“And what the fuck am I now?” I asked, nearly snickering. “Damaged goods?”
“No,” she said, stepping forward and straddling my lap in nothing but a few flimsy scraps of lace that begged to be torn off. “You’re a warrior. And a survivor.”
“And you know what you are?” My palms pressed to the dip in her back, holding her against my needy body. She shook her head, threading her fingers through my hair, and I said, “My savior.”
Thrusting my mouth against hers, we kissed feverishly, desperately, as I lowered my hands to her panties, suddenly too cumbersome and far too much in the way. I pulled at them, stretched them, and groaned with my tongue in her mouth at the increasingly annoying fact that the damn things wouldn’t rip. Audrey giggled in her girly way and mumbled against my lips, “You can just ask me to remove them.”
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that when I can try ripping them off?” I replied, rolling quickly to lay her back against the bed. She let out a high-pitched shriek at the sudden movement and I pressed my finger to her lips. “You better keep quiet. Don’t wanna wake them up. Freddy might think I’m actually trying to kill you this time.”
“Oh, my Lord.” Audrey clapped a hand over her mouth before giggling wildly. “He would be traumatized for life.”
“Then, you better be very, very,” I lowered to my knees and pulled those damn underwear off, “very quiet.”
I devoured her as if she was my last supper, feasting as though I’d been starving since the day I was born. I pushed her closer and closer to the edge, with an encouraging tongue and coaxing lips, until she prayed to my name and pulled at my hair. And just when her body stiffened beneath my hands and her back curved like she’d been possessed, my phone began to ring.
“Blake,” she whispered hoarsely, coming down from the high without actually coming.
“Ignore it,” I demanded, gripping her thighs and delving deeper.
But the phone persisted. “Blake,” she groaned, propping up on her elbows. “Just answer it, it’s fine.”
“Fucking hell,” I grumbled with a sigh and reached for the damn thing to find it was my boss. “It’s Gus. What the fuck does he want at eleven o’clock on a Friday night?”
With lustful eyes, she watched me hungrily and smiled. “Better find out, Kiefer. And you better do it quick, ‘cause you still have a job to finish.”
Grunting, I nodded and answered the phone that’d begun to ring again. “Yeah?”
“Were you just getting laid?” Gus asked immediately, his voice lilting with amusement.
Rolling my eyes, I asked, “Fuck off, man. Why the hell are you calling me so late?”
“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I normally wouldn’t, you know that, but you’ll never guess who I got a call from just now.”
“Nope, probably not,” I muttered, pulling myself up to sit on the bed.
“Does the name Devin O’Leary mean anything to you?” Now he just sounded excited.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “Nope. Can’t say that it does.”
Gus sighed. “Blake, do you live under a fucking rock?”
“I guess I must.” I wiped a hand along my brow. “Gus, just tell me what the hell is going on, okay? I’m tired.”
“Okay, okay. I just got a call from Devin O’Leary’s manager. He’s a fucking rock star, man; he’s huge. He and his band are playing a show here on Sunday, but they’re rolling into town tomorrow and they want some ink done.”
My gut bottomed out. I didn’t know who the fuck this Devin O’Leary was, but given the exuberance in Gus’s tone, I had a feeling this was a major opportunity. “Well, holy shit,” I uttered on an exhale.
“Yeah. And guess who they requested?”
“Jesus, fuck,” I wiped a hand over my mouth as Audrey sat up and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Curiosity blanketed her stare as I asked, “How many of them are there?”
“Five guys in the band, but only four want ink.”
“That doesn’t exactly lighten my load here,” I said, thinking about it now in a more realistic light. “How the hell can I design four tattoos and get them done in less than twenty-four hours?”
“Well, that’s the best part,” Gus went on. “They’re giving you free reign. They want you to decide whatever you want, could be flash, could be shit you already have buried somewhere in all your diaries, I don’t know. Whatever you wanna do, man, it’s up to you.”
“I’m not sure that’s supposed to make me feel better,” I laughed sardonically.
“Blake, really, if you think it’s too much, I won’t tell you to do it. But I just want you to realize how big this is for your career.”
I smiled and nodded adamantly. “Yeah. Yeah, man, I’ll be there.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Gus replied. “I’ll see you bright and early.”
I hung up the phone and told Audrey what had happened. Her jaw dropped at the mention of Devin O’Leary’s name and she’d asked in teeny-bopper fashion if she could meet him. Mild jealousy bloomed in my gut as I laughed and told her I didn’t see why not, and she proceeded to bounce excitedly on the bed.
We made love in a way that felt like art. Delicate, meticulous strokes, gentle swoops of hips and brushes of hands. A painting, playing out only in my mind, vivid and bright with every color of the rainbow. We collapsed on our canvas and twisted in the aftereffects, sighing and drifting toward a dream I hoped she’d be in. And all I could think was, this was a good day.
Chapter Thirty
SATURDAY MORNING and Salem Skin could only be described as a madhouse. Even at seven o’clock, a mob had already formed around the front entrance. Excited onlookers crowded around the two tour busses, parked on the street without any effort for discretion. Instantly overwhelmed, I parked the car and took in a trembling breath, gripping the steering wheel with my white-knuckled hands.
This is what I wanted, I told myself. I wanted change, and I wanted to be better. I wanted to live a healthier, happier, and more successful life, for myself and my brother, and now, I was doing it for Audrey and Freddy as well. This—the celebrity clients, the thriving crowd, the attention—this was the consequence of that, of trying, of making an effort and putting myself out there.
“This is crazy,” I muttered.
Audrey had schooled me on who Devin O’Leary was while I scrambled to get ready for work. She’d played a few of his songs for me—not my thing, but it was clear the guy was talented—and I’d quickly learned enough about him to get a grasp on what to do for him. I’d have to play it by ear for the other guys, so to speak, but according to Audrey, Devin seemed like the guy to impress.
Audrey had stayed back at my place, to help Jake get ready for his weekend at our parents’ place and she was dropping him off before taking Freddy to his dad’s. Then, finally, she’d be here. I wished she was here now.
With a deep breath, I got out of the car and approached the back entrance of the shop. Gus threw the door open before I could reach its handle and stared at me with a reasonable dose of shock.