If Not For You (31 page)

“Uh huh? So how’d you get that scar,” I asked, as his eyes followed mine to the one inch scar at his ribs.

“I got shanked in prison.” I gasped and he shrugged, “Got my nose in someone else’s business, you pay the price for trying to help. I learned quickly to mind my own.”

“You could’ve gotten killed.”

“But I didn’t, so drop it.” His voice was hard, his answer instant and I got the distinct impression that it would be wise to move on.

Gage hadn’t shared anything more in regards to his prison stay, other than it was a long three years and unless he chose to tell me I wasn’t going to ask. The idea though of being stabbed, his flesh being stuck with a knife or whatever it had been, made me ill, and the scowl he had on his face as he stared over his cup made me shiver. He could be very brooding and moody at times, my job was to get him back to a happy place, a place we both enjoyed.

“Okay, I won’t say any more about it…your tattoo, did it hurt?” I stared at the beautiful black script on his tan skin.

“The tat was more irritating than painful, like a cat scratching you over and over in the same spot.” His eyes seemed to warm again, the cold greyness turning brilliant blue, thankfully.

“Why, forgiveness?”

He looked down and rubbed his hand over the ornate script deep in thought and I suspected that it held some kind of profound shadowy meaning. Something that revealed a dark hidden secret that riddled him with guilt every time he viewed it in a mirror. I almost regretted the question in case I pushed him further into the dimness he was rising from.

“Sometimes you do stupid things in your life and even when no one else will forgive you, you have to forgive yourself.” Gage stared for a long moment and then smiled.

I contemplated his answer deciding it had to hold true, it was just too honest not to. He didn’t hesitate to answer or go into great details and it only made sense. Although it wasn’t quite what I had fabricated in my mind, it had meaning to him and that’s what mattered.

“Mmm, I like that. I’d like to get a tattoo,” I revealed, I had thought about it on many occasions but always chickened out.

Some of the more colorful characters that came into the law office, had the full sleeve thing going on, I was always fascinated with the beautiful black and grey or colorful art. It never repulsed me or made me draw conclusions that the person was evil and dangerous. To me it was personal art on a human canvas and I admired the person for having the ability to wear it loud and proud. I envied that kind of hutzpah.

“Oh yeah, what would you get?” He sat a bit closer in his seat looking very interested in what would come out of my mouth next, the nerdy paralegal brainiac mouth.

“Not sure, but I know where I’d put it,” I grinned wickedly.

“Do tell, no let me guess.” His eyes cruised from my eyes down. “Your shoulder?”

“No, everyone gets one there.”

“Okay, your upper arm? Your rear end, a tramp stamp?”

I shook my head no at each guess and laughed when he licked his lips cruising further down my body, “Too predictable,” I scoffed.

“Your boob.”

“You’re a boob!” I laughed.

“Fine I give, tell me where this elusive tattoo will go,” Gage demanded.

“Right about…here!” I said pointing to the spot where my pubic line would start, if I wasn’t in the habit of waxing or shaving away all traces of hair and I caught Gage’s cheeky smile.

“That’s a hot spot for a tattoo,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek. “You know…”

“What?” I asked, but he was in deep thought. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“I was just going to mention that we could probably find a reputable tattoo shop in Dubai,” he said, with his eyebrows raised.

“Seriously?” I asked, excited at the prospect, almost. Fear making my heart start to race.

“Why not? My treat, I can’t think of anything sexier than seeing you get a tattoo, especially there.” He curved over to the side and looked under the tiny table.

“I’ll think about it.” I tantalized him by opening my robe and then tightening it around my waist and fastening the tie. His eyes watched keenly.

“Think hard about what you’d get, it could be something pretty. You could get a saying, a single word like I have, maybe a little bird or a pussy.”

I gave him my best not-amused look and a click of my tongue, but all I got from that was a goofy grin and a wink.

“I have a few ideas,” I told him, even though they were stupid and juvenile now at my age and I wouldn’t even mention them, but all these crazy ideas were all replaced by what I was thinking at this very moment.

“Gage?”

“What?”

“We could get matching tattoos,” I said, and our eyes met. We were a couple, for now anyway. We shared the most intimate moments a couple could and I would have something to remind me of our time together long after we parted company, a secret keepsake of sorts that only we knew about.

“Are
you
serious?” he laughed, and then realized I was indeed serious, when I stared at him straight faced.

“Very. Why not? A memory of our time together,” I suggested, not looking away for a minute, wanting to see his reaction. “No names or anything too personal. Private in a private place and if someone else sees it, it will only mean something to us.”

“Only us? I like that. It’s a deal!” That dimple filled smile and a gleam in his eye was all I needed, he was in. “So let’s see what we can find on the net that we both like.”

We went inside and Gage opened his laptop and waited for Google tattoo images to appear, as I looked on.

“No butterflies and roses okay?” I said, thinking about all the people I saw on a daily basis covered in flowers and insects, yuck! The idea of a bug crawling on my skin for the rest of my life, gave me the creeps.

“Deal, I can’t imagine explaining a butterfly that fucking close to my dick. Not even to my doctor,” he said, and I laughed at the thought. I smirked proudly to myself and crushed my arms around his, because my bad ass boyfriend was planning to get the tattoo in exactly the same spot I was. It was comforting and warmed me inside.

We looked at tattoo site after tattoo site, the colors and intricate patterns swarming through my brain were starting to get to me. The ideas I had kinda sucked when you saw them on paper, okay well it was a computer screen but I was thinking paper and most of the things that Gage liked were a little too masculine or large for my liking.

Just when we were about to throw in the towel on the whole idea, Gage turned to me and beamed.

“I…have…a…fucking…brilliant…idea.” he said each word slowly as he typed away.

Images of keys came on the screen, beautiful ornate, old fashioned keys. They were beautiful but I didn’t understand the meaning of a key.

“They’re pretty but,” I said, and Gage held his hand up to stop me then continued fixedly.

“Get us a drink, will you, sweetheart?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen, I went to the bar fridge happy to stretch my legs.

When I came back with two glasses of ice and two cans of soda, Gage blocked the screen and told me to not look for a minute, he wasn’t quite done and I excused myself to the bathroom, so I wasn’t tempted to peek.

“Okay, come see.” he called, as I sat down beside him he turned the screen so I could see the image.

“It needs cleaning up, but you get the idea right?” He said, with a childlike grin.

“Wow, spot-on Gage. It’s going to be beautiful.”

A filigree heart shaped lock, shaped like a real human heart, complete with valves and a ribbon woven around the back to an ornate filigree key, showed on the screen. On either side of the locks key hole were T M and on the head of the key was G C.

“I know you said no names but it’s just our initials, I want the initials even if you don’t. We’ll mirror the image for me. You’ll hold the key to my heart and I’ll hold the key to yours.” The thought was beautiful, bringing a tear to my eye and I hugged him tightly.

“I want the initials too. I love it, it couldn’t mean more.” And it truly couldn’t have, he had captured exactly what I needed it to say. The exact concept in my mind he had captured in the images, like he had climbed into my soul and retrieved it.

“Are you sure now?” Gage asked.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure if you are,” I said, cuddling into his arm.

“Okay.” He emailed the image to his phone and saved it. “Done, now all we have to do is find a tattoo parlor and make an appointment. I’ll shower and then go see what I can find out from the cruise director.”

While he was gone I emailed the girls telling them nothing of our plans, they’d think I lost my every loving mind, which I very well may have. I finished the last of the coffee and sorted out my laundry for Philippe to take away and then there was a knock at the door. I expected Philippe but stood looking at the stranger before me.

A very pretty redhead stood there with a puzzled look on her face. She was dressed in a slinky white bikini top and brightly colored floral sarong with matching sandals. A body to die for of course and that eat-a-burger-bitch thought came to mind. She had an oversized striped tote bag over one shoulder and a cell phone in her hand. She lifted a paper to her face and looked at me kinda stunned.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you know the gentleman next door? I’ve been trying to reach him for a few days now with no luck.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen him. Actually I’ve never met him, wouldn’t know him from Adam,” I said, and backed up to close the door.

“You’re sure you don’t know him?” she said suspiciously and I didn’t know whether to be pissed or not, wondering if she was calling me a liar.

“I’m pretty positive. I think I’d remember if I met him. Maybe check with the office?” I offered, and slowly closed the door as she strolled away without a word.

“Weird,” I said, thinking of Mr. Hot neighbor. I wondered if he dumped the cougar or had a little something newer on the side, then putting my imagination to rest, I made sure I had the laundry bag by the door for Philippe.

Gage came back with papers and a huge smile on his face. He had all the information he needed, complete with a map and had even made the appointment. Holy shit!

“No backing out now, sweetheart. I had to give them a credit card to hold our appointments. I’m stoked, what about you?”

“Oh my God, now I’m nervous. When do we get to Dubai?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow,” I sung timidly.

Day 26

Dubai

“Like no other city on earth,” Gage read out loud from the brochure in his hand.

“I’d say, a bit ostentatious don’t you think? Look there’s the famous tower.” I pointed far off into the distance, while we waited for our taxi to take us to our destination.

“Burj Khalifa. It says here it’s eight hundred and twenty eight meters tall, over one hundred and sixty stories. Holy shit eh?”

“It is impressive. I can’t get over how high-tech and clean everything looks, so modern. A far cry from dirty old New York city.”

“Hey! Don’t be knocking New York now! That’s my home, woman.” Gage humorously warned.

“So sorry,” I said sarcastically, and Gage nudged my shoulder with a smile.

In the taxi, Gage handed the driver a piece of paper with our destinations address. Dressed like a character I remembered from ‘Arabian Nights’, the heavily bearded gentleman nodded and sped into the traffic with a style and grace known only to the city’s experienced drivers. Much like the taxis in New York flipping off other drivers and weaving dangerously in and out of traffic, this driver knew his city well.

The City was busy, congested, with masses of people moving in herds along the sidewalks, very much like New York but a more elegant version. Everything seemed to sparkle, clean and new, rich and thriving, overflowing with wealth and affluence. This was a City luxurious with an old history and a new born charm.

We pulled up to a fancy clean white building next to a large mall and tucked just to the back. The driver pointed to the entrance and we climbed out into the hot air and ran inside through a large fire engine red door.

It was like stepping into another world, suddenly dark and I wouldn’t say scary exactly, but a bit on the gothic side. The blood red walls covered in framed tattoo art and painted images of skulls, dragons and a multitude of pin-up girls, gave no doubt what business was conducted within these four walls.

A man, whose face and neck were covered in tattoos as well as full sleeves, came out from behind a black velvet curtain. I would imagine the rest of him bore its fair share of intricately colored designs, but was covered by a well-worn Metallica t-shirt and black jeans. He smiled with a mouth full of golden capped teeth, like Jaws from a James Bond movie and I was ready to dart for the door at the sight of him.

“Can I help you folks?” he asked, with a southern American drawl, and I instantaneously felt a sense of relief, considering for a moment that he was one of us, whatever the hell that meant. I just felt better thinking it.

“We have an appointment, the names Carter.” Gage said and the man looked over a calendar on the counter, scribbled and scratched at. How he understood what was on that page was beyond me.

“Yep, you’re my ten o’clock. So who’s first?”

I looked at Gage and he raised his brows, “Ladies first.”

“Alright,” I swallowed back my angst, walking ahead as we were escorted to a private room in the back.

A massage table like the ones at the spa was set up in the center of the room with paper and plastic wrapped over the surface, for sanitary reasons I concluded and a foldable chair sat beside it. The gentleman rolled over a large red tool trolley with drawers and I noted that everything on its surface was wrapped in plastic and large squeeze bottles of cleaning agent, as they were labeled, sat across the back. Cleanliness was next to Godliness or some shit like that, I was just happy the place was clean and sterile.

I gave a nervous laugh when I saw him unwrap the needle and insert it into the gun he was going to be using on me, and then he stepped on a pedal beside his foot giving it a rev. Why was it called a gun anyway? It didn’t shoot bullets, although it did shoot ink into the surface of your skin, with needles of all things. A scary name for a scary machine I supposed, over thinking again.