by S. M. Shade
Zero F*cks
Violent Circle: Book Four
S.M. Shade
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Thanks for reading!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More by S.M. Shade
Copyright © 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Ally Hastings
Interior Formatting: Pink Elephant Designs
Chapter One
Becca
Click. Click click click.
It’s official. The universe is working against me. My head falls back against the seat of my car, and I close my eyes, attempting to get a grip on the anxiety trying to set in. I pride myself on my usual ability to cope with problems and not let stress get the best of me, but today has been one thing after another.
First, my financial aid for school was discontinued, which means I’d have to take out massive loans to stay where I’ve been staying on campus, and I’m trying so hard not to put myself into debt. Because an art school degree isn’t a fast track to riches.
And now, my car won’t start. What next?
A crack of thunder and sudden downpour answers my question. A giggle escapes me, and within a few seconds, my body is shaking with laughter. “Of course.” I gasp out the words to my steering wheel.
A tap on my window makes me jump, and I swallow back the laughter. A young guy steps back when I open the door, since without power, I can’t roll the window down.
“Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“Fantastic. I think my battery is dead.” I’m sure I looked like a crazy person, sitting in my stalled car, laughing uncontrollably.
Lightning illuminates the darkness, followed by a loud crack that makes me cringe, and he ducks. “Damn, that was close. Let this storm pass over and I’ll give you a jump, okay?” he calls. He rushes back to his car without waiting for an answer, but it’s not like I’m going to say no.
The storm ramps up and wind rocks the car as sheets of rain slam against the windows, blocking my view of everything except the outline of the guy’s car parked beside me. I can’t believe he’s going to wait out a storm to help me.
Fortunately, the storm moves fast and starts to die down almost as quickly as it started. When the lightning moves farther away and the rain has slowed to a light shower, he moves his car closer to mine while I grab my cables out of the trunk.
“Thank you for this,” I call, raising my hood as he connects the cables to his battery. I’m not all that knowledgeable when it comes to cars, but I’m at least capable of attaching jumper cables, along with changing a tire, and some very basic maintenance.
He rushes over when I pick up my end and start to connect them. “I’ll do that.”
“I’ve got it.”
“If you put them on the wrong posts…” he begins, and I turn my head away, rolling my eyes. I appreciate him staying to help, but I’m no damsel in distress. I don’t know what gets into me, but I can’t resist. As I connect the cables, I scream and jerk my body around as if I’m being electrocuted. It’s only for a second, because the panicked look on his face makes me burst into laughter.
“Sorry,” I gasp, through my laughter. “But you should’ve seen your face.” I wave my hands in front of me. “Ah! She’s frying! What do I do? Priceless.”
A reluctant smile appears on his face. Damn, he’s really cute. In my hurry to get out of here and figure out my sudden disaster of a life, I hadn’t paid enough attention to notice.
“Real funny,” he scoffs. “I almost pissed myself, girl.”
“Becca,” I supply, and he nods with a grin.
“Denton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll try to say the same after my heart slows down.” I hop back into my seat and wait for him to call out, “Try it now.”
Relief washes over me when my engine roars to life. He removes the cables, closes his hood, and tosses them into my trunk.
“Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it. It’s been a shitty day.” I have to slam my hood twice before it latches. Stupid car.
An adorable grin reveals a dimple as he says, “That sucks. You should let me take you out to dinner. I’m just the thing for a bad day.”
“Sorry, I have to get to work, but thank you.” I open my door, and he adds, “How about another night?”
Sighing, I turn to face him. “Look, you’re cute and obviously nice, but I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“Yeah? You think I’m cute?” His thick lips widen into a smile. Fucking adorable actually, but I’m not going out with him. I have so many more important things to worry about, and not an extra cent to spend on dating. “I’m also a lot of fun. Don’t miss out on it, Becca,” he teases.
“Sorry, I’ll just have to remember you as my knight in shining sweatpants,” I laugh, getting into my car. “Thanks again.”
He gives me a wave as I drive off. It’s a shame I had to say no. He really did seem nice. Of course, I spoke to him for a total of five minutes. He could be a psycho with women chained in his crawlspace the way my luck has been going lately.
No, I need to focus on the problem at hand. And it’s money.
It’s always money.
Sasha glances up from the script tattoo she’s working on when I walk in and nods in the direction of my work room. “Your nine o’clock is running late. He said he’d be here in a few minutes.”
“You’re here late,” I remark. I usually take the late night clients since Sasha is more of a morning person.
She covers her client’s new ink and hands her a printed sheet of dos and don’ts for tattoo care. “I have a…specialty coming in next.”
That’s her nice way of saying she’s working on a part of the body no one should ever inject with ink, and I grin, waiting for the client to leave before I ask, “Penis?”
“Worse, another butthole.”
This is a new trend our profession could definitely do without. Women, and a few men, covering up the old dirt star with butterflies, cupcakes, and lord help me, I once saw an octopus with the tentacles emerging across her cheeks.
“Gross. I hope you charged them double.”
“Triple,” she calls out as I round the corner into my workroom and get my equipment set up. It’s going to be a three hour long session with Hayden, a guy with a back piece in progress. It shouldn’t be too difficult since I’ve worked on him a few times before. He’s laid back and usually just pops headphones on and lies still until I’m finished.
“Sorry I’m late,” Hayden says, rushing in and pulling off his shirt.
“No worries. I just got here myself.”
We exchange the usual small talk, and he lies face
down, his earbuds in place. “Stop me if you need a break,” I caution him and set to work.
The bell above the front door dings as Sasha’s butthole client arrives, and I can’t help but snicker as she passes my doorway, leading her to a private room. It earns me a surreptitious middle finger.
I don’t know how she does it. I’ve tattooed a penis before, and too many asses to count, but I draw the line at that.
Working usually calms me and lets me think about things without stressing so much, but the hum of the machine can’t soothe my thoughts tonight. I can’t afford to stay in campus housing—a fancy term for dorm—without taking out a major student loan. There’s just no way that what I make here would be enough to pay tuition, housing, and keep me fed. I spent most of last semester eating rice and beans as it was.
If I increase my time at the shop any more, I’ll start failing classes which defeats the whole purpose. Worry must be good for passing the time because I look up to see Sasha hovering in the doorway and glance at the clock. Over two hours have passed.
“How did it go?” I ask.
“Her asshole looked like a rusty bullet hole when she left, but it’ll look like a rose when it heals,” she says with a shrug, and the guy I’m working on snorts out a laugh.
“Are you leaving?” I ask.
“I’m going to work on some sketches.” I know she doesn’t like to leave me here at night alone with a male client.
“I’ll be done in about thirty minutes.”
She runs her tongue over her lips and watches me for a moment before heading to her desk. It doesn’t take long for me to finish up, and my client leaves happy.
Sasha glances at me as we lock up. “Becca? Are you okay? You seem…off.”
And I thought I was doing so well hiding it. “Just life kicking me in the ass, you know.” I shrug. A thought occurs to me. “Do you know anyone who needs a roommate?”
If I could find a place cheap enough, and cut back to part time at school, I could probably squeak by without working myself to death.
“What happened?”
There’s no way I’m telling her I’m a hair away from being homeless. “I’m trying to get out of campus housing.”
“Oh, you should check the Grad Ads. It’s like Craigslist for college kids looking for used books, shared rides, roommates,” she says, twirling her hand.
I should’ve thought of that. “Yeah, good idea.”
I run the numbers over and over in my head, trying to figure out how much I can afford without screwing myself. If I could get a place where I don’t have to pay over four hundred a month, I think I can manage. Cutting back to part time classes feels like a step in the wrong direction, but with the financial aid gone, I don’t have much choice.
By the time I head to my car, I can’t wait to get home and peruse the ads. Surely, there must be something.
The fast food place across the street from my dorm calls to me, but I have to resist. As good as a nice, juicy burger would taste right now, I need to save as much money as possible.
The dorm is quiet when I enter, and I grab a peanut butter sandwich before settling down with my laptop. The next two hours are spent looking through ads and jotting down prospective apartments, but it’s disheartening. There’s very little in my price range.
Just as I’m about to call it quits for the night, I find one that may be too good to be true. It’s only three hundred dollars per month, plus a portion of the utilities. Yawning, I copy down the number, and close my computer. That will be my first call tomorrow.
Today has been a bust. I ended up with four prospective places to look at, and each has been worse than the last. The first place smelled so foul, I only had to take a step inside the door to know it wasn’t for me. When I knocked on the second door, I was led inside by a skinny guy with three teeth—all in the back—and fewer personal hygiene skills.
The “room” he was renting was barely a closet, and the way he picked and scratched made me itch, without the assistance of the meth he’s clearly craving. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The last place looked nice, and I was hopeful, but there were so many cats. The lady renting it out kindly explained how she rescues them, and more power to her, but I’m allergic.
This place is my last chance, and my stomach churns at the thought. What if I can’t find a place? It’s homelessness now or a lifetime of student loan debt. Maybe it’s time to give it up, take a year or two off school to work and save, but if I do, I’m afraid I’ll never go back.
The apartment complex is built in a circle, and I make a right, trying to search for the address and check the place out. It’s not fancy, to say the least, but it doesn’t look dangerous. Sketchy, at worst.
A crooked street sign with Violet Circle stamped on it has seen better days. Someone has inserted an “N” in Violet to make it Violent. “Not a good sign,” I mumble to myself, chuckling at the double meaning.
A large playground sits in the center where a few kids run around, and a basketball court is positioned on the other side of it. Heads turn to watch me slowly drive past. Weird.
The apartment I’m looking for is across from a long building I assume is a laundry room since a woman exits carrying a clothes basket. Why she’s wearing a trench coat and a sunhat that covers her face in this stifling heat is a mystery, but I forget about it when I exit the car and look into a familiar face.
The boy who jumped my car grins at me from the top step. “Wow, I’ve never had a woman track me down before. I’m impressed.”
What? I struggle for a moment before recalling his name. “Denton? The guy I talked to about the room was named Kenny.”
Comprehension dawns on his face. “Kenny is my roommate. You’re looking to rent the spare room?”
I’m not sure now. I don’t mind a male roommate, but two?
To hell with it. My choices are few, and I’m in a tight spot. I can at least check it out. “Is it still available?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
I follow him into the living room where a guy sits on the couch with a woman half in his lap. Another guy lounges in a recliner as a movie plays on the television.
“This is Becca. She’s here about the room,” Denton says. He doesn’t seem to have trouble remembering my name.
They all murmur a hello, and I follow him down the hall. The apartment looks like a bachelor pad, but it’s clean and doesn’t smell. No sign of drugs. Wow, my standards have really dropped.
Denton opens the door to the room, and I step inside. It’s not bad. A bit small, but I could make it work. “Our buddy, Noble, is moving in with his girlfriend so we’re trying to replace him. Well, replace his part of the rent,” he explains with a smile.
Why does he have to be so cute? If I move in here, I’ll definitely steer clear of him.
“Three hundred?” I ask, still unable to believe that’s all. “How many people live here?”
“Three now that Noble has moved. We get the place at a discount because it’s government funded.”
I’m not averse to living with a group since that’s still not as bad as a dorm. “You, another guy, and the girl?”
“No, Jani is Noble’s girlfriend. The guy in the recliner is Kenny. It’s me, him, and Trey. Trey’s at work right now.”
Three guys.
I just walked into a sitcom. Or a horror story.
I look up to see Jani hovering in the doorway. “Hey, Dent, give us a second.”
“I’m showing her the room.”
“And you’ve done an excellent job. She’s seen every corner. Now get out.” Her words are severe, but her tone is light, and Denton flips her off on his way out the door.
“The ad didn’t mention it was three men,” I explain, opening the closet, which is adequate. I turn to ask her the most important question. “Do you know them well? Am I going to have any…trouble out of them?”
Jani smiles and shakes her head. “They’ll drive you insane, but not in a bad way. The
guys are harmless. If you’re looking for a nice peaceful place to study, this probably isn’t it, but you don’t have anything to fear.”
Sighing, I lean against the wall. “I just need a place fast. I have to leave campus housing this week. And you wouldn’t believe some of the places I looked at.”
“I can imagine,” she laughs. “I’ll level with you. This neighborhood can be a bit crazy. A lot of the neighbors are eccentric or maybe ate a few too many paint chips when they were young, but everyone here sticks together. It takes a little getting used to, but it’s not a bad place.”
“Drugs?”
Jani shrugs. “Nothing more than weed.”
A sudden thought occurs to me. “How many bathrooms?” Sharing a bathroom with three men would be a nightmare.
“Two. Kenny is taking Noble’s old room with the attached bath. So, you’d be sharing the other bathroom with Denton and Trey.”
I look around the room again, trying to think of more questions, but I know her answers at this point aren’t going to matter. If it’s affordable and safe, I’m going to take it. Between work and school, I’ll only be here to sleep most of the time anyway.
“When can I move in?”
Jani grins and gestures for me to follow her. “Whenever you want, probably.” Denton waits in the hall, and Jani tells him, “She wants it. Now tell the guys to try to act normal so you don’t scare her away. She seems nice.”
Jani turns back to me. “I live right down the street if you need anything or just want to escape the stench of testosterone and Hot Pockets.”
“Thanks,” I laugh. Maybe this place won’t be so bad.
“I can pay you now for this month if you’re agreeing to rent to me,” I inform Denton.
