CHAPTER
THREE: MIRROR, MIRROR
Torrid worked the ink into the lines, blotted the run off and wiped it down. She put the finishing touches on and smeared it over with tattoo goo. She took a deep breath. Done! The Asian dragon snaked around the muscled arm of a large man. It’s rich colors and intricate pattern were mesmerizing and beautiful. Torrid’s application skills were second to none, and he was in high demand to serious ink addicts.
She popped a Polaroid of it, and reached over to the fish bowl on the counter pulling out a lollipop. She offered it to the large shaved headed man saying,
“You’ve been such a good boy—here, suck on this!” she smirked.
He took the sucker and stuck it in his mouth, smiling. “I’ll suck on anything you want me to, Torrid.” He replied. “Thanks for fitting me in tonight.”
“No problem. Like I said, come back in a few weeks and I’ll do the rest. But your skin has to heal up a little before it can take anymore abuse from me!” she said with a smile.
Torrid looked at the clock on her cell phone. It was after two a. m. it was time to close the shop down.
“Okay Romeo, since your bitch is waiting on you, no doubt her cunt wet with anticipation, “ she said rolling her eyes, “ Get your shit cleaned up and put the closed sign up.”
Drew jumped up immediately and started cleaning his station. He only did three tats tonight, and was irritated at his evening being wasted sitting around playing step and get for Torrid, who took all the large jobs for herself. He was tired of playing second fiddle to her now. Sure she took him in and apprenticed him, but he was an artist in his own right, and wanted to be treated as such. He wanted her to respect him, but she treated him like a shop assistant even after five years.
“You know, Torrid, you don’t always have to be such a goddamned bitch to me.” He muttered while he wiped his counter down with sterile disinfectant.
Torrid looked up. She stared him down. He looked away.
“Okay, out with it.” She demanded. “What is your fucking problem, Drew?”
Drew shrugged and folded his arms on front of his chest avoiding eye contact. Torrid knew this was coming. She saw the signs months ago when they first started talking about the convention. She knew he was green when she took him in, but now, he was starting to show his hunger. An ambitious and hungry assistant was never a good thing.
“You’ve been acting all freaky since we discussed going to the convention. What’s your fucking deal?”
Should I tell her? Drew thought. Should I be
totally honest with her? Oh Torrid my deal is, I want your life, I want your
girlfriend, I want your bike, your dog, your fucking tattoo business. And I want
your dyke ass to disappear. The truth, Torrid? I wish Elektra had killed
you—then I could have had Monica sooner, instead of eating my heart out every
time I watch her submit to your disgusting paws.
The truth is, Torrid, I fucking hate you; but I need
this job, and I need the exposure you can bring me. So for now, I will be your
whipping boy, but one day, I’ll take it all away from you. Beginning with
Monica. Stupid Monica…beautiful sexy Monica. She’s eating right out of my
hand—why right now Torrid, she’s in my bed with my cum all over her! HA!
“Look Torrid, I am just nervous about the convention. You’re still going to showcase my flash right?” he said, keeping his poker face.
Torrid relaxed a little, “I told you I would.” She unplugged her gun, and wound the cord up. “Jesus fucking Christ, is everyone going batshit? Sara called up here, put me on hold, then I had to hang up cause dragon boy came in for his ink.”
“You didn’t talk to her?” Drew asked, trying to be casual, but letting out a silent sigh of relief.
“No. I didn’t have time. I figured I’ll talk to her
tomorrow. I am gonna go over and surprise Monica with breakfast anyway.”
Torrid said picking up her jacket and pushing her chair in under her counter.
“Drew, do me a favor, will ya? Get some fucking sleep, take vitamins,
fuck your bitch, choke your chicken
or whatever, but do not ever dish attitude at me again.”
She turned the lights out and headed up the back steps to her loft. “Are you
gonna just stand there in the dark or are you going home?” She asked looking
back over her shoulder.
“Drew?”
She sighed and clicked the rest of the shop lights off. “Fuck off then, Night!”
The next morning Torrid was woke up by Monica calling to tell her she was home. Torrid frowned at her surprise being spoiled, but decided to go ahead and sleep in after exchanging sweet nothings with Monica and hanging up. She agreed to meet Monica and the girls at the park and bring Odin for a walk when she got up and around. She stretched and then curled back up on her side, hugging the pillow that she held in place of Monica when she slept alone. She missed cuddling, but would never admit to it. The tough girl code. Still, Torrid wondered about Monica’s odd behavior as of late. It perplexed her. What to do? Or not do? I don’t think she is happy. I don’t think I really am either. She thought, fading off to sleep.
Meanwhile Drew slept alone as well. He had frantically gotten rid of Monica and sent her home after the numerous close calls he experienced over their secret rendezvous. He began to seriously rethink the logic of it, and even briefly considered asking Monica to just forget the whole thing. He was gambling with his career, his well being and his reputation for a woman who was currently betraying the trust of her lover. Could he really trust her? Then again, he couldn’t be trusted either. Well, he thought, maybe we do deserve eachother. And Torrid? She really doesn’t deserve any of this—but, it’s coming to her anyway. Life is just a bitch, I guess.
He rolled over and went to sleep, catching Monica’s scent on his pillow.
And Monica, finally asleep in her own bed after a night
of midnight cowboy, was not questioning the sanity behind her actions, but
rather plotting various ways to cover her ass for future indiscretions with
Drew, or Whoever. She began to turn her gears when she was jarred out of her
light slumber by her phone ringing.
”Goddammit!” She shouted, “If that’s you Torrid—who the?” She said
looking at the caller ID.
“Yes?” She asked cautiously
“Monica…you’re going by your middle name now, right? It’s Drelica”
Monica froze.
“What do you want?” Monica asked harshly. “I told you never to call me!”
“I just called to wish you a happy birthday, baby sister.” Replied the caller.
“Drelica, you said you had no sister. And you know when my birthday is, so don’t play games with me! Why are you really calling me? And how did you get this number?” Monica was angered.
“Mom gave me your Girlfriend’s number, and I
called her. She gave me your cell number. I wanted to talk to you before I go
back in the field.
I just had this feeling that—maybe you weren’t
alright. That maybe you need help—or—“
”I don’t need your kind of help, Dr. Truman! So fuck off and leave me
alone!” She exclaimed as she flipped her phone shut and tossed it across the
bed.
She was furious at Torrid for giving her number out to ‘strangers’. Her sister and her might as well be strangers, never were two people less alike, in all but looks. Her perfect sister had all the brains, but she was a fucking nerd. She’d rather spend her time reading than fucking, what a loser bitch! Monica thought. Fuck her!
She put her head in her hands and sobbed herself to sleep. What was she doing to herself? And why was Drelica snooping in her business now of all times? Her mind was a mess of machinery working itself into fatigue as she faded off to sleep.
Dr. Drelica M. Truman hung up her phone and sat back at her desk. She took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. She closed her address book and tossed it across the desk into the big pile of papers and folders that lay there neglected.
“Well, sis, fuck you too!” She let out a long sad sigh, and went back to her work. “Why the hell do I even bother?”
She smoothed back her long blonde hair into a neat pony-tail as she dug into her work assignments. Various charts, graphs, maps and specimen labels all strewn over her desk awaiting her attention.
She was about to go on a field assignment to the desert of west Texas, a project excavation of fossils. Paeolentology wasn’t the most glamorous career in the world, but it was certainly interesting. Her quarry was an elusive beast known as Deinosucus Riograndensis, a giant crocodilian even larger than the Sarcosuchus Imperator, found in Africa. Dr. Truman was looking forward to being in the field again, being away from people and away from the whispers and rumors that followed her from the Chicago museum all the way to the Houston Museum of Natural history.
“Well it’s a good thing they were desperate for a department curator here,” she said out loud, “Or my dear ‘sis’ would have fucked me out of my career.” She pulled out an artist’s rendering of the giant animal she hoped to find fossil evidence of, “Hey big fella—there you are.” She said, admiringly of the monster, “If I can find you, it’ll be the break of my career.”
Torrid threw Lockjaw’s chew toy for him to fetch for the millionth time, then she told him to sit. She had been there over an hour waiting on Monica. She was hesitant to call because she didn’t want to get bitched out yet again for calling her too much. She decided to wait a little longer and enjoy the beautiful spring morning.
She loved coming to the park. This was the place where she first started to have feelings for Monica, and entertain the idea of being with someone again. She remembered looking over to the rose garden and seeing this beautiful blonde girl with pink highlights and thinking…”WOW!” she was pulled from her thoughts when she did a double take.
Like dejavu, there was another beautiful blonde Monica’s build, height and coloring sans the pink hair walking through the park. Torrid raised her eyebrow and cocked her head as the girl came close enough for her to see.
“What the fuck?”
She started, seeing Monica’s face on the stranger’s body!