39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Lucian

Not to brag, but I was one hell of an artist.

I could book out for months on end, and none of my clients bitched when I had to shuffle appointments around. I could do any style on any skin tone. I didn’t even mind when my canvases used numbing cream.

What I did mind was when they wouldn’t stop fucking moving.

“You done?” I asked as I lifted my foot from the pedal, causing the buzz of my machine to stop.

“Nah, man, I’m good,” the dirt-headed frat boy in my chair heaved. Something about the sweat clinging to his forehead told me he was probably lying.

Typically, I refused tattoo virgins who wanted to book a whole sleeve at once; it’s easy to say you can sit for an eight-hour session when you don’t know what it feels like. Regardless, I always made people pay my full rate if they tapped out. I wasn’t going to lose money just because my canvas was a bitch.

This appointment, however, was booked by my apprentice on a day that I wasn’t here. Sera said he looked like he could take it, and I trusted her.

Unfortunately for me, Sera had yet to learn that “tough guys” are the biggest babies in the world.

I placed my gun on the lined tray next to me and grabbed the bottle of disinfectant, spreading a liberal amount across the line work I’d just completed. The guy had asked for a full sleeve of black and gray photorealistic flowers with a clock and the word “family” on his forearm. Sera quoted him two thousand for today’s session, and warned that he would need a follow-up for shading. I would hate to take that much money from him, but hey, he signed the contract.

“You don’t look good.” I grabbed my plastic wrap and circled it around his arm twice.

“What? You can’t kick me out, I—”

“I’m not kicking you out, dumbass.” The last part slipped, but it got him to shut up, so that was fine. “Go outside, go smoke, get a drink of water, walk around, something. If you pass out or vomit in my chair, I’m banning you from my store.”

The frat boy’s eyes reminded me of dirty swamp water as he shot me a piss-poor attempt at a glare.

“You can’t do that. It’s against one of the amendments.”

I choked on a laugh. “Oh yeah? Show me which of your constitutional rights talks about tattoos, and I’ll comp your whole fucking session.”

His bushy brows knit together, and if I didn’t know better, I’d assume this jackass was trying to think of something smart to say.

“This shit hurts, man, not like you’d know that.”

I stared him down for a moment, unable to keep the incredulous look off my face as I processed his words. Slowly, I scooted back and peeled off my black latex gloves. Even after an hour in that plastic prison, my hands weren’t nearly as sweaty as his face. With one hand, I popped open the button on my cuff and rolled up the sleeve of my emerald button-down, revealing part of the vine sleeves that covered both arms and part of my left hand. I made a show of holding my tattoos up, going as far as to slap my forearm for dramatic effect.

“I can show you more, but I charge extra if a client asks me to remove my shirt.”

His face morphed into disgust, and I wondered if he had to fight the urge to call me something derogatory. I raised an eyebrow, silently challenging him to do it. He could be as mean as he wanted, but I could be worse.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll take ten.”

“Fifteen,” I corrected. I needed a break from him just as bad as he needed one from me.

I wasn’t plagued with another word from the frat boy—I should have probably asked for his name, not that I actually cared to know. But before I could ask, he walked through my curtain and out into God knows where. Aiden, I decided. He looked like an Aiden. Felt like a pretty good guess for a white boy with too much money.

“Fuck you, Aiden,” I mumbled once I was sure he was out of earshot.

I stood and stretched before going to my desk and grabbing my phone. If missing Mason was a crime, I was soon to be sentenced to life without parole. But I couldn’t fucking help it. Worse, I still didn’t know if she was going to run away with Sebastian as soon as he was done chasing his cult leader who was probably long dead by now.

At least when Mason was in France, I never had to look at her face-to-face. Sure, she was on TV, radio, and digital headlines, but I never had to sit across from her at the holiday table.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to dispel the image. She was here, and she seemed happy. I just wished she’d give me some security that she wasn’t leaving. She told me she loved me, but that was only when she was asleep. If she could share that with me as a waking thought, I’d feel better.

I grabbed my phone and dialed her number; she picked up on the first ring.

“... Yes?” Her voice was smooth as if she had somehow been expecting my call.

“What, no ‘ hello ’?”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the ruffling of covers and a heavy breath as she got settled. Somehow, she was supposed to carry Rosie for another ten-ish weeks, and as much as I liked to torment her with the threat of going over, I wasn’t sure she was even going to make it to her due date.

“Hello… What do you want?” She huffed, and I felt a little guilty for disrupting her.

Not guilty enough to stop, though.

“Can’t I call my beautiful girlfriend just because I miss her sweet voice?”

“You called me , not Sophia.”

“And for that, I’m bending you over my knee and smacking your ass when I get home.”

“Is that a promise?” Her laugh was easy, the type that wrapped around your heart and made you smile, too. It was a lovely sound, and I was grateful to hear it again.

“Cross my heart... but I need a favor.”

“Did you forget your lunch again?” Her exasperated tone was music to my ears.

“I did… but I’d settle for a coffee.” And a moment to show off my girlfriend, of course.

“Sophia says you’re doing this just because you like seeing me. Is that true?”

My heart lurched, and the familiar sensation of wasps filled my chest. But I didn’t mind them so much anymore… maybe I could start calling them bumble bees instead.

“No, I’m doing it because I like to bother you… It’s different.” I cleared my throat. “I can’t believe she’d say something like that. Maybe you should steal her car so you can bring me caffeine.”

Of course, I absolutely could believe Sophia would say that. She had been on me for the last two weeks straight, trying to get me to admit I enjoyed seeing Mason. I kept telling her there was no point; she already knew, so asking me to say it was like adding insult to injury. Honestly, I just didn’t want Mason-fucking-Albright to have that power over me again.

“I’d love to incur her wrath like someone and end up tied to a chair… but she’s at the grocery store with the kids.”

My heart fell a little.

“Well, take Seb’s SUV.”

I knew Mason was an excellent driver, and I didn’t want her to get hurt... but I’d love to see his reaction to her totaling his all-too-expensive vehicle.

“He’s out too… something with work. You have your Jeep. Why don’t you get yourself something?”

Because then I’d lose my excuse to see you.

“Is Cameron home?”

“Cameron!” she called, “Are you home?”

Fucking brat.

“Uhhh yeah?” Confusion wove into his far-off drawl. “Who’s asking?”

“Lucian. He wants you to bring him a coffee.”

I groaned and covered my eyes. Not that I didn’t love Cameron’s random visits, but I didn’t want him right now. Was she actually going to make me fucking say I wanted to see her? Would I even be able to say it if she forced me to?

“Is that why he called you?”

There was a beat of silence, and I was dying to see the look she was giving him.

“Why don’t you take my truck and go get him one? I have a few things to do around the farm.”

“Fine.” An exasperated sigh punctuated Mason’s response. “You’re just getting coffee though… Oh, and ask your client if they want anything. My treat.”

I was almost a little disappointed that the man I deemed to be Aiden didn’t tap out when I resumed tattooing him. Part of me hoped I’d be able to work in a quickie with Mason before she left, but it seemed I would have no such luck.

“Hey, just a heads up. My girl is going to be stopping by,” I warned over the hum of my machine.

“You have a girlfriend?” He snorted.

It took every ounce of willpower not to dig the needle a little further into his bicep. I wanted to see Aiden squirm, but I wasn’t willing to risk messing up my work. Plus, I probably got more pussy in a single day than he did in a month.

As if on cue, the bell near the front door sounded. I couldn’t hear Mason’s voice, but I heard Sera tell her where I was. After a moment, Mason poked her head around the black curtain that separated me from the rest of the shop.

“Can I come in?”

I stopped tattooing to look at Aiden.

“Can she?”

From his position, he couldn’t see that it was Mason Albright, model, musician, and currently one of the most influential celebrities of our time, waiting for permission to enter. But I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he realized that’s who I was going home to each night.

A smirk twisted my lips as my needle remained just inches from his skin.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, completely unimpressed. “I literally don’t care.”

I motioned for Mason to come in with a nod. She stepped through the curtain with a cup holder full of three coffees and a hoard of sugar packets and creamer cups. The air in the room seemed to shift, like her very presence was commanding attention. I didn’t need to look at Aiden to know his reaction would be priceless.

Mason didn’t have her contacts in, leaving her inharmonious gaze visible as she focused on me. The only makeup she wore was her overpriced lip oil. I called it ChapStick once, but according to Mason, those were two very different things.

“Here, sit in my support person chair.” I gestured toward the metal folding chair near my desk, suddenly wishing I had something a bit more comfortable for her.

“Hey.” She smiled, and my heart skipped at her delayed greeting.

“Hey.” I tried to play it cool as I sat the machine on the tray once again. “Meet Aiden.”

I gestured to the boy, who had yet to look at her.

“My name’s not—”

His jaw dropped the second he focused on Mason. He picked it up, but his eyes remained wide as he tried to act unaffected by her presence. To my amusement, he was failing miserably.

“Y-you’re Mason Albright,” he stammered.

“That’s what it says on my license.” Her response seemed almost rehearsed, and I had to wonder how often people recognized her in public.

“Lucian didn’t say what you liked, so I got you a plain coffee… is that alright? I can go back.”

“N-no, it’s fantastic. Perfect, thank you.”

I rolled my eyes as Mason removed the cup from the holder and handed it to not-Aiden. He took it with the arm I wasn’t currently working on.

“That’s uh… It’s cool that you’re... you.” His face was so red that I wondered if I should call someone to have him checked out. “I’ve seen your stuff—like your face and music, not—”

“My sex tape?” She tilted her head as she pulled the folding chair beside me and sat down.

His eyes widened yet again, and I could swear they were one wrong move from falling out of his head. Mason unwrapped a straw, placing it between her lips to shoot the paper at me before stabbing it into a cup of black iced coffee and holding it to my lips.

“N-no... not that I didn’t know it existed, just—”

“Relax,” Mason scolded, “I’m just teasing.”

Not-Aiden swallowed hard and nodded as he attempted to compose himself.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

He held it up and took a drink, wincing as he swallowed. Did he react that way because it was hot, or because he couldn’t take the bitter taste of coffee?

I took the straw Mason offered and swallowed a long drink, only to find my reaction was similar, just for a different reason. I liked my coffee black and cold, just like that thing I called a heart. This was sweetened with some type of vanilla syrup.

“Oh wait, that’s mine.” Mason laughed, and I wanted to kiss her.

Fuck, why did I want to kiss her?

She took a sip of my drink, smiling as she did.

“Nu-uh, put creamer in this or something.” I shook her cup for emphasis. “Rosie needs something other than caffeine and sugar. Don’t make me call Leona.”

Mason rolled her eyes before shooting a second straw paper at me and offering me the correct drink.

Conversation between the three of us flowed pretty easily for the next half an hour or so, but after hanging out for a short while, Mason left. Not-Aiden stayed silent for a while, which was fine because I was content listening to the shop music. It was Sera’s birthday, so I let her play DJ just for the day. But that was something I regretted as I recognized the voice that filled the room.

“Legacy of lifetimes, a story untold,

I don’t see a man, I watch his legends unfold.

Paparazzi ambush, but I hear your voice,

You are always with me when I don’t have a choice.”

Mason’s voice was beautiful and recognizable, but this was my least favorite song of hers. The melody was basic, and the lyrics just sounded like word garbage.

Just then, my unfortunate frat boy decided to saddle me with some word garbage of his own:

“I’m kind of surprised with how good Mason looked today.”

I glared down at not-Aiden.

“What? Because she’s pregnant?”

“Uh, no?” He pointed to the speaker the song was spewing from. “That’s about her dad.”

“And?” James probably wrote that shit himself. That would explain why it was shit.

“Wait—you’re fucking with me.”

It was getting really hard to hide my hatred for not-Aiden.

“About what?”

“Oh my god, you seriously don’t know? James Albright is dead.”