"What?"

"That's the one word I have to summarize you."

I headed for the exit, leaving her and the broken heap of pedophile on the ground. I stopped short of the door and turned to Leah once more. "You know, I can't help but wonder if you even want me to bring Calis...o...b..ck alive. Or are you banking on the fact that I'll extract my own sense of justice on her, avenging Lucien for you? Your hands will remain clean."

There was another long moment of pause. I shrugged and pushed open the door.

Just before I made my exit, Leah called out to me.

"Leave the girl alone," she said. Was she referring to Aria? "She deserves better than you."

Chapter Six.

Aria "You sorry sack of horse s.h.i.t," the raven-haired woman said as she shot Lincoln a look that could freeze the sun. "How dare you even step foot in here."

She was wearing a leather tube top, her arms, shoulders, and neck a canvas of unique and beautiful tattoos.

"I thought we were supposed to stay incognito," I whispered to Lincoln.

"We are," he replied.

"Well this chick sure knows who you are."

Lincoln smiled at the tattooed beauty and flashed her one of his boyish smiles. However, through gritted teeth, I heard him say to me, "This chick knows me as Dorian Black. She's a gifted artist, but her talents in deduction are non-existent."

"And who is this b.i.t.c.h?" the tattooed girl asked, scouring me with sour eyes. "Let me guess, ginger is your flavor of the month Dorian?"

Ginger? I guess it was going to take some time getting used to my new appearance.

I looked at my reflection in one of the large rectangular mirrors inside the tattoo parlor, and frowned. Gone were my long flowing blonde locks, replaced with fiery-red hair that hung down to my shoulders. It was the shortest my hair had been since high school.

My complexion was lighter as well; milk white from the foundation that Lincoln applied to my face. If he'd applied one more layer, I could have been mistaken for a ghost-a sad, red-headed ghost.

When I saw Shadow again, maybe I could change my appearance back into the girl that he fell in love with?

f.u.c.k. I was doing it again.

I was thinking of all the ways I could get that jack a.s.s to love me once more. He was programmed to fall in love with me once, but could it be done a second time? Was it even worth the time and tears?

I sighed, knowing full well the answer. A broken heart made even the most rational of people do stupid things.

"You're mistaken, Juno. This is my friend, Lucy," Lincoln said. "You should know by now that I only have eyes for you."

"You never returned any of my texts or emails," Juno said. "I always had a bad feeling about you. I should learn to trust my instincts. Dating rappers is always bad news."

I shot Lincoln a look that said, "You've got to be kidding me."

A rapper? Lincoln?

"It's not a crime to be the king of rhyme, yo," Lincoln whispered to me, lightheartedly.

I laughed, which infuriated Juno even more.

"You music artists are all d.i.c.ks and no b.a.l.l.s," Juno seethed.

"I've been a busy guy, Juno," Lincoln said. "I have my debut alb.u.m to release, remember?"

"Horse s.h.i.t," Juno said. "I tried looking up your name on the internet. I couldn't find a Dorian Black."

"I'm a work in progress," Lincoln replied.

"You're a pretty big d.i.c.k, that's what you are."

Lincoln cracked a sly smile.

"Figuratively. Literally, you're a one-track minded douchebag."

"I'm sure," he said confidently. "Don't think I forgot the way you called me Pappi as I "

I decided to interject. "How about we keep the topic of conversation rated "D" as in decent."

Juno pursed her lips and gave me a sideways glace that made me want to tattoo her forehead with the sole of my shoe. I took a deep breath and counted to five.

That type of action I'd reserve for Calisto-someone who truly deserved a flogging.

Juno turned her attention back to Lincoln. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you out of my shop right now."

"I don't have any," Lincoln replied. "But I know you're not going to."

"What makes you so sure?" Juno asked.

"First, you opened the door for us. Second, seeing as how I know your tattoo parlor houses about three pounds of crystal meth awaiting distribution on a weekly basis, I have knowledge and knowledge is power, my dear."

"Are you blackmailing me?"

"Of course," Lincoln replied.

Juno shot Lincoln a hateful glance, before finally admitting defeat and raising her hands in the air, exasperated.

"What do you want from me, Dorian?" she asked. "You f.u.c.ked me, tore out my heart and then left me hanging for two G.o.d d.a.m.ned years. And just when I was starting to find a rhythm to my life again, you waltz back in here with another f.u.c.k friend."

"Friend only," Lincoln corrected her.

"Whatever," Juno said. "I know the kind of man you are. There's not one girl on this planet that you've met that you won't push your c.o.c.k into." She turned to me. "It's only a matter of time before this barbarian sweet talks you into bed with his rhymes, satisfies himself with your goodies, and then moves on to his next conquest."

"We're friends," I reinforced Lincoln's statement.

Juno ignored me and asked Lincoln again, "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help changing me."

"Call back the women you sleep with. That's a start."

"No, I mean literally change my appearance. I want your gorgeous artwork on my body, those two week temporary tattoos, just long enough to fool the producers. Also I'd like a few piercings, and maybe a new haircut. I need a new image to launch my rapping career."

Juno gave him a curious look. "I can give you the first two," she said. "But I'm not a hair stylist. You can get Raggedy Anne over here to do that for you." Juno turned to me and scowled.

I had it with this b.i.t.c.h.

"Listen you pixie-faced ink wh.o.r.e..." I began, but Lincoln was quick to cut me off.

"Let's all be civilized here," he said. "Juno, I have five thousand dollars in cash, ready to spend on a couple of piercings and some temporary tattoos. Do you want this money?"

Juno seemed enchanted by the idea of cash. "Yes."

"Great. I have three conditions then. The first being, no more shots at my dear friend," Lincoln said. "Second, you cannot tell another living soul that I was here. Should you do so, and I find out, I'll expose your connection with the unsavory fellows distributing the crystal meth, landing you in hot water with both their criminal organization and the cops."

Juno scrunched up her face. "Fine, Dorian. What's the final condition?"

"No tattoos drawn on me out of spite. No faces of teenage pop stars, no b.u.t.terflies, no tattoos on my lower back area, nothing demeaning. Agreed? I'm entrusting you with my body here, but I can't help but feel you're dying to make me pay for the tats with more than just cash."

Juno rolled her eyes. "f.u.c.k, you're really taking all the enjoyment out of this for me."

"Five thousand dollars can provide you with plenty of enjoyment."

I pictured Lincoln with a b.u.t.terfly tattoo on his ankle, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Give me a style then, what do you want?"

"New Orleans Mafia," Lincoln said. "I'm going for a southern gangster persona. I need to look like I've been part of that organization since the dawn of plastic beads at Mardi Gras."

Juno shrugged. "I have some temporaries readily available," she said, "Anything else?"

"We can get to that later," he grinned.

"I can throw in a permanent tattoo on your d.i.c.k," she jeered, "One that says 'beware of dog'."

"I know another tattoo artist who I also have incriminating evidence against. I could gladly blackmail them to get this done for me. h.e.l.l I wouldn't even have to pay him."

"So why come to me then?" Juno asked.

"There's nothing more tragic than a long absence from a pretty face like yours."

Juno's cheeks turned to the color of apples as she seemingly struggled to suppress a smile.

Lincoln was a smooth operator, I gave him that.

"Alright Dorian," she said. "Step into my shop."

Lincoln smiled. "My body is your canvas."

"I'm well familiar with it," she said as she walked to the entrance of the tattoo parlor and flipped over the sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED," while locking the door.

"You can wait on the couch over there Lucy," she said. "Try not to touch anything."

The thought of planting my tired a.s.s on a couch was wonderful. I had spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep while my heart tried to mend itself. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Shadow, turning his back to me and then Justin burning alive.

My insomnia was fueled by my wounded heart.

Juno's tattered couch was littered with old newspapers and magazines, which made it as inviting as a public toilet. However, the second I sat down, I let out a sigh of relief. I was exhausted to the point where I could have fallen asleep on a bed of nails.

Peering through heavy eyelids, I watched as Lincoln and Juno disappeared into the next room.

I soon felt myself nodding off.

I wished for a dreamless sleep, because lately, all my dreams were replaced with nightmares.

"No," Justin said as I walked up and pressed my hands against the gla.s.s prison that held him.

I was in an asylum. Surrounding me were dozens of inmates, all encased in gla.s.s cells, displayed like animals in a zoo.

Justin was tied to a funeral pyre; his feet buried beneath a mound of fresh kindling.

"Justin, I'm sorry," I sobbed.

"No," he repeated.

The tears streaming down my face were endless.

"I should have listened to you Justin. You were right all along."

"No."

I shook my head. "I want your forgiveness so badly, but I don't deserve it, do I?"

"No."