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I pull my collar back up and shrug. “A little.”
“A little?”
Tandy crosses her arms and arches a perfect brow above the left side of her black glasses.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I had a drink earlier.”
She sighs, shakes her head, and runs a hand through her hair. “Look, Miss…”
“Bliss,” I say. “Bliss Lanier.”
“Okay. Bliss. I’d love to work on you, but I have a policy against tattooing anyone who’s drunk, especially if they want someone else’s initials put on their body.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“I’m not going to argue with you. You’re slurring your words and you smell like the inside of a shot glass. If you come back tomorrow when you’re sober, I can do it then.”
“I don’t want it tomorrow!” I feel myself getting angry. “It’s my body, and if I say it’s okay…”
She puts her hand up. “You have to say it’s okay when you’re sober or it’s not okay. Tattooing someone is like sex. You don’t do it without consent. There’s another tattoo shop on this block who’ll give you what you want even with your state of mind but that’s not how I do things.”
Tears of rage sting my eyes. “I don’t want to go to the other tattoo shop.” I say the words through gritted teeth. That’s where Jack and I went two years ago for our matching designs. “Please. I mean…if you need me to sign something…” Fuck. I wipe my sleeve across my eye. “I need a tattoo tonight.”
“You need to leave.” Her tone is firm but kind. “You need to go home.” She pauses. “How about I call you an Uber?”
“I didn’t come here for a fucking Uber.” I back away. “And I don’t need someone to tell me what to do.” I wipe furious tears away from my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry I ever came in here.”
I turn to the door and the heel of my left shoe gives way. Tandy catches me, her grip on my arms strong and firm as I steady myself. We lock eyes and I see her concern. A stab of emotion I can’t explain pierces my heart. I feel fresh tears starting and pull away. I rush to the door, pausing long enough to tell Green Eyes that I’ll be leaving the shop a bad review. It’s petulant and petty, but I’m angry at the shop. Hell, I’m angry at the whole damn world.
This is not how I envisioned my day going when I got up this morning. Well, when I got up this afternoon. July 7thwent from the happiest day of my life to the worst. It was on July 7ththat Jack asked me to marry him. It was July 7thwhen we went down to Rebel’s Tattoo Shop to get our matching designs. His was a lion and mine was a lioness. It was his sixteenth tattoo and my tenth. Exactly a year later I came home from work to find he’d moved out. No warning. No explanation. Nothing. Just a note saying now that getting married felt like a mistake and I deserved someone who could make me happy.
We were supposed to be forever. I’d even designed the tattoos we planned to get on our honeymoon– matching infinity symbols. Today was the day I’d planned to commemorate the end of our relationship on skin that’s been telling the story of my life since I got my first tattoo at eighteen.
Fuck.
The drinks I had earlier hit me hard, but the effect is wearing off and emotions I’d try to numb are surfacing again. I’d started my evening with solo shots at The Cove. It’s just a little after ten. Last call is 2 a.m. I still have time to deaden the pain. The Cove is two blocks away and my feet are too sore to make the walk, so I head into the first bar I come to, although it’s more of a pub than a bar. The old high-backed booths are packed with people drinking dark beer, but the crowd at the bar itself is thinned. I try to be patient as the couple ahead of me debates what to order. The man is trying to sell his date on some obscure craft beer, but she is insisting on Corona, and I can tell from his expression that this relationship is doomed.
“What’ll it be, beautiful?” The bartender gives me a wink and a thousand-watt smile he’s probably been flashing all night judging by his tip jar.
“How much are shots?”
“Depends on what you want.”
“Nothing too expensive.”
His smile fades since no one inquiring about cheap whiskey is going to leave a good tip. “Seven,” he says.
“Give me three.” I open my wallet and take out a ten and two fives. I pull out the last dollar in change. I have two quarters left. I drop one in the tip jar.
He pours the shots. I focus on not sloshing any of the liquor out as I weave my way through the other patrons to a small booth in the back. I slide into the seat and put the drinks in front of me.
My life is a wreck. My heart literally hurts from the pain of feeling so alone. I hate my stupid job. I hate my apartment. I take a shot and close my eyes as the whiskey blazes down my throat. How could Jack just leave me?Getting married would have been a disaster for both of us, he’d said when I finally got him to return my calls. I’d been sobbing, begging, undignified, pleading for him to take me back. I wanted a life with him.You just think you do, Bliss.I take another shot. I take out my phone to call an Uber. When it arrives, I’ll take one more shot and be so shit-faced I’ll pass out when I get home. A drunken night’s sleep is the only thing I have to look forward to.
I pull up the number for Uber and just as I’m about to dial the phone goes dead. The two shots are already hitting hard and I’m thinking I shouldn’t take the third when a man walks by who looks so much like Jack that I almost call out. It’s not Jack, though, and I use the third shot to burn away the lump that forms in my throat.
Chapter two
TANDY
