Page 31 of Omega Artist
I messaged Greer, my twenty-five-year-old cousin, to let her know that I’d be around and made her promise to tell Uncle Phil that I was on a business trip—not far from the truth since my story will land on my blog—rather than fleeing Father. I’ll be free to decide where to stay, either with them or at a hotel, depending on my mood. There’s no chance that he’ll come after me. After all, I’m a big girl! I sigh, registering how much I needed this break. The cancer took a toll on my health and my mental state.
The flight attendant. Busy discarding the last few meals, Eric moves quietly through the cabin, and I can’t help but wonder whether he’s this reserved outside of work. I guess I’ll never know since I won’t be joining the mile-high club; my immediate pleasure isn’t worth the risk of getting him fired if we get caught. Fleeting glances. Knowing smiles. Nothing more. I don’t know the first thing about him, but he seems like a genuinely nice guy. I sigh, enjoying the view—not the one outside the window. My previous anger is long gone. My positive energy is back. My curiosity is piqued. I stretch in the makeshift bed, and my eyes follow Eric’s little dance for a while, letting it lull me to sleep. A peaceful one, which hasn’t happened in months. I dream of the one man who’s been occupying most of my thoughts for about six months now.
My favorite tattoo artist. He’s so ready. Ready to give in. Ready to meet in the flesh. Ready to try to use me… Guess what, I’ll be the master puppeteer. Part two of my mission can finally begin.
Real life.
Chapter Eleven
Mercy
Tig
“What the helltook you so long?” Scooting his bulky body towards the wall to make room on the booth’s leather bench, Lucas stares alternatingly between the half-empty pitcher and me. We agreed to a later than usual dinner to make more time for our Sunday ritual.
Ignoring his drunken question, I slide in, snatch one of the glasses that’re stacked up to my right, and start to pour. “Is it me, or does it smell different in here?” The glass almost hits my lips when the wafting scent of beer registers.
My friend opens his big mouth to speak at the very moment when what I’m about to do finally hits me. “Don’t worry, man. I’ve got you covered.” As fast as I plunk the full glass down, Lucas snags and chugs it without further ado. He’ll apparently be drinking for two now that Marco texted me to let me know that that he’s bailing on us, yet again; who am I to blame my cousin for choosing a woman over the bunch of losers that we are?
“Easy, man,” I suggest, bumping his shoulder to get his attention.
That’s when Troy magically appears at the end of the table, where he remains with a huge smile on his face, proudly waving his index finger in a circular motion. “Did you notice the new and improved ventilation system?”
“Wow, talk about mind reading!” I turn to Lucas as if to say,I told you so, then back to Troy. “I was just telling Lucas about it. It’s much…” I worry the left corner of my lip, quickly trying to find a word that isn’t disparaging about the former smell of my favorite bar. “Better.” I know that it sounds more like a question.
“Listen, you don’t have to be nice. For some reason, this place has become popular and—”
“Oh, look, Modest Troy is back.Some reason… Stop it! You guys have had cool vibes from the start. And now, with the new ventilation system and remodel, it’s going to be huge!”
The proud owner bounces from one foot to the other. “Thanks, Tig. But frankly, we were cramming too many people for the size of the place… It was long overdue. It didn’t smell like a locker room, but it was close enough!” He winces. “We had to do something; that’s why we had to close.”
I nod knowingly, even if I’ve been too busy fucking random women these past few days to drop by the bar and notice the chained doors.
“Here.” With an apologetic grin on his face, he hands me my non-alcoholic beverage of choice, shrugging as I reach for it and take a gulp. “Sorry it took me so long, man.”
“Are you kidding me? I don’t deserve the special treatment that you always give me, Troy.” Seltzer mixed with the smell of the nearby pitcher bodes well for me.
His eyes stare at the floor for a second, then focus on me. He winks playfully. “Tell you what, if you really want to make up for it… which is completely unnecessary, by the way…do me an easy favor: give me and Mike matching tats on our left shoulder blades that say ‘I’m his.’No pressure, obviously. Just an option…”
“That’s if Magic Mike doesn’t chicken out.” Lucas lets out a bark of laughter after his retort. Troy and I eye him, and he eventually looks up. “What?” We remain muted and observe one another. “Doesn’t Mike look a lot like Channing Tatum now that his hair’s short?”
Troy moans in agreement. “Now that you mention it.”
“I can’t believe that love’s blinded you. Your man is hot, Troy!” Lucas outrageously lifts his eyebrows up and down several times. Is that meant to be suggestive? Whatever!
“Thanks, Lucas.” The dim light doesn’t hide the blush spreading across Troy’s face. He’s obviously taken aback by Lucas’s comment but recovers quickly.
“Not that you’re not, but you know what I mean, right?”
Troy chortles, both hands on the tabletop now, and he leans into our space to answer between clenched teeth. “Yeah, Lucas. If you were gay or bi, you’d pick him over me.” His snicker grows louder. “I get that.”
I fidget in my seat, making a squeaking noise that annoys me, but not as much as this awkward conversation. Why can’t people keep what goes on in their bedroom—or anywhere else—private? Am I broadcasting my exploits or the fact that I’ve resorted to using my hand every time that Alie and I have chatted recently? I think not.
“You asshole!” My gym buddy lifts from the seat to smack Troy, whose laughter hasn’t subsided.
“I’m not sharing, though… Nah, strike that; I’d be okay with a threesome.” Now Troy’s the one with suggestive body language, darting the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips.
“Ohhh, now you’re talking, baby.” Lucas’s gaze switches to intense, the way it does when he sniffs out his prey, and he caresses the top of Troy’s hand. What the hell is wrong with these guys tonight? Is everyone as horny as I am?
