by Hope Stone
There was no way I was going to make it to work on time. Damn it.
Firing off a quick text to the owner of the tattoo shop where I worked, I tucked the phone into my back pocket and got to work. Luckily, my dad had taken the time to teach me how to change a tire back when I got my driver’s license. It was one of the few bonding experiences we ever had. He said that being a girl was no excuse to not have basic knowledge about your car. So, I knew how to change tires and oil, replace spark plugs, and change the light bulbs in my headlights. I was no mechanic, but at least I felt somewhat independent.
I went through the steps as quickly as I could—loosening the lug nuts, lifting the car with the jack, and taking the flat tire off. I tossed it onto my front porch. Jason didn’t know it yet, but he was going to buy me a new one. I put the spare in place and wrapped up the process. It only took about twenty minutes, but I wasn’t much of a morning person and was barely going to make it to work on time before this. Now, I was officially behind schedule.
I drove like a bat out of hell through downtown La Playa, weaving in and out of traffic as well as I could on a busy Monday morning. I ignored the dinging of text messages coming through on my phone, knowing it was probably my best friend, wondering where I was.
I dug around blindly in my purse as I kept my eyes on the road. Finally, I felt the unmistakable shape of the pack of gum I stashed there. Pulling the Juicy Fruit out, I unwrapped it, tossing the wrapper onto the floor of the passenger side where it joined a dozen others and empty cans of various energy drinks.
I needed to clean out the car again. It was crazy how quickly it got trashed.
I popped the gum into my mouth, chopping away as the sweet, fruity flavor exploded on my tongue. Pulling into the parking lot of Ink Envy, I took the first parking spot I saw. The shop was a small white building on a corner lot. There was a mural painted along the side of the building, perfectly positioned to catch the eye of drivers along Blackburn Drive. The owner had paid a graffiti artist to create an enticing image. He went with a woman holding a tattoo gun. Coming out of the gun was a rainbow of color that morphed into shapes and images. From left to right, it went from bright and vibrant to dark and striking. It was beautiful, and I still found myself staring at it in awe after working here for nearly three years.
But there was no time to stop and stare today. Locking up my car, I jogged over to the front door of the place, my Chucks eating up distance. I pulled open the door and took two steps before colliding with a tall man’s hard body. I went reeling backward with a gasp as the man fumbled with the box in his hands, barely avoiding dropping it onto the linoleum floor.
“Oh, crap. Sorry, Gary,” I said as I realized that I had run straight into my coworker. Gary had started working at the shop just a couple of months after I did. He was a talented artist, but not the most reliable person.
Not that I had room to talk on a day that I showed up so late.
“Whatever,” he snapped. Brushing past me where I stood in the doorway, he stalked out the door without looking back. I furrowed my brow in confusion.
“What the hell was his problem?” I asked out loud, talking to myself. I was surprised to hear an answer coming from behind me.
“He was just fired.”
I turned to see my boss, the owner of the shop, sitting behind the counter to the right side of the room. Brie liked to man the counter herself instead of hiring someone. It made her the face of the business for customers, the first person they would see when walking through the door. We were in a reception area, where the customers checked in and paid. No one was around, so we could speak freely.
“What happened?” I asked, shocked. Gary wasn’t a close friend, not like the other tattoo artist, Piper, who was probably my best friend, but I saw the guy every day. He was a part of my world, and it was jarring to think that he was suddenly gone.
“The guy’s a cokehead,” Brie said, her voice dripping with disapproval. “I suspected it forever, but his work was good. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt until I was refilling supplies this morning and found his stash.”
I winced. That was a big no-no.
“Yeah,” Brie nodded, reading my oh-shit expression. “He brought that crap into my place. He’s got balls of steel.”
I laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. Brie didn’t play around with that stuff. We were sub-contractors, but she was quick to remind us that this was her house. She didn’t want to get a bad reputation, and drug use by the staff was a quick way to do that.
“Laugh it up, chuckles. You know this leaves us short-handed, right?”
That sobered me up. She had a point. Brie could do tattoos, but her time was usually spent doing other things. She was the only one that did piercings, for instance. That meant that Piper and I were the only full-time tattoo artists. My plate was already full on most days. Piper and I taking over Gary’s workload was going to be rough.
“You going to hire someone else?” I asked as I started to make my way to the back of the shop. The area was divided into three sections by a half-wall. We all had curtains hanging from tracks on the ceiling that we could close if a client was getting a tattoo on a private area of their body.
“As soon as possible,” she replied. I was almost out of sight when she called out, “Kat?”
“Yeah?” I turned.
“If you still want that piercing, we’ll do it before we leave at the end of the day.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
Walking into my workspace, I shoved my purse into a cabinet before taking a seat on a stool. I had framed examples of tattoos I’d done up on the wall, as well as a book of basic designs sitting on the counter. It had everything from butterflies to skulls and was useful for people that came in without a concrete idea of what they wanted, which wasn’t common.
“Nice of you to show up,” Piper said from the workstation beside me. There was a man in her chair, staring at his phone while she tattooed a panther on his shoulder.
“It’s Jason’s fault. He gave me my car back with a damn nail in the tire. I had to change it out this morning.”
“Why did he borrow your car, anyway?” she asked without looking up.
“Because all he has is a bike, and it was raining yesterday. I don’t know where he needed to go, but he just kept whining about getting soaked until I gave in.”
“You softie.”
I chuckled. That might be the first time I was ever called that.
Picking up my trash can, I spit out the gum, which had already lost its flavor. I only chewed it as a deterrent, anyway, trying to kick my stress-induced smoking habit. I knew that cigarettes were terrible for my health, but it was a bad habit that I had picked up as a teenager. I usually only had one or two a day, but I had been attempting to quit for the last month. No more smelling like an ashtray for me.
Brie brought back my first client, a woman I had been working with for the last couple of days. She had come to me to design a massive piece for her entire back. It was a flowering tree, its roots stretched along the base of her spine while the top branches spanned her shoulder blades. Yesterday, I had spent hours outlining the tattoo. Today, we were adding color.
As the client settled into place on my chair with her shirt off, I adjusted the height on my stool until I was comfortable and got to work. The buzzing of my tattoo gun was the only sound in my ears as I lost myself in the work.
I loved when the rest of the world fell away, and I could just create another masterpiece. Some people might not be too impressed with my profession, but I was happy. I considered myself an artist. My canvas was the human body, and my art lasted nearly forever.
My client was a champ, lying still and not even asking for a break. The only time I got a reaction out of her at all was when I was coloring in green leaves along her ribs. She tensed ever so slightly and sucked in a sharp breath.
I couldn’t blame her for that. I had a tattoo along the front of my right ribcage
—the words One Life To Live—so I knew that it was one of the more painful areas to have tattooed.
After three hours, her tattoo was finished, and I snapped a picture of it for my portfolio. I had heard Piper take a couple of Gary’s clients while I was working, so I knew that I was going to have to do the same. Taking a break before Brie had a chance to bring someone back for me to work on, I stepped out the back door and popped another piece of gum in my mouth. Pulling out my phone, I fired off a quick text to my brother.
Hey, asshole. You owe me a new tire.
I smirked as I sent it, knowing full well that he was going to try to squirm out of buying it.
Ten minutes passed quickly, and it was time to get back to work. Sure enough, when I stepped inside, Brie was waiting for me with a skinny man that I’d never seen before. I had to try to squeeze him in before my one o’clock appointment. I hated being under pressure like that.
Brie had better find a replacement for Gary soon.
At the end of the day, which was an hour later than usual, I was more than ready for it to be over. I put the finishing touches on a pink hibiscus flower, wiping the ankle tattoo clean as the woman shook with tears in her eyes.
Some people just couldn’t handle any amount of pain. They really had no business getting tattoos, but that wasn’t my problem. The ones with low pain tolerances had money that was just as green as everyone else’s. The only time it bothered me was when the customer kept asking for breaks, and the appointment ran too long.
Putting down my gun, I massaged my aching hand, flexing my fingers.
“Hell of a day, huh?” Piper had already cleaned her tattoo gun and was now sweeping the floor.
“Yeah. I could use a drink. You want to come?” I asked, starting my own cleaning process.
“Where do you want to go?”
I shrugged. “Anywhere but The Pit.”
“Come on,” Piper whined, leaning against the half wall that separated us. “Xander will be there.”
“Yeah, along with all the other Las Balas members. Including my dad.”
I did not party with my old man. We weren’t that close, but I didn’t want him to see me tossing back tequila shots or shaking my ass on the dancefloor. It would be weird. My dad was at The Pit nearly every night since it was the hangout of his motorcycle club. Xander was a part of the club, too, and nearly ten years older than Piper. I didn’t get the attraction, but I was never into older men. I wasn’t going to be a twenty-three-year-old trophy wife. If I ever settled down at all, it would be with someone that was young enough to have some fun and keep up with me in the bedroom.
“Let’s go to that place by the beach,” I suggested.
“The Copper Bar? I guess that’ll be okay. They have daiquiris for two dollars tonight.”
“You ladies going out on a Monday night?” Brie asked as she walked through the curtain that divided the front of the shop from the back. “Oh, to be young again.”
“Come with us,” I said as I took a seat on my stool. Brie was carrying the piercing gun, so I gathered my hair over my right shoulder and tilted my head.
“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “If I went out drinking tonight, there’s no way I’d be able to drag my happy ass out of bed in the morning.”
She chuckled while disinfecting my skin for a tragus piercing. The little piece of cartilage that jutted out over the ear canal was supposed to be one of the most painful piercings you could get, but I didn’t mind a little pain. It was all temporary, and, in the end, I reaped the rewards. This time, I was going to have a cute piercing with a dark blue stud that complimented the aquamarine one in my nose.
“You should come,” Piper chimed in. “You never know. You might meet a man.”
“Oh, now that’s tempting.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. I couldn’t blame her. Brie had been divorced an astounding four times and vowed that it would never happen again. “Ready, Kat?”
“Go for it.”
I sucked in a deep breath as she counted down.
“Three…two…one.”
I released my breath through clenched teeth. Then, it was done. I knew it would ache for a while. This particular piercing took a long time to heal.
“You’re set. You know the drill. Keep it clean and all that,” Brie advised as I checked out the piercing in the mirror.
“Thanks, Brie. You ready for those drinks?” I asked Piper.
“Let’s do it.”
We left the shop together, getting into my car and heading for the beach. After a long day at work, I was ready for a good time.
Blade
“Are you sure about this?” Alex asked as I wrapped the gauze around my hand, covering from the wrist to the knuckles.
“Absolutely,” I said, finishing up one hand by applying tape and starting on the other. Behind me, I could hear the jeering and shouting of the crowd surrounding the fight circle, while the two men inside were silent, aside from the dull thud that resulted from their blows to each other’s bodies.
“But the odds are four to one against you.”
“I know,” I smirked. “So, you’re going to go put five hundred dollars on me to win.”
“What?” Alex looked at me like I was crazy.
I sighed. He’d always been like this, a voice of reason, as he liked to call it. Personally, I thought he needed to let loose a little, but it just wasn’t in his nature. Sometimes it drove me nuts, but he was family, so I put up with it. And I’d never tell him, but there were times when he was the voice in my head, talking me down from being too reckless.
“Here.” I pulled out the bills that had been rolled up in my pocket, held together by a rubber band. “Put that down now, before my fight starts. We’ll combine the winnings with my payment from the boss and walk out of here twenty-five hundred dollars richer.”
“You sound pretty damn sure of yourself.”
“I am.” I had to be. If I walked into that circle, facing a monster of a man with at least thirty pounds on me, with anything less than full confidence, then I would be doomed before we even began.
Besides, I had no interest in walking away from here a loser.
“Fine, but don’t expect me to push your wheelchair around when The Beast is done with you.”
“Thanks for your pep talk,” I called out after him as he stalked away to place the bet. “Your faith in me helps me to have faith in myself.”
The only response I got was the middle finger thrown over his shoulder, which made me break out into loud laughter. It was perfect, just what I needed to cut through the tension before the fight.
I was new to street fighting, and this was only my third time here. My friend, Rick, had told me about the gig. He had been coming here for months, making decent money and, more importantly, working out some aggression. That was the main reason I kept coming. Sure, the money was nice, but I was more interested in working out my issues with my fists. I thought of it as nontraditional therapy. It was a hell of a lot better than nothing.
Rick had to work tonight, so I asked my cousin to tag along instead. The one thing I knew for sure was it was best not to come alone. Each win paid out a thousand bucks, and it wouldn’t be out of the question for someone alone to be jumped by some of the men around here to get the cash.
The current fight ended, so I got to my feet. I did a few quick stretches, ending with cracking my neck. Despite my lack of street fighting experience, I was no stranger to a fight. As the only son of an army general, I was pushed to join up my entire life. My father even went so far as to insist that I attend military school and receive hand-to-hand combat training as a teenager.
I didn’t know if he thought that would somehow motivate me to follow in his footsteps, but it didn’t work. I hated the strict structure and emphasis on discipline. My father wasn’t happy, and I didn’t think our relationship ever recovered, but I decided quickly that I wasn’t soldier material. It didn’t take long to get kicked out of the place, but I had picked up so
me fighting skills by then. Over the years, I’d honed those skills in bar fights and a general knack for finding trouble.
“You ready?” Alex asked as he returned.
I just nodded before turning and starting to make my way through the crowd. They parted for me, many of them shouting taunting insults until I reached the edge of the circle, the boundary of which was marked with white spray paint on the concrete floor.
This warehouse was one of many old and abandoned ones on this side of town. The windows were boarded up, and the only entrance was a sliding metal door at the back of the building that had previously been a loading area for large trucks. It helped the guys running this place to keep track of who came and went, but it also meant there wasn’t an easy getaway if we were ever busted. So, I hoped it never came to that.
On the other side of the crudely drawn barrier, I saw my opponent, a man that had earned the nickname The Beast with both his size and manner, stepping through the crowd on the other side. I could feel the buzz of anticipation in the air as the crowd got worked up for the fight. I knew that we were the main event of the evening. The new guy who was making a name for himself around here versus a man that was known for being big and mean. He wasn’t undefeated, but he didn’t lose often, either. I took his measure from twenty feet away.
The Beast wasn’t much taller than me, but I had to admit that he was bigger. It wasn’t all muscle, either. The two of us were both shirtless, and I could see that he was carrying extra weight around his middle. That could work to his advantage if he got me pinned beneath him.
Despite his extra weight, his shoulders were broad, and it was clear he didn’t skip arm day at the gym. There was no doubt that he was strong. I was sure to get pummeled if he got his hands on me.
So, I had to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice rang out from my left. Turning, I saw the man in charge, Luca Bianchi, shouting to be heard above the crowd. “We’ve come to our last fight of the evening. Place your bets now. Will it be the up and coming biker, Blade?”
