Ink, Sex, Magic Pt. 01

As we peed and preened, Jen swallowing some sort of amphetamine that I declined, she was able to grill me at last.

"Okay, it's T time, babe. What the fuck was that about? Why the hell didn't you tell me you had a sexy tattooed hottie for a father? And is he Irish? He sounds kinda Irish. And what happened with him and your mom? They still seem totally hot for each other. And-

"Are you okay?"

I was leaning over one of the sinks with the water running in case I got sick.

"This is the first I've had to eat today, that's all," I lied.

"You've never really talked about him. Was he locked up or something?" Jen guessed, fixing my waist-length hair up with her own clip so it wouldn't get wet in the basin.

"No. He just didn't want anything to do with me when my mother left him for Bruce. I haven't heard from him since I was fifteen- like he forgot I existed."

"I'm sorry, Ali, that was super shitty of him to do. I can't imagine not seeing my dad for that long. But he had to have some kind of a reason- I can tell that you mean the world to him."

I snorted, patting my face dry.

"And that he means the world to you," she said softly. "At least give him a chance. I know I would."

"Of course you would- you want to jump his bones, and he's not your father."

"I would even if he was."

"Jen! You are such a slut."

"You are such a prude." She pulled out her compact to apply some powder and smeared a little gloss on my lips. Being so close to her, our breasts almost touching, the act felt very sensual, especially when she sifted her fingers through my locks, nails scraping my scalp. "But a sexy prude."

When Jen stood back and I saw my reflection, I almost saw it for a moment.

"I'm feeling better now, thanks girl."

Jen gave me a peck on the cheek. "Good, babe. Because you aren't flaking out on me tonight- you're coming out to the Cellar for at least one drink." The Cellar Door was a popular bar in the basement of an even more popular gay club and I never felt cool enough to be there.

"I don't want to flake out but I didn't drive here and my car's back at the Seattle Center and-"

"You're flaking out as we speak! How did you get here anyway?"

"I rode with Kiernan on his chopper."

"Are you kidding me? That is so fucking hot! You know what else is hot- how he calls you Lili. If you ever needed a stripper name, that would be it!"

I glared at her.

"Whatever. I'll be your Über if I have to- you're going to celebrate tonight with me and you're going to have fun."

"Nothing says fun like peer pressure," I mumbled, but acquiesced anyhow. "Okay- but only so I can drown my emotions with alcohol."

Jen bounced happily on the balls of her feet. "That's good enough for me!"

When we rejoined the party, my father gripped my hand under the table. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can we talk about that whole...situation...later?"

Kiernan nodded. "Listen, there's no pressure to say yes about the apprenticeship. You have every right to be cautious. I just want to be in your life again, if you'll let me.

"I never stopped thinking about you, you know. Never stopped loving you. If it wouldn't have put you in danger... But that's another discussion. The point is I can't undo the mistakes I made then, but I can be here for you now. What do you think, Lili?"

A hot swoop of pleasure ignited my pussy- now that Jen had put that seed in my head, it was sexy when he called me that. I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear: "I think you being here is the best graduation present anyone could have ever given me, Da."

Then I sat back, leaving him flustered for once.

***

If it weren't for my father's offer to come with me for a drink, I probably would have bailed after all. He took me back to my car first and followed me uptown on his chopper, escorting me on foot once we parked. On the way, he mentioned that being a socialite suited my mother well.

"Bruce has been very good to her," I said diplomatically.

"And to you too?"

"He's always taken care of me, though he's never been particularly affectionate."

"Shit, that might be my fault..."

"Why?" I had always assumed that his phlegmatic parenting-style was modeled after his own aloof father's.

"Well, when Bruce came to move you and Tess out of our old house, I told him under no uncertain terms that if he ever put a hand on you, he'd wish he'd never been born."

"I guess he took you literally. I don't think he would give me mouth-to-mouth if my life depended on it," I said chuckling, and my father joined me with his rich, throaty laughter. It may have dissuaded Bruce from being a more demonstrative step-father, but I found Kiernan's protectiveness endearing.

As I'd suspected, the bar was packed with hipsters and neo-grunge kids, engaged in effortless conversations, the DJ spinning Death Cab For Cutie, a feast of flesh as far as the eye could see and I'd just joined to scenery. Thankfully, my father was behind me, holding me by my sleight shoulders, and we cut through the throng like a blade; people either saw his powerful build or sensed him coming and got out of our way.

"What's your pleasure, mó chuisle?" he asked after lifting me onto a bar stool and standing behind me like a shield, so close that I could feel his voice reverberating inside me, smell his heavenly masculine scent.

Mó chuisle (roughly pronounced moe KHoosh-lah, with the kh sound catching in the throat and the o's blowing it out through the lips) was a term of endearment that came from a longer phrase meaning "pulse of my heart". It was pretty much like saying "my darling". Hearing it again gave me goosebumps; I'd forgotten how much I missed being the center of his attention.

"Liquor? Something sweet? I don't usually order my own drinks..." I started to scan the blackboard for ideas when the bartender came to take our order, despite the place being mobbed.

"Double shot of Glennfiddich Gold, a pint of Harp and a Tom Collins for m' lady, please," Kiernan answered without missing a beat, taking a couple of bills from a fat money clip and sliding them across. After hanging his sports coat on a hook hidden under the bar-top, he took the stool next to me, back towards the bar so he could look at me face to face, as well as keep an eye on the entrance.

As far back as I could remember, he liked being able to see his way out of a place.

Once again, he rolled up his sleeves, then loosened his tie and collar with a sigh of relief. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the way his biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt as he flexed, the illustrated slice of chest he'd exposed, the musculature and veins of his forearms bulging when he rested his weight on his elbows. Just to keep myself from ogling my own father, I texted Jen to let her know that I was at the bar waiting for my drink.

"I notice you don't have a ring on your finger," I said as nonchalantly as possible.

"I never remarried."

"Girlfriend? Kids?"

"None currently and none that I don't know about," he answered, rapping his knuckle against the wooden bar top out of superstitious habit.

I was relieved, both about the girlfriend and the children- female at least. Of course, I knew Kiernan didn't equate fucking with dating, but the thought of him being in love with another woman made me raw inside- just like the thought of him having another daughter- another a chuisle.

Our drinks soon arrived and he raised his glass. "May the devil say a prayer for you," he toasted with a wink before throwing back his shot.

When I took a sip, I discovered that a Tom Collins was pretty much a fizzy hard lemonade infused with juniper berries, and the exact refreshment I needed.

"Mmm, tasty." I licked my lips appreciatively.

He pushed aside his empty shot glass and started in on his beer. "And what about you?"

My stomach leapt; for a moment, I thought he was asking if I was tasty too. "Oh, you mean if I have a girlfriend or kids?"

Kiernan scowled. "You'd better not have any kids."

"I don't have a boyfriend, if that's what you mean. Or a girlfriend." I blushed as the corners of his lips curled with a wicked smile.

"Exclusive friend with benefits?" he asked, not entirely joking.

"No. Ever since- " I broke off when Kiernan seemed distracted by something behind me; twisting around, I saw Jen along with several other mutual friends (well, mostly her friends that I hung out with on occasion) were having their I.D.s checked. To my dismay, she'd brought Thomas along.

"What were you saying, love?"

My throat had gone dry and I couldn't speak at first. I took a sip of my drink, quickly losing the courage to finish a long deferred confession. "It's just... after what those men did to me, I don't think I'll ever let anyone get that close to me again."

The words tumbled out and hit my father in the face; he winced as if physically pained. Not knowing what to say, he wiped his hand roughly across his mouth, then through his hair, leaving it tousled in its wake.

"Hey!" Jen exclaimed in the middle of our tense silence.

I pasted on my smile and turned around to greet everyone.

"Guys, this is Alice's daddy, Kiernan." She seemed to make this introduction to Mallory, Cat, and Hadleigh specifically: I guessed by their exchanged glances that she'd told them about my "Daddy" and he did not disappoint.

Still recovering, he merely inclined his head in their direction, then bore holes in me with his flinty eyes while I pretended not to notice. I was afraid that if I looked at him, I might cry. But when Kiernan got to his feet, casting his shadow over me, and started putting his blazer back on, I couldn't ignore him any longer.

"I want to see you tomorrow, Alice. There's a lot we need to talk about." His tone was gentle but, as usual, brooked no argument.

"Sure. Are you going now?" Panic crept into my voice as I faced the prospect of him leaving me there.

"I have to meet someone soon. Business," he said vaguely. "Unless you rather I'd stay."

"Oh, no. I mean, yes! Yes, I'd like you to stay but no, you don't have to. I mean, I'll be fine." I bit my lip to stop myself from babbling.

"Here." My father pulled out his phone and in a few seconds mine was ringing. "Tess gave me your number," he explained. "If you need anything- I mean anything- call me. Or text me. Or FaceTime me. Whatever you kids are doing these days. And I'll be in touch- I promise."

Without caring that people were watching, I threw myself at him, snaking my arms under his jacket and around his waist, resting my head over his heart.

Kiernan embraced me tightly in return, his lips in my hair when he whispered, "I love you, a chuisle mó chroí."

A frisson of pleasure went through me, and I told him I loved him the way I used to when I was enamored. "Is tú mó ghrá, Da."

Before he left, he set down several large bills in front of a barkeep and gestured to my friends and me. "For the class of 2016," he said before draining his pint glass.

Most of them said thank you (with the exception Thomas, who continued to ignore my father as he'd done all evening, and Cat, who could only wave) and took our places at the bar. I started to slip off his jacket, but he shook his head.

"I'll get it back when I see you tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded, pleased to think that he might want to see me again as much as I wanted to see him.

"Night, Lili." Kiernan traced my jaw-line before backing away, not looking behind himself until he bumped into somebody. The guy wheeled around, looking ready for a fight, but after craning his neck up, decided against it and moved aside.

God- it was just my luck that the first man I'd found to be sexy in a long while was my own father; and I was already smitten.

***

I stayed remarkably collected after Kiernan left, fielding questions about him and even myself without worrying about the right thing to say because the words came naturally. If only I'd been able to speak to them like this when we were taking classes together. Jen managed to convince me to try framboise, which turned out to be fruity beer-soda, so I floated on an evanescent cloud of bliss for a couple of hours.

But, after I switched to water on the rocks, I started seeing things again- a confluence of auras to rival the Northern Lights; alchemical symbols and Druidic sigils floating above people's heads; a man with a spectral crow on his shoulder and a miasma on his forehead that was so caustic it stung my eyes just to see. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the visions to go away.

"Alice- are you feeling okay?"

I looked up to see one of my former classmates, Brad or Chad I think, a cute Audio Tech Major who gave off a major stoner vibe- I think he'd even offered to smoke me up before. There was a haze about him even now, though it was more like his aura, churning with sexual desire. I squeezed eyes shut.

"No, I think my late nights and early mornings have finally caught up with me- I'm going to go home and crash."

"Already? The night is young. And where could you have to be in the morning?" he teased.

In addition to getting my beloved solitude back, I wanted to get my beauty rest for my date with Kiernan, but I couldn't very well say that.

"Bed," I stated flatly.

He laughed good-naturedly, though slightly defeated. "Heard. You good to drive?"

"Drive? Home? Are you bailing on us already, Ali?" Jen had sidled up to us, her timing impeccable as ever.

"Yeah, I'm bushed."

"And are you okay to drive?" she asked, one hand on her hip, arm akimbo.

"I'll be fine. I don't live that far from here anyway."

When I told her where I was parked, Jen insisted on escorting me on the way to a new speak-easy styled bar called The Midnight Bell. "Thomas suggested that we go- he knows one of the owners," she said in the excited voice she used when she was going to get laid.

"Cool- I hear they have killer drinks. But, um..." I made sure he wasn't in ear shot before continuing. "Be careful around Thomas. He can be a bit...forward."

"So can I," she retorted.

"You know what I mean, Jen. Just...be careful."

"I always am." To prove it, she opened her clutch to show me that it was stuffed with condoms. Closing it, she added, "And if he misbehaves, I'll slice his balls open with these." Jen flashed her long nails, filed to sharp points.

I had no doubt that she would.

A few others joined our trek and we walked against an unseasonably cold wind, tinged with the salty sea. I shivered, wrapping my father's jacket tightly around myself, wishing he was holding me. I'd been so lonely that I didn't even know it until I saw him again. Anger and resentment had packed over my heart like layers of ice; and it felt so much better to nurse that bitterness than my wounds.

Now, he threatened to thaw out that deep freeze with his love and I was terrified of what I would feel again- what I was feeling already.

They accompanied me all the way to the parking deck entrance before we parted ways, Thomas hugging me a bit too long for my liking. I dashed up the stairs to my level and toward my car, inhaling the fumes of exhaust mixed with piss as little as possible. Once inside, I took a few deep breaths, thinking I was about to have a panic attack, and then, realizing that I was just happy, I let out a silly giggle and started the engine.

With a window-rattling song by Razorlight blasting, I began the downward spiral to the exit, taking each sharp turn with caution. I was nearing the ground level when I ran into something I'd thought was a shadow, and the impact was substantial yet yielding- like a body. Fuck. I threw the gear shift into park, paused the music and opened the door.

"Hello?" I called, grabbing my cell before stepping out of the car. Listening for any sounds of distress, I heard nothing except my car idling and my own heartbeat. I crept around to the front bumper and bent low to find out what I'd run into, preparing myself for the sight of blood. Nothing.

Straightening up, I felt the creeping sensation that I wasn't alone. I spun on my heels and saw something emerging from the darkness behind me: It was a figure in the shape of a man but not a man- a shade comprised of liquid night, with eyes like dark stars. Its breath was waves crashing on rocks, sucking me in like a whirlpool.

My phone slipped from my hand, though I never heard it hit the ground. I managed to stagger backwards a few steps, but it was like moving through sand dunes. And when I tried to scream, my voice was muted as if I'd been enclosed in a bell jar. As the malevolent tempest tried to engulf me, I could feel icy water filling my lungs.

But a hand gripped my arm, pulled me out of the ocean and threw me on the shore; I landed roughly on the hard concrete feet away, barely registering the painful jolt it sent through my body.

I squinted up to see my rescuer, but I was blinded by the manifestation of a complex sigillum, flashing like crystal lightning, that shot out towards my attacker. There was the smell of ozone, brine and sulfur as both the sigillum and the shadowy form evaporated into a sooty mist, scattering in the rays of my headlights.

When I rolled to my side, I began coughing up seawater as if I really had been drowning. Desperately gasping for air, I found it hard to move against the sudden heaviness in my limbs, to even keep my eyelids open. And then I found myself being picked up, laid back in the passenger seat of my car, secured and covered like a child.

"You're safe now, Lili. Everything's going to be fine. Sleep..."

***

When I was a kid, I would take the bus to Sectio Divina after school and hang out until a neighbor could pick me up in the evening, when she got off of work. And during the summer, if I wasn't in day camp, I was posted up there as their silent mascot. There were no entertaining devices like televisions or computers available, so most kids would have been bored: But I wasn't most kids.

My mother was an indie filmographer, constantly traveling to various studios and locations for shooting, and my father was the primary breadwinner, so I was self-reliant early on. I would do my homework, fill my sketchbook, read, and run errands for the adults, like picking up pastries and coffee from the bakery across the street; and of course, watch my father tattoo. It was mesmerizing to see him pulling perfect lines with a steady hand, or use a tebori stick with efficacious finesse, his face a study in serenity.

In addition to Kiernan and Jack, there were four other artists at Sectio Divina- Max Thorne, Seraphine Angel, McCain and Devasha Rae. They all had their own style of tattooing, most of them did piercings and gauges, and a few practiced what I later learned was erotic suspension. The buzz of tattoo machines was the nearly constant bass line for their medley of conversations, laughter, singing, pirated radio and inevitable shouts of pain- and most likely pleasure.

Thanks to the many shelves of books, I always had access to texts on scientific and medical illustrations, botanicals, animals, architecture, mystical symbology and sacred geometry, fonts, machinery, weapons, jewelry and clothing, human anatomy- any visual reference an artist might need. I would dedicate hours to replicating pictures: Celtic knotwork, lace patterns, death-head moths, Escher tessellations, black dahlias, anatomical hearts and sailing ships.

When I was in the second grade, I was suspended for drawing Art-Deco style nudes in class- ratted out by the bitch who sat behind me, Margaret Hertz. The principal confiscated my sketchbook and called my parents for an urgent conference. When shown the "pornographic" drawings, all my father said was that my technique had improved.