Chapter 10

I stand out on the balcony and watch London wake up. It’s the last time I’ll see this view, or London for that matter. I’m leaving. I did a lot of thinking last night after talking with Luke. For the few days I’ve been here, I was hoping for something miraculous to happen. I was waiting for Spike to call me up and tell me he loves me and to come home. I was waiting for my life to figure out the pieces and slot them smoothly into the correct order. Sitting on the rooftop, watching the stars and thinking of Spike, I realized that I would have been waiting a long time. Miracles don’t exist. My destiny is made by me and me alone.

I tap the number from the business card in my hand into my cell and hit call.

“Yup …” the deep voice answers and I chuckle at his greeting.

“Did no one teach you polite telephone manners?”

“Firebird?” he asks, and I laugh at the surprise in his voice. “Well, well¸ well.”

“Hi,” I chirp.

“Hi, yourself. Thought I’d never hear from you again.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises. Actually, I have a favor to ask.” I chew on my lip.

“Rescuing you from being mugged wasn’t enough?” he chuckles.

“I never asked you to rescue me.” I lean on the balcony railing with a smirk on my face. This is easy, talking with Torran is easy, he reminds me a little of … “Anyway, this is a different kind of favor.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t do those kind of favors on a Thursday. I’m strictly a Friday and Saturday kinda guy.”

“Torran!” I squeal. Did he really just say that? I blush furiously before trying to change the direction of the conversation. “I … I, uh, I want a tattoo.”

He coughs, then splutters and I can only guess he’s drinking his morning coffee. “You want a tattoo? Am I talking to the same girl I met the other day that, and I quote, ‘has no desire to inflict pain on herself and walk around with a half-finished mistake on her body’.”

“Yup. The very same,” I say proudly.

“What changed?”

I shrug even though I know he can’t see me. “I did, I guess.”

“When are you free? I’m guessing you want to strike while the idea is hot?”

“Today?” I ask, sounding more confident than I’m feeling. My stomach is doing flips at a hundred rotations a second.

“Ah, no can do, firebird,” he sighs. “I have a full client list and can’t do anything for at least a week unless someone cancels. Do you even know what you want?”

“Uh, no …”

He chuckles, a deep sound that makes me smile. “Then I think you need to take time to decide.”

“Maybe you’re right. I do want one though,” I insist.

“You trying to convince me or you?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Look, why don’t you come and see me in the studio and have a look through the design books. I can customize anything for you in my spare time but it would help to have you in front of me rather than on the end of the phone. Fancy a visit to the seaside?” he asks, and I don’t miss the hopefulness in his voice.

“You know what? I’m actually leaving London today. Had enough of the big smoke. Thought I’d come and spend some time at the coast. Can you recommend somewhere for me to stay?”

“In Brighton?”

“Yes. If Brighton will have me?”

He chuckles, “I’m pretty sure Brighton can handle you. You know how to get here?”

“No,” I shrug. “But how hard can it be?”

The train ride to Brighton didn’t take very long. The concrete city passed quickly and turned to green rolling hills and countryside. I felt a strange relief to be out of the hustle and bustle of London. I was sure the anonymity of a big city was going to help me heal and move forward, but all it did was make me feel alone and insignificant in this huge, busy world.

The map function on my cell helped me find Torran’s tattoo studio, and I stand outside for a second to take in the appearance before going in. I’m surprised, and I don’t know why. It’s clean and light. The huge open window at the front is gleaming and shows a modern, inviting place to be rather than the stereotypical dark and dingy tattooist I was expecting.

The only familiar face that I know in this country appears from a back room and swaggers to the front door, opening it wide to greet me.

“You made it.” He smiles warmly at me.

“Yup. Not too shabby, eh?”

He leans lazily against the door frame, propping the door open with his foot. “You wanna come in, or you gonna stand outside and admire the building?”

I roll my eyes at his dry humor. “You’re not busy right now?”

“I have half an hour before the next customer. Come in, I’ll make you a coffee,”

He grabs my suitcase without asking and I let him. It’s not like he’s going to run away with it. Just like when we met in London, he still has the same soothing demeanor. He might look tough and scary with his tattoos, piercings and tight buzz cut, but he has kind eyes, and you know what they say about eyes being the windows to the soul. I’m usually a good judge of character and I hope I’m right about him. I need a friend right now, it’s actually scarier than I thought, or than I would admit out loud, being in a new country not knowing anyone at all.

I follow him through the studio to the back room. It’s not as stark white as the public part of the studio. It’s a pretty cool staff room with graffiti on the walls and a denim couch along one wall.

“You like it?” He nods toward the wall that I’m currently staring at, trying to decipher what it says.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t like it,” he states, blowing out a laugh. “It’s fine. I know it’s not to everyone’s taste.”

“I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to,” he jokes, raising one of his brows at me.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. Not at all. I just, I’ve never seen anything like this so close up. It’s cool, I think. What does it say?” I wrinkle my nose, trying to work out what the letters are.

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

“In that case, I’m happy not knowing,” I comment, perching on the arm of the couch.

“Coffee?” he offers, flicking the switch on the kettle.

“Yes, please,” I answer, still continuing my perusal of his little room.

“Sugar?”

“Yes, please. Two.”

“So,” he leans back on the counter top while the kettle boils, “You really want a tattoo, huh?”

“Yup.” My lips turn up, matching his infectious grin.

“What changed your mind?” He watches me curiously and I wonder if this is some kind of test that I have to pass before he agrees to do it.

“I’m starting over. I feel like I need to step out of my comfort zone a little, and after I met you the other day I realized that I’m pretty damn boring.”

“I’d say you’re anything but boring.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t know me. I’ve never had anything pierced, not even my ears. I don’t have any tattoos, I’ve never bungee jumped or swam with dolphins.”

“That’s your bucket list?” he frowns.

“No,” I laugh. “Just the tattoo part of it.”

“Well, that I can do. I have a couple of hours free next week, so I can pencil you in if you like. But we need to get an idea of what you would like so I know exactly how much time it will take.”

“Will it hurt?” I ask nervously.

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and he smirks.

“It won’t be excruciatingly painful, but it is uncomfortable. Anyway, a badass like you should be able to handle it.” Humor dances in his eyes and he winks at me before a voice calls from the hallway.

“Torran!”

In a blink, a whirl of dark hair rounds the corner and dives into the room next to us, slamming the door behind her. “Is everything okay?” I ask him.