Every Second Counts

by Arya Grey

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Arya Grey

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-347-7

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Melissa Hosack

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For my Kindred.

  Without whom my confidence would not be where it is today. For which I will be eternally grateful for.

  EVERY SECOND COUNTS

  Vintage Ink

  Arya Grey

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  It was a typically warm Arizona morning. Crickets played their song, and early riser's engines roared through the dark metropolitan streets of Phoenix. Eight o'clock was a particularly early start, but Faye had a stack of paperwork to sort before her first client at ten.

  "Vintage Ink" was her baby. A first time business owner, Faye opened the tattoo parlor only a few months prior. They'd had a flush of new clients after an exhibition of the crew's artwork at the last "First Friday"—Arizona's local art day. Word spread and the phone had rung practically off the hook. A song sang in Faye's heart. She was proud that her decision had paid off, but more money always meant more paperwork.

  She turned the keys and opened the glass door. With her foot on the edge of the metal rim, Faye punched in the appropriate digits on the alarm before allowing the door to close behind her. She placed her cup—purchased at the local coffee shop by her house—on the floor and locked herself in. With a flick of a switch all the lights wavered into a soft glow, illuminating the various artist sketches on the walls. Each was framed with a Victorian, vintage wood. Faye had wanted the entrance to be light and inviting, while the reception was dark and noticeable, with black vinyl curves and brass skulls nailed to the exterior.

  Faye took her coffee from the floor and placed it next to the keyboard of the computer that was birring to life. She allowed herself a moment to look through the shop iPod until she found the "Black Metal" playlist. There's nothing like a little ‘Cradle of Filth’ to get you through a thoroughly mundane task on a Monday morning!

  She wrapped her long copper waves into a coil at her crown and fastened the loose bun with a ballpoint pen. She slid her round framed glasses— reminiscent of Gregory Peck—on and sifted through the documents in her tray, starting with the bank transfers and card receipts.

  Faye's mind was so full of numbers that she didn't see Jackson standing at the door with a cup in each hand, banging the door with his chin—the sound muffled by his beard.

  "Jesus," she said. Faye pulled her loose black tank from her belt as she stood and let Jackson through the door. "Sorry, Jackson, I didn't think you had an appointment until later." He gave her one of the cups and hurried inside.

  "I don't, but I thought you could do with a little help and a good cup of joe." He smiled.

  Faye silenced a laugh as she noticed the ring in his nose had turned. "Your septum's crooked, babe. Thanks for the gesture but I grabbed some coffee on my way here, and there's nothing you can do to help. I just have to suck it up and get through it."

  "With a little help from Danny Filth. Always did the trick for me," Jackson said. He shrugged. "I've got a few sketches I can work on and there's no such thing as too much caffeine to a tattoo artist."

  "True-fuckin-story." Faye sighed. "Got anything exciting in today?" She was trying to work but avoid being rude to her oldest friend and colleague.

  "Eighteen year old twins who want matching butterflies."

  "Naturally." Faye and Jackson had an inside joke about butterflies and tribal. Neither of them enjoyed doing them but were forced to by their boss early in their career. "Tribal wings?" she asked.

  "You know it." He dumped his bag on the stool inside his workstation and swiped something from the desk. "Check this out, though." Jackson placed a sheet of paper on her keyboard.

  Faye glanced for a second, lost in the week's totals, when the design caught her attention. Black and white charcoal, grotesquely detailed in typical Jackson style, was a black beast with a fatal wound in its stomach, entrails and all.

  "Fenrir. From Nor—"

  "Norse Mythology, I know." Faye interrupted him. She dropped her glasses to the desk and studied the drawing closer. "Who's getting it?"

  "Some guy called Brody. He wants it across the base of his back and around his ribs. I hope he's got a good threshold for pain, because that ain't gonna feel too good."

  "Worth every second. You're making me wish I had room left, Jack. This is fucking incredible!"

  "Thanks, Lux. What 'bout you? Anything exciting? Haven't you got that chick with the octopus and the huge ti—"

  "Don't be an asshole, and no, she's not in until Saturday. I have a floral chest piece this morning and the start of a nautical sleeve in the afternoon."

  "You ink nautical in your sleep, Luxy, baby. Anyone would've expected you to have fucked off to sea with some sailor, by now."

  "Not in a million years, my friend. I have a business to run." Faye placed her glasses back on when Jackson continued to talk. Her patience was wearing thin, quick.

  "I meant before now."

  Faye dropped the papers and lifted her gaze, peering above the thick frames of her glasses at him. "What, per say, do you mean by that, my dearest Jackson? Are you implying that I'm a sad singleton who should be shacked up by now? With a doting and hard-working husband and a circle of children running riot around my freshly cleaned, cookie-cutter house? Do you actually remember who you're talking to?"

  Jackson took his sketches from the desk and with his free hand brushed his unkempt, brown hair away from his face. She had noticed that he never seemed to know how to take her outbursts, even in their twelfth year of friendship. "I only meant that you should get laid every now and then. Sex is healthy, you know."

  "Yeah, you would know."

  "What can I say? The ladies love a tattooed, bearded, sexy beast such as myself."

  "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Now get back to work before I fire your sexy ass."

  "Yes ma'am!" He saluted and bowed, before retreating to his station.

  Faye shuffled the papers endlessly and after realizing what she was doing, she tried to concentrate on the work at hand. But she couldn't get past the first line and must've read it over a dozen times. Asshole…fucking jerk! What's with men and word vomit? Sex is healthy…so what? I exercise, eat right, and masturbate when the mood's right. What's so wrong with that?

  Another knock to the glass door sent the papers in Faye's hands flying in a mad whirlwind around her head. She squealed and the chair she sat on rolled when her body jerked. Her back slammed into the corner of the desk. "Argh, shit!"

  Her eyes darted to the door, to see who had caught her nerves at the wrong moment, and her heart fell to her stomach.

  "Hey, it's Brody. He's here to check out the sketch before his appointment."

  Maybe Jackson had a point, after all…

  ****

  Faye's client had changed her mind slightly when she arrived for her appointment. The previous week Faye had had a no-show and so she'd sketched in the free time she hadn't planned for. The result had been a skull, with deep shaded detail around the eye sockets and "Day of the Dead" markings carved into the bone. She splashed a thin layer of dark re
d ink across it and pinned it to the board once it dried. Georgia, the young lady who was scheduled for a floral chest piece, fell in love with it. She'd only booked a four-hour session, but Faye knew if she put her head down, she could finish the outline and achieve the full colored look with the skull.

  "How's it looking?" Georgia asked.

  Faye sat up and wiped her brow with her forearm. Her foot tapped the pedal and she nodded at the finished line work. "Outline's done and we have just over two hours to spare. You can break if you'd like."

  "Great. I'm fuckin' dying for a cig. Can I see first?" Georgia sat up and threw her hands into her short green hair. Faye rolled to the side of the station on her chair and directed Georgia to the full-length mirror with her hand. "Fuck! Lux, that's fucking badass. You're genius, you know that?"

  Faye smiled. "So they fucking tell me."

  Georgia had been a client of Faye's for a few years. Twenty-one now, she hadn’t changed a bit. Still dropping f-bombs every sentence, she clipped off her own hair with a razorblade—which changed color every time she came in—and pierced her body when bored. After admiring her new ink that worked across her entire chest, Georgia skipped to the front of the shop.

  Jackson slipped out from the desk to hold the door and join her for a cigarette.

  Faye rolled the latex gloves from her hands and pinged them to the trash. She bent her fingers back, and then into her palm, cracking every knuckle as she headed to the bathroom to wash her hands. A quick check of her make-up in the mirror turned to staring at the one ink-free space left on her neck. I need to ask Jackson about that "Zombie Ariel" idea again. Maybe sometime this weekend I'll get him to do that. If he can find time away from his plethora of ladies, that is…

  The music changed over the speakers in mid song. Faye felt a grumble in her throat and she clenched the towel in her fists. Dammit! I've told them not to mess with the music all the time.

  Shaky, fast bass lines that slowed and seduced rang loud from every corner of the shop. Faye turned the corner with a scowl firmly in place.

  "There she is! Lux, baby, come here," Raven said.

  "What have I told you guys about the music? Never change it in mid-song. It's a simple rule, ladies. C'mon now…"

  "How else do we get your attention if not to play The Cramps? I'm going to use it as a Lux Alarm." Raven snapped her fingers in time to the music and swirled her hips. Her lips pouted, sucking the cheek piercings in as she slid around the reception desk towards Faye. "So, my gorgeous little piece of ass, you gonna tell me about this Brody who had you in silence this morning? I mean, I deserve to know who's got you goin' after years of knockbacks from you, don't I?" Raven smiled and wrapped her arm around Faye's shoulders.

  Jackson! You loud-mouthed, lily-livered motherfucker! Did he have to share that to the entire shop? "You know I don't swing that way, but if I did, you'd be my girl." Faye swallowed a deep breath and kissed her cheek.

  Raven—whose real name was Bellamy—was Vintage Ink's piercer. Faye worked with her at the previous shop and offered to take her with. A feisty beauty with a dark sense of humor, men fell sideways for her, regardless of how vocal she was about their lack of tits and a vagina.

  "And he was hot, that's all. I don't know him, or anything about him."

  "Only because you cowered behind your paperwork. Faye, the problem with your recent abstinence isn't that you can't have any man that you choose, just that you don't choose. Thirty is just around the corner and your last serious relationship was almost ten years ago. Don’t you think it's time?"

  "Maybe…no…I don't know. Shit. It's been a really long time, hasn't it?"

  "Yeah, sweetheart, it has. But there's no time like the present."

  "What?" Faye spun round. Her balance swayed, and had it not been for Raven's arm around her she might've fallen on her face.

  Brody was standing next to Jackson, both of them listening to Georgia ramble.

  "So that's him, huh?" Raven stuck her neck out to get a better look, but Faye wrenched her back.

  "Yes that's him and stop staring!"

  "Pussy is the only thing that passes through my bedroom, but even I have to admit that he is one hot-piece-of-man. You're crazy if you don't go there, Lux."

  "You really think so?" Faye asked.

  "I know, and so do you, going by the Vulcan grip on my arm."

  "Shit, sorry girl. I don't know what's got into me…"

  "Hopefully he'll get into you, and now's your chance." Raven nudged Faye's arm before stepping behind the desk.

  Jackson propped the door open as Georgia and Brody walked inside. Georgia bounced past Faye muttering something about pissing.

  Nice…thanks for sharing.

  "Faye, is it?" Brody asked.

  Faye's heart pounded like a drum. He was talking to her and she hadn't been quite prepared for that.

  He folded his arms across his solid chest, muscles rounded from beneath a plain black tee.

  "Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you…"

  "Brody," he said. He slid his sunglasses from his eyes over his head. Dark gray eyes gazed down at Faye. He had to be well over six feet tall with short brown hair that had just the perfect amount of mess.

  Good god, he was perfect and Faye found it hard to concentrate. It had been a long time, but she couldn't recall ever having felt like this. Me? Silenced? Hold the fuck on…

  "So you did that chest piece?" He nodded toward the bathroom, where Georgia had gone.

  "Yep," Faye replied. That's it? Fucking hell, woman!

  "That's some impressive work. Clean lines, intricate detail. Very nice."

  "Thanks. It'll look better with color." Okay, that's a little better. Forming sentences, now!

  "I'm sure it will."

  He smiled and Faye's body turned to jelly. She tried to return the smile but knew she was doing something entirely different. What, she didn't know—or want to know, for that matter.

  Georgia came out of the bathroom then, singing to herself and bobbing her head.

  "Maybe I'll catch you later?" Brody asked.

  "Yeah, maybe," Faye said. Maybe?

  "I look forward to it."

  Faye couldn't believe it. Words she hadn't expected. In an impossible attempt to not look at Raven, Jackson, and the girls, she swallowed the moment and promised to return to it later. When she didn't need steady hands and a clear mind. Holy shit…

  Chapter Two

  The day drew in fast. Faye had lost her lunch break trying to finish Georgia's skull. She'd only enough time to guzzle some lukewarm coffee and half a cereal bar before starting on the nautical sleeve. And to top it all off, Brody had been gone before she’d gotten the chance to speak to him.

  Having let most go home, it was only she, Raven, and Jackson left at the end of the night. Raven always stayed until the very last minute, being that piercings were often a last minute or quick decision. She made most of her money from walk-ins.

  While Faye counted the cash, she considered taking Brody's number from the client records, but thought better of it. Business owner, not silly little girl. Get a grip, Faye!

  "What are you up to tonight, Faye?" Raven asked, suddenly appearing from her darkened station.

  "Draw, maybe watch an old movie with my date, Jack Daniels."

  "What kind of bullshit is that? I know it's a Monday night, but Tuesdays are never busy. Why don't you come out with Jackson and I?" Raven leaned over the desk. "Don't say no."

  "Uh…girl, I'm sorry. I just—"

  "What if I told you that Brody will be there?" Jackson had been sweeping but decided to join the conversation.

  "He will?" Faye asked. Her stomach churned in nervous excitement. Should I go out on a Monday night? I only have two clients tomorrow, both small pieces…

  "That's all it took! Okay, you come home with me and we'll get you dressed for the occasion."

  "God, help me. Just, no cat-suits, Raven. I mean it!"

  "Okay, okay. No cat-suits, even with those le
gs." Raven winked and scooped her bag across her shoulder. "Come on then. Chop, chop!"

  What am I getting myself in for? Faye silently asked herself.

  ****

  After numerous outfit changes, most of which a failed attempt at shutting Raven up, Faye finally decided on a small black lace dress with a transparent train at the back. It hugged her tiny frame and pushed her breasts high. Raven had also given her a pair of very high ankle boots. Thankfully, walking in heels came naturally to her. One less thing to worry about for the night.

  "Is Jackson picking us up?" Faye asked. She played with a loose wave of hair at her cheek.

  "Yeah, he'll be here any minute. Lose the Gregory specks, won't you?"

  "But I won't be able to see. I don't have contacts with me or anything."

  "All that matters is he sees that beautiful face of yours and those things cover half of it up!"

  "Fine." Faye took the glasses off and placed them on Raven's antique dresser. They shared a mutual appreciation for the previously-loved gems of older times. "Just promise me you'll bring them to the shop in the morning."

  "Already planning on not staying here, huh? That chastity belt is well and truly off!"

  Faye sighed and crossed her arms. "I only meant if I went home."

  "Mmhmm…" A horn sounded from outside. "Jackson's here. I'll finish the mascara in the car. You ready, sugar?"

  No… "As ready as I'll ever be."

  "Don't worry. If he doesn't wanna fuck your brains out once he sees you in that outfit, then he's an incompetent asshole who's going to choke on his own ball sack by the time I'm done with him." Raven smiled, crimson red lips encasing perfectly straight, white teeth. Her dark hair was curled and pinned away from her face with two roses.

  "Damn, you don't fuck around, eh?"

  "No and neither should you." Raven took Faye's arm in hers and marched her out of the house and into Jackson's car.