The Man Who Saved Me

Shonali grinned.

“You don’t need more prep.”

“Don’t need it. But want it,” said Malia, waved goodbye, and left.

Carlos turned to her again.

“If there’s anything wrong, you will tell me, won’t you, Shon?”

Carlos’s voice was gentle and soft. Shonali felt what tension was left in her shoulders melting away as she heard the sheer love in his voice.

She nodded.

“There’s nothing wrong. Some days, I get the blues. You know that.”

Carlos hesitated.

“Don’t get a tattoo when you’re blue. You shouldn’t get the first one when you’re blue, at any rate.”

Shonali smiled.

“I won’t. But call him and set up an appointment for me? Tomorrow morning. I’ll take the morning off and get it done. If you can hold the fort.”

Carlos looked insulted, but Shonali knew he wasn’t.

“I think I can manage not to burn the place down,” he said, wryly.

Shonali laughed, and there was no tension in the air anymore.

“Good, that would be helpful. So, how much does it hurt, really?”

Carlos launched into an explanation of how tattoos felt, going through the half a dozen he had, and Shonali felt herself be soothed by his voice and that comfort of being with him.

She’d find her balance again soon. She promised herself that.

*****

Shonali was feeling a bit nervous.

She was surprised at that. Once she made a decision, she usually followed through on it without over-thinking it.

She was used to pain. She didn’t get freaked out over needles.

But as she stood outside the tattoo studio – which was small, but classy, judging by the look of it – she was none too sure about it.

But she did want the tattoo, didn’t she? So determinedly, she walked inside and looked around. It helped that it was a rather gray and extremely chilly morning. Shonali wanted the warmth of being indoors, even if it meant she had to make up her mind, once and for all, about getting inked.

She spotted Carlos’s friend immediately. He was tall and skinny, with hair so blonde that it was almost white. It made the golden tone of his skin nearly shine.

Well, what you could see of it, anyway. Almost every inch of him was tattooed.

He was a walking advertisement for his own business, thought Shonali, a bit bemused.

But the work was exquisite. She looked around and saw that if she did want to get herself inked – and she did – she had chosen an excellent place for it.

She was standing there, trying to gather up her courage and feeling her excitement overshadow that vague fear, when she became aware that somebody was standing next to her.

Somebody tall and so uncomfortable that he was radiating waves of uncertainty that seemed to wash all over her.

She glanced out the side of her eye and smiled.

Shonali appreciated a good-looking man, and the one standing beside her sure was good-looking.

He had dark hair that looked like it had been bleached red in parts by the sun, which was a remarkable feat for the middle of winter in San Francisco.

The hair was a bit wavy and a bit too long, but it suited him. The length didn’t look like an affectation. It looked like he had just gotten too caught up to bother cutting or styling it, and had messed it up quite a bit by running his fingers through it.

As she watched him – unobtrusively, she hoped – he dragged his hand through his hair again, making her smile.

The man was getting his first tattoo, too.

Nothing else explained that nervousness.

She felt her own nerves settle a bit more when she saw him.

She took a deep breath and was instantly more relaxed. She glanced at the man standing next to her again, and wondered at how she suddenly wasn’t afraid at all.

He had blue eyes, she saw – no, green. Well, somewhere in the middle. They reminded her of calm, tropical seas. She’d always wanted to visit somewhere where she could go snorkeling in waters like that.

His lips were chiseled and perfect – the top lip had that little bow that always seemed so sexy. Kissable lips, thought Shonali, enjoying the feeling of blatant desire that flowed through her.

It had been a while since she had felt that. Shonali embraced all pleasurable feelings without guilt. It showed in how much she enjoyed food, how a lovely morning could make her heart rise, how works of art could make her sigh and how a bike roaring underneath her could have her whooping in exhilaration.

She didn’t shy away from feelings. She embraced them, and the pleasure she could find in them.

So she eyed the man standing beside her with interest.

He glanced at her, and looked away immediately.

Shonali’s eyebrows drew together.

Was he shy?

He turned back to her.

“Have you been here before?”

Shonali smiled, all friendly. It was the strangest thing. She had this uncanny feeling that she knew him. He just seemed familiar. It didn’t feel as if she had ever really gotten to know him, but something in her seemed to know him.

It was like meeting an old friend from another life.

That was the closest she could come to explaining how she felt.

Shonali never dismissed feelings, no matter how trivial they might seem. She had dismissed so many with Fred, and look where that had gotten her!

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, and so on, thought Shonali as she shrugged.

“No, but one of my closest friends comes here quite often. He got most of his tattoos done here. He knows the guy who runs the place, too – Ricky. Come on, let’s introduce ourselves, then.”

The man still hesitated.

Shonali tossed him a teasing grin.

“Why, are you going to chicken out?”

That was a challenge, of course, and what choice was there but to straighten his spine and meet it?

“No, of course not,” said the man, though he still looked like he wanted to bolt, just a bit.

“What kind of tattoo are you looking to get?” asked Shonali, trying to keep him relaxed.

He shrugged.

“I wanted to get an angel of death.”

Shonali turned to look at him incredulously.

What kind of strange person was this?

He smiled, and she saw that he had dimples, and there was a definitely irreverent sense of humor dancing in those extremely attractive eyes.