set of black glass double doors. There's a receptionist behind a glass case with saloon-style swinging doors behind her. There are intricate designs of artwork on the three walls surrounding the glass case and four chairs to the right of the door for people to sit and wait.

"Whew, it's dead in here today," Kendra says, approaching the receptionist.

"Kendra! Hey girl! Yeah, it's Wednesday at four o'clock in the afternoon. What'd you expect?"

We all laugh.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well, I need to get my hip piece fixed, but I'll get Crusher to do it instead of Kris. My girl here is wanting something amazing, of which I do not know yet, and I want her to get the best seat in the shop."

The receptionist begins pulling out paperwork for us to fill out and asks for my ID. I rummage through the purse I just started carrying in search of the damn thing and finally find it in the bottom underneath the wallet it should've been put back in. I'll get used to this stuff eventually.

A tattoo artist pops out from behind the doors. He has shoulder length straight hair, a Bob Marley beanie on, and ink covering every square inch of his body aside from a few spots on his face.

"Bristol?" He calls out, looking between me and Kendra.

"Oh, hey girl! What are you doing here?"

"Brought my girl to see the best tattoo artist I know," she says, crossing the room to hug who I assume now is Kris.

"Bristol, this is Kris. Kris, Bristol."

"Nice to meet you," I say softly. I feel out of place and I am second guessing my decision to do this. I'm starting to get nervous. This isn't me. This isn't something I do. I don't make decisions to get a tattoo on a whim.

I take a steadying breath, pushing down the panic that is rising quickly in my chest. The heaviness begins to take over and I think for a second I might pass out, become one with the cold, marble tile beneath our feet in this lobby.

Kendra comes to my side, her hand gripping my arm. Her fingers are cold so I focus on the sensation, drowning out everything else. "You okay?" She asks, her eyes riddled with concern as she assesses me.

I nod. "Yeah. I just, got a little dizzy for a minute," I smile, trying to play it off.

"You sure you good to get tatted?" Kris asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Oh yeah. I'm good, I promise." I try to sound convincing, and he doesn't look like he believes me, but he lets me go to the back anyway .

"Have a seat here. What are you looking to get done today?"

"Well. So. I have this idea and it's probably going to sound a little crazy but, it's a whole back piece."

Kris stares at me, waiting for me to continue I assume, so I do.

"I'm thinking a skull that covers the entirety of my back, but not just any skull. I want it to have some ripped skin above the teeth and around the nostril area. Making it look like the skin was ripped off and some was left behind, with leaves and lilies in the top right and a smoke ribbon through a nose-hole, and over the face in a few spots."

"Motherfucker. Okay. That's a lot. Give me a little while to get something drawn up and I'll come back and get you when I'm done."

I see myself to the lobby where Kendra is talking with another artist. He's bald, tall, and his entire head is covered in a tattoo of a brain and bone outline. He's broad, like Sebastian, but about a hundred pounds heavier. I can't think of a name more fitting than Crusher.

I sit down in one of the chairs and watch quietly as Kendra explains the cover-up design she's wanting him to do. He heads to the back to draw her tattoo and she takes a seat next to me. Now that I have time to think about it, I begin feeling my stomach draw up in knots. I have always wanted tattoos but that was something that kind of went on the back burner while I was stuck in captivity for so long. So many things that I wanted out of life were on the back burner, shoved to the side while I tried to survive.

I contemplate if it will hurt when the tattoo begins. Then I contemplate if I will like it, the same way I like it when Sebastian delivers a blow to my ass when I'm defiant in the bedroom. The thought sends a rush of excitement coursing through my veins. I'm so lost in my own thoughts, I don't realize that Kris is standing in the doorway calling my name until Kendra taps me on the shoulder.

"Ready to see it?" he asks.

I nod, unable to conjure words.

He leads me to the back and there are multiple pieces of translucent paper pieced together to create the most beautiful outline of exactly what I had imagined. It's like he reached into my brain and pulled this image directly from my thoughts, bringing it to life on paper.

"What do you think?"

"It's perfect," I whisper, still in awe of the image before me.

"Okay. Let's get you started then."

"How long will it take? Will we finish it today?" I ask, unsure of how the process works with a piece so large.

Kris laughs and shakes his head. "Oh, no. My hands nor your back can handle that. We will go until we can't anymore. I have the day open. I actually have tomorrow open, too. We can see how you're feeling after today's session and possibly come back tomorrow to work on it some more."

"Okay."

"You're going to have to remove your shirt and bra."

I stare at him blankly while panic threatens to take over. I take a calming breath, trying not to lose my marbles while sitting in this tattoo parlor.

"Okay," I manage to get out. He turns around and I remove my shirt and bra. The lack of clothing and warmth has my nipples hard and chill bumps peppering my skin. There is a soft blanket on the cushioned table beside me. I lie flat on it with my arms tight at my side.

Kris sprays something on a paper towel and begins wiping my back. I jump at the cold intrusion. I wasn't expecting it to be so cold. I feel so exposed lying here although I know nothing can be seen.

There's a rolling silver tray beside me that has different tiny cups of ink. I focus on one of them while he lays the stencils on my back. Once he seems pleased, he takes a picture with his phone before showing it to me.

"What do you think?"

I look at the purple outline of the tattoo that I am about to get. It's beautiful.

"I love it!"

"Okay. Then let's get started," he says, clapping his hands together.

He makes small talk, asking how I know Kendra while he gets the tattoo gun ready. The buzz of the gun makes me nervous. It's here. He's about to start tattooing me. I am for real about to get a whole ass back piece tattoo. Me. Bristol Tullier. Captive girl turned club ol'lady. Captive girl turned nearly-millionaire.

Life is fucking wild.