by Hope Stone
“Isn’t Saturday her birthday?”
“Yeah,” he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “But Las Balas wants me to do some work for them that night. You know that I can’t say no.”
That was true. Jason was a prospect, which meant that he wasn’t a full member until he proved himself. He basically had to do whatever they said to get in.
“What do they want you to do?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
I frowned. My dad had always been secretive about Las Balas’s activities, but I didn’t think that Jason would be the same way when he followed in our father’s footsteps. What the hell were they always so secretive about?
“And I’m sure that pissed her off.” I nodded. I got it. Lexie needed to feel like she came first, but Las Balas was demanding of his time. It was one of the problems that our parents had in their marriage, and they’d gotten divorced when I was eight. Jason had been ten, and it was disappointing to see him repeating our father’s mistakes when he should know better.
“She’ll get over it,” he said confidently. “She always does.”
I didn’t bother to express my doubts. A person could only bend so far before they broke, and I’d hate to see that happen with Lexie. Still, they’d have to work it out on their own.
“I better go shower. I have to be at work at nine.”
“I can’t believe you stayed out all night when you have to work today,” he commented with a slight shake of his head. “Seriously, what’s the deal with that? It seems like you’re never home anymore.”
“I’m only twenty-three. I’m too young to spend every night cooped up at home.”
I was deflecting, but he didn’t call me out on it. I didn’t want to get into my motives because talking about how lonely I’d been since our mom died made me feel uncomfortably vulnerable. And it depressed the hell out of me. She’d only been gone for six months, and I hadn’t brought myself to even clean out her bedroom yet. This was my home, but being here alone too much made me feel like I was suffocating.
I excused myself, going to the bathroom. The first thing I did was grab a bottle of ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet and shake three pills out into my hand. I took them with some water from the tap and brushed my teeth.
Turning on the water in the shower stall, I ran it as hot as I could stand it, then stepped in, letting it wash over me, getting rid of the sand that managed to cover every inch of me. I couldn’t linger too long, but by the time I shut off the water and stepped out, I felt rejuvenated, and there wasn’t a single grain of sand left on my body.
My headache was still there, but it had diminished to a dull ache that I could live with. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, I was running short on time. So, I dressed in a flash, but when I went to grab my purse, my car keys were no longer sitting next to it.
“What the hell, Jason?” I asked. He was the only person here, so he must have taken them.
“I need the car if you want me to replace the tire,” he explained. “Or are you going to let me off the hook for that one?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then, let’s go. We’ll take my bike.”
That sounded good to me. I grabbed my helmet, a full-faced white one, out of my coat closet and followed him outside. It was a great day for riding, with almost no wind blowing and the sun shining down on us.
I loved springtime.
I used to have my own bike, a small Suzuki 650, but when my mom died unexpectedly, I needed cash to cover the bills I was used to splitting with her. So, I sold it. I hoped to buy a new motorcycle sometime soon when I could afford it. Things were finally starting to even out for me, and I’d even managed to start squirreling a little away.
“I’ll pick you up at six,” Jason said when he dropped me off in front of the shop.
“Make it seven,” I said, thinking about all of the extra work I would have to do to make up for Gary’s absence.
“Got it.”
As he rode away, I walked into the shop to be greeted by Brie and a customer already waiting. I was right on time, so it was a surprise to see a customer had beat me to the shop. Looking into her face, I could see her eagerness.
“Kat, this is Ashlynn. She had an appointment with Gary for today, so you’ll need to fill in,” Brie explained.
“I wish Gary was still here. He was so hot,” Ashlynn pouted, and I had to make sure that my thoughts didn’t show on my face. Her voice was grating, reminding me of a valley girl. It was too early to deal with this shit.
“Well, it’s just us girls now,” I said, taking a sip from the bottle of water I had grabbed from my refrigerator before leaving the house. I wouldn’t tell him because it would give him a big head, but Jason was right about dehydration. “Come on back.”
I shot Brie an exasperated look, and she suppressed a smile. Apparently, she thought it was funny to start my day with this chipper princess.
“This is my very first tattoo, and I’m so excited that I’m getting it before my sister’s wedding, so everyone will see it in my strapless dress,” she prattled on and on as we walked through the curtain and into my workspace. “Does it hurt really bad? My bestie has one on her foot, and she said she cried when she got it.”
My headache was starting to come back.
“Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what you want?”
“Okay. I wanted something really special to me, you know?” I thought about the memorial I’d done last week for a man that lost his wife and wanted to honor her. That had been special and some of my best work, in my own opinion. “So, I was thinking I want the words live, laugh, and love on my shoulder blade.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Could she have picked a more generic phrase?
Whatever.
“Okay, let’s pick colors.”
Whether I liked the girl’s choice or not, it was time to get to work.
Four
Blade
I needed to find a job. The street fighting could be lucrative, but it was far from a steady paycheck. I had a sweet setup at my old job, working on the demolition crew of a construction company—which also helped me to work out my aggression—but I had been unceremoniously fired when I slept with my boss’s wife.
In my defense, she hit on me.
Luckily, I had a broad skill set. As I pulled up to the little tattoo shop that was hiring, I couldn’t help thinking about the little hole-in-the-wall place where I had first learned how to use a tattoo gun. That had been a small shop in a northern Californian city, where I’d lived right after graduating high school eight years ago.
After failing to enlist as was expected of me, I’d left my father’s house. He was going to charge me rent to keep living there anyway—I was now an adult, after all, and he was a vindictive ass—so it wasn’t worth putting up with his attitude just to stay in a house that I didn’t even care about.
I’d learned not to get attached to people or places when I was young. Every new school, new friend, and new house was temporary. The army kept my dad moving around too much, which uprooted all our lives. My mom was more understanding than me, but she’d signed up for that life when she married him. I didn’t have much of a choice.
So, suddenly, living on my own at the young age of eighteen had been exciting. I could finally settle somewhere. I threw myself into the job at the tattoo shop, starting by working closely with a seasoned tattoo artist, learning everything the older man knew. It came easily to me, and I was working on my own within three months.
I liked the work, but I always had a knack for finding trouble. After less than a year, I got locked up for six months for stealing a car. I hadn’t even really wanted the thing, but I was trying to impress a girl. It worked, but by the time I got out of jail, she had moved on, and my spot at the shop had been replaced.
I was young and stupid back then. At least it was the only thing on my record.
Since then, I had worked various jobs, but I still owned a tattoo gun and did the occa
sional tattoo for a reasonable price out of my home. Going back to it as a job felt like a good move.
I pulled my bike into a spot in the parking lot, pulling off my helmet and checking out the artwork on the side of the building. Fancy.
Even from the outside, Ink Envy was completely different from that last shop I’d worked in. That place was small, old, and dark. I was pretty sure it wasn’t even remotely up to code. Hell, it probably wasn’t registered as a business.
By comparison, this place was swanky.
I grabbed the portfolio out of my saddlebag, filled with pictures of some of my best work. Walking through the door of the shop, the first thing I noticed was how clean and white everything was. There was a lot of love that went into this place.
There was a woman sitting on a stool behind a glass counter where there were rows of jewelry on display. I spotted earrings, nose studs, and tongue rings. I had numerous tattoos, but piercings weren’t my thing. They looked hot on a woman, though.
I turned my attention to the woman behind the counter, who was watching me curiously. She was an older woman, probably in her forties, with two full sleeves covering her pale skin, and her long, brown hair was in dreadlocks.
“You must be William,” she said, and I tried not to cringe at the use of my real name. My dad was the only one that called me that these days, but my friend Hawk had insisted that it was necessary to use my legal name on a resume, and I had sent mine when I replied to the job listing online.
“Yeah, but everyone calls me Blade,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand as she stood.
“I’m Brie. I own Ink Envy.”
“Nice place,” I said, meaning it.
“Is that your portfolio?”
“Oh, yeah,” I handed it over, mildly surprised that we were doing this here instead of in an office.
Brie opened the leather folder on top of the glass case, and I stood there awkwardly while she flipped through the pages. She stopped to stare at some pictures for several seconds and barely seemed to glance at others. She asked no questions, and I had no idea how this was going.
There was a big red curtain just beyond the counter that I guessed led to back rooms where the work was done. I could hear the unmistakable sound of tattoo guns buzzing and the low murmurs of conversation coming from the other side.
Finally, Brie closed the folder and looked up at me. “This is some good work.”
I was relieved to hear that, but I braced myself for her to question the gaps in my employment, starting with the reason I left my old tattoo shop, but she didn’t.
“Now, as a tattoo artist here, you’d really be a subcontractor, with me taking thirty percent off the top. The rest of your earnings belong to you. The clients would be yours, and you have freedom there. I know that this is art, and I’m not going to get in the way of it. Regardless of your appointments, I would like for you to be here during regular business hours for walk-ins, which are Monday through Friday, nine to six. Does that work for you?”
“Really? It’s that easy?”
“Of course,” Brie gave me a small smile. “I think you’re talented. That’s all I really need to know.”
I grinned. This was the easiest job interview I’d ever had. “Hell yeah, that works for me.”
“Good. Just one more thing. I don’t want drugs of any kind here. No buying, selling, or using them in the shop. I don’t want that shit here.”
“No problem,” I said without hesitation. I smoked a little pot on occasion, but I wouldn’t even think to do that at work, and I’d never been interested in trying anything more intense. I’d seen too many people in my life get addicted to everything from crack to heroin.
It wasn’t worth it.
Brie pulled out paperwork, and I signed on the dotted line. Just like that, I was employed. While we were taking care of the papers, the curtain pulled back, and a woman walked out with a burly man following close behind her. There was a large bandage on his shoulder.
“Now, keep the bandage on for two hours and use the aftercare cream,” the woman was saying as they walked past us. She had short, dirty blonde hair and a little too much makeup on for my taste.
I finished signing the papers as she walked the man to the door. Brie called her over to us.
“Piper, this is Blade, our new tattoo artist.”
“Gary’s replacement?”
“Yep.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“It really is. I think we’ve already covered all the appointments he had scheduled, but it’d be nice to have some help with walk-ins.”
“Let’s take him back then,” Brie said, coming around the counter.
I followed them through the curtain and saw the space was divided into three sections. There was another woman bent over a man’s wrist with a tattoo gun in her hand in one of the sections. I couldn’t see much of her, just a curtain of dark hair that was shielding her face.
“That’s Kat,” Piper said, nodding at the woman. She didn’t look up at the sound of her name. I didn’t blame her. I recognized an artist in the zone.
“Here’s where you’ll work,” Brie gestured to the obviously unused workspace. It was pretty basic. A long counter with drawers that probably held the tattoo gun and other supplies, with an adjustable black leather chair in the middle and stool that must have been meant for me. It was a nice setup.
“Here you go, Jack,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see that Kat was finished with the tattoo she had been working on and was talking to the man in her chair. Her back was to me, so I still couldn’t see her face.
“Don’t bother with a bandage,” the man said, but she shook her head.
“Not gonna happen, just like I told you last time. You leave here with the bandage. After that, it’s up to you if you want to keep it on or not. But I suggest you don’t be a dummy.”
I smiled. I liked her attitude.
Kat didn’t walk her customer out of the shop. Instead, she pushed her stool over to the counter to take a massive swig of a canned energy drink while he made his way to the door himself. That was when I got my first look at her.
Long dark eyelashes surrounded shockingly blue eyes. I trailed my eyes over high cheekbones and full lips. When she stood, I saw that her black tank-top and skintight jeans left little to the imagination, showing every slight curve on her thin body.
Damn.
I wasn’t expecting to be hit with a fireball of lust in the first ten minutes of my new job, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. This chick was hot.
And we were going to be working just feet away from each other.
“Take a picture.It’ll last longer,” she said with a little smirk.
I laughed lightly. “You've been holding onto that since the fifth grade or what?”
“Kat, this is the new tattoo artist,” Piper interrupted, reminding me that she was still there. “Blade, this is Kat.”
“Blade?” Kat repeated with a quirked brow. “That’s…unique.”
“What can I say, I’m one of a kind.”
“Is that why someone busted up your lip?”
I reached up and ran a thumb over the fresh wound. The swelling had gone down since last night, but the skin was still split and would take a couple of days to heal.
“What can I say? I’m a charmer.”
Kat snickered, and the bell above the door announced the arrival of another customer. I looked around and realized that Brie had already left, presumably resuming her position at the front counter.
I spent most of the rest of the day watching Kat and Piper work, getting a feel for the way things were run around here. Perusing the drawers, I was impressed by how well-stocked they were. Brie ran a tight ship around here, and I had a feeling that I was going to fit in well. As long as I didn’t screw it up somehow. My eyes lingered on Kat.
Yeah, it was probably not a good idea to go there.
This was confirmed when the end of the day arrived, and we were
all leaving. Looking around the parking lot, I saw that there were only two cars and my bike. I opened my mouth to ask if someone needed a ride, but before I got the words out, a man on a Harley pulled into the parking lot.
He pulled up in front of the four of us, and Kat stepped forward.
“See you guys tomorrow,” she said and pulled a helmet on. I watched her wrap her hands around the man’s waist, and my gut clenched.
I told myself that there was no reason to care if that guy was her boyfriend. I just met this woman. Sure, she was sexy, but there were plenty of good-looking women out there. I didn’t need to get hung up on Kat. I wasn’t a one-woman kind of man, anyway.
I glanced at the time on my phone and hurried to my own motorcycle. I was expected to be at the Blue Dog in ten minutes for the Outlaw Souls meeting. My sex life would have to wait. I arrived with no time to spare. Everyone’s bikes were already in the parking lot when I parked. I caught the eye of my sponsor for the motorcycle club, Trainer.
He was a big guy with a full beard and long hair. He looked like trouble, with his closed-off expression and large stature, but the truth was, he was a great guy. Trainer was a devoted husband and father to two kids that turned him into a big softie when they were around.
I had bought my bike off him months ago, a Sportster with the prettiest red paint job I’d ever seen. The thing was a hell of a smooth ride, both in town and on the highway. He bought bikes cheap and fixed them to be resold, and he was good at his job. I loved my motorcycle and had gotten to know Trainer when I bought it.
He was the Road Captain of the club and nominated me to become a prospect. It wasn’t fun, I had to admit. There were two of us, myself and Axel. We did all the grunt work for the club but hadn’t earned any of the rewards yet. It reminded me of pledging to join a fraternity. You had to do whatever they said and prove yourself. Until then, you weren’t directly involved in club business. Tonight, Axel and I would be keeping watch over the bikes during the Outlaw Souls meeting.
It was dull unless someone got stupid enough to try to mess with the motorcycles. Outlaw Souls were good people, overall, but that didn’t mean you wanted to piss them off.
