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Rather than work for someone else, I presented my pops with a business proposal. It worked. He staked me with enough funds to open my shop, The Salty Siren. Jace taught me how to cultivate a social media following. Within a few months, I had a waiting list, paid back Dad's loan and bought a condo.
It blows me away how far my schedule books out in advance.
For the most part I’m happy, but recent life changes have me reconsidering a few things.
“Merc, who’s on the books today? I’m pretty sure it’s a long-ass appointment, if memory serves.” I approach Mercury, my best friend and shop manager. “Let me guess. Someone wants a mermaid sleeve.”
Merc, as everyone calls him, with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes, shoots me a glare. “Careful. You’re not exuding gratitude today. Your mermaids are legendary. People wait for over a year to get inked by you.”
Appropriately put in my place, I flip through my sketchbook past pages of intricate flowing tails and ethereal faces. “Oh, I know, but I like to mix it up. Keep my chops up.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day, babe. New customer. The guy booked over a year ago.” Merc peruses the shop’s master calendar on his tablet.
I’m barely paying attention because my fingers pause on a page in my notebook. Amongst my designs is a list I started after Cameron and I broke up. The “Tryst List” is my secret rebellion against the monotony of my love life. Merc's eyes follow mine, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Oooh. What do we have here?” With a mischievous glint in his eye, Mercury’s hand claps over mine, stopping me from turning the page.
I feel my face redden. “Uhhh…my plan to live a little. Or a lot.” I offer a wry smile. “I'm thinking of making up for lost time, you know, after Cameron.”
“Cameron. Ugh. Your couple vibe was definitely more cookouts and beer than fireworks and passion. Maybe it was his uniform of khakis and button-down shirts.” He rolls his eyes in disgust.
I can’t help but laugh. Of course, Merc would feel this way given our affinity for grommets, leather, and chunky boots.
Merc leans against the counter and his expression turns more serious. “I tried not to pry when it happened, but it's been a while. Why did you break it off? You two were together for a long time.”
“Almost eight years.” I exhale deeply. It’s always jarring to realize how much time I wasted in a dead-end relationship. “Cameron was…safe. After my disastrous one-nightstand in Vegas, I craved stability. I wanted what my parents have. I thought Cameron would provide it for me.”
“But?” Merc prompts, knowing there's more to the story.
“I was kidding myself. We weren't a match. For years, I tried to feel something…deeper, but…yeah. He wasn't my guy.” I feel a weight lift at my admission of something I denied to myself and everyone around me for too long. “He wanted me to be someone I'm not. Underneath his passive-aggressive ways of supporting me, he saw tattooing as a quirky hobby, not a serious profession. God, the needling. Snarky comments about how artists were flighty. Subtle digs at my artistic skill.”
Mercury nods in understanding. “Oh, girl. I’ve been there. Death by a thousand paper cuts.”
“Exactly. It all came to a head when he started criticizing my business acumen. As if. I bring in easily ten times what he makes every year. After a while, I realized he was projecting. Beware of the guy who compares himself to you to demonstrate his superiority. Oh, and the sex sucked too. Do you know he wouldn't go down on me?” My hand curls into a fist. I’m annoyed with myself for how long I put up with him. “I finally got fed up. Told him we’d reached the end of the line. He wasn’t surprised.”
Mercury shakes his head. “Well, good riddance. You deserve someone who respects you and what you're passionate about. Oh, and some good old-fashioned, toe-curling pussy licking.”
“You’re right.” I tap the page of my sketchbook, feeling a spark of excitement at my potential upcoming adventures. “The Tryst List is my solution. I'm craving sex like it was with he-who-shan't-be-named. I’m older, I know myself better. This time, I’ll be able to compartmentalize great sex from love at first sight.”
“Girl, I can’t believe you’re still obsessing about a freakin’ one-night stand.” Mercury peruses my list, his eyebrow arched with acute interest. “You realize how stupid you sound, right?”
My thighs clamp shut inadvertently at the memory of how many orgasms I had in the span of seven hours. “The guy was a lying bastard jerk, but—ohmygod, Merc. What he did to my body? Hoo-ey. That man turned me inside out, upside down, and spun me all around. It was more than physical though. I’ve got to get more of…” I take a deep breath. “Look, I’m reclaiming my sex life. On my terms. Hence, my Tryst List. I’m going to make all of my sexual fantasies come true.”
“Holy shit, Jordan. This is some list.” Merc traces down the page with his finger. “Stranded somewhere? Mile high club? Anal? Bondage? Public sex?”
“Yeah.” I shrug coquettishly. “I’m owning what I want and I’m willing to experiment a little to learn what I like. It’s time to stop fantasizing about a stupid night in Vegas and experience bone-shattering orgasms for real again.”
Merc places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “It sounds like you're looking for some plug-buddies.” He wags his finger. “Be careful, babes. You've got a wild heart, but it's still your heart, and considering how much this Vegas guy owns your brain, I’m not sure you’re cut out for casual sex.”
I nod, feeling a surge of gratitude for my friend, because deep down I wonder if he’s right. “I will. Thanks, Merc.”
“Okay.” He claps his hands. “Your appointment will be here any minute. Show me what you've got.”
I page through my sketchbook until I find the artwork I created months ago. “I’m pretty sure this client is one of those douchebags obsessed with the Roman Empire.”
“Jordy, this is gorgeous.” Merc stares at the full-sleeve design of ancient buildings interwoven with realistic renditions of the four cardinal virtues of temperance, fortitude, justice, and prudence.
I gaze at the drawing. I vaguely remember when this commission came in last year. The client approved my first rendition outright, which rarely happens. “Thank you, I’d nearly forgotten about this appointment. The tattoo is such a huge departure from my ordinary style, I’m actually psyched. Would you mind uploading and printing out a couple of thermo stencils while I get my room set up?”
