the horny bastards that I know will go absolutely insane when they see you.” I took a deep breath and gave Harper a slight nod. I may not have entirely believed him in that moment, but I wasn’t about to argue.
Harper eventually pulled the Jeep back on to the highway and we approached the exit for Byron Bay, our first stop. I was still feeling a little teary for no good reason, but the savage weight of depression that had clung to me for the last few months was not as heavy. And I had the feeling it was Harper Somerville chasing away the evil sorrow that had tried to claim me.
Chapter 6
The Face
The unbroken part of a wave; often smooth, glassy and clear
Oceans Ink Tattoo Studio was a large establishment settled right in the center of Byron Bay. This wasn’t the first tattoo studio I had been in. Harper had dragged me along to more than a few of the sessions etched into his skin. I had been at his side when he was just seventeen years old and getting his first tattoo, an intricate pattern of thick black lines and swirls that created a picture of waves sitting below a setting sun. Sitting on his bicep it was abstract yet clearly identifiable. Shades of grey and black covered his arms and back with tribal patterns and skulls. Impressive, but they didn’t contain the heartfelt passion that his first tattoo did. So even though the sounds and smells of this tattoo studio were familiar, I was still a little nervous. Harper thankfully took my hand as we wandered through the front doors, the constant harsh buzzing of tattoo guns filled the large open space. Four men sat with their heads down, tattoo guns in hand, insults flying back and forth. The men being tattooed sat stoically nonchalant, pretending to show no signs of the discomfort I had no doubt they were in. Harper once told me if someone says getting a tattoo doesn’t hurt then they were full of shit. He described the sensation as someone slicing a knife into your skin and drawing blood. Imagine that constant sensation for a few hours non-stop! If Harper thought he was getting my lilywhite skin inked today, he had another thing coming.
The first of the tattooist glanced our way and, as soon as he noticed Harper, a wide grin spread over his face.
“Somerville! How’s it been man?” Every other head in the place suddenly swung around to take us in and I wished the floor would open right then and swallow me.
“All good, Yoshi, how’s Riah doing?” The Asian man grinned a cheeky grin.
“She’s the size of an elephant and beautiful as ever. Eight months pregnant!”
“Damn!” Harper exclaimed. “Bout’ time you learnt to put it in the right hole!” I barely stopped my mouth from dropping open as I glanced up at Harper. He gave me a wink. A giant bearded bald tattooist sat up from his workstation and stretched out his back. Snapping off one of his gloves he strolled across the room and shook Harper’s hand. If he hadn’t smiled I would have pegged him for a stone-cold killer.
“Good to see you, Somerville,” he exclaimed.
“Hey, Marz, how’s things?”
“Same ol’ shit, different day, buddy.” His questioning eyes took me in and I wished to God I didn’t blush. But I did and it only got worse if I tried to stop it.
“Marz, this is Bree, Bree, this is Marz. He owns Oceans.” Marz held out his hand to shake mine. His enormous hand swallowed mine, but it was gentle and warm.
“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.” His smile was affectionate and his eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief. When Marz’s hand lingered a little too long Harper pulled me back into his chest and I swear on all that is holy, the man growled! Harper…Freakin’…Growled!
Marz gave me a cheeky wink. “Thought so,” he murmured.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying to ignore Harper’s caveman growliness, along with the long hard heat of his body against mine. In my mind I sounded and looked perfectly indifferent, but I knew my voice had been
Harper eventually pulled the Jeep back on to the highway and we approached the exit for Byron Bay, our first stop. I was still feeling a little teary for no good reason, but the savage weight of depression that had clung to me for the last few months was not as heavy. And I had the feeling it was Harper Somerville chasing away the evil sorrow that had tried to claim me.
Chapter 6
The Face
The unbroken part of a wave; often smooth, glassy and clear
Oceans Ink Tattoo Studio was a large establishment settled right in the center of Byron Bay. This wasn’t the first tattoo studio I had been in. Harper had dragged me along to more than a few of the sessions etched into his skin. I had been at his side when he was just seventeen years old and getting his first tattoo, an intricate pattern of thick black lines and swirls that created a picture of waves sitting below a setting sun. Sitting on his bicep it was abstract yet clearly identifiable. Shades of grey and black covered his arms and back with tribal patterns and skulls. Impressive, but they didn’t contain the heartfelt passion that his first tattoo did. So even though the sounds and smells of this tattoo studio were familiar, I was still a little nervous. Harper thankfully took my hand as we wandered through the front doors, the constant harsh buzzing of tattoo guns filled the large open space. Four men sat with their heads down, tattoo guns in hand, insults flying back and forth. The men being tattooed sat stoically nonchalant, pretending to show no signs of the discomfort I had no doubt they were in. Harper once told me if someone says getting a tattoo doesn’t hurt then they were full of shit. He described the sensation as someone slicing a knife into your skin and drawing blood. Imagine that constant sensation for a few hours non-stop! If Harper thought he was getting my lilywhite skin inked today, he had another thing coming.
The first of the tattooist glanced our way and, as soon as he noticed Harper, a wide grin spread over his face.
“Somerville! How’s it been man?” Every other head in the place suddenly swung around to take us in and I wished the floor would open right then and swallow me.
“All good, Yoshi, how’s Riah doing?” The Asian man grinned a cheeky grin.
“She’s the size of an elephant and beautiful as ever. Eight months pregnant!”
“Damn!” Harper exclaimed. “Bout’ time you learnt to put it in the right hole!” I barely stopped my mouth from dropping open as I glanced up at Harper. He gave me a wink. A giant bearded bald tattooist sat up from his workstation and stretched out his back. Snapping off one of his gloves he strolled across the room and shook Harper’s hand. If he hadn’t smiled I would have pegged him for a stone-cold killer.
“Good to see you, Somerville,” he exclaimed.
“Hey, Marz, how’s things?”
“Same ol’ shit, different day, buddy.” His questioning eyes took me in and I wished to God I didn’t blush. But I did and it only got worse if I tried to stop it.
“Marz, this is Bree, Bree, this is Marz. He owns Oceans.” Marz held out his hand to shake mine. His enormous hand swallowed mine, but it was gentle and warm.
“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.” His smile was affectionate and his eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief. When Marz’s hand lingered a little too long Harper pulled me back into his chest and I swear on all that is holy, the man growled! Harper…Freakin’…Growled!
Marz gave me a cheeky wink. “Thought so,” he murmured.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying to ignore Harper’s caveman growliness, along with the long hard heat of his body against mine. In my mind I sounded and looked perfectly indifferent, but I knew my voice had been
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