Page 18 of Inked Desires
Good. Liddy, the owner, is an old lady who cares for her customers and stays kind to all the town’s strangers. It’s her job, though she should be more cautious. Not all clients mean well. One day, she could run into someone dangerous.
“Say hi to Liddy for me,” I say, stepping aside to give him space.“I love her cheesecake.”
“Want me to bring you a piece?”
That almost makes me smile. Liddy’s cake is really good. It reminds me of winter memories, hot chocolate, and cakes at my grandparents’place.
“No need. I’ll go myself. How’s your neck? Better?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.
I don’t want it to end so soon. I haven’t talked this much in a long time, and strangely, talking with him doesn’t drain me. Usually, my patience wears thin and I prefer silence. But mostly, it’s because I hate lying. If I don’t answer, I spare others a made-up story to avoid hurting or shocking them. With Andrew, everything feels easier.
“It aches a bit,” he replies.
I exhale slowly. Why does everything he says seem to have a double meaning? He’s talking about his neck, not the place I have in mind.
“It’ll pass in a few days. Then it’ll start itching,” I murmur, my voice deeper than usual — a phrase that could be misunderstood.
“That’s what they say about STDs too,” he retorts, reading my mind.
My lips twitch slightly. I like his humor.
“Good thing we haven’t slept together, and we’re just talking about your tattoo,” I steer the conversation back to safe ground.
“This isn’t my first tattoo, you know,” he shrugs.
Yeah, I know. But his last one was a disaster. A three-year-old could’ve done better.
“He did that one?”
He stays silent. His eyes drop from my face. I sense him shutting down. But I still have so many questions about him.
How is he different from my husband?
How much pain did he endure before ending up in Maple Creek?
One thing’s sure: he’s not from here.
This small town in Outagamie County has about two thousand people. Everyone knows their neighbors, and I’ve never seen him before. Even Ben, from the Diner, doesn’t know who he is. Plus, Google found nothing about him. Sometimes, his presence feels unreal. What reassures me is that Kiran has seen him too. I’m not imagining this. Given my mental state, a delusion of my subconscious wouldn’t be surprising.
“I won’t dig into your past if you don’t ask about mine,” he finally says.
“What do you want to know?” I insist.“I have nothing to hide. Just no happy stories to tell.”
“Nothing,” he grumbles, standing up.“I don’t want to know.”
He strides across the room and disappears into the kitchen. Another man I managed to scare off. I’d almost laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic.
I head for the door. Time for lunch. Maybe some greasy fries will calm my nerves. It’s worked in tenser situations before.
I slowly walk down the quiet street. The kids are at school, and the adults are earning their bread.
I enter the Diner.
“Can I get two bags of fries and add two donuts?” I order without greeting Ben.
He just nods and heads to the fryer. I sit on a worn leather stool and look around. In a corner, a busty blonde whose name I forgot throws me a suggestive smile, playing with her straw. She’s making exaggerated back-and-forth motions. Seriously? Is this supposed to turn me on? Pathetic. Why did I sleep with her again? Probably a cocktail of too much whiskey and beer.
“Your order,” Ben announces behind me.
