Ink for the Beloved Page 28

  Suddenly, the driver behind me had enough, and he pulled out with a screech. He drove past, screaming some type of obscenity and took off to the left, burning rubber. I didn’t hear the name he called me, but I’m sure it was an attack on my gender. I felt even more vulnerable. I realized I had been secretly hoping the driver of the car would have gotten out and checked to see what the problem was instead of angrily racing off like he did.

  Todd grinned wolfishly as he watched the car speed down the street and disappear. “Fancy that. I’m not the only one you piss off.” He then swiftly placed his left arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. His voice was husky, and he spoke right into my ear. His hot breath made me shudder. “My little caramel girl, do you think you can lock your bedroom door to keep me away,” he whispered.

  The tears escaped and rolled down my cheeks. I felt like I was going to burst from fear.

  Todd then took his right hand and touched my cheek, turning my face so I had to look at him. It was an intimate and god-awful move. I was scared to flinch or jerk away. I held his gaze as his thumb wiped away the tears, moving down my cheeks. “What a pretty thing you are. You are going to be someone’s prize; I can see that. I should have found a way to pick that lock.”

  “It’s dead-bolted,” I responded. I continued to hold his gaze. My hatred for this man was rising, forcing out any humiliation or panic. I felt the sheer power of my emotional intensity fire from my eyes like cosmic laser blasts. In my mind, Todd withered away due to the fiery strength of my unrelenting fury.

  Todd matched my stare, but there was admiration in his eyes. “So like your mother, you are.” He then leaned in and placed a tender lover’s kiss on my lips. My stomach churned. I wanted to retch, but I was frozen to the spot in the car seat. I envisioned myself as a column of titanium. I was solid, impenetrable, and an obstacle. I had to go back and be the Boss. I had to be the challenge that couldn’t be beaten to advance to the next level. I had to keep Todd from moving forward.

  “My mother…what she was…is gone…you…you destroyed…everything…” I didn’t get the rest out. The words hitched in my brain. My eyes were unfocused, and his image was blurry, but the words I stuttered out had the necessary effect. Todd pulled back from me and leaned into the passenger side window. He sat silently for a moment. I took the opportunity to turn away and face the front of the vehicle, so I didn’t have to look at him. Todd stared straight ahead as if he was waiting for me to pull away. The quiet was becoming unnerving.

  “Really?” he finally said. “Well, I didn’t expect that. That’s too bad. It makes my message here so much more important.”

  “What message?” I asked. I kept my focus on the street ahead. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight I felt it was my last link to sanity. My sanity would evaporate if I released the pressure and let go of the wheel. My life’s blood would flow right out of me, and I would fall over in a faint. But it mustn’t happen. I refused to let it happen. I was Bess the Boss, and I was titanium.

  “I want my stuff. Isn’t it obvious?”

  “We’ve looked everywhere. No one can find the bag.”

  “You shouldn’t be looking for a bag. You should be looking for a key.”

  “A key? A key to what?” I asked.

  “The safety deposit box” was his response.

  The moment Todd said that my brain pinged the way an answer smacks you in the head due to its self-evident nature. Of course. We already knew she had gone to the bank on Friday morning.

  But then, as quickly as I saw a resolution, I felt despair. A key is smaller than a book bag. Fuck. “I have no idea where the key is,” I said.

  “Then you have a problem,” Todd replied. He slithered out of the truck and shut the door. And despite my attempts at maintaining a titanium composure, the metal fortitude dissolved away, and I began to weep.

  What rattled me the most about this encounter with Todd was that I quickly understood why the police found his blood in the warehouse. Several teeth were missing from Todd’s mouth, and I don’t think they were removed by a dentist.

  CHRISTINA CROSS

  I finally composed myself enough to drive to the bike shop and get that errand taken care of. I was supposed to meet Dusty at Cosmic Hearts, but I needed to take the time to think about Todd and the apparent threat he presented as a desperate man. There was no denying he was desperate. His missing teeth indicated someone else was placing pressure on him. I remembered when his hand was injured after I tossed the water on Nick. I had been the wrench in Todd’s wheel for a long time.

  I knew I needed to contact Officer Lopez and let her know Todd was alive. But then, that would bring the police back, and they would whisk Echo and me away.

  If this happened, I would never find the key, and I was pretty sure “pursue Maxine” was about finding the key to the safety deposit box.” Maxine had the key. My mother’s message was left to me. I had to find the key.

  It was then that my phone rang. It was Officer Lopez. I hesitated to answer because I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to her yet. I steeled myself and accepted the call.

  “We are looking for a key,” Officer Lopez said.

  “For the safety deposit box,” I responded and then immediately cursed myself for blurting that out.

  Sure enough, Officer Lopez paused. “How do you know that?”

  My mouth moved faster than my brain. “It has to be,” I said. “My mother went to the bank on Friday, and she would have had time to hide the bag in the safety deposit box at the bank.”

  “Did you know she had one?” asked Officer Lopez. “A safety deposit box?” She sounded exasperated with me.

  “I forgot,” I said. Which was the truth. “But the minute you mentioned a key, I remembered.” Which wasn’t entirely true.

  Officer Lopez than proceeded to tell me how the police figured out my mother had used the safety deposit box. A younger officer, being thorough, was backtracking and talking to people and businesses he had spoken to before. When the officer went to the bank, he talked to the same teller. But this time, instead of just confirming my mother had been there, he asked what my mother had done. The teller answered she made a deposit and visited the safety deposit box. My mother’s signature on the deposit box request verified she had entered the vault. The police were trying to get a court order to open the box, but it would take time. “Do you have the key?” Officer Lopez asked.

  “No,” I replied.

  “I was sure hoping you would say yes.” She ended the call quickly, and I was back to contemplating the recent affairs in the truck. It was then I realized I had forgotten to mention to Officer Lopez that Todd was still alive.

  ***

  “Give me the appointment book for a second; I have to add someone in.” Dusty gestured with her left hand for me to bring it over. She was eating lunch at her station. Carla had brought in food so Dusty didn’t have to leave the studio. Sometimes Carla even answered the phone and helped clean the stations and sterilize the tools. I was beginning to like Carla. She didn’t talk much, and she still gave off the vibe of a wounded bird, but she clearly adored Dusty.

  The recent traumatic events in Dusty’s life had allowed Carla to step up and contribute. She was an enormous help with the clean-up of the studio, the insurance filing, and reordering products that had been destroyed or lost. Dusty was able to see clients within two weeks of Todd’s attack on my mother. In addition to the appointments, several people were coming in to give their condolences.

  Carla had brought in food from Gordos, and Dusty had an enormous burrito balanced in her right hand. I brought the book over, and she tried to transfer the food to her left hand so she could hold the pen to write. The transfer was not happening smoothly, as it truly was an enormous burrito. Her left hand wasn’t going to get the proper grip, and her lunch was threatening to burst.

  “Here. Can you do it?” She handed me the pen. “Christina Cross wants to come in tomorrow. I need an hour with her. Is the
re time in the afternoon?”

  I checked Dusty’s schedule and saw there was a spot to fit Christina in at 2:00. I wrote the name in. “2:00 will work if you move back the 2:45 to 3 or even 3:15. I can make the call.”

  “Let me see. Hold it up.” I displayed the book, so Dusty could see how I was laying out her day. She took a big bite of the burrito and nodded her approval. But then she frowned and pointed to Christina’s name on the line. “That’s not how you spell Christina.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s how you spell Christina.”

  “That’s not how SHE spells it.”

  Christina Cross was a regular client of my mother’s. I knew her well. She was a funny lady with a big personality who wore a lot of yellow. She loved my mother’s cute animal designs and had a menagerie across her backside.

  “How does she spell it, then? With a “K”?”

  “With an “X.” X, and then “tina.“”

  I erased the name and wrote it correctly into the appointment book. Suddenly, my perception switched. The act of writing the client’s name in the book triggered something deep inside. Cavernous deep. A burst of knowledge rose up from within my gut. It powered through my torso, exploding in a shower of light above my head. I was bathed in sudden awareness.

  “OH. MY. GOD.”

  I flipped through the pages of the appointment book going back last week; that Thursday before Todd assaulted Terry. I ran my finger down my mother’s schedule for that day. Sure enough, Christina had come in earlier to get some work done. There it was on the page “Xtina” and then a little added note in my mother’s writing – cool cow.

  I looked at the rest of the names listed on the page; Nikko, Michael, Emily, Ariel, and Ian. These were the clients my mother had seen along with Xtina. It couldn’t be a coincidence that these names arranged in the proper order, spelled out “Maxine.” Here it was. I had found Maxine.

  A heady euphoria washed over me, and I smacked my hand down on the counter in triumph. I turned and grinned at Dusty, who was looking at me like I was a few hops away from the loony bin; the burrito was all but forgotten as she stared at me. Her eyes showed concern. It had been a long time since Dusty had seen me smile.

  “I figured out who Maxine is,” I shared. The stupid grin on my face was not going away.

  Dusty still stared with amazement. “Who?” she whispered.

  I held up the appointment book to the page on Thursday. “It’s Michael, Ariel, Xtina, Ian, Nikko, and Emily,” I said the names in order so Dusty would grasp it immediately.

  She nodded in understanding. “Holy Shit”

  This was not how their appointments were lined up in the book, so with a casual glance, we had missed it. But it was there all along written out on the page. My mother had marked it with the deposit slip from the bank. Michael, Ariel, Xtina, Ian, Nikko, and Emily. Terry really loved her puzzles.

  “So, now what?” Dusty asked.

  “I need to talk to Xtina about a cool cow.”

  Xtina Cross was a singer who sang in many clubs and lounges in the Sacramento area. She was the perfect performer for the hotel circuit and the travelers who had to deal with state business at the capitol. At the age of forty-five, the word “adorable” still fit, and as I said earlier, she wore a lot of yellow. Not pale yellow, but bright sunshiny blinding yellow. When she scurried into the shop the next day, you couldn’t miss her. The room literally brightened when she came in like clouds had parted, and the sun’s rays were beaming through. Xtina Cross does not blend.

  “Ohhh, Dusty, it’s so wonderful to see you. My heart is broken, just broken, broken, broken. Thank you. Thank you for fitting me in.” Xtina threw her arms around Dusty and embraced her with enormous force. I was sitting over by the desk, waiting for Dusty to bring my presence to Xtina’s attention.

  Dusty extracted herself from Xtina’s hug. “Of course, Xtina. You’re like family here.”

  Xtina cupped Dusty’s chin in her hands and gave a reassuring smile. “Dusty, I can’t believe all this nasty business. I’m devastated, just devastated. Poor, poor Terry. This place will not be the same without her. Are you alright, dear?”

  Xtina released Dusty’s face, and a thankful Dusty looked down at the floor. Handling genuine emotion was not Dusty’s strong suit.

  “What can I do for you, Christina? I was surprised to hear you wanted me to do some ink. I wouldn’t think you would want the type of animals I specialize in on your backside.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. No creepy tarantulas crawling over my behind. I thought you could augment one of the designs Terry did for me. I came in a few weeks ago for her to touch it up, and now I’d like to add something in a commemorative way. You know to make it extra special. For Terry.”

  Dusty nodded. “I see what you’re saying. That’s nice. That’s sweet, in fact. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Something to indicate the loss, but not too morbid, okay. I was thinking maybe flowers like the ones Terry has on her body but held in the animal’s hoof. Could you alter the limbs to do that? You have to look at the tattoo. I’ll need to lie down somewhere and hoist my dress up, and then you can tell me your thoughts.”

  It was then Dusty remembered I was there. “Xtina, have you met Bess? This is Terry’s oldest daughter.”

  Xtina’s face lit up when she saw me. She flew across the room and gave me the same tackling hug she had delivered to Dusty earlier. “Oh my darling, darling girl. I’m so sorry. You know I loved your mother deeply. She was a treasure, a treasure I tell you. I’m so proud to have her work on my body.”

  I smiled at Xtina. “Thank you, but you know she’s not dead. You don’t need to commemorate her.”

  That brought on an incredibly awkward silence as Xtina’s face went red. “Yes, of course,” she stammered. “I’m sorry to speak that way. It’s just I understood she wouldn’t be back. Back to work, I mean.”

  Hearing Xtina say those words made me realize the truth of the statement. It was unlikely my mother would ever tattoo another body again. I looked over at Dusty with a look begging for assistance because I realized I wasn’t sure how to transition to the questions I needed to ask Xtina. I needed to justify my presence as she showed Dusty her behind. Not only that, I would probably have to touch the tattoo to glean the information my mother intended to share. The genuine awkwardness of the situation became glaringly clear.

  I took a breath and decided to plow through, hoping Dusty would smooth over any ragged holes I tore open in my brazen request.

  “Xtina, I have something I need to ask you. It’s a favor, actually.”

  Xtina took my hand and squeezed it. “Anything. Anything darling. Ask away. What can I do?”

  “Can you tell me about the last tattoo my mother did for you? Was it a cow?”

  A puzzled expression crept across Christina’s face, but I had her full attention. “Yes,” she confirmed. “It’s a cow – a cow with sunglasses and red lipstick. Your mom put her rockabilly touch on it. I’ve had it for some time. I think it was the first inkwork your mom did for me.”

  I was confused. I thought all the Maxine clients were getting new tattoos done. But then I realized that belief didn’t make sense. For my mom to compile a list of people, she had to already know what ink they wanted to be done or what ink they already had on their bodies. She contacted them, not the other way around.

  Xtina continued talking. “I had wanted to add a bit more to the tattoo later, and then she called me to come in because she had the idea of adding a pink ladies leather jacket. You know, from Grease. She did the work for free.” She smiled then at the memory either of the leather jacket-wearing cow or the musical or the fact the ink was a freebie.

  “Can you tell me more about it?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Like why a cow.” I was thinking of my mother’s note next to Xtina’s name. She had just written “cool cow.” If adding the jacket was my mother’s idea, then that would not be a part of
Xtina’s tattoo story.

  “I like cows. Why is this important?” I could sense resistance rising in Xtina. She was wary. The cow was personal to her, and she didn’t want to share the meaning. Inwardly I sighed. I needed to know the significance of the cow. I was going to have to touch this lady’s butt.

  I tried a new tactic with Xtina. I looked at Dusty first, signaling (hopefully) she needed to play along.

  “Can I see it?” I blurted out.

  “The tattoo?”

  “Yes. It’s important.”

  “It’s on my butt.”

  “I know. It’s just…it’s just it would really mean a lot to me. Your cow is one of the last tattoos my mother did before she…” I let my voice trail away, leaving the other person to fill in the blank.

  I still wasn’t sure how to describe what happened. It wasn’t an accident. The “attack” made it sound like it was done by a stranger. “Hurt” didn’t cover the depth of the damage, and “beaten” seemed like a punishment. However, Xtina knew what had happened. Whatever image floated to her mind; it was enough for her face to crumble in anguish.

  “I need to see it. It will help me a lot.” I added for emphasis.

  Xtina turned and looked at Dusty with a questioning glance. Dusty managed to muster up a sympathetic nod. It was like they were silently communicating; help the poor little girl out. Her mom is in the hospital. It doesn’t hurt you, and it’s no skin off your nose. Just show her your butt.

  Xtina looked back at me and gave a tiny shrug. “Well, who can argue with how people find closure. Where should I do this, Dusty? Or am I hiking up my skirts out here for anyone who waltzes down Telegraph Avenue to see.”

  We had Xtina lay stomach down on the padded cot and curtained off the area. I locked the front door, flipping over the sign, so it looked like we had stepped out for a bit. The sign said we would be back in twenty minutes.

  I hoped Xtina Cross wasn’t ticklish.

  FAT COW