Tattooed On My Soul Read online

  Tattooed On My Soul

  by Lisa Debells

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright Australia © 2014 Lisa Debells

  Tattooed On My Soul by Lisa Debells

  Copyright 2011 Copyright-Australia.com. Group - All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright laws.

  If you are reading this book and have not purchased it or been gifted a copy via an online retailer, it has been pirated. Please delete this eBook and support the author by purchasing a copy from one of its many distributors.

  Cover copyright © Rebecca Berto of http://bertodesigns.com

  Depositphotos stock image 36571025

  Editing by Lauren McKellar of http://laurenkmckellar.com/hire-an-editor/

  Dedication

  For anyone that is following a dream.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THANK YOU

  AUTHOR LINKS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mitchell Stone

  I breathed heavily, sprung forward. Recoil jab, punch left, right, left, right hook, bounce, bounce, bounce. My biceps were burning, fatigue setting in, but I couldn’t stop yet. Sweat stung as it dripped off my forehead and into my eyes, but there was no time to wipe it off. I just kept punching, blow after blow. I rained down, let all the pent-up shit hit the bag and not come back. Punch, punch, jab. I could see his face staring back at me. Suddenly, it wasn’t the bag I was thumping anymore. It was his face, grinning at me, laughing, taunting me.

  You’re nothing. You’re weak.

  My fucking worst nightmare. I had to keep going. The more I unleashed, the more the lines blurred from my reality to a nightmare.

  I swung once more with all the force I could summon, and TKOed that bastard. My lungs were dragging in the air, it burns but the burn was good. It told me I was alive and he was not. He was dead; I knew this because I watched him die . . . my father.

  “Mitch . . . yo, Mitch, what the fuck, man?” I could hear my name being called.

  I pulled in a jagged breath as I fought to control the anger I felt inside. It was always simmering on the surface, like a volcano; I was always on the edge of erupting. Damn it! I stopped abruptly, my arms still in position as if I was protecting my face. I couldn’t count how many times I’d cowered like this as a child. But I knew it was Chase calling me. He was the only one that I could trust, the only one that knew the nightmare I’d lived. It seemed like such a long time ago. It was . . .

  I dropped my arms, released the tension and did a little jog on the spot, ready to enjoy the post work-out bliss that I usually welcome. I roll my neck from side to side. I’m loose now; the bag has appeased the rage. I’m back to normal, whatever the fuck that is. Normal is a term you use to describe those privileged with a great childhood, with two loving parents, then growing up to become that themselves. That will never be me. I’m way past Fantasy Land. And my reality is right here in front of me.

  I turn and face Chase who is standing with his back leaning on my kitchen island bench all scowling eyes, tight lips and folded arms.

  “Chase, you dick. I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow. Whats with the business suit so late in the day.” I look at my childhood friend who is processing my mood and I can’t help smiling, Chase always has my back and protected me, always brings me back to reality when I go too far because of my self-indulgent ways and lack of boundaries.

  “Just trying to keep up with you man, that dark brooding and mysterious persona that all the girls come back for isn’t the only way to a girls panties, they go mad for the suit and tie.” he said with a giddy smile on his face as he loosens the knot at his throat. Something was up; he’s smug-ass grin had me curious as to the mood he was in.

  “Whatever works, Chay,” I said. I walked over to the kitchen of my loft apartment, its open plan meant there weren’t any walls dividing the room. I shook his hand, pulling him in for a firm hug and a slap on the back. “You were supposed to get back tomorrow. What changed, and why do you have that stupid ‘I know something’ look? Spill the shit,” I requested, and made my way to the fridge to knock the top off a bottle of water.

  Chase laughed. “I guess that comes with knowing each other since we were in diapers, huh?” He turns and follows me with a buoyant smile.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.” I nodded in agreement. If anyone had told me that Chase and I would still be best friends after twenty odd years, I wouldn’t have believed them. So many people had come and gone in that time: I had lost my parents, but we had had Chase’s mom and dad, they were my family. We had each seen the other go through endless women and relationships, but none that had any sticking power. Not that I wanted them to; after Jessica I had never tried the relationship thing again, preferring to keep every woman in my life non-committal. I made my guidelines up front so there was no confusion when the gig was up.

  I offered Chase a bottle of water that he declined with a shake of his head. “You will want something stronger than water when you hear my news.”

  He had piqued my interest. “Man I don’t want to hear about your last conquest,” I said teasing him.

  “You’re a fucking douche if you think I would tell you. Besides, I can’t keep up with the steady flow of goddesses that walk through a revolving door into your bedroom, only to cop the door smacking their ass as they drag themselves back out again when you’ve had enough.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” I leaned both palms on the black-granite bench-top and scowl jokingly at him. Even so, I wasn’t about to validate his description, even if there was mostly truth in it

  “But am I? You never have them around long enough to even hint at a relationship. You should try it sometime bro.” The conversation had taken a serious turn, and I wasn’t up for it today, his words hitting too close to home. My demon had decided to rear its ugly unforgiving head lately, and nothing could placate the nightmares. Work, which I usually loved, didn’t give me the thrill or the satisfaction that it had in the past. I loved what I did, but lately, my heart wasn’t inspired by it. My artistic flow had flowed out the fucking door, and I was struggling for find some inspiration.

  I started cutting down my hours at the shop, being really picky with those that bestowed me the honour of tattooing them, inking their skin forever.

  Art was like my therapy. It had given me something to focus on when I was growing up. Drawing was a fantasy world that I lost myself in when all I wanted to do was r
un away and hide from the horrendous shit my dad put my mom through, but I could never have left. I was too young, anyway, a kid with no money, and too many dreams of a future free of him.

  I still used my art as therapy, coming only second to sex. Losing myself in a nice wet pussy did wonders, and it had worked for me for years; again, lately, not so much, and it was freaking me the fuck out. Maybe I needed to talk to Chase. He’d been gone for a week on business.

  Yeah. I think a night out, just getting wasted the good old Walker-Stone way, so I remembered nothing the next day but still woke up with a warm, sexy body next to mine.

  “I think we need a night out, brother.”

  “Deal, tonight Envy?” A club Chase frequented.

  “You’re forgetting the fundraiser.” I said annoyed.

  “Shit man, been away, forgive me.” He said sincerely. “But we will be celebrating. I got a call back from the lawyers today; we have our last licensing approval this week. They will approve it and we, my friend will be officially in the nightclub business.” His eyes gleamed brightly and his chest puffed out proud as he awaited my reaction

  “Well, shit . . .” I plonked down on the one lounge that sat in the huge room. Somehow, I had made something of my life. All of the negativity that I lived growing up, on a daily basis had somehow forged me into a man that I didn’t expect to become. It didn’t stop me from making money. Who the fuck said, money didn’t buy happiness, that was bullshit, because I was pretty happy right now. Amazed, actually, despite the shit that lived on in my head day to day.

  “Yeah, you’re shocked, right?” Chase was eagerly nodding at me, and pouring the both of us a whiskey that he had retrieved from the bar. “In a good way . . . I mean, fuck it, Mitch, we have arrived. This is going to happen.”

  He handed me the highball as I sat there, dumbstruck. “So are you in ‘good shock’ or ‘holy shit, what have we gotten ourselves into’ kinda shock?” He grabbed my hand and shoved the glass at me again, clinked his highball to mine, then scooted further down the sofa. I rested the glass on my knee grasping this news.

  “I knew it was only a matter of time for the club to open, and I guess I’m amazed, scared, excited . . . I’m fucking stoked, man. Cheers.” I met his steady smile. I didn’t think Chase was as worried as I was; he had the business brain out of us, while I was the one to play hardball when it came to running staff. We had done a great job with Flex Tattoo, our first business, with the second one opening up last year in Miami. We both wanted to spread our business wings and opening Allure was our dream.

  Chase wanted to diversify within his own business, he managed a local club and when the opportunity for him to invest in one came along, he asked me to jump on that ride.

  Although I had my doubts about spreading myself to thin and not giving my artistic talent enough consideration, but the positives were just too good to pass by. Being in business with Chase and having him as my best friend was the best of both worlds.

  “You know it, man. This is gonna be one crazy, amazing ride, my brother, and I’m honored to make it together. Not to mention all that stellar pussy we’re gonna get.” I couldn’t help laughing at his crazy outlook. Not that I was denying it. I was sure being a nightclub owner would have its advantages.

  “Man, the stellar is just a myth.” That disheartened me. I sucked in a deep breath discharging the fact like a punch to the back. “I don’t think theres a woman out there stellar enough to take me on. I’m way to fucked up, we both know that.”

  “You may be punching above your weight.” He raised his arm in mock protection.

  Chase got the girls too. With his short super buzz cut, dark hair and blue eyes, the girls were always in abundance. But Chase was a better man than me; he was more sensitive when it came to a woman, opting only to start something if they touched him on some spiritual level. That was his first mistake. I say if they want to touch your cock, that’s prerequisite enough. I wasn’t looking for any wishy-washy love shit. Oh, I knew it existed; after all, why would people stay together and get married, have babies and then do it all over again like a spin cycle on repeat if it didn’t? Fuck that.

  I had a totally different approach to women. I never opened up, I’d made that mistake once and been fucked over, never again. There were no promises of a future, no romantic walks or holding hands in the park. This preconceived fact ensured they didn’t get hurt from the fall out. If it made me an asshole, I would take it.

  “Yeah, man, that fucking stellar pussy.” I said with a lot less zeal than he’d expect, judging from his head flinching back slightly in confusion. “You know, it’s been weeks since . . .” My chest tightened and held the rest of my words from passing my lips. Fear stopped me from saying it out loud, even if he was my best friend.

  “Ummmm.” Chase went serious. He knew this was important. “Since what? Your last shave, shower, blow-job?” He looked at me like I had just grown and extra two eyeballs in my head.

  I refilled our highballs from the bottle that Chase had left on my coffee table, I needed a little more liquid bravery to say it. I swigged at the whiskey and relished the burn down my throat. He would never expect the words I was about to give life to.

  “Nah man. Women; a woman. I haven’t partaken for weeks.” I stared in my glass and spoke. “Let me rephrase that. I haven’t wanted anyone.” I drew my eyes back to Chase and watched as the penny dropped. It took several moments that felt like hours for the words to sink in. Chase’s mouth literally hung open. It was as mortifying to say as it was to watch his reaction.

  "Look, Mitch, I’m not a doctor, but—” He pulled at his shirt collar loosening it further and puckered his forehead in confusion.

  “You fucking dick. It’s not medical, Chay, I still have the urge. I don’t have the desire.” I run a hand through my hair several times mortified at the truth in my words. “I look at the women that I could quite possibly have a one hundred and ten percent chance of fucking, and it doesn’t appeal to me one single iota.” Since when did I turn into such a fucking pussy. Shit. “Maybe I do need to see a specialist. What the fuck is wrong with me, man?” I sat there, stunned by my revelation and peering back into my highball as if it was a crystal ball with my future in it. I was as stunned as Chase looked.

  “You’ve knocked me for a six.” He tossed back the whiskey and winced. “Pour me another one while I think.” He held his glass out rattled it for me to fill. I waited, for what I was hoping for, some sage advice. I needed to know from the guy who was pretty much my only family member that I was not loosing the plot. He pulled his tie out of his collar and popped the top button.

  “Fuck it, Chase, say something.” I got off the lounge and grabbed a T-shirt I’d left on the low table. I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me. I was usually a hard man, and nothing got to me, but I was having all these new feelings and shit. And fucked if I know what to do with them. Mostly, I punched them out on the bag, or ran them off on the treadmill. Maybe it was a bad idea to say anything at all. Maybe I had become that nothing piece of shit that nobody would want, my father had constantly ingrained in me. That was a constant debate I couldn’t war with right now.

  “First of all, it’s okay to not sleep around for two weeks. Most people can go without sex for large amounts of time.” I could hear the kind sentiment in his tone. Chase would never make fun of something so serious. “Second, I’m actually not surprised, after the initial shock wore off. I would be tired of your lifestyle. Different skirt every week. You’re never alone, on a nightly basis. Maybe you’re just tired of living that way.” He took a nip of his drink. “All those women are gonna wear a path in that polished cement floor you paid the earth for.” He waved his drink clad hand to my floor.

  I paused, and realized that I was pacing back and forth. The adrenalin at finally voicing my problems was taking its toll. I might need to take a few more whacks at the punching bag, or maybe I should just scroll through my contacts and find a booty call that I co
uld sink into. Chase’s next words had me floored.

  “Thirdly, have you considered that maybe it’s time to wait for the ‘one’?’” He emphasized the one by using his fingers as inverted commas, and waited for the blow back at how stupid that would seem to me.

  But it never came, because truthfully, something in me had changed. It was like I got hit with a fucking-fairy-wand, and all these feelings bubbled up to the surface where there was normally more anger. My cock stopped wanting just any pussy, but rather someone that would stay around, someone I wanted to share other stuff with than just my fucking cock.

  Two things stood in my way. It was like sitting in traffic at a roadblock; you knew you had to wait until the works cleared, then the drive would be smooth, free, with no congestion. I saw what I wanted past that roadblock: the perfect woman. Would I ever find her? Probably not, you fucking idiot. I chastised my self. The woman of your dreams doesn't just stumble into your life out of a magical puff of smoke.

  Was I capable of monogamy? I couldn’t even mention the ‘L-word’ out loud. That was just crazy talk and probably why the romance book industry was a multi-billion dollar empire; it kept women delusional. Real life was not a romantic fiction, more like some bull-shit love story that ended up dog-eared and stained from the numerous amounts of coffee that was drank whilst reading it.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but, you’re right, I have accepted that I can’t keep going down this path. It doesn’t have the same excitement for me anymore. I’m going to be super picky about who I shove my dick into next, just you wait and see.” And I smiled to myself, because to me, that was a revelation.

  “I can’t believe it. If I hadn’t heard the words out of your mouth, brother . . . My boy is all grown up.” He raised his glass is salute and I breathed a sigh of relief, Chase understood me. I'm greeted with the goofy grin that is my best mate, my brother, I knew he was good enough to make light of this whole thing. He knew this was a big deal to me. “Can I ask you for one thing?” Chases’ shoulders shook with restrained laughter.