Love & Curses(2)
“Well, all right,” he muttered. With a sigh, he checked his watch. Five o’clock. He had another client scheduled at the parlor for six thirty. Just enough time to get a shower, grab some grub, and get there.
***
Calista made it home in record time, dodging most of the stares from people on the trolley and sidewalk. She didn’t need their pity-filled glances to know she looked a mess. She’d thrown her clothes on in a haphazard manner, and her damn tears had caused her mascara to streak down her face.
God, what an idiot she was.
She turned the corner of her street and slammed into another pedestrian. Ducking her head, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and stepped to the side to scurry away.
“Calista, dear, I’ve been waiting for you.”
She lifted her chin and grimaced. Crap, Aunt Nadya.
“I was just giving up.” Her aunt gave her a good look. “Oh my! What’s wrong, my dear?”
She cringed. She so did not want to get into this with her wacky aunt. “It’s nothing. I got something in my eye, and it hasn’t stopped watering since.”
“Hooey. It’s that boy you’ve been seeing, isn’t it?”
Unable to hold the tears back any longer, she broke down, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, Auntie, I thought he might be the one this time. I really did. I know we were together just a couple weeks, but there was something about him. He was funny and smart and mysterious, and my foolish heart bought every bit. Hook, line, and sinker.” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand and shook her head. “To top it all off, it will be impossible to ever forget him because of the stupid bird I let him tattoo on me.”
Her aunt hugged her tight then wiped away her tears. “Don’t you worry, my dear, your soul mate is out there. All you have to do is open your eyes and see him. As for your tattoo? You can always have it removed.” She patted her shoulder. “Now, go home and have a nice warm soak. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
Calista embraced her aunt once more and continued down the street to her house. A soul mate? If only she could believe her aunt’s words.
***
Ben glanced at his watch and then rolled his shoulders. Midnight. It’d taken him six hours to ink an intricate Celtic knot snake on some dude’s thigh—and he was damned thankful it’d been his leg and not the guy’s junk. Finished cleaning all his equipment, he headed toward the door.
“Damn fine work, Walker,” the owner, Big Ed said.
“Thanks. Night.” Ben patted the doorjamb twice on his way out. From behind him came a “bye” and “see ya” from fellow artists, who were finishing cleanup.
Outside, the humid New Orleans night air engulfed him. Sounds of partiers floated to him from four blocks away. He walked down the sidewalk to the parking lot next to the building.
He dug in his pocket for his phone, his fingers grasping the familiar rectangular object. He hesitated. Hmm. Since Calista had freaked out and needed some time to chill, it would probably be best to wait till tomorrow to call her like he’d told her he would.
He strode across the gravel lot, the dull fluorescent lamplight casting a long shadow to his side and up the wall of the parlor. As he approached his car, he pulled out his keys but paused before using the fob to unlock the doors. Maybe he should drop by the festivities over on Bourbon Street and check out the hotties having a good time.
Stuffing his keys back into his pocket, he rounded toward the party four streets over and the prospect of an easy lay with a drunken co-ed. But as he turned, his feet stuttered. Some old woman, dressed in a long skirt and a loose shirt, stood a half a dozen feet in front of him.
“Benjamin Walker.” Her voice sliced the space between them.
He frowned. “Yeah.”
She twisted her hands together, twining and untwining her fingers. A string of incoherent sounds flew from her mouth.
He narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”
Heat lightning flashed in the distance.
“I curse you, Benjamin Walker.” She pointed a shaky hand at him and muttered a few more unintelligible words. “I curse you to roam the world, watching those around you find true love while you continue in your self-absorbed existence.”
He glanced around, searching for his co-workers. “All right guys,” he called out with a disconcerted chuckle. “Good joke on the new guy. Now, call the old biddy off.”
No one stepped from the shadows to end the prank.
The woman waved her arms. “You give people tattoos, give them the illusion their life will change. I curse you, Benjamin Walker, for breaking a young girl’s heart. May the ink you use on others mark the truth on your very soul.” She lifted her face and hands toward the sky.