I tell him I’ll think about it, but that’s just to shut him up. The truth is I’m not remotely interested. I already make all the money I need, and I have no desire to be a damn TV star.
6
Raven
It takes a bit of detective work, but I find a talent agency that claims to represent Lincoln Ramirez. I’m surprised he has an agent at all, seeing how he’s just a security guard, and I’m baffled why he’d be represented by Leviathan Talent, the new hotshot agency in town. I leave a message first thing Tuesday morning, less than two days after the incident at the Oscars.
When I haven’t heard back by mid-afternoon, Theo says calls Kammy, after reminding me that the window is closing quickly on our opportunity to capitalize by piggybacking on this hot news story. Kammy loves the idea and passes word of our tattoo offer along to Lacey Rawlings, the cute Channel 4 reporter who always does the stupid “local color” pieces at the end of the evening newscast. Less than an hour later, my phone rings.
“Hi, Raven? This is Lacey Rawlings. Got a minute?”
“Yes! Absolutely.”
“So, I hear you own a tattoo shop and want to extend an offer of free tattoos for life to the Oscars hero.”
“Right,” I say. “We think he deserves it for his brave actions.”
“Of course. And the publicity for your business wouldn’t hurt, either.”
I’m not surprised that she saw through the offer so easily, but I’m caught off-guard by her calling me out on it that bluntly. Since she already gets it, so there’s no point in trying to convince her otherwise.
“Yeah, I won’t lie. It might get us a few new customers.”
“Well, here’s the deal,” she says, “it’s a cute enough idea for the kind of story I do, and I’m pretty sure I can get the station to approve it. But what’s in it for me?”
What the hell? Is this chick trying to shake me down, to get me to pay her for this? And if so, should I actually do it?
“You yourself said it’s a good story. Isn’t that enough?”
I wonder how much she’ll want. Five hundred? A thousand? More?
“Let’s make a deal,” Lacey says. “I’ll be there at five thirty and we can do a live spot from your shop for the six o’clock news. They’ll also use an edited version for the eleven o’clock broadcast as well. Here’s what I want in return…”
I hold my breath.
“I’ve been wanting to get a floral piece done on my right shoulder blade, a cover-up of an existing tattoo. I already have a design and just need a good artist to execute it. I looked at pictures of your work on the shop’s website and was impressed.”
She wants a damn tattoo? Hell, yeah, I can do that.
“Lacey, you’ve got yourself a new tattoo.”
“And you’ve got yourself an interview,” she says.
As soon as I hang up, I tell Theo he’s in charge, then run home to change clothes and make myself presentable.
Three hours later, a Channel 4 News van pulls up, and Lacey gets out with a three-person crew. She had no problem getting the station’s news manager to approve the live interview. It turns out they were looking for ways to extend that story for another day or two, and this fits right in.
Lacey’s shorter than she looks on camera, but just as blonde and bubbly. While the crew is setting up, she and I sit in the break room and discuss the interview.
“The whole piece will only be sixty seconds long, and the interview segment will last about thirty. Do you have any experience in front of the camera?”
I laugh. “Does homemade porn with my ex-boyfriend count?”
Lacey smiles.
“Um… no. Don’t worry though. Just try to relax and focus. Listen to my questions and give me brief answers in return. We’ll do a couple of prep runs once the guys have everything set up.”
I nod. I wasn’t nervous because I hadn’t even thought about the actual interview part. Now I feel butterflies in my stomach.
“While we’re waiting, let’s talk about my tattoo.”
She pulls an iPad Mini out of her purse and shows me the design she wants, a straightforward color floral piece that should be easy enough.
“Can I see what I’ll be covering?” I ask.
Lacey has me unzip her silk blouse, then slips it down one arm. Whoa. On her right shoulder is an atrocious tattoo of Eminem’s face, a terrible idea rendered even worse by horrendous execution. I suck in a breath involuntarily.
“I know,” Lacey says. “I was nineteen and stupid.”
Yes, she was, but I don’t say that.
“Sure, I can cover that up. The flowers will be so much better.”
We make an appointment for the work, then go back out to find her crew has finished setting up in front of my station and are ready to shoot. It’s six o’clock and she says the segment will run at six twenty-six on the dot, so we do a couple of practice interviews. I stumble a little on the first one, and Lacey gives me pointers that really help. The second attempt is much smoother. She also advises me to touch up my makeup and brush my hair. Jesus, I’m glad I had time to go home and get ready for this. The grubby Misfits T-shirt I was wearing this morning would have looked stupid. Now I have on a brand new Nine Inch Nails T that doesn’t look like it came from the Salvation Army.
A few minutes later, we’re ready to roll. I stand on my mark and take a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves as Lacey waits for her signal, microphone in hand and a finger against her audio earpiece. The segment producer gestures to give a countdown from five seconds, then we’re on live TV.
“Yes, Anita, the good folks here at the Chaos Ink tattoo shop on Melrose saw last night’s Channel 4 report of Lincoln Ramirez’s heroic actions on the Oscars red carpet, and they decided he deserved a reward for saving Haley Kenner’s life. What kind of reward? Believe it or not, free tattoos for life! I’m here with Chaos Ink’s owner, Raven Maddox. Raven, is this actually a serious offer?”
Prepared with the questions in advance, I was expecting this first one.
“Absolutely. Mr. Ramirez is a hero and deserves to be rewarded for his bravery.”
“Apparently, you’re not alone. He’s already been offered free movie tickets to Palace Theaters for a year, and free burgers at any Rowdy’s location. Do you think he’ll be interested in tattoos?”
This one surprises me because she hadn’t asked it in the rehearsals. I can’t tell the entire city that I was Googling his name and found a shirtless picture of him.
“Well, we’re certainly hoping he will. If a big, strong guy like that doesn’t already have tattoos, he certainly should.”
Lacey smiles. “Any tattoo he wants, for the rest of his life? With as much square footage as Lincoln Ramirez has on that huge body, you’d better stock up on ink.”
I see the producer give me the signal that he said would let me know the interview is ending. Time to wrap it up.
“We’re ready for him.” I ham it up with a little sex kitten smile, “Lincoln, drop by any time. We’ll be waiting.”
Lacey gives me a brief strange look, then finishes the segment.
“Nowhere but Hollywood does a hero get free tattoos for life,” she says, smiling at the camera. “Back to you, Anita.”
We stand quietly until the producer signals we’re off the air.
I exhale and relax. “How’d I do?” I ask.
“You were fine, Raven. Your invitation there at the end was a little strong, though. This Ramirez guy might come in just to check out the tattooed hottie.”
“Oh, my god. Was it too much? Really?” I was just trying to be cute and didn’t think about how it might play on the TV screen.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lacey reassures. “It was fine. You might have caused a few grandmas to hyperventilate, though.”
Great. Now I’m afraid I looked like an idiot. As soon as the news van pulls away, I thank Theo again for his idea, then run home to fire up my DVR and find out if I embarrassed myself and the en
tire shop.
I burst through the front door, scaring the holy fuck out of my two cats, Phanes and Nyx. Phanes is named after the Greek god of procreation and is pure white with stunning pale blue eyes. Nyx is the goddess of the night, and she’s jet black with piercing yellow eyes. And right now, they’ve both scrambled into the bedroom to avoid the crazy woman who no doubt interrupted their nap.
Plopping on the couch, I grab the remote and turn on the TV. I fast forward through the recorded newscast until I see Lacey and me, then hit play.
Watching myself on the screen is really weird. I don’t seem scared, but I don’t really seem all that relaxed, either. Then comes the big moment and I fucking cringe when I see myself lean toward the mic Lacey’s holding, playfully curl a shoulder toward my chin, and say, “Lincoln, drop by any time. We’ll be waiting.”
I watch it again and again, grimacing every time. On the other hand, I like the way I look. In real life, Lacey is an inch or two shorter than my own five-five, but with her heels and my Docs, we both seem taller on TV. My thick black hair looks awesome, curling just slightly as it flows down to my collarbone. My makeup is on point, with my dark mascara and dark red lipstick, and my sleeves, the tattoos covering both arms, look outstanding. My average tits look kind of big as they push against the “NIN” logo on the front of my shirt. The camera guy framed us from our heads to our waists, which is probably a good thing; though I have a decent butt, for all I know I wiggled it as I was trying to entice the Oscars hero.
I rewind and watch one last time.
“Lincoln, drop by any time. We’ll be waiting.”
Holy hell. What the fuck was I thinking?
I might as well have been offering him a lifetime of free blowjobs.
7
Link
Drake calls me early in the morning. I grumpily pick up, having stayed up late because I had difficulty sleeping with too many thoughts tumbling around in my brain.
“Yeah?”
“Dude, have they told you about the thing on the news last night?” he asks.
“What thing?”
“Some chick who owns a tattoo shop wants to give you free tattoos for life because you saved Kenner’s kid.”
Now he’s got my attention. I sit up in bed and force my eyes open.
“You’re punkin’ me, right?”
“Not at all. Allie and I saw it on Channel 4 News. That hot little blonde chick who does the fluffy local stories at the end of the news was at this other chick’s tattoo shop to interview her. Free tattoos for life—can’t beat the price, right?”
That’s for sure.
“What shop?” I ask.
“I don’t remember, some place on Melrose. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was distracted by the tits on the owner of the shop.”
For Drake to be distracted by tits is saying something, because Allie has spectacular tits that we all saw by accident one night when she walked out of Drake’s pool house naked and blindfolded, thinking he was the only one there. It was pretty funny when she took off the blindfold and saw me, Mason, and Marcus standing there instead of Drake.
“Good tits?”
“Yeah, from what I could tell. She was pretty, and maybe a little slutty, but in a good way. You have to find the video on the Channel 4 website and check it out.”
“Dirty? On local news?”
“Pretty much. The way she invites you to come visit her shop sounds like she can’t wait to get your pants off.”
What the fuck?
I hang up and load my phone’s browser, then search for the Channel 4 site. After clicking on the link, I go to their “Recent Videos” page and find what I’m looking for near the top with the title, “Free tattoos for Oscars hero?”
The video pops up and I see the blonde reporter, Lacey Rawlings, standing with a goth-looking chick. Drake’s right, her tits look tasty, and the full sleeves on both arms make me wonder what other body parts she has ink on. I watch the interview and hear her offer. Sure enough, she says her shop will give me free tattoos for life. I’ve passed by that shop before, but never bothered to stop. I wonder if their work is any good. Free tattoos by a shitty artist are a bad idea.
Just before the video ends, the owner—her name is Raven, supposedly—looks right into the camera and says my name, getting all cute and sexy as she tells me to stop by the shop. The look only lasts for a second, but it gets my attention. The tattoo offer does as well, and I decide I should check out the place. Even if I decide not to get tattooed, I might get some pussy out of this.
After lunch, I put on some black jeans and boots, a tight gray T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. I walk out to the Escalade, then decide I’d rather take my custom Harley VRod instead. It was a birthday present from Drake last year and is the baddest fucking bike on the planet, dark and sleek and intimidating. I open the garage and find my helmet, then fire up the Harley to hear that trademark throaty roar. Soon I’m zipping down Laurel Canyon toward Sunset.
The shop I’m looking for is called Chaos Ink and isn’t far. Despite the traffic, I’m there in fifteen minutes and find a vacant metered parking spot a hundred feet away. I realize as I approach the door that I’m unshowered and unshaven, and my T-shirt is wrinkled. I couldn’t look more like a slob if I were trying to. No matter, though, I’m not here on a date. I just want to find out what the deal is on this offer and see if any of the artists at this place know what the fuck they’re doing.
I walk through the door and see several stations, one with a ginger guy working on someone’s forearm and another with a dark-haired girl with her back turned, sitting hunched over. The others are empty at the moment. A chick with neon pink hair is at the reception desk and she greets me before she even looks up.
“Can I help you?”
When I don’t reply right away, she lifts her view from her magazine. she apparently recognizes me and her eyes grow big.
“You’re here to see Raven,” she says slowly, looking me over.
I notice the ginger guy is now looking my way, his mouth open. The dude doesn’t look like he’s ever exercised in his entire life, so it’s no wonder he’s shocked to see my huge frame. The receptionist points me toward the dark-haired woman and I walk to her station. She’s wearing earbuds and has her back to me as she’s watching a video on a tablet. Her hair is jet black and thick and she’s wearing a black T-shirt. I don’t say anything at first, but glance over her shoulder to see what she’s watching. On the screen, I see a woman doing her best to handle the huge cock being jabbed repeatedly into her mouth. The owner of the cock in question has a giant full-color piece of a cross and clouds over his entire back. I’m not sure which is more impressive, the tattoo or the size of that dick he’s carrying around. Regardless, he’s giving the woman in the video a thorough mouth-fucking.
“Are you Raven?”
No response. The big cock continues to assault that poor chick’s mouth.
I tap her shoulder. Startled, her head spins around and the tablet falls out of her hand onto the cushioned table in front of her, landing harmlessly on the dull black leather. The earbuds are yanked from her head and dangle from the tablet to the floor. She jumps to her feet and I see a donut in the other hand and realize she’s got a mouthful of donut. Porn and donuts—I already like this chick.
It takes her only a second or two to hurriedly swallow the donut as she looks at me with an amazed and mortified expression.
“You scared the piss out of me!” she says.
“Sorry. You were occupied.” I point my chin at the leather table, where the tablet landed right-side up and that big cock looks ready to erupt.
She grabs it and flips it over, her face growing crimson.
“I was looking at his tattoo,” she says unconvincingly.
“I’ll bet you were.”
“No, I really was. It just happened that he’s…”
She looks anguished.
“…getting a hummer?” I ask.
S
he doesn’t think it’s funny, and my smirk probably isn’t helping.
“Anyway…”
“Anyway,” I repeat. “Are you Raven?”
Her cheeks are beet red.
“Yes.”
“What’s your real name?”
I’ve really got her on her heels now. She looks like she’s been caught trespassing.
“Um… Aja. Aja Blue. My dad was a big Steely Dan fan.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say.
“Yeah, well, I’m Raven now.”
“Raven it is, then. I’m Link Ramirez.”
“Obviously,” she says, still embarrassed. “I recognize you from the video.”
I look her over. She’s cute, with a nice body—not too thick, not too skinny. And the tits look pretty good in person. Then I remind myself why I’m here.
“So, about this offer on the news last night,” I say, finally bringing my eyes up to her face. Big brown eyes with heavy makeup. “Were you serious about that?”
She’s actually adorable rattled like this. Little by little she regains her composure.
“Yeah, we were serious. You saved that girl’s life and we wanted to reward you.”
“So, how do we do this?” I ask.
“Do what?” she says, confused.
“The tattoos. What’s the first step?” My smirk comes back. I can’t help it because even though this Raven chick is kind of hot, she seems like a bit of an airhead.
“Right, the tattoos. All I ask is that you schedule the work during our slow hours, so I don’t lose any business.”
“Does the size of each piece I ask for matter?” I ask.
“No. I’ll do anything you ask me to.”
Her sentence hangs between us awkwardly. I’ll bet this little slut would do anything I ask. I may have to test that.
She quickly changes the subject. “Do you already have any tattoos?”
“Yeah, a few.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club, Book 4: Link Page 4
