The Unextraordinary Life of Alexandra Jane (Editing)

Chapter Eleven: Tattoo Shop

Thanks for reading guys, short chapter but hope y'all like it! -Chipotle xx

I've been following Harry for the past hour. Once in a while I linger in different lanes hoping he doesn't notice the small car following him. Thank god for this car and it's tinted windows. My fingers drum on the steering wheel nervously as I focus myself on the old pick up. 

The sun has begun to set and we've reached a part of the city I've never been in before. The buildings are tall and look as if they're about to crumble, almost all of the street lights are either wrong or dysfunctional and Harry continues driving as if he's driven through here billions of times. 

We used to go every where together and when we went out "exploring" it was to safer looking locations. To new shops or neighborhoods that were getting built, but now, as I drive down these intimidating streets, I'm wondering how much he's changed in the past month.

He takes a sharp right turn, leading into an ally, parking his truck a few feet from the dead end. I park on the curb to make sure he doesn't see my-my moms car. I climb out not taking my eyes off of him. He unbuckles his seat belt and reaches over to the passenger seat to retrieve his phone. 

Good to know he has it and has just been refusing to answer my texts and calls. 

I poke my head out from the brick building and watch him climb down and walk over to a door on the side of the building. He opens the door and looks back in my direction as I dive back behind the wall. My heart begins to race. Praying he didn't see me, I peek over again and see nothing but his truck. I hesitantly walk over towards the door. 

I really hope Harry at least talks to me about where the hell he's been and why he hasn't contacted me for a month. If not he better be ready to listen. I take one last deep breath before pulling open the rusted door. 

A club. I instantly cup my nose to stop myself from gagging. The smell of cigars, booze, and vomit burning my nostrils. The club is dimly lit making it hard to find Harry but as I walk deeper into the foul smelling room I see the curly mop I've learned to spot from a mile away. I push through the wall of bodies separating Harry and I, often getting vile looks and unpleasant remarks. I see Harry go through a red door at the far back. I trail a few steps behind him making sure not to draw attention to myself.

I push the door open slightly and peek through. The tiles on the floor are supposed to be black and white but the filth accumulating makes the white tiles look close to brown. The walls are cracked from the ceilings to the ground and the smell of marijuana fills the air. The angle the door is cracked open lets me only see one wall of the small room. Luckily the wall is covered by one huge mirror. I look into the reflection of the room and freeze, my heart beat skyrocketing, a lump already forming in my throat. 

Harry sits on a black leather chair, shirtless. Ink covering his skin. Ink I have never in my entire life seen on him before. A ship covers his bicep, a book on his inner fore arm, smaller drawings and letters trail down his left arm.

Harry has never had tattoos, It's only been four weeks? Does Anne know? Why would he get tattoos now?

It's not until I focus my gaze off his arm that I notice he's not alone. I suck in a sharp breath, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. She has bright blue eyes and pale skin, her blonde hair goes down in big curls all the way down her back. She's undeniably beautiful. Her long nails which are pressed against Harry's bare chest, are painted bright red as are her lips that are curled into a grin, revealing perfect teeth. She  throws her head back in laughter as a smirk appears on Harry's face.