Page 8 of Inked Desires
“I need someone to run the shop while I tattoo,” I answer honestly.
Kiran rolls his eyes, taking off his shirt, revealing abs. A scar marks the left side of his chest—a wound I partly caused. My fingers clench as my mind tries to shove away memories I want to forget.
“Do you really think hiring a guy who looks like William is a good idea?”
I shrug. No. It’s clearly a dumb idea. It’ll only remind me of what I lost. My damn brain never let go, and that’s what destroyed my relationship.
“Couldn’t be worse, right?” I brush off his objection.
“You’re a fucking masochist,” he observes.
Not a revelation, and his remark doesn’t hurt. We’ve always been honest with each other. He’s right. No sane person would hire someone who looks just like their ex, especially after being left in pieces.
I shave the area above his chest, disinfect the skin, then lay down the stencil.
Suddenly, two knocks sound before the door opens just enough for Andrew to enter, frozen, eyes locked on Kiran’s bare chest.
“You’re supposed to bring him coffee, not undress him with your eyes,” I hiss, annoyed.
Andrew jumps. My outburst almost makes me regret my words. It’s not his look that bothers me, but my own reaction.
“Let him stare,” Kiran jokes, laughing beside me.“I don’t mind a little attention.”
Andrew blushes and looks away. He pushes a small rolling table toward Kiran and sets down the coffee without a word.
Without further ceremony, he turns his back to us but, unfortunately for him, runs a hand over his neck before crossing the door, revealing something he’d probably prefer to keep hidden.
“That’s what you call a statement,” Kiran comments, the first to notice the tattoo on his skin.
I look up and freeze. What the hell? Even from here, I can see the tattoo is horribly done.
Andrew seems to understand immediately. His hand quickly covers the letters inked on his skin. He spins around suddenly, eyes full of terror fixed on me.
“What’s that on your skin?” I demand, expecting an answer.
His shoulders slump slightly. He folds his arms over his chest, fear written across his face.
“Nothing,” he whispers before storming out.
I turn to Kiran. He’s staring at me with the same disbelief.
“He must really worship that guy,” he says.
His reaction makes me think the opposite. Yet that doesn’t change the fact that the name Jace is written in big letters. I remove the stencil from Kiran’s chest and put it on the table before standing up. His voice reaches me, shouting something, but I don’t pay attention. With a sharp motion, I slam the door, leaving him alone in the room as I go back to my employee. Andrew is already back at his desk.
“I don’t know any celebrity with that name,” I growl.“So this isn’t some youthful mistake. Who did this horror to you? Your skin is covered in scars.”
I hate fake tattoo artists. They think they’re talented but only butcher innocent flesh.
His nervous fingers slide up to his forehead, rubbing in quick, erratic circles. I cross my arms to stop myself from reaching out to him. He’s not one of those men I can fuck and forget. Andrew is my employee, and by my choice, I have to see him every day now.
“That’s in the past,” he murmurs.“Can we leave it at that?”
I sigh loudly. If it were really the past, he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable with my questions. They clearly unsettle him.
“I was drunk and in love,” he finally answers.“My tattoo is the result of a youthful folly.”
He’s lying. I don’t know why, but I can feel it. He’s no more nervous than before and his face doesn’t flush. Still, it’s obvious: a lie. And I hate that. I prefer honesty—there’s never anything too serious that can’t be talked about.
