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“Can I help you?”

Knowing I was about to offend someone, I checked the sign again, Tatovere Ink, before approaching the counter.  “I’m looking for Jorge Orozco.”

“I’m Jorge.”  The man standing at the counter smiled at me, if you could call it that.  It was more of a smirk, which gave away that he was lying.  The fact that he looked nothing like Isabel, with blue hair tied back into a ponytail and skin paler than my own, was another clue that he wasn’t Jorge Orozco.

“I know you’re not Jorge.  You look nothing like Isabel.”

“Isabel was adopted.”

I laughed at him.  “You want to know how I know you’re lying?”  I gave him a minute to respond, but he remained silent.  “Okay, number one, you keep cocking your head before you open your mouth.  Next, you’re not making eye contact when you speak.  You…”

“Why are you looking for Jorge?”  Another man entered from the back.  He could have been Isabel’s brother, with the same dark hair, dark eyes, and dimple in his left cheek.

“Isabel sent me.”  I kept my breathing even, a little nervous with both of them staring at me.  I didn’t want to say much, in case neither were Jorge.  She could have sent me on a wild goose chase.

He waved me toward him.  “I got this Jorge.”  He smiled at me as I approached him.  His smile appeared to be genuine.

“I’m Felicia…”

He held a finger to his lips and motioned me to the back of the tattoo parlor.  Once we were both in the back, he shoved me into the chair.  “Who are you?”

“Felicia Michaels.  I’m a friend of Isabel’s.”

“Really?  She hasn’t mentioned you.”

I nodded.  It made sense.  “She works for my husband.”

He looked at me, amused.  “You’re married to Bradley Cooper?”

I rolled my eyes at him.  “Chef works for my husband.  Pablo signs Isabel’s check.”

“How do I know you’re not a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop?”  I shook my head.  “Don’t answer that.  Are you doing something illegal?”

“Isabel and I are here legally, just so you know.”

I sighed, shaking my head at him.  “I know.  You were both born here.  Your dad got himself caught when you were sixteen and Isabel was eleven.  He was sent back to Mexico.  Your mom raised you both.”

“Isabel tell you that?  I thought you could tell when someone was lying?”  He laughed at me.

I nodded, knowing that Isabel hadn’t been completely honest when she had told me that.  She talked too fast and repeated herself, as if it were a story she had memorized.  “Your mom didn’t raise you?”

He nodded.  “That part was true.  And no, she wasn’t here legally.  But we were born here.”

“And your dad?”

He winced.  “Hasn’t been in our lives for a long time.” 

“Jorge?”

“What do you want?”

“Isabel said that she thought Chef was headed here after he left work on Friday.”

He shook his head.  “I’m not talking to you about him.”

“Why?”

Jorge took a deep breath and let it out.  “If it weren’t for him and his family, Isabel and I would have been separated.  He’s family and I’m not telling you anything.”

“I’m just trying to find him.”

“Exactly.  That’s why I’m not helping.”

“You don’t understand.  I’m worried about him.”

“Got any ink?”

“Excuse me?”  I noticed he was looking me up and down.

“Maybe I’ll talk.  If…”

I swallowed hard, feeling my lunch rising.  “If what?  You know I’m married, right?”

He nodded.  “To Isabel’s boss.  You have virgin skin, don’t you?”

I realized he was looking at my skin.  “I don’t have any tattoos.  I never really wanted one.”

He closed the distance between us.  “Too good for one?”

I shook my head.

“What do you want?”

“To know where Chef is.  To know if he was here and what he wanted.”

He shook his head.  “I’m not talking.”  He slid his hand over my collarbone and over my shoulder.

“My husband is the only one who…”

“Yeah, right there.”  His hand stopped on my shoulder blade.  “It’ll be perfect.”

“If you’re not talking, I’m wasting my time.”

“What do you want?  A dove?  A rose?”

I shook my head, finally realizing he wanted to give me a tattoo.  “I don’t really want…”

“It’s up to you.  You can walk out of here without any information, or you can walk out of here with my art and I’ll tell you what I know.”

I didn’t like the two choices he offered.  How badly did I want to find Chef?  Was it worth it?  “Will it hurt?”

He shrugged.  “Depends on your pain tolerance I suppose.  You can have a shot or two if you need one.”

“Of what?”

“Pick your poison.”  He gestured toward the bottles behind him.  They were mostly various flavored vodkas.

I shook my head.  “I can’t drink.  I have to pick up my kids from school.”  I glanced at my watch.  “I have to leave here in thirty minutes.”

“Okay, then.  Take off your shirt and get comfortable.”

“Excuse me?  How do I know you won’t…”

He laughed again, which I found inappropriate.  “If I did anything to you, Jorge out there wouldn’t let me in the door when I got home.”

“Oh, you’re…”

“Married.”  He smiled at me.  “Now, what do you want?”

“Can you give me a tattoo of nothing?”

Jorge laughed.  “I’ll surprise you.”

I didn’t like the idea of that.  I figured I’d probably be looking up tattoo removal when I finally got home.  Reluctantly, I pulled my shirt over my head and tried to get comfortable.

When the needle touched my skin, I tried to tell myself that it would be worth it.  “Okay, talk.”

“Chef, as you call him, came by last Friday.  Caught us as we were closing up.”

“What time do you close on Fridays?”

“Ten o’clock.”

If Chef left work before the dinner shift and didn’t arrive at his friend’s tattoo parlor until ten o’clock, what did he do in the hours in between?  I tried to think of the possibilities.

“How did he seem?”

“Nervous.  He asked if he could borrow some money.”

“Did you give him any?”

He hesitated before responding.  “No.  He was asking for more than I was willing to give him.  A couple hundred, maybe.  But over two thousand dollars?  Even if I had wanted to, Ashton would have never let me.”

“Ashton?  Is that Jorge’s name?”

“Ashton is my business partner.  She is the other artist.  Why do you care about Jorge’s name?”

“Just curious, since I know it’s not Jorge.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Anyway…”  I cleared my throat, changing the subject.  “Did Chef leave after you refused to give him money?”

“No.  He came back to our place with us and stayed until around midnight.”

“Did he give any indication of where he was going when he left?”

“No.  He said that he would probably be heading out of town.  And he mentioned that he’d left Soufflé with Avianna.  I thought it was odd.  Why would he be heading out of town without his dog and girlfriend?”

A good question.  “I think she would like to know the answer to that question.”

He laughed.  “I can imagine.  But what does she expect?  She’s been waiting four years for a ring.  He’s like a brother to me,  but I don’t know why he hasn’t married her by now.”

I wondered if he knew about his sister’s crush, but kept it to myself.  Biting my lip, I tried to tell myself that my time and new ink were worth the information I received.  Chef went to his friend to ask for money and his friend didn’t help him.

“Did he say why he needed the money?”

“No.  When I asked why, he wouldn’t tell me.”

“So, how long have you been married?”

“About a year.  Why are you so curious?  Don’t have any gay friends?”

“I was a Hollywood screenwriter in my former life.  I’ve lost touch with some of them, but my friends were quite diverse.”

“Screenwriter, huh?  Why stop?”

“It’s complicated.”  I wanted to focus on my current responsibilities.  “What time is it?”

“I’ll have you out of here in plenty of time to pick up your kids, I promise.”

Just before two, he was telling me how to properly care for my new tattoo.  He handed me some ointment to use on it.

“Do you always force people to get tattoos?”

He laughed.  “No, I didn’t force you.  You could have refused.”

“But you wouldn’t have told me anything.”

Jorge laughed.  “I would have told you.  I just wanted to see how badly you wanted to know.”

My right shoulder burned for no good reason.  I was an idiot.  My cheeks felt as red as my shoulder had to be.  “I’ll send you the bill for the removal of it.”

Jorge’s husband behind the counter laughed.  “No one ever removes Jorge’s art.  When you see it, you’ll love it.  I’m certain.”

I rushed to my car and headed back to Solvang.  Miraculously, I made it back just in time for Etta’s second grade dismissal at 2:30.  

She climbed into the backseat of my Beetle.  “Do you have my gymnastics bag?”

“Yes.  It’s in the trunk.”

“Thank you.  What did you do today?”

Rafe and Etta didn’t know that Chef had been missing and I planned to keep it that way.  “Just a few errands.”

I spent my day running errands, yet I was no closer to finding Chef.

Solvang

Part 4