I searched for an excuse but came up short.
"Let me make sure my room is ready." I brushed past him to go check the room. I hadn't touched it since my last dinner guest. While I knew it had been cleaned like everything else, my paranoia over letting regular people in here was high. I couldn't have any trace evidence of what actually went here left behind.
Once I was satisfied it was safe, I returned and got Neal, bringing them through the locked doors and into my tattooing room.
"Why is it so bare in here?" they asked, looking around at the blank walls.
"It’s a work in progress," I lied. I'd imagined my dream setup since I was a kid. I just didn't want to showcase my art to anyone, in case things went wrong. I pointed to the long, black tattoo chair in the center of the room, and they climbed into it.
I grabbed my tablet and pulled up the drawing I'd worked on for them, showing them again to confirm for the stencil. I realized, as I began to prep things, just how quiet it was in here when no one was crying or screaming for help.
"You want to know something funny, Neal?" I chuckled as I pulled out my phone and put on some music. "You are my first client since I got out of jail."
"Really? Well, I guess that makes sense, since this room is empty as hell. Why don't you start offering tattoos at your parties?"
I shrugged. "I guess I'm just selective right now. Maybe someday I'll open up a shop."
I had to get an apprenticeship first, though, which would be hard to manage right now. All in good time. I gently placed the stencil on Neal’s arm, then finished theprep—washing, gloving, and mentally preparing myself to tattoo my second willing person ever. Technically third, but I didn’t count myself.
"So things are getting pretty serious with Daisy, huh?"
"They were always serious," I replied, deadpan.
"Right, I mean, just that she's going to leave Max now, right?"
"That is the plan." I didn't know why it bothered me so to talk about Daisy and Max's relationship. I'd mentioned it a dozen times this week alone about her leaving him soon, but each time she'd dodged the conversation. She'd complain about talking about the future, or me trying to bring the mood down. Self-sabotage, she said once, when I brought it up as we made love. Maybe she was right, as I'd been the one to demand we not speak his name during sex.
Neal’s tattoo took all day, and they talked the entire time. I tried to be an active conversationalist, but my mind was elsewhere, across the lake, wondering what she was doing. It wasn't until Neal said something about the news that I actually took a listen.
"Did you see they think the sex defender took someone else?"
"The what?"
"The sex defender, you know, the serial killer who's going all around the country picking up sex offenders. Well, not legally recognized ones, anyway. One of the true crime podcasts I listen to is following the guy. Apparently, he's kidnapping men and women that were thought to have sexually assaulted someone, and so far, none of them have been seen since."
"How do they know it's a guy?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," Neal answered honestly. "Probably because the people, mostly the men, are so hulking huge, it'd be hard to imagine a woman lifting thatmuch weight. Anyway, the authorities are saying they think they're following his trail. He's on his way to California now."
"Is he a serial killer if no one has been found yet?"
"No, that's just what they call him on the podcast. Some of those true crime people aren't really up on their stuff. I need to stop listening to some of them, if I'm being honest. It’s kind of shitty, using other people’s pain for fame. But no, the victims so far have just gone missing."
"Then how do they know it's all the same person?"
I wasn't too worried, considering he'd said they were looking in California for me. There was thousands of miles between California and Michigan.
"Not sure. Maybe it's a group of renegades, taking out the people in power. I told Daisy it was just another sign that the lower class is fighting against the rich. I say good riddance. Eat the fucking rich, amiright?" They sat up and tried to fist bump me with their free hand.
I stared pointedly at them. They cringed and relaxed, letting out a nervous chuckle.
"Oh right, not you. I'd never eat you."
Chapter 44
Gatsby
"So,this is what's behind the locked door?"
