Page 7 of Bad Influence
The weight and buzz of my tattoo gun in my hand eases any lingering dissatisfaction from not being able to paint. It makes me feel like less of a hack.
I had three more clients after Bianca and once Eve locks the door, I set about sterilizing my station for the night. Like any good tattoo artist, I sterilize my station between clients and at the end of the day.
“Lil is asking if you want to come over for dinner,” Eve says, leaning against the wall which separates our stations.
“Tell her thanks, but I’m busy.”
Invitations to have dinner with Eve and her wife, Lilith, come frequently. I usually take them up on their offer because it gives me the opportunity to get out of the apartment. Also, because I’m worried if I don’t go to them, they will come to me.
I don’t like anyone in my personal space, and no one is ever allowed over. No one.
“She also wanted to know what it is you do up there all night,” Eve says, watching me wipe down my chair. “Sometimes we’re out walking late at night and your lights are still on.”
I give her a weird look. “What are you doing looking at my windows?”
She shrugs, crossing her tattooed arms. “I want to know if someday I’m going to be interviewed for a documentary about you because I never knew you were a sick serial killer.”
“For both our sanities, please stop watching true crime documentaries. I’m not a serial killer.”
She narrows her brown eyes. “That’s what a serial killer would say.”
I toss used wipes in the trash. “Serial killers are also known charmers. The fact I’m banned from five bars in DUMBO should tell you I can’t charm my way out of shit.”
“Not even your pretty face or that fancy law school education helps you any,” Eve says, finally cracking a smile.
“That fancy law school education helps us run a tight ship around here,” I say.
Not that I use it beyond drafting the agreement and waiver we have clients’ sign. In another life, I would have been in San Francisco, I would have made partner, found the perfect wife to nullify my parents' need to preserve the sanctity of the family name.
Thank fuck I had the balls to leave.
We lock up and walk back to our building. There’s a vibrant energy in the neighborhood, loud music coming from bars, people laughing and talking with no inhibitions. It’s the reason why I always keep my windows closed and music loud.
“Tell me honestly, if we live until we’re ninety, will we come up one day and find you dead on your couch with your hand under your pants and some game show on?” Eve asks.
Her words make me stumble. “The workings of your mind astound me. I don’t know how Lilith puts up with you.”
“It’s not hard. I’m very lovable.”
I grunt in response. I love her because I’ve gotten used to having her around. Our friendship is a habit I’ve developed over time. Though I doubt that’s why Lilith loves her.
We part ways when we get to our building and Eve gets off the elevator on the fifth floor while I go to the eighth.
As I enter the apartment, I’m debating whether I want to make dinner or order takeout while I sit in front of my canvas and try to paint. The entrance hallway is dark and the only light coming in is from the large windows and the lights above the kitchen counter. But somehow, I still manage to stumble over the suitcase left haphazardly in the middle of the entrance hallway because I’m surprised by the naked woman standing in my kitchen.
CHAPTER 4
Caroline
If anyone pays toomuch attention to me, they’ll think I’m a criminal. I’m jittery, my legs are bouncing, and I’m biting on my fingernails. I’m either a terrible criminal, or extremely high on drugs. The good thing is, no one is paying me any attention as we all wait for our plane to start boarding.
My palms are sweaty and it’s a good thing I’m wearing black leggings and a light, black hoodie, so when I wipe my sweat off on my clothes, they won’t be dirty.
Funny, how life can change in one day if you’re determined enough. Yesterday morning, I was stabbing my fiancé and sitting in the police captain’s office. Today, I’m sitting in an airport because I’m running away to New York.
After the gala last night, I headed home with my parents. I showered and changed into my pajamas and then I laid in bed, wide awake and trying to memorize my bedroom ceiling.
I tried to imagine what my life would be like if I did what was expected of me, like I always did. I could turn a blind eye to Beckett’s affair. It would make our parents happy and our mothers would get the wedding of their dreams. My mother will finally get to see me in the dress she’s painstakingly designed with the designer and approved every stitch of.
