Page 1 of Daisy Chain
one
DAISY
“Youcan’tbeserious?”I stare open mouthed at the black shop front; an intricate Asian design of dragons and roses etched onto the store window. “You want us to get tattoos?” I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket to ward off the evening chill as I stand, gawking at the store.
Sally nudges my shoulder and giggles. “It’s the year of trying new things, remember?”
Instead of making the typical New Year’s resolution of joining a gym, eating healthy, and losing a few pounds—we knew we’d never stick to—we decided that each month, we’d take turns picking something we’ve never done before.
“But a tattoo? When we agreed to the ‘year of trying new things’, I thought you meant things like taking a pottery class or Zumba.” A wave of dizziness makes me a little unsteady on my feet. It’s either from the shock of what my best friend wants us to do or the three glasses of Pinot Noir I had with dinner, followed by two cosmopolitan cocktails.
“Hey, you okay?” Sally holds onto my arm.
“Yes. I’m not used to drinking so much. It’s gone to my head.”
“You decided you needed a cosmopolitan. Having to tell your father you’ve broken up with another man he’s set you up with and deemed ‘husband material’ would make you turn to drink.” Sally pulls a sympathetic expression. “Out of ten, how disappointed will Pastor Jude be?”
I sigh. “One hundred.” He’ll ask me a dozen questions about why it didn’t work. WhyI’mso fussy. Because the men he sets me up with are gentlemen and kind. Most times they’re nice.”
“Just nice?” The wind blows a strand of her auburn hair onto Sally’s face, and she tucks it behind her ear. My best friend is tall and slender with clear blue eyes. And attracts male attention wherever she goes. She’s also bubbly, kind, adventurous. “You want more than ‘just nice’.”
Sally and I have been friends since we were ten, when her parents joined the church. I’d been shy and introverted. Sally, loud and extroverted. Somehow, we clicked over morning tea after church service, and we’ve been best friends—more like sisters—ever since. We went to the same high school and talked about moving in together as soon as we were old enough. For the past two years, we’ve been roommates.
I blow out a breath. “I know. How do I tell him?” How do I tell my pastor father I want a man who makes me breathless? A man who, when we touch, sparks fly. Maybe I watch too many romantic movies. Real life doesn’t happen that way. Sparks need to grow over time. Sally shrugs, giving me no advice. “How about we find some kind of museum to visit instead of getting a tattoo,” I suggest, the words coming out in a bit of a slur.
Sally scoffs. “We can do that when we’re old. Getting a tattoo is exciting, and it’s my turn to pick. Your paint by numbers class last month was a little lame.”
“Hey,” I gasp, offended. “You said you liked it.”
“I lied.” She smiles with no remorse on her face.
I roll my eyes. “Well, I enjoyed it.”
“That’s because you don’t know how to live a little. Come on, Daisy, be adventurous—spontaneous. You only live once.”
People bustle around us, and I glance at my surroundings, wondering if I can make a quick getaway. All stores are closed except for the tattoo shop, liquor store and a seedy-looking nightclub. There’s not a cab on the street. “Yes, and I’ll be branded like cattle.”
Sally huffs, and her shoulders drop. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can get something small and cute.”
I gnaw my bottom lip. “A tattoo is so… so… permanent.” A chilly breeze blows through my blouse, and I pull my coat closed.
“Then you better choose one you love.”
“My dad will kill me.”
Sally drops her hands on her hips. “You are twenty-six years old. A grown woman who can make her own decisions.”
“Yes, but he’s so against them.” Growing up with a pastor as a father, I wasn’t allowed to be like other kids my age. I missed out on going to house parties, hanging out on Sundays with friends, or going to the movies. Deep down, I sometimes resented doing what my father expected. But I hated the thought of disappointing him. What if I’d pushed him too far? Would he have abandoned me? I had already lost my mother at a young age. Would I have lost him too? “Like he always loved to say, what would the congregation think of their pastor’s daughter running wild?” As much as I love my dad, his lectures got tiring. Yet they are still embedded in my brain. I let him because I hate to disappoint him. I know his strict tendencies had more to do with something happening to me. After my mother died when I was six years old, I’m all he has, and he’s all I have. So, I never became the rebellious teenager.
“Then put it somewhere he’ll never see.” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins. “I’ve seen some great side boob tattoos.”
My stomach drops at the thought. Can I really do something so wild? It would feel great to do something a little out of my comfort zone. I’ve never rebelled before—not that I can call getting a tattoo at twenty-six rebelling. But what a thrill it would be to do something that feels a little scandalous.
“If you hate it, you can always have it lazered off,” Sally suggests.
Lazered off?That sounds painful. Shaking my head, I say, “Pick another activity. This isn’t for me.” Before Sally insists and convinces me to change my mind, I spin on my heels, determined to get as far away from the shop as possible. At the sudden movement, my vision blurs, making me dizzy. Reaching out to stabilize myself, I crash into something dark and solid. The force knocks the air from my lungs, and the impact causes me to stumble backward. My arms flail, and before I can fall, two hands land firmly on my waist, steadying me. Catching my breath, I stutter, “I’m sorry… I was just… I didn’t see you.” I tilt my head back and glance into the most intense steel-gray eyes I’ve ever seen, surrounded by thick black lashes.
Taking in his hard features and strong jawline covered in black stubble, it’s like getting hit by a bolt of lightning. Heat zaps into my chest. When I thought I wanted to feel sparks, did I just manifest it into my life? Surely this isn’t how it works.
