Trust Me (3 page)

The full college experience came loaded with a crappy small dorm, ramen noodles for dinner every night, tap water as my beverage of choice, and a fully stocked fridge of catsup, mustard, mayo and honey packets.

Noah said the harder I worked, the more I went without, the more I would strive to never fall back on the money we’d have coming from The Joint. I am twenty and Noah is twenty-four, almost twenty-five. Without a degree, we don’t see a dime from The Joint until we hit twenty-five. With a degree we get the rights to sell it or keep it, and we were selling. Noah wanted his shop and I just wanted to give him my share. Noah had sacrificed for me my whole life. He certainly deserves a promising future more than anyone I know. If the big dream of fame as the bassist in Thick as Thieves doesn’t pan out, then Noah was taking his job at Slave to the Needle and everything he’d learned there and building his own empire on blood, sweat, and ink… the dream name of his shop.

My aunt and uncle have a reputation for getting the perfect employees to work summers, and over the years living in Gig Harbor, I had made some good friends. It was that hot June day though, that I walked in for one of my rare day shifts, that I noticed Chad Blake working at The Joint.

Chad had worked for my aunt and uncle for a few summers. It was easy to promote the band when women lined up to flirt with him while he worked. The more he tattooed, the less he worked. He ended up quitting two summers ago when tattooing became his full-time job. Last year I had been dating a guy named Brantley, so I hadn’t noticed his absence much. Brantley was as pompous as his name sounded. I hadn’t worked too much at The Joint that summer because Brantley would have died a thousand deaths if anyone had known his girlfriend was slinging burgers.

Chad had a reputation as a bit of a male slut, a player. The few girls I had seen with him were trashy and easy. We called them
fangirls
because all they really wanted was the status that went along with being associated with someone in the band. Chad’s job at The Joint was for PR only. They got the word out about the band and always sold out. The Joint was a popular hangout for the younger crowd and Chad was the front man for a reason. Working the college crowd came second nature to him.

I looked up to see Chad walking in the front door. He made his way to the counter and struck up easy conversation with a guy sitting at one of the stools. Seeing him at The Joint meant one of two things. He either quit tattooing, which was ridiculous, or he was rounding up people to pack their summer gigs. I was fairly certain it was the latter.

Chad was the one member of the band that was charismatic enough to get out and talk to people and really market the band and their talent. Shamus, the drummer, Cal the lead guitarist and Noah all had their niche within the band, but it was really Chad that got out and brought the people in to fill the seats. Shamus also had the good fortune of having one of my best friends, Cassa, for a girlfriend. Sometimes they were so into each other I’m not even sure how Shamus made it out of the bedroom to get to gigs.

Noah and Chad had been friends since the second they met. They bonded over a Carmen Electra poster and the art on her skin. Five minutes later they were discussing the difference between a Fender and a Les Paul and the rest was history. They had been as close as brothers ever since.

Noah swore he would never work an hour at The Joint. He was stubborn and proud. I think he felt that if he benefited financially from being here, it was almost like taking blood money. Honestly, the less he was around, the better it was for me. No big brother hovering. It left me free to openly pursue ‘outside interests’. This was actually turning out to be my favorite summer to date. Well… next to the one we finally escaped dad and found a little peace. That summer would forever remain golden.

Seeing Chad now that I was single, I couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably sexy he was. He had a swagger that was impossible to ignore. Chad was four years older than me, sleeved in tats and in a band. He was cooler than me on every level.

Unfortunately where Chad was concerned I was fighting the little sister curse. It started when we moved to Gig Harbor and Noah began feeling a bit more comfortable letting me spread my wings. I tried to spread them wherever Noah was, but he quickly stopped me in my tracks.

“Baby girl,
I am not about to let you in on a bunch of dudes singing about pussy and hoping like hell we find some.”
Noah had been eighteen and I was fourteen, but hearing him talk like that was nothing new. I knew about sex before Noah did, besides we had
trust me
between us and that meant there were no secrets.

“Gross,
Noah.”

“May be gross
lil Sissy, but it’s all boys think about once their balls drop.”
He’d walked over and hugged me
. “I don’t want you tainted by that shit after busting ass to get you away from it. If you need me, you call and I come runnin’, but you got to find a life of your own out of my shadow.”

I’d nodded in understanding and never said anything about it again. Gigs, practice, and their parties were off limits to me and that’s just how it was. Now that I was legally an adult with a life of my own, maybe I would see what all the fuss was about. TAT had to be good because Gig Harbor treated them like royalty.

I glanced at Chad again. He was working the front counter, plugging the band and the tattoo shop. I had taken this shift knowing that he was working today. He worked as many shifts as possible the few days before a show. He would plug the band to every girl who batted her lashes. I hated it.

Chad could charm the panties off a nun. He had this magnetism that drew you in and made it near impossible to look away. His green, shamrock green, with the long, black, thick lashes were his best selling point. The rest was a bonus. He had Jim Beam brown hair that he hid beneath a faded old baseball cap and a lean, sculpted body. His chest begged for a girl to drag her nails down it and trace every peak and valley of his chiseled abs with her fingers and tongue. But what drew me in like a moth to a flame was the art visible on his arms. There wasn’t much skin that wasn’t covered in color. The art went down to his hands and ended at the tips of his fingers. Noah had done the work on his sleeves, but I didn’t know the story behind the Wizard of Oz characters he chose to enhance his skin. Both arms were covered in some wording and renditions of the Oz world, including the yellow brick road leading to Emerald City through the eyes of Seattle. They were amazing and beautiful and so fucking hot.

I had caught a few flirtatious vibes from Chad from time to time, but he was so out of my league. I had never even French kissed a boy before! When I saw Chad frenching a girl on the beach last year, I felt a pang of jealousy because I wondered if I would ever like a boy enough to let him taste the inside of my mouth.

All of my friends had been kissing boys since junior high, but with my brother playing my personal bodyguard and consumed with keeping me ‘safe’, I couldn’t really join in the teenage hormone games without him getting involved. I knew he invented our childhood games of trust me to help us through horrendous abuse, but it also taught Noah to spot a lie like a red flag in the white snow. But Noah wasn’t around much right now. Certainly not enough to really pay attention to what his little sister was doing. So I decided then and there, while Chad and I worked the cash registers, that he would be my summer fling.

I shouldn’t be so stupid.

Noah would kill me if he knew what I was planning. A guy like Chad Blake would rip me open and leave me bleeding. But I wanted to bleed if it was at his hands. I couldn’t sit back and hope he noticed me. Desperate times and all that nonsense.

“So when is the next gig?” I asked. It wasn’t hard to talk to Chad; I had known him too long to act all weird and girly around him. Knowing the intent of my conversation this time though, I had to admit, it had butterflies doing a jig in my gut.

“Well…” He said with a panty dropping smile. “Am I allowed to give up such details about TAT or does that go against some kind of sibling code you have with Noah?” His voice was dripping with promise and oozing sex. Does he even know he sounds like that? He spoke of their band in the acronym for Thick as Thieves. It was kismet that it happened to be TAT.

“I’m twenty years old, Chad. I think Noah’s thunder has finally been stolen.” I’m not entirely convinced this is true, and the look on Chad’s face says he’s not either.

“I wouldn’t say that, Carrie.” He laughed and shook his head stepping back up to the counter to help a customer. It’s the usual, a young woman with big boobs and a few notable tattoos on display. The exact type of woman that you would think Chad would want. He seemed bored with the girls sexually charged banter, but winked and informed her the show was tonight at the Broken Spoke, a bar right off the boardwalk.

He finished with the girl and turned back to me after calling her order back. I can’t help but look at him longer than I should. Even being in this everyday environment, he seems to command the proverbial stage. Dressed in frayed jean shorts and a soft black t-shirt, he wears them perfectly. His hat is on backwards and a chain hangs from his front pocket leading to his back pocket and is connected to his wallet. It all plays a devastating role in his appeal.

“So, tonight then?” I ask when he catches me ogling him. “I heard you telling your fangirl.” I roll my eyes when he licks his bottom lip while drawing his brows in question.

“Broken Spoke.” He says, nodding.

I smile, looking away before he can see my blush. Gah! I’m such a girl!

“We go on at eight.”

“I heard that too.” My face is still turned away as I mindlessly stock straws and lids. I can see the fangirl and I want to drop her strawberry milkshake on her head. I don’t, I just smile and thank her for her business.

“Is that really the type of girl that gets you hot?”

Oh. My. God! I cannot believe I just asked him that. I’m accountable if I’m anything, so even though I hate myself for asking I wait for his answer, my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“She doesn’t cool me down, that’s for sure.” He says, laughing.

“Charming.” My tone is sharper than I intended.

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” He drops that little bomb with a smile that could cave a nation. But it only incites my anger.

“Please! I have been watching fangirls like her for the last five years. They’re all the same from one girl to the next. They flock around Noah like desperate little flies, and if they aren’t chasing his dick then they’re hanging on his every word for his image alone. Desperation taken to a whole new level. Fangirls and tatterflys, they’re all the same.”

“Tatterflys? Really?” He chuckled. “That’s good and true. I didn’t know you were paying attention.”

“How could I not notice? Noah used to make me check in at the shop before I left for college. I see them waiting for a chance at you or Noah. It did nothing for me but make me want to make sure I’m way better than that.”

“So what, you hate tattoos or something?” He’s no longer laughing and actually seems curious about my opinion.

“No. I have a few of my own but I don’t flaunt them in hopes it will enhance my sex appeal. They’re meaningful to me.” My tattoos are a piece of me and just as personal as my scars.

He stands there looking at me for what seems like forever. And I stand there letting him, because for once I actually have something to talk to him about without Noah breathing down my neck.

“Have you always been like this?” He asked quietly. So quietly I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me to hear. I answer anyway.

“Yes. You just never paid attention, it’s not easy to stand in someone like Noah’s shadow and be noticed.”

He licks his lips and his eyes darken with depravation, making me want to do some rather questionable things to his body. He shook his head and laughed to himself. “Doubt that.” He muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Damn, Carrie.” He said, turning away from the counter, hanging up his apron and walking out the back door.

You were always so far away
I know that pain so don't you run away
Like you used to do

Alice in Chains

Chapter Two

A few days later, while working a night shift, Noah and Chad came in so that Noah could steal money from the till. He did it often, calling it his inheritance. Technically it was, so I never made a big deal over it. If it was a slow night then I would tell him no. No matter how much we hated what The Joint represented, we respected that it was the sole income for many, including the only family we had left. Although they seemed to agree with Noah’s inheritance loans and never really cared.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Chad since the day shift we’d worked together. He was dressed in perfectly fitting jeans that were a soft, faded blue. He wore a black t-shirt with the Slave to the Needle logo on it. His sleeved arms showed a web of design. A black bandana over his head topped him off, leaving his shaggy brown hair poking out from the bottom. He had a brow piercing in and the three-quarter gauges in his ears were changed and now had steel pinchers through them.

Noah went straight to the office mumbling something about needing to check the books because Uncle Seth was sick. Noah was dressed much like Chad, wearing distressed jeans, a black button up mechanic’s shirt with his white blond hair messy, in a stylish sort of way. I couldn’t help but cringe knowing they were most likely on the prowl.

“Well, hello, Carrie Becket.” Chad said and bit down on a toothpick.

Like he needed more sex appeal. Now he was just drawing attention to his sexy mouth. Attention that had me noticing he also had a lip ring.

“Chad Blake!” I squealed like a fangirl. “OMG I am so going to
facebook
this later.” I bobbed my head from side to side and acted as though I were chomping on gum.