by Zoey Parker
Which reminded her that it had been two whole days since they’d last been together. Max had muttered something about work and that he’d be back soon. Forty-eight hours had passed since then. Brittany prayed that work really was just busy and it wasn’t anything else. Despite her best efforts, her happy feeling had failed to last until nine a.m. She felt dark clouds start to close in on her. The dark shade on Nancy’s nails suddenly seemed more appealing.
“You can keep your secrets,” Nancy gave her a friendly smile as she approached her and patted her softly on the shoulder. “Keeps things more fun that way, doesn’t it?”
Brittany didn’t open her mouth to object. She no longer had the heart. Her dream had been shattered by the fear that maybe everything wasn’t as rosy as she believed it to be. Was she a fool for believing Max? But why would he leave? Surely he was as happy as she was. But Brittany didn’t have time to dwell on such troubling thoughts. Her first client for the day had arrived bright and early, excited for the owl design she was going to have tattooed on her ankle.
“It’s for my late Grandmother,” she explained as Brittany prepared her equipment.
“Oh?”
“She was always so wise,” the young woman said with a smile.
“I see,” Brittany wiped cleaned and shaved the area of skin that she’d be working on. It was a sweet, intricate design that she’d be doing of a snowy owl sitting atop a branch, their dark eyes looking out at the world, the moonlight reflected in them.
“This is such a great design,” the woman cooed appreciatively as Brittany applied the transfer. “I’ve been telling all my friends about it.”
“Let’s hope you like it when we’re all finished,” Brittany gave her professional, cool smile of confident assurance. She’d learned that even when she was nervous it was in her best interest to make the client think she was always cool, calm and in control.
“Oh, I know I’ll love it,” the girl gushed. “Your work is amazing. People have been talking about it all over town. I have no doubt that soon you’ll be so busy, you’ll won’t be able to keep up.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“What are we even supposed to do out here?” Aaron groaned as he stretched out on the bed in his small motel room. Max gave him a steely glance. He was tired of babysitting his two other club members. Now that he was back in Colridge all he wanted to do was be with Brittany, instead he was stuck keeping an eye on Aaron and Henry, making sure they didn’t get into any trouble.
“This place blows,” Henry mouthed the words around the unlit cigar which was clenched between his teeth.
“Well,” Max searched his mind for something, anything for them to do. They weren’t the kind of guys who could spend an afternoon at the movies. His thoughts drifted, as they so often did, to Brittany. He wasn’t about to tell them he had a girlfriend, but it wouldn’t hurt to send a bit of work her way.
“I got some new ink while I was here.” He shrugged off the thin T-shirt he was wearing to reveal Brittany’s handiwork. Both Henry and Aaron leaned forward, their eyes wide with interest.
“Hey, man, that’s pretty decent work,” Henry removed his cigar from his mouth to bestow the compliment, brandishing it around in one hand.
“Yeah,” Aaron agreed, his eyes narrowed with scrutiny. “You got that done in town?”
“Sure did,” Max pulled his T-shirt back on. “There’s a parlor in town with an artist named Brittany who does real nice work.”
“Is this Brittany a nice piece of work too?” Henry chuckled to himself as he finally lit his cigar, a plume of dark smoke circling around him.
“She’s…um…” Max nervously shoved his hands into his pockets. How could he deter the guys from Brittany without revealing they were dating? It was too risky to let them know about his relationship with her, as it put her in danger. He was about to let Brittany become collateral damage for anything that went down between the Kings and the Red Riders in Colridge while he was there.
“She likes girls,” he said with a shrug.
“Doesn’t put me off,” Henry grinned.
“She’s involved with a woman at the parlor. I think her name is Nancy.”
“Ah,” Henry’s interest seemed to wane. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket to show a grisly tattoo of a pack of wolves ripping apart a man. “I’m thinking of adding to this,” he told the other two men.
“What would you add?” Will frowned. “An apology? That’s an awful tat, man.”
“Speak for yourself,” Henry gave a haughty gruff. “You’re the one who has your Mama’s name on your chest.”
“Hey,” Aaron looked wounded by his friend’s words. “She died. It’s a tribute.”
“Still makes you a pussy,” Henry shrugged. “The only women’s names you should have inked on to you are those who fucked your brains out. Plain and simple. No other women are worth remembering.”
Max turned away from them so that they wouldn’t see him smiling to himself. By their logic, he should have Brittany’s name boldly tattooed on himself. He was still grinning to himself when the two men got up and headed for the door to their motel room.
“Where are you going?” Max sharply turned to face them.
“I’m in the mood for some new ink now,” Aaron admitted as he pulled on his jacket.
“Me too,” Henry agreed solemnly. “Plus is beats sitting around here all day. You coming?”
Max hesitated. If he went with them they’d surely see how he was with Brittany and realize that they were a couple. No, as much as it pained him he needed to hang back at the motel, protect the secrecy of his relationship a little longer.
“I’ll stay here in case Alex calls.”
Both Will and Henry looked confused.
“You know how he hates cell phones,” Max explained with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh, yeah, man,” Henry gave him a consolation pat on the shoulder. “The old dog really can’t learn new tricks, can he?”
“Let us know if he hits you up,” Aaron was stepping out into the gloom of the late morning. Heavy clouds hung in the sky preventing the sun from shining.
“Will do,” Max promised as he watched his friends leave, envying them for being able to go and see Brittany, his Brittany.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nancy entered the reception area upon hearing the gentle chime of the front door. She stopped abruptly when she stopped the two heavy set guys glancing at the designs adorning the walls. They were both over six feet tall, in oil-stained jeans and leather jackets, and the one had a red bandana around his head while the other had shaggy blonde hair that hung past his shoulders. He clenched a half-smoked cigar between his teeth, the end still lit.
“There’s no smoking in here,” Nancy told him firmly.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” the blonde dramatically removed the stub from his mouth and stepped back outside to dispose of it.
“Is Brittany working today?” the other man asked, removing his bandana and raking a hand through his jet-black hair which was streaked with silver.
“Brittany?” Nancy felt her heart hammer in her chest. What did they want with Brittany? She thought of Zack and his gang connections and instantly felt uneasy. “What do you want with Brittany?”
“Hey, lady, no need to get all touchy.” The man raised his hands up, smirking to himself. “We’re just here to get inked up and heard she was good, that’s all.”
“She’s in, yes,” Nancy gave a curt nod, trying to hide how annoyed she was that they were asking for her assistant instead of her. It was her name over the door, she was the main artist in residence. Strangers were supposed to come in and demand to have Nancy work on them, not Brittany.
“But she won’t be able to do both of you today.” Nancy folded her arms across her chest. She was hoping she could deter the men from getting a tattoo done in her parlor in case they were interested in something gang related.
“Could you do me?” the black-haired man asked with a
cheeky grin. Nancy sighed and reminded herself to maintain professional.
“I can fit you in for a tattoo, yes. But only if you’re ready in the next twenty minutes. I’m booked up the rest of the day.”
The blonde-haired man came back inside, sans cigar. He clapped his hands together eagerly.
“So, are we in business?” he asked his friend.
“I think so,” the other man confirmed. “Though I’ll be with Nancy over here. She’s sweet-talked me into going with her.”
“Oh, has she?” the blonde man’s eyes sparkled with menace. Nancy shuddered but remained composed.
“So what sort of design were you guys thinking about?” she asked.
“I want a black rose on my left shoulder,” the black-haired man stated.
“Sounds good.” Nancy nodded.
“They were my mother’s favorite flower,” he added softly. While Nancy smiled the other man coughed the word ‘pussy.’
“And what about you?” Nancy crossed her arms across her chest as she addressed the blonde.
“I’m thinking something tribal,” he grinned. “An entire sleeve.”
“That’ll take a couple of sessions,” Nancy advised.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got the time to kill.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brittany pulled on her gloves and tried to ignore the invasive stare from the man in the treatment room, sitting in her chair, waiting to be tattooed. He was leaned on his side, the arm she was about to work on angled towards her.
“You been living in Colridge long?” he asked, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at her backside. Brittany wished she’d worn something a little less revealing than her denim hot pants and plain black T-shirt. Her hair was up in a high bun and she was wearing her favorite pair of Vans.
“A while,” she told him vaguely. She approached his arm and studied the transfer that had been placed on it. He was having a large tribal design that went from his shoulder right down to his wrist. It would be the biggest piece that Brittany had done so far, and she was giddy just thinking about telling Max all about it. She knew he’d be excited for her. He was always really supportive of her career.
“For a tattoo artist, your skin is pretty clear,” he commented, his eyes wandering up and down her bare legs. “Or maybe I just can’t see the ones you’ve got,” he added smugly.
“Hold still, this will sting,” Brittany prepared the tattoo gun and lowered it towards his skin which she held taut with her other hand. She had to remind herself not to apply undue pressure, even if the guy was a sleaze.
“Oooh,” he released a shaky breath as she commenced work on him. “Darling, usually when a woman makes me feel that much pain it’s followed by a bit of pleasure.”
“It will be worth it when it’s done,” Brittany used her go-to line for clients in pain. She focused in on the design and got to work.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Max paced the room of the motel. He felt like a caged animal. As glad as he was to be back in Colridge, it wasn’t the same having Henry and Aaron in tow. He could only imagine what they’d been like with Brittany and Nancy. They were the kind of guys who didn’t care if they offended anyone, especially Henry. He had a reputation for being cruel with women, yet still they were drawn to his bad-boy demeanor and cavalier attitude.
It made no sense to keep them all holed up in town. His uncle had to be planning something big, like a raid on a business owned by the Riders or something of the same caliber. Max knew how those jobs went. Skulls got cracked, blood spilled. He’d seen men take such a beating that they’re never again able to eat solid food.
When he’d first joined the Skeleton Kings, he reveled in the opportunity to unleash some of his pent-up anger. He finally felt like he was a part of something. The violence he experienced in his life no longer felt needless. But that feeling didn’t last long. The more blood that was spilled by his hand, the heavier the toll on Max became. This wasn’t who he was supposed to be. He didn’t want to grow up like his Uncle Alex, wheezing away in the corner of some dingy bar. Max had dreams. He wanted to own a big house with a yard that he could play in with his kids. And he wanted a wife. But how could he have those things when he was terrified to even admit that he had a girlfriend?
Frustrated, he dropped down onto the bed, his head in his hands. Everything in his life felt like it was part of a vicious, violent cycle. But he sensed that Brittany might offer him a way out of all that. When he thought of her, it was like the clouds parted and the sun finally shone. And she brought out the best in him, he felt it each time they were together. When he was with Brittany, he felt like he was becoming the kind of man he could be proud of being.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Okay, I think we’re all done here,” Brittany moved back from her client and grabbed a sterilized cloth to wipe down the work on his arm she’d done so far.
“Is that it?” he croaked with a chuckle. “But honey, I didn’t even finish.”
Brittany rolled her eyes and placed cellophane over the developing design on his arm.
“You need to keep this on for at least forty-eight hours,” she instructed sternly. “You can make your next appointment at the front desk.”
As the man got up, he reached for her and slapped her on the ass. It was a playful, flirtatious gesture, but Brittany saw red.
“I’ll ask you to keep your hands to yourself,” she spun around to face him, seething.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he raised his hands defensively, smiling. “I was just having a bit of fun.”
“I don’t find sexual harassment very funny.” Brittany frowned, wishing Max or Zack were there. She knew they’d quickly wipe the smug smile off the guy’s face.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he let his hands fall to his side and actually sounded genuinely apologetic. Brittany let some of her anger thaw.
“Let me make it up to you,” he suggested, tilting his head. “How about you let me take you out for a drink tonight?”
“No thanks.”
“Is it because of your girlfriend? Is she the possessive type?”
Brittany blinked at him, wondering what one Earth he was talking about. Did he think that she and Nancy were dating? She chewed her lip. If he did then, it was a good enough excuse to get out of going for a drink with him and might make him think twice about being inappropriate during his next session.
“Yeah, she’s real possessive,” Brittany widened her eyes and nodded at him.
“I got that vibe,” the blonde guy nodded also. “She the dominate one?”
Brittany groaned in annoyance.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know I’m an acquired taste,” he stuck out his hand towards her. “Names Henry.”
“Brittany,” she politely accepted the handshake.
“Oh, I know your name,” he gave her a cheeky wink. It was as if he actually couldn’t turn off his desire to flirt.
“Buddy of mine was raving about your work. Said I had to come here and get inked by you.”
“They did?” Brittany had worked on quite a few people since she’d been working at the parlor. Any of them could have pointed the guy in her direction, but something stirred in her gut, telling her that it was Max. It made sense. Henry seemed like a roughened character, the sort of guy she’d expect her boyfriend to hang around with. But she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of the two of them going out drinking together in bars, since Henry seemed liable to chase after anything in a skirt like a dog with a bone.
“And I’m glad they did,” Henry was smiling as sincerity crept into his voice. “That’s some mighty fine work you’ve done there sweetheart. Same time next week?” he winked and Brittany inwardly cringed.
“You can make your next appointment out front,” she directed him again, eager to move on to her next client.
“Darling, you don’t need an excuse to see me again,” he chuckled as he sauntered out of the room. He carried himself with a cool confide
nce, like an old cowboy. That sort of silent self-assurance reminded Brittany of Max. When he walked into a room, he didn’t care if all eyes were on him or not at all. But of course, when he walked in everyone stared, because he was so devastatingly handsome. And while Henry was handsome in his own way, his features were weathered, his skin turning thick and leathery. In his heyday, he’d surely been a sight to behold but now he was like a Monet painting. From a distance, he looked good but up close you saw all the heavy brush strokes which didn’t look quite so nice.
