Surviving the Mercers

Ioney Scene not included in any books.

So this was a potential scene that will never make any book in the Mercer series.  It is of Ioney getting two tattoos.  She is 21 years old, and Ray is 18.

“You know, we don’t have to do this.”

I paused with my fingers around the door handle and glanced back at Ray, who was watching me with great amusement.

“Why are you saying that now?”

He snorted, reaching up with both hands to link them behind his head.  “Uh, how about because you look like I’ve dragged you here against your will?  Christ, querida, you look like you’re about to walk into hell, not a tattoo parlour.”

Despite how frazzled my nerves were, I thrust my nose in the air and scoffed, feigning arrogance.  “Nonsense.  If you big CBK babies can do this, then so can I.”

Though in all honesty, I was having some serious doubts.  I’d been talking about getting two specific tattoos for over a year now, and while Ray had been more than happy to take me every time I’d brought it up, I’d always managed to find an excuse to put it off.

Of course, at the moment I didn’t have one handy, and considering Ray had backed me into a corner by paying for it as my twenty first birthday gift, it looked like I didn’t have a choice this time.

“Really, Ioney,” Ray said quietly, coming up to cover my hand with his.  Deep brown eyes regarded me earnestly and with a hint of worry.  “You don’t have to get a tattoo at all. Nobody’s going to care one way or another.  This isn’t something you’re doing to prove something to anybody.  If you do this, you’re doing it for you.”

And those words brought with them the reminder of why I was here.  Ray was right.  If I was doing this, then it had to be for myself.  And the tattoos I had come to get were exactly that.  Things that I needed.  Things that nobody else would ever get inked into their skin.  

At least, I hoped not because that would just be awkward strolling down the street and happening upon some random person with identical tattoos to mine, given how personal they would be.

“I am doing this for me,” I said after a moments hesitation, and pulled open the door.

The bell chimed gently overhead, and a guy who appeared to be a couple of years older than me looked up from behind the counter.

“Well hello,” he drawled leisurely, throwing the magazine he’d been perusing onto a counter behind him.  “How can I help you folks today?”

With shoulder length blue-black hair that was obviously dyed, earrings running all the way up both of his ears, his lip and eyebrow pierced, and kohl lining his eyes, I found his cheery greeting to be rather comical.

Biting back the urge to giggle, I took a moment to study his workspace.  The glass counter that held the cash register was clean and tidy, with a neat stack of clear folders piled at one end. The store itself was on the small side, had no windows, and was covered floor to ceiling in images. 

“Are these yours?” I asked, going over to the far right wall where two black leather reclining chairs had been set up next to a black leather bench.  

“Yep,” the guy said.  “Well, most of ‘em are.  The rest are designs I’d like to ink on someone, but sadly, no biters yet.  Unless you’re keen?”

He sounded hopeful but I was already shaking my head.  I turned to face him, digging in my jeans pocket for a sheet of paper.  “I already know what I want.  Do you think you can do these?”

He arched a heavily pierced eyebrow in obvious interest and took it from me.  One quick glance and he nodded.  “Sure thing.”

His gaze wandered over to Ray, who was absentmindedly taking a peek at some of the more extravagant designs with so much detail even the idea of getting them tattooed on me had me twinging with phantom pain.