Page 48 of Tinsel & Chrome

Sienna

December 1...

The beat of the music reverberated off the bodies on the dance floor.

A sheen of sweat ran down my back as I shivered a little.

The cutie I’d met at the bar’s hard-on was pressing into my butt as his hands clutched a wad of the fabric of my skirt, making the material ride up my leg.

I was drunk, and the lights crisscrossing all around us in a mad rhythm were starting to make me dizzy.

Closing my eyes, I raised my hands above my head and let my hips swing wider.

Cutie kept pace with me, and I was very tempted to tell him to take me back to the hotel.

What the hell was his name again? Brad, Chad, something like that, I thought as I turned myself to face him.

His hungry eyes devoured my face, and I smiled.

BradChad was so getting lucky tonight, I thought as my stomach started to object to no food and copious amounts of alcohol.

Shit! Without another thought, I dashed toward the back hall where I knew the bathrooms were and almost vomited on the last girl in line.

She turned toward me and frowned.

Panic seized me as I put my hand over my mouth, trying to keep the bile down.

When I noticed the door to my left, I bolted and thanked all that was holy the knob turned.

I barely made it out the door before what little I had in my stomach was deposited on the ground in front of me.

When I was finally done, I stood up and took notice of where I was.

The alleyway was illuminated by the moon and a streetlight on the sidewalk at the end.

At the other end of the space sat an overflowing dumpster that did not smell good.

Clutching my stomach, I turned to try the door, but it was locked.

Shit balls, I needed my toothbrush.

Scrounging in my small crossbody purse, I rooted around for a mint or gum as I made my way to the sidewalk.

What to do next, I thought as I saw a line to get into the club.

Putting the gum in my mouth, I crushed the wrapper into my purse and started to walk toward the crowd.

Before I could ask the bouncer if he’d let me back in, I noticed a storefront sign.

Crossing the street, I peered into the window.

A tattoo artist was leaning over slightly, his hand holding his gun, making swipes as his other hand wiped the skin.

My eyes were transfixed.

The tattoo artist looked ancient with a scraggly beard, peppered with grey and white that almost touched his chest.

His bald head shone under the lights.

My eyes took in that detail as I stared at the recipient of the work.

He was beautiful, like an angel.

His eyes were closed as he reclined back, his blond hair a little long, curling at the ends.

My legs carried me through the shop door.

The artist heard me come in and spoke.

“Sorry, darlin,’ we’re closed.”

The angel’s eyes penetrated me, but his expression did not change as I said, “Oh, would it be alright if I used your bathroom?”

The artist hesitated for what felt like a full minute. The silence was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on. But I knew it had nothing to do with the old artist. Without another word, he nodded his head as he motioned behind him. I felt the angel’s eyes on me as I skirted around and headed to the back of the shop.

Closing the door behind me, I stared in the mirror. My makeup was a little smeared around my right eye, and I looked flushed. My hair was a bit of a mess, so I took the band from my purse and put it in a ponytail. Grabbing some toilet paper and running it under the sink, I went to work on my eye makeup. The only sound from the shop was the buzz of the tattoo gun. I checked in the cabinet that also served as a mirror and was elated to find a small bottle of mouthwash. I took a paper cup from the cabinet as well and swished the strong liquid in my mouth for a full minute. As I spit out the contents, I sighed with relief.

Turning off the light behind me, I slowly approached the artist and angel. As I got closer, I saw the artist was coloring in part of a circle that resembled Yin and Yang.

“Would it bother you at all if I just sat in this chair for a little while. I know you're closed, but I promise I won’t bother you. I just don’t think I could drive myself back to my hotel just yet,”

I said, standing like everything hinged on what his answer was. All the while, the angel just stared at me, not uttering a word.

“Yeah, fine,”

the artist said.

No one said a word as I settled into the reclining chair. The quiet was a little unnerving, and I said, “So, are y’all from Mercy?”

The artist’s gruff voice said, “I’ve lived here 30 years.”

“No,”

the angel said, not offering more as he closed his eyes again as the artist began working on the white side of the circle.

“Oh, well, I’m from Savannah, but I decided to check out the North Carolina coast on my way up north for Christmas.”

The artist smiled faintly and nodded his head, “I spent one Christmas in New York. Shit, I must have been in my ‘20s.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve done that too, it was great. This time, though, I’ll be heading to Maine. I want snow this Christmas,”

I said, settling into the chair more fully and closing my eyes. I felt the angel’s penetrating gaze as when I opened my eyes, I was transfixed by the shade of blue, wondering how I’d not noticed it before.

“I ain’t ever been to Maine. I bet it's better in the summer. Ever watched that Cabin Masters show?”

The artist asked as he continued the tattoo for the silent man in the chair.

The angel’s silence was starting to pique my interest. What would it take to get him to talk too?

“Yeah, I’ve watched that show a few times. The camps do seem cool,”

I said, and settled more fully into the chair and closed my eyes again. I was suddenly so sleepy.