“Ugh,”I groan. I roll over onto my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head. Hoping to get just a few more minutes of sleep. I feel like death. I’m pretty sure I look like it, too.
I glance at the wall trying to figure out what time it is when something catches my eye. My upper arm is wrapped in cellophane. I vaguely remember going to a tattoo shop, and a blonde chick that had me sitting in a chair getting ready to push ink into my skin.
The pounding in my head is excruciating. One day I’ll remember not to drink that much when I’m out with the guys. Today is obviously not that day. Reaching toward my nightstand, I fumble around the surface trying to find the bottle of Tylenol I used to keep there when I was in high school.
Then it hits me. I’m probably not going to find it. I’m sure Mom has moved all the little things around even though my room looks the same as it did last year. I am surprised, however, to find a shiny business card for a tattoo shop. Sitting up I examine the card.
Charleigh is written across the card in a swirly, cursive font.That’sher name. Pieces are finally starting to fall into place. I remember Dylan suggesting tattoos, and Marshall wanting to talk us out of it. In the end we ended up at Life in Ink.
I’m pretty sure I was trying to flirt with Charleigh last night, but she wasn’t a fan. The total look of disgust on her face when I told her to surprise me with the tattoo is etched in my memory. I don’t know why she got so pissed. I gave her freedom to do whatever she wanted.
I look at my arm, eyeing the bandage warily. I’m not sure I want to see what she surprised me with, but there’s no use putting it off. I did give her permission.
Unwrapping the cellophane, I envision the amazing tattoo I’ll have. I took a peek at what she was sketching on the other side of that counter. She’s amazing. I can’t wait to see what she decided to give me.
The wrapping comes off easily and I blink a few times, not sure if what I’m seeing is actually there. No, she can’t have putthaton me. This has to be some sort of joke. I lick my finger and rub it over the ink now marring my skin.
Placing my feet on the floor, I stand up and walk to the bathroom that’s connected to my room. I turn so that my arm is in the reflection in the mirror. I practically climb on the sink just to get a closer look. I’m never going to wear a sleeveless shirt again.
The tattoo isn’t big, but it’s enough that I didn’t need to get quite so close to the mirror. Staring back at me is Patrick from SpongeBob, eating a fucking pretzel. What is the point of the damn pretzel?
Stomping back to my nightstand, I grab the business card. The force curling the edges slightly. Where the hell is my phone? This girl is about to hear an earful.
I finally find it between my bed and nightstand when I hear a knock on the door. Grabbing the shirt I wore last night, I throw it over my head just in time for my bedroom door to open and my mother to walk in.
Most people would think the fact that she just walks into my room is weird, and it is, but she’s been controlling for as long as I can remember. We don’t have locks on our doors. Well, except for their room. They are the only ones allowed to have privacy.
In Mom’s eyes, she should have access to everything I’m doing so that she can make sure I’m not getting into trouble. And, to make sure I’m not doing anything that will make her and Dad look like incompetent parents.
It was one of the reasons I liked hanging out at Tonya’s house. Her parents are laid back and have a level of trust in her that I’ve never received from anyone.
“Why in the world are you just now getting out of bed, Jake,” my mother practically shrieks.
“I was hanging out with the guys last night. We stayed out later than I thought.” I have the good sense to look as innocent as possible without showing any hints of my hangover. That’s something I’ve perfected over the years.
“Well,” she huffs. “Don’t let it happen again.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. Does she think I'm twelve? “I won’t, Mom.”
I think she’s done speaking so I turn to my bed to make it. Now that she knows I’m awake, there’s no use trying to go back to sleep.
“We need you at dinner this evening.” Her voice breaks the silence. “We are going to discuss how you’re going to handle this whole Tonya debacle since you’ll be home the entire summer.”
The way she says handle makes it sound like I have no say in the matter. That whatever they’ve decided is what I’m going to do. I clench my fists and nod my head. I’ll hear them out, but they are insane if they think they are going to dictate this area of my life. Especially when I’m not sure how I’m actually going to handle it all.
* * *
Marshall is sittingin a gaming chair. His room is an absolute mess, but at least it looks lived in. Our house is always immaculate. It looks staged for a photo shoot most of the time. Not as bad as Cami’s house, the few times Tonya and I hung out there. But…close.
Randall and Dylan will be here soon, so if I want to talk to Marshall without feeling embarrassed, I better do it now.
“Hey man,” I question. I mean for it to come out as a statement, but that isn’t what happens.
Pressing pause on the football game he’s playing, he turns the chair toward me. “I have a feeling you need to get something off your chest.”
“You’d be right,” I laugh.
“Shoot.”