Read Online Blurred Lines by Scott Hildreth - Free Book Online

mural. You know, everywhere it had been,” I said.
    “Exactly,” he responded. “I thought the same thing. I felt like a celebrity, I don’t know, like I’d made it into the big leagues. I just remember feeling pretty proud.”
    “I bet. Yeah, that’s pretty cool.”
    “So you’ve owned this shop for two years?” I asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “What did you do before this?” I asked.
    The buzzing stopped. His stool inched across the floor until he was at my side. As he cradled the tattoo machine in his hand, the expression on his face changed to one of a more serious nature. After a long moment of obvious contemplation, he responded.
    “I was a cop,” he said flatly.
    I raised myself up in the chair slightly. “A police officer? A cop? Like an actual cop?”
    He nodded his head.
    His face washed with a look of concern. In a matter of seconds, it was almost as if his mind had slipped into memories of the past, thinking of his former profession. I began to feel guilty for asking, and had only been trying to get to know him, but it was obvious thinking about whatever he was thinking about upset him.
    “It’s an admirable profession,” I said softly.
    He blinked his eyes, glanced at the tattoo machine, and after a short pause, nodded his head.
    “I suppose so,” he said.
    “What about you?” he asked as he scooted his stool around to the other side of the chair.
    “I’ve uhhm, I’ve never had a job. During school, my mom wanted me to focus on studies, and after school I was in a relationship with a guy who was pretty well of financially. He didn’t really want me out in public, and for sure didn’t want me to work. So, I stayed at home unless I was with him,” I said.
    “Didn’t want you out in public? What the fuck was that about? Seriously?” he asked as he began to press the needle onto my back.
    “He was pretty protective of me,” I responded.
    He stopped the tattoo machine and cleared his throat. “That’s not protective, Riley. It’s controlling, there’s a difference.”
    I found his belief on the issue to be comforting. I had originally felt the same way, but Stephen continued to assure me he was protective, not controlling. Over time, he convinced me it was his protective nature that caused him to prevent me from doing anything alone. Having someone agree with my thoughts on his behavior was reassuring.
    “You think so?” I asked.
    “Fucking know so. What the fuck was he protecting you from by making you stay at home?  I mean, really. Protecting you from life? From exposing yourself to society? Protecting himself from potentially losing you if you bumped into someone who enlightened you into understanding he was a controlling prick, maybe. Ready?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine, go ahead. Yeah, he was probably more controlling than most,” I agreed.
    As he began to work on the tattoo, he continued, speaking just loud enough for me to hear him over the buzzing of the machine and the music.
    “I’ve never really been in a relationship. I’ve been waiting for the right one to come along I suppose. I always told myself when the right one came along, I’d treat her with respect and truly try to act as if we were equal. I’m sure most guys tell themselves the same shit,” he said.
    I raised my head slightly, and rested my chin on my clenched fist.
    “You’ve never been in a relationship?” I asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Wow.”
    “So, what qualities does the right girl have?” I asked.
    After a long moment of him continuing to work on the tattoo, he stopped and dipped the needle in the ink. He wiped my shoulder clean, rested his forearm on my side, and paused.
    “On the outside? Bold glasses, ponytail, a well-defined waist, but I really don’t care about tits. I prefer unpainted fingernails, and she’s got to have toes that don’t look like little sausages. The toes are important,” he said.
    My heartbeat immediately increased ten-fold. He had just described me. As I tried to think of how