Page 2 of The Devil's Tattoo
Dee lived in Prahran with dodgy roommates, and I lived across the highway in St Kilda in a one-bedroom shoebox. We were both within ten minutes of the same station, which made getting home by cab a hell of a lotcheaper.
We sat on a seat on the open platform, waiting for the next Sandringham train as people walked past us. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that. It was something we did all the time—I knocked off work, found Dee in the city, and we shared the ride home. A group of girls walked past and giggled, eyeing him as they passed. The thing about Dee, with his slicked back quiff and sunglasses, he looked like he was in a band even if he was only walking down the street. He was smooth as hell. Total ladies’ man. Sometimes, I think I was jealous of the attentionhegot.
I snorted, and as I looked the opposite way, I saw someone interesting coming down the escalators. My eyes wouldn’t focus at first, but my brain registered this guy was worth a second look, but Deeelbowedme.
“Train’scomin’.”
I stood and watched the lights of the train approaching through the tunnel, and the guy passed us on the platform. He was a typical indie-looking guy with a shock of long, curly hair in his eyes. Eyes that looked at us indirectly. You know, like when you want to check someone out but attempt to be a little covert about it? He was trying at least. Me, I stared at him as he walked by. He looked very familiar, and I wondered where I’d seen himbefore.
Dee looked at him over his sunglasses. “Youknowhim?”
I shrugged. “Isn’t he in that band TheStabs?”
“Yeah. Bass player, I think.” I could tell Dee wasdisinterested.
I knew exactly who it was. Will Strickland. Just one look at the guy and I was already picturing what it would be like tokisshim.
I glanced down the platform, but he’d disappeared, but in his wake I felt a spark of loneliness so profound, I felt my heart twist. A guy like that’d never look twiceatme.
At that moment, the train pulled in next to the platform, and we dragged the gear into thecarriage.
Guys and me? Well, that was something I didn’t go near anymore. And guys in bands? That was something I especially didn’t go near. I absently rubbed the scar on my arm through the sleeve of my jacket and settled into a free seat next to Dee. Yeah, I definitely didn’t needaguy.
But no matter what I did, I still thought about WillStrickland.
* * *
Later that night,I met up with Dee for a drink like I’d promised—silly, giggly schoolgirl romance still onmymind.
I was quickly developing a crush on a guy I didn’t even know. Seriously, it was like fangirling over a super-famous rock star. When I thought about it—and I was thinking about it overtime—Will Stricklandwasarockstar.
Dee and I frequented a bar off Chapel Street, mainly for the cheap drinks and not the decor. It was called Ted’s Shed, and it looked exactly like its title. They served Mexican food in foil containers and alcohol in well-worn glasses. The place wasn’t exactly upper class, but the people were friendly, and it was within our price range, which was bargain basement. Because of this, it was always crammed with young locals. Students, artists, and hipsters. The posters on the wall were either Hawaiian themed or some kind of tattoo art, and every now and then, there was a fake potted plant strategically placed to hide a pole or an ugly wall of corrugated iron. The plastic hula girls on the bar and the fake flowers really topped it off like a cherry on an ice cream sundae. This place was what you would call kitsch on a grandscale.
When I felt down, I’d come here to get a fluoro-colored cocktail. Eight bucks would get you a sugar hangover and a few hours of ignorant bliss. It was in my comfort zone and away from the regular crowd of people who once filled mypastlife.
Dee sat with me at a lopsided table in the corner. He was scowling at his bright pink drink like it was going to sprout wings and steal his manhood. Mine was an obnoxious shade of orange and was already starting to help mute my thoughts about unobtainable happyendings.
I stroked the scar on my arm that was hidden in among the Japanese dragon I’d had tattooed over it. I hadn’t realized I was doing it until Dee narrowed his eyes at me. When I broke my arm two years ago, it was the beginning of the end, and it’d never healed one hundred percent. I covered up something ugly with something beautiful in an attempt to move on. There hadn’t been muchmoving.
“Is your arm worrying you?” Dee asked, watching myfingers.
“No.” I shook my head and let my hand fall away. It was a nervous gesture I’d developed more than anything. My arm ached every now and then butnothingbad.
A group of girls across the bar laughed loudly, pulling my attention away from Dee. Sometimes, I thought I was dragging him down by being such a mess. I felt bad about it, but I knew without him, I’d be in a much worse place than I was. And right then, I was just coasting, but I guess that was better than sinking like a stone to the bottom of the ocean never to be foundagain.
I glanced over at the group of girls again as they put on their coats, and I recognized Beth among them. My arm was like a barometer or something, like when old people swore rain was coming when their joints begantoache.
My gaze ran over the girls she was with. I didn’t know any of them, but I’d recognize Beth anywhere. She was the super-alternative Goth type with long black hair and a Bettie Page fringe. She looked like a pinup model even when she was in her gym gear, which I had always been secretly jealous of. I was rough around the edges and more like a rock ‘n’ roll girl than a perfectgothicdoll.
“Isn’t that…” Dee began to ask, and Ielbowedhim.
I hoped she didn’t see us and went the other way. I couldn’t take her judgey looks tonight. I couldn’t take it at all. Once upon a time, when I was happy and didn’t have the constant reminder of my pathetic life scarred on my arm and long before she took sides and believed a lie, we used to be good friends. Like I needed her around to remind me how blind I’d been. I tortured myself enough, thank youverymuch.
They walked toward the door away from us and, to my relief, didn’t look our way.Closecall.
I needed some serious cheering up then, so I downed the rest of my fluoro-orange cocktail and dragged Dee to the bar for something else. I either needed to get drunk to forget or find something else to dwell on. Starting with an electric blue Fruit Tingle sounded like a good idea to me, so I shouted Dee one, much to his horror. Girly drinks were not hard enough for him, and two in one night was stretching hisfriendship.
I scanned the bar, which had emptied out since the night was getting on. I’d never admit it to Dee or even to myself, but I just wanted to look at a handsome guy. If he smiled at me, then I would feel less like the mutant I was. That I didn’t have something wrong with me, and I was still worth a second glance. Seeing the echo of a much happier past had shaken me up and implanted the seed of doubt in my mind that grew like anoxiousweed.
