Have you ever had a fantasy, a fairy tale you dwelt on from time to time? I think we all have had a dream we thought could never happen. But what if that opportunity became real?
2
The
Rose Tattoo
June
4, 2028
New
Orleans, Louisiana
Like giggling school girls, Neely Rivers and her best friend, Esther
Combs, met for beignets at Café du Monde in New Orleans. They hugged each other
giddily. Neely exclaimed, "My, you look great! Six months of marriage
agrees with you."
"Yes,
marriage agrees with me." Esther laughed. "When are you gonna join
me? You did catch the damning bouquet
and you were my maid of honor."
Neely laughed
and looked into space. She said reticently, "I actually met the perfect
man once."
"Oh,
really?" Esther tucked her chin to her chest and stretched her eyes wide. "Do
tell."
"It doesn't
matter." Holding a pastry, she waved her hand as if erasing a blackboard. The
white powdered sugar dusted the air like loose chalk. "He belongs to
someone else. He's married and very much in love with his wife."
"Wow! He
must have been something else to make you look misty-eyed. When did you meet
him? Tell me more."
Neely sighed. "It's
been five, six years."
"And the
thought of him still affects you like this?"
Esther gulped her coffee. "I have to know about this man."
"He's just
a fantasy."
"Still, I'd
like to hear about the man who could stir you so. You've never said a word about
him until today."
Neely smiled. "He
came in to get a tattoo."
"What kind?
He's not a biker, is he?" her friend asked with some concern. "Or—worse,
a skin-head, neo-Nazi?"
"No, he's
an architect, a very successful architect. He came in with his twin brother. He
wanted to get the Chinese symbols for older brother and younger brother over
their hearts." She tapped her chest. "It was so sweet. His brother
had a Celtic guardian that my father did, but he had never had a tattoo, and he didn't like needles." She
laughed slightly at the memory. "He was doing this to show his brother how
much he loved him because an old friend of the brother's had just been murdered—the
late Senator Robert (Row-Bear) LaFontaine.
Esther's mouth
dropped open at the revelation that her friend's ideal man ran in circles that
included a United States Senator. Neely nodded at her unasked question and went
on.
"They were
identical with their shirts on, but it was easy to tell them apart. It was something
in their bearing and the personality that came through." Her voice took on
an air of dreaminess. "His brother was a cop and a smartass—very likeable,
but you could tell that he had a mischievous streak and probably a temper. The cop
had at least half a dozen scars when he took off his shirt. He had been shot
and stabbed in the line of duty. His spleen had been removed, along with one
kidney and part of his intestines."
Esther grimaced
at the thought. "How do you know?"
"He told
me. We talked the whole time." Neely went on, "This guy, though"—She
sighed—"he was so thoughtful and sweet and genuine. You could tell he didn't
play games with people's minds.
"And, oh,
my God!" She splayed fingers on both hands in the air. "He looked so
good. He was about six feet, a hundred eighty-five pounds. He had charcoal
black hair with a little gray at his temples, and a fleck here and there."
Neely touched her temples and wiggled her fingers in the air across her head. "And
he had the most gorgeous sparkling blue eyes. They looked as if God had taken
two little pinches of sky and planted them in his face. His teeth were
perfectly straight and white, and his dimples could've been a work of art. And
his body, ooh, was rock hard."
Esther
interjected, "Are you talking about his body or a body part, honey?"
"Esther!"
Neely stuck her tongue out just like a naughty child. "I didn't see that. How
would I know? His body was to die for—a six pack, pecs, perfectly chiseled, and
arms that made you want to beg him to hold you." Neely breathed deeply and
exhaled long and loud. "Oh, he was absolutely perfect.
"Now, the
cop was just as good looking, but he had all those scars." She wrinkled
her nose. "No, this man was just flawless."
"How old
is this guy?" asked Esther.
Neely shrugged.
"Mid-forties at the time."
"Isn't he
a little old for you, baby?"
Neely shook her
head. "Not to be my fantasy, and not if I could ever actually have him. There
was nothing old about Raiford
Gautier."
"You even
remember his name. How odd!"
Neely laughed. "It
would be hard to forget a set of identical twins that were both named Raiford
because they were adopted by two different families who chose the same name."
"That was
a mouthful," Esther jibed and gobbled another beignet. "Raiford?"
she said around a bite.
"You heard
me right." Neely shook her head, but giggled. "Raif got the symbol
for older brother. He was older by thirteen minutes. His brother, Ray, got an
angel with his wife's name in addition to the younger brother symbol. Her name
was Larkin. I remember that because it was unusual and I had heard it. She's a
mystery writer. I know you've read the Rusty
Rose series."
Esther nodded. Neely
said, "That's the cop's wife."
"And he's
still working?" Esther practically shrieked.
Neely rolled
her eyes. "Not because he has to, but he likes his job." She lifted
her mouth in a half-smile. "Now do you wanna hear about Raif?"
Like an eager
teenager after good gossip, Esther nodded.
A youthful
smile from Neely preceded the rest of her story. "Raif looked and looked
for a tattoo to honor his wife, too. He wanted so much to find something
perfect. He finally chose the unicorn that I designed. You know—the one with a
mane that spells a name. He got that for his Christine.
"We talked
about how a tattoo should say something about a person. When they left, I
remember saying that I hoped someday I would meet somebody to love me the way
they loved their wives. He told me I would because I was as beautiful and full
of life as my rose tattoo." She looked longingly at her left arm with its
full-sleeve tattoo of a bloomed crimson rose.
With arched
eyebrows, Esther looked over the top of her coffee cup. She set it down. "Neely,
honey, you need to meet a man. You're absolutely in love with a fantasy."
"I know."
She sucked powdered sugar from her index finger. "I've gone out with a lot
of guys. None of them compare to Raif."
"How long
did you spend with these guys—two, three hours?"
"Yeah,
about three and a half hours. I know it's silly. I'm looking. I keep going
fishing." She drank some of her coffee. "Someday the right fish will
swim by."
"I just
hope you haven't found your Moby Dick."
"I'm not
seeking revenge, Esther. I'm looking for love."
"Well, I
hope you find somebody soon to get you past a fantasy. You need to find someone
who's looking for the rose tattoo, a person who is full of love and life—you."
3
Misty
Water-Colored Memories
June
8, 2028
Eau
Boueuse, Louisiana
Drizzle accentuated the melancholy the sea of black-clad
mourners felt. The haunting strains of the solitary bagpipe playing
"Amazing Grace" caused those in attendance to shiver. Police Chief
Raiford Reynolds rose and stood behind the flag-draped coffin. He caressed the
length of the casket and then looked up at the faces staring at him. "I"—He
shook his head—"I can't do it this time." Ray sat down, unable to
perform a eulogy and laid his head on his wife's shoulder.
Parker Reynolds left the place he had been
occupying with the honor guard and stood in the spot his father had vacated. He
looked at the faces in the throng.
The young man stroked the coffin with as much
love as the chief had before he spoke strangled words from his heart. Then he
vowed to catch the person who had murdered his aunt. "Aunt Chris, I
promise you justice will be served. I…I"—He
placed his white-gloved hand on his chest—"will find the heartless coward
who did this. I love you. I will see you again in the presence of angels and
our Savior. Until then, rest assured I will do that which I have promised." He returned to his place in
line.
The gun volley shattered the silence and
startled the mourners...
Through sobs,
Raif said, "I can't wait until tomorrow. I'm angry now. I'm crying now. I'm
broken now.” He squeezed the wine
glass he held, toppling the top as the stem broke. Merlot mixed with blood
dribbled down Raif’s hand as Ray grabbed the broken glass to keep it from
shattering on the cobblestones at their feet.
Raif continued
to speak, oblivious to the cut in his palm. “I want to know who shot my wife in
the head in front of my daughter from a football field away and simply
disappeared. Why, for God's sake? Ray,
I'm telling you right now: Chris was just the beginning of something very ugly,
very evil."
He fell into
his brother's open arms.
4
Left
for Dead
September
2, 2028
New
Orleans, Louisiana
Neely Rivers was frustrated
with the slump in business. The rising crime rate in the area made even seasoned
residents, let alone tourists, reluctant to wander far off the main drag. The
few clients she had these days came as repeat customers or because word of mouth
had told them she was the best. She had hoped Labor Day weekend would bring the
last-minute college crowd.
She was about
to close for the day when the ding at the door made her jump. The prospect of a
patron excited her, but when she saw her potential customers, she became
apprehensive. Five young skin-heads entered.
"May I
help you?" she asked from behind the service counter.
"Yeah,"
said one of the young men. "We'd all like to get 'MOM' tattooed on our
arms."
"Really?"
asked Neely with a furrowed brow.
"Yes,"
replied the boy whose face looked as if he never needed to shave and his eyes
of palest blue made him appear angelic.
"That's a
hundred fifty dollars per person. I'd like to see the money up front."
"Not a
problem." Each young man pulled out three new, crisp fifty-dollar bills.
Although the
rest of the lot looked rougher than the one doing the talking, the thought of
seven hundred fifty dollars in a couple of hours at the most brought Neely
around the counter toward the chair where she would ink a design as simple as
they were requesting. "Did you have any particular style in mind? And I'll
need to see some I.D. The law tells me I have to make sure you're all old enough
to get tattoos."
"Yeah," said the apparent leader of
the group as he grabbed Neely's wrist. When she started to scream, he belted
her in the mouth. One of the other members of the group locked the dead bolt
while another flicked off the neon "OPEN" sign and a third turned off
the lights...
Sometime later,
Neely opened her eyes. Everything hurt. She could hardly move, and she could
still feel hands around her throat and strangely smell the faint cologne the
boy had worn. Dark Obsession. If she
had not hurt, she would have snorted at the irony.
She lay in
something wet. My own blood. Rolling
her head to the side, she saw the old-fashioned princess phone. Dragging
herself toward it, she hung up and then lifted the receiver and dialed 9-1-1.
The operator answered,
"Nine-one-one. State your emergency."
Neely barely
whispered, "Help me."
"Ma'am,
can you tell me where you are?"
"Timeless
Tattoos."
"Ma'am,
are you injured?"
"Yes."
"Ma'am, I'm
tracing your call. Help is on the way."
8
The Year from Hell...
Two weeks
later, Raif visited Chris's grave and put fresh flowers in the vase attached to
the crypt. He talked to her. "Oh, baby, what do I do? I'm so tired, Chris.
Some days I don't even want to get out of bed. Baby, I told Ray this has been
the year from Hell.
"I lost
you." He rubbed his face with his hands.
"Before I
could turn around the firm was under investigation, and we were sued. I had to
have several employees arrested for embezzling funds. Walter's doctor told him
he had to cut some stress before he had a heart attack, so he retired. Patrick
Swift and Steve Journey were murdered. Patrick, our son, went to Tulane and
almost got expelled because his professor accused him of plagiarism. Larkin got
him out of that. Maybe she has spread her guardian-angel wings my way a little.
Lindsay broke her leg and pelvis in a car accident. And now…" He gusted a
groan.
"Now,
Trista is pregnant. I'm worn out. I'm not worried about being a grandfather,
but she's my baby and too young to be having a baby. You would have handled
that so much better than I did. I almost hit Townes Johnson—Yeah, he's the
father. I am so broken and lost without you. Tell me what to do." He
dropped his face into his hands and wept.
A long, quiet
moment passed.
Something
whispered to Raif's spirit. "Follow your feet. See where they will take
you."
He looked
around, expecting to see Chris standing there.
Raif left the
cemetery, got in his car, and started driving...
9
Rambling
Man
New
Orleans, Louisiana
June 3, 2029
Neely Rivers
had been closing every night at eight since she reopened for business. On this
night she was running late because she had a last-minute customer, a college student.
Ordinarily, she would have locked the door behind the exiting customer, but having
dropped several items, she was picking things up before she could clean and sterilize
the equipment. When the bell jingled, she almost jumped out of her skin. Holding
a tattoo tube with needle inserted in her hand ready to stab anything or anyone
who threatened her, she came around the screen that separated the tattoo chair and
table from the rest of the shop. The man who had entered was studying the
paintings on display.
"Raif?"
Neely said in disbelief, her voice barely audible. She dropped her hand to her
side...
Cover by Christopher Chambers.
The characters as I see them: Chris, Raif, Neely, Esther.
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