Page 9 of Cut Me Down

“Yes, but murder isn’t right. Regardless of who gets killed. We have a judicial system for a reason, Ash.” He squints his eyes as if I’ve offended him.

“Yeah, Tony. I remember how that system works all too well.” His face sinks, and I can see the sympathy in his eyes. However, his compassion doesn’t change my opinion about his statement. It’s bullshit. Some people deserve to be ripped apart. Jail and prison aren’t enough for them. I fully support DH, but of course, I’d never tell Tony that.

His family has been a part of the police department for decades. I think it was his great-great-great grandfather that was the sheriff once. His whole family are very good, law-abiding people. Boring as hell if you ask me, but I suppose I could say the same about myself. After all of the shit I’ve seen, I try like hell not to break the law.

I’m so focused on that thought, the front doorbell surprises me, sending a jolt of fear through my body and leaving an icy path in its wake. Tony is used to this from me and knows how not to react when I have my spells. Now, he won’t even look me in the eyes when it happens. A part of me is grateful for it. It’s easier to get over it knowing that he’s not harping on it. As I look over, my ninety-two-year-old client, Charlie, is being escorted through the door by his nurse, Jamie.

“Hi, Jamie. Hey, Charlie! You got another hot date tonight?” I try to speak as smoothly as possible, careful not to share my shakiness.

“Oh, you know it, dear. I gotta look my best!” I giggle at him and his adorable, scratchy, old man voice. He’s frail, but still kicking it the best he can.

“What’s this one’s name?”

“Lucille, her name alone makes me hard.” I burst out laughing at Jamie’s horrified face. Charlie is rather crude, but he has the best intentions. I think he just likes hearing everyone around him laugh.

“Now, Charles. We’ve talked about this! You cannot talk like that in public!” Jamie is Charlie’s live in nurse. Poor thing, I can only imagine what she hears. Especially if these ‘dates’ go as well as he says they do.

“Oh, Ashia doesn’t mind, and everyone else in here has a penis, so they understand. Isn’t that right dear?” He says looking in my direction. If anyone else called me dear? They’d get piece of my mind. Charlie? Eh, fuck it.

“You got it, Charlie.” She helps him sit and walks over to my half wall. This sweet woman I’ve come to know is about my height, dark red hair, brown eyes and cute little freckles. She’s about ten years older than me, in her mid-thirties, but you can tell that she’s wise beyond her years and has a good head on her shoulders.

“Hey girl, I need to run some errands for him. Run to the store and grab groceries and his meds, and then he wants his nice suit pressed. I would take him with me, but he’s extra horny today, and he likes to get grabby with the lady at the cleaners.” Tony and I both chuckle at that remark.

“You’re fine, Jamie. He’s good here. It’ll be a while before I can get to him anyway. Go get some lunch before you come back, take your time. Charlie knows better than to get handsy with me.”

“You’re amazing. I'll catch you in a bit.” She turns and walks back over to Charlie, who has made himself quite comfortable in the very first chair in the waiting area. I swear, everyone knows he’s claimed that chair. I might as well put his name on it. “I'll be back Charlie, if you even think of leaving you know Ashia will kick your ass.”

“Oh, give me a reason why don’t ya.” He scratches out.

I lay on the tattoo table, chest half exposed, and breathe in the sweet relief of the tattoo needle piercing my skin. It does tend to feel like the tip of the shears that caused the initial damage. However, this pain is my choice. My doing, and I find comfort in that. Every time I visit Jason, we work on my arm and chest pieces. Adding little details, another small ship, or some more shading. There’s not much bare skin left showing on that arm. That’s how I want it. I don’t want a single scar left visible. My tattoos make it almost impossible to see them, and tonight’s session will ensure the very last one is covered up.

When Tony and Serena rushed me to the hospital that night, they weren’t sure I was going to have any function left in my arm. Cooper was drunk and upset about my profession and friendships again and decided that he would take it into his own hands. He cut up my arm with my own shears, practically shredded it. He hit so many nerves and arteries that Tony was surprised I lived. He was even more surprised when I came back to work. I was bound and determined not to let that asshole ruin me anymore than he already did.

It took a lot of physical therapy, a few surgeries, and a fuck ton of hospital bills, but I came back with all of my motor function. My skin on my arm definitely looks fucked, but the placement of the major pieces on my arms covers every scar with a line, or a curve, or something dark to hide it. That’s why there’s no color. After this piece is complete, we’ll move on to something else. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. This is the fourth ‘last touches’ we’ve done. It’s not that his work isn’t impeccable, it’s just my insecurities. I always manage to find something else to cover up.

“What do you want your next piece to be?” He asks me.

“I'm not sure, I really like those under-boobs, ribcage tattoos. You know, the ones that look like a necklace for your tits?” We chuckle and I feel my face heat up. I’m suddenly embarrassed by my words. “Sorry, Charlie came in today.”

“No biggie. Sternum pieces? Yeah, I love those. I think they look awesome.” He grins at me.

“Why don’t you give one to Tiff?” Tiffany is his wife. She is very sweet, and absolutely beautiful. Their daughter shares her bright red hair and hazel eyes. They’re a cute little family. Seeing them together warms my heart. Thinking back to when I first met him and comparing it with who he is now softens my heart. I love seeing good people live happy lives.

I’ve thought about kids before, even wanted them at one point. However, my fear of being with another man like Cooper, or having a family remotely like mine, has kept me away from even considering the possibility. It’s a good thing my parents are dead, otherwise I’d have to live to see them be grandparents one day. That thought almost makes me sick.

“You know Tiff doesn’t like tattoos; I was lucky to give her the one on her wrist without a huge fight.” Jason says as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I guess they say not to take your work home with you.” I joke.

“Very true.” He says, not tearing his eyes away as he looks over my arm more. I feel bad for him, I’ve kept him here three hours past his closing time. But he knows how much I work, and how uncomfortable other people being here makes me. Not quite so much anymore because the scars are covered, but any time I have to bear my chest like this I get nervous. I wish I was more like Serena. Not completely though, she getswaytoo much dick, but the thought of not being terrified, while starved for affection from a man must be nice. “How’s the shop?” He asks curiously.

“Good. Really good. I do enough clients now that Emmett can stay home on Wednesdays too.” I say, thankful for the distraction.

“You are a great person, you know that?” He slightly looks up at me before looking back down to my arm. His words send a conflicting warm shiver through my spine. Tiffany is a very lucky woman. Jason is very sweet, and the majority of his clientele is women. He doesn’t flirt, but he does a very good job of making the women that he sees feel good. He always has a sincere compliment and understands that tattoos mean something to the people getting them. One of his specialties is the tattoo of Medusa, and he’s always sure to handle his clients with care. We’re good friends, and he says I helped him realize that his work does more good than just plastering art.

“Thanks, though I don’t feel like one sometimes.” I say honestly, that shiver showing in my voice.

“Hey, not everybody would work the way you do for someone. My artists certainly don’t, and I don’t see any of the other barbers doing what you do.”

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