After a few months, I got into the swing of taking my clothes off while dancing. The money’s great, my boss is fair, and I get on with most of the other girls. It gave me the freedom to express myself while earning enough to rent my own bedsit in London. Then Helena started struggling for money when her flatmate up and left one day with no warning. Although Helena isn’t a dancer, she can move, and she’s cute. I asked whether she’d thought about stripping, and a few weeks later she was working there too. After that, I moved in with her. It made sense and helped us both out. We’ve been living together ever since.
“Okay, you knew the chances of that job were slim. The tats were a big no-no for them, you were aware of this going in. That wasn’t why you were trying to break your hand on my wall. Spill,” she commands, and I roll my eyes.
“Toby called,” I offer, with a croak.
She sits up a bit straighter, her eyes widen and I know it’s because she’s now worried.
“Isaac’s coming back home,” I explain.
Helena nods. She’s aware of the history between us, every dirty detail. “You knew he was only in Spain for a few months, working. Come on Liv, what gives?” she questions carefully, knowing it’s causing me pain. I never cry, I always bite back my tears. There is this one area, just one, which elicits a plethora of overwrought emotions I struggle to control.
“He’s not coming back alone,” I whisper as a single tear escapes my tight hold and rushes down my cheek.
“Oh shit.” She startles at my words and almost spits hers back at me. “Who? Tell me what the fuck happened.”
I shake my head, a snort of laughter passes my lips humourlessly. “Shelly. He met her out there. Apparently, she was working as a barmaid or something, and I guess he’s been…” I pause and make air quotes “… dating her ever since.”
“Shit Liv, it must be serious if he’s bringing her home, right?” she asks tentatively.
“I guess. I mean it’s not like I can compare it to anything. He had loads of girlfriends back in high school and college, but then he went to prison…” I rub the back of my neck.
“Hey, that wasn’t your fault,” she snaps.
“I know.”
Helena raises her eyebrow at me and I hold my hands out in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture.
“Honestly, it’s taken a lot of time, but I know it wasn’t my fault.” There’s sadness in my words, a brokenness I let few people witness. “Since he’s been out, this is the first person he’s brought home, that means it’s serious… I mean, he’s probably had one-nighters.” I bite my lip as the emotion tries to surface again.
“I’m sure she’s hideous and bitchy and whiny,” Helena tells me without any real malice but as any good friend should.
I giggle at her comment. “Nice try, Hel, but have you seen Isaac?” I grin.
She mirrors me smiling, even though she’s only ever seen him in photos. “Dammit, you’re right. He’ll have his pick of women, and no way is he going to choose a whiny, bitchy moose.”
I laugh, but it’s scratchy sounding as it travels up my tight through and leaves my mouth. My brain flashes through a picture book of mental images—ones of Isaac with other girls.
Helena moves to me and wraps one arm around my neck pulling my head under her chin. She gives me a quick hug and ruffles my short hair before releasing me. This is progress for her. She doesn’t do physical emotion, not the sappy stuff anyway.
“Come on, less talk about dickbrain—”
“Dickbrain?” I cut her off with my question.
She nods. “Uh-huh, dickbrain. If he can’t see how amazing you are, and then there’s the fact he won’t even speak to you… dickbrain,” she tells me shrugging and crossing her arms.
I smile.
“So, tattoo time, what are you having?” She claps her hands together excitedly. You wouldn’t think she had tattooed me twenty-seven times before.
I look away from her. I don’t want to see her disappointment as I tell her what I want. “Here,” I say pointing to my ribs on the left side next to my heart. “I want Owning Worthless in script with a bird in a cage next to it,” I tell her softly.
“Are you fucking joking?” she explodes.
“Don’t, Hel, okay? It’s what I want. Just fucking do it, or I’ll find another tattooist who will,” I reply, my voice tight. I don’t like arguing with her, and I will find someone else to do it if I need to, but I hate the idea of anyone but Helena tattooing my skin.
She sighs and rubs her temples. “For fuck’s sake, why? Why would you want a tattoo permanently on your skin that says you’re owning being worthless? You’re not fucking worthless, you dipshit!” she argues.
“Ahhh!” I shout. “I knew it wasn’t a good idea coming to you. I should have gone to someone else.”
Helena gasps and her eyes widen as her hand rushes up to cover her mouth. “You would let someone else ink you?” she whispers.
I roll my eyes at her melodramatic ways. However, I know she means what she says, and that if I did go somewhere else, it would really hurt her.
“Please,” I whisper solemnly. “I need this.”
“Can you take a day? Come back tomorrow, and think about having something else. For me?” She grabs my hands in hers and stares at me. “I’m asking you this as my
