Chapitre 2

 

   Beams of light filtered through the closed shutters, casting bands of sun and shadow on the bed, on the rumpled sheets, and on Mei-Lan’s bare skin. The light and the warmth woke her up slowly. Before opening her eyes, she groped the sheets beside her in search of her nightly companion. Thank God, the space was empty. She looked around to make sure she was all alone and sighed with relief. She hated after sex mornings and the polite, awkward conversations that were expected. She stretched and yawned, closing her eyes and smiled thinking about her last conquest. She was cute and sexy.

What was her name again? Sarah ? Sasha?

She buried her face in her pillow and laughed, tapping her feet and arms on the mattress. Whatever her name was, she sure knew her moves, she thought, shivering with pleasure. It had been a very satisfying night of sex, without any promises, nor commitment, just damn good sex. Simple sex with enough tenderness to feel great but without the petty complications of a love affair.

 

   A sound, similar to a light clatter, made her turn her ears towards the kitchen. She got up and covered her nakedness with a large t-shirt in case her overnight companion was still in the house. She headed for the kitchen, which she found empty and untouched. Through the window, she spotted the neighbour’s kids playing in their front yard with little cars and trunks. Unsupervised, as usual, with parents nowhere to be seen. She shook her head in dismay. They were lucky that the neighbourhood was quiet and traffic-free. She looked at the immaculate worktop and coffee machine. Sure, whatever–her–name had had the decency to leave in the morning but she wouldn’t have blamed her for having breakfast first. She didn’t lingered much longer on her nightly companion’s well–being. After all, that was the point of one–night stands and casual sex: not having to feel responsible for another human being. This is the new goal she had set for her life: to have no responsibilities other than herself and Murray.

 

   Thinking of Murray, she had to hurry and plan her Saturday. This meant coffee instead of tea, she needed the energy and to clarify her mind with caffeine. She thought about what would be best for Murray to acclimatize to her way of life. She looked around. She had done a lot of cleaning and tidying up in the house since she had inherited it and moved in. The place was fitted to welcome an inquisitive and adventurous youngster while the studio, with all her work instruments, inks and sanitized products was filled with potential dangers. She had already prepared a place for him in the living–room with toys and a rug. She sipped her coffee and handed her phone to call the organization managing adoption. She had to go to the studio first to check on Benji and park her motorbike there. So she had to agree with them on what time she could pick Murray up. She had made some arrangements for his well-being: borrowing a car from Gégé for the first few days until he got used to the motorcycle’s sidecar. She had to make him feel at home here before taking him with her to work and wherever she went.

 

   She dressed in baggy jeans and her favourite Metallica tank top. No bra. She’d cursed fate for giving her such small breasts when she was a teenager. But now, she appreciated the freedom of being able to go bra–free. She wasn’t completely flat chest though, her breasts were there, round as two firm apples; but they were so small they never bounced and didn’t need to be sustained. Lingerie was for her what it always shall be: just a seductive accessory. Her helmet in hand, she opened the garage.

Hello beauty!

 

   She smiled at her pride: Harley Davidson Heritage Softail Classic, old model, restored by herself with the expertise and help of Gégé. Mei-Lan couldn’t help caressing the gleaming chrome and shiny black leather of the seats: the passenger seat platform with its small backrest, the comfortable rider’s seat and the studded saddlebags. She had moved from L.A to the suburbs of Versailles with a single suitcase, leaving all her belongings behind except for her beloved old Harley. On her return, she was lucky enough to find premises in Versailles, perfect for setting up her studio, right next door to the best restorer of vintage vehicles, specializing in Harley Davidson: Gérard or Gégé to his friends and best customers. She had inked him in exchange for repairs and they had become close friends. They shared the same passions: tattoo art, Hard Rock music and Harley Davidson’s motorbikes.

 

   She sat on the bike, turned the ignition, started the engine and rolled backwards out of the garage. She put on her helmet while the electric door slowly lowered, listening to the low, deep-throated, somewhat syncopated vibration of the engine. She smiled broadly. It was running beautifully, they had made a nice job. A little further up the street, the neighbours’ kids were staring at her, clearly fascinated by the bike. A blond woman staggered out of the house and kneeled besides them. Mei–Lan knew that shaky step all too well, it was her mother’s when she was ’sick’ from drinking too much. She stared at her neighbour. She looked to be in her early thirties, with fine features and a classic beauty that could have been stunning if she wasn’t so ’tired’ and visibly stone. ’Tired’ and ’sick’, I know the type I was raised by one... Poor kids, she sighed and waved at them as she passed by.

 

* * *

 

   The name was spelled out in cursive script, the scrolls of which extended to form the design of a purple orchid: “Miss Lan Tattoo Studio”. The front of the store was the same purple, with the window frame and door in lacquered black. She had chosen the same colours for the inside, with the exception of one wall displaying photos of her best creations on a neutral gray background to show them off to best advantage. She entered and the dull throb of the tattoo gun guided her to the back of the studio where Benji was working on a young woman’s shoulder. She smiled to the customer. Benji stopped the machine and stepped back, checking his work.

– “Hey! What do you think?” he asked.

She looked at the drawing a heart with a key hole in its centre and a metal key engraved with scrolls. The contours of the drawing were almost finished and dotted with small drops of blood from the needle piercing the skin.

– “Could you clean it? I didn’t wash my hands”, she asked Benji.

While he did so, she concentrated on the young woman.

– “How do you feel? Is the pain bearable?”

– “Very bearable, he has a nice touch.”

– “Good! Let’s see. The line is fine and clean, and will age well. Nice job! Do you intend to link the key with the rest somehow?”

– “Yes, it would be nicer”, said the customer.

– “What do you prefer a chain or a ribbon?” as she hesitated, Mei-Lan asked with a grin, “it’s an engagement tattoo, isn’t it? Well, with the key and the key hole a chain might claimed: ’Argh, enchained!’ ”

They laughed and the young woman retorted.

– “Yeah sure! Let’s go for a ribbon then.”

– “I don’t feel like drawing drapes and ribbons, I’m afraid I’ll screw the design”, said Benji, “Could you do it?”

– “Okay, let me clean my hands and put on gloves.”

She disappeared in another room and screamed at him from there.

– “Is it coloured?”

– “Monochrome red.”

– “Then play with black shadows and skin colour to add relief. This heart should pump up.”

She returned with gloves on and, using a black pencil, drew an elegant ribbon with a swift, sure stroke, while teaching Benji.

– “You don’t have to be afraid of screwing your drawing since you’re not using the tattoo gun yet. You can still try different designs and erase if you’re not satisfied or if it doesn’t suit your client. For example we can have two versions, with or without a bow,” she said showing the project to the customer with a mirror.

– “I like it with a bow”, she said.

– “Then a bow, it is!” she finalized the drawing and turned to Benji with a blink, “back to basic training following my stroke!”

She sat further back while he finished the tattoo. She didn’t want him to bear the weight of his boss’s gaze over his shoulder while working. And it was best for his relationship with his customer if she stepped back. There was something intimate in the act of inking someone.

– “Should I apply the colour right away?” he asked.

– “You’ve spared the skin and it’s no more irritated than it should be. If she can handle a little more pain, go ahead.”

She watched him interact with the customer without intervening. The relationship with the customer was just as important to a tattoo artist as his drawing skills, and he had to learn to deal sensitively with the human side of their art. She glanced discreetly from a distance and removed her gloves.

– “I won’t stay long”, she said, “anything new this morning?”

– “Oh, I remember you’re getting Murray today!”

– “Who’s Murray?” asked the customer.

– “A little school dropout I’m going to adopt.”

Benji had to stepped out to laugh while the young woman raised an interrogative eyebrow. He put himself together and focused back on his work.

– “I checked the emails. Sinn Sage sent a message about a new project, she’s flying from L.A. soon. Didn’t give any details. And Dr Gilbert called about a patient, for camouflage ink, it looks like a delicate matter.”

– “Those tattoos are always a sensitive and delicate matter”, she said, heading to the door, “I’ll go get Murray.”

After she left, the customer asked.

– “Is she actually adopting a disturbed kid? I’d never guessed she was that type. It’s such a commitment.”

Benji burst out laughing.

– “Murray is a puppy, sweetie.”

 

* * *

 

   The vehicle was functional and fully restored, with the exception of the body paintwork. Gégé’s intention was to paint it the same golden hue as Steve Mac Queen’s famous vehicle. He had entered a whole series of vintage cars, all of the same models as the legendary actor’s collection, and she had escaped the Jaguar, which had the disadvantage of having only one seat.

 

She crossed the gravel courtyard with a cheerful stride and climbed the stairs leading to the reception area. A Golden Retriever puppy rushed to greet her, wagging not only his tail but also his lower loins in excitement.

– “Hey little guy! You do recognize me.”

– “He’s so excited to see you again. You better understand why he failed his last tests”, said the organization employee with a smile.

– “Yep, not jaded enough”, she retorted petting Murray who showing his belly for more. “Where do I sign?”

The employee presented her with the necessary adoption papers, and looked at the tattoo on her naked arm.

– “What a beautiful tattoo!”

– “Thanks. It’s a Chinese dragon, a colleague made it in the studio I was working in Los Angeles.”

– “You’re a tattoo artist?”

– “Yes, I’ve just opened my own studio in Versailles”, she handed her business card. “If you’re thinking of getting inked.”

The employee turned the card over, admiring the tattoos pics on the back.

– “Did you made those? They are awesome!”

Mei-Lan nodded, smiling at her. She was a pretty brunette with bright hazel eyes and luscious lips, very tempting lips.

– “What’s your name?”

– “Charlotte. Is this your mobile phone number in case of... an emergency?”

– “No, it’s the number for the studio. But you have my work address, so you know where to find me if you fancy a tattoo... or something else, Charlotte”, she whispered at her ear.