Bad Boys Need Love Too
Christa Tomlinson
Torlina Publishing
Bad Boys Need Love Too: Max
Copyright ©November 2014 Christa Tomlinson
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
Editor: PKD
Cover Design: Jay Aheer of Jay’s Book by Design
Published in the United States of America
Torlina Publishing
PO Box 40841
Houston, TX 77040
This book is a work of fiction. References might be made to existing events or locations, but all names, characters, places and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is coincidental.
Any trademarked names mentioned are the property of their respective owners.
Acknowledgment
This book is dedicated to all of you who were so eager to see Max’s story. I so hope I did him justice.
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
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
PROLOGUE
“Your turn in the hot seat, old man. What’s going on with you?”
“Old man?” Max asked. “I take offense to that.” It was late at night, and he, Nate, and Gage were sitting outside by the side of Nate’s pool.
“Too bad,” Nate answered. “You’ll be thirty soon. No more wild and crazy twenties.”
Gage laughed. “I wouldn’t ever describe Max as wild and crazy. All your house parties and not once have I seen you get drunk and make out with one of those lovely ladies hanging around.”
Max shrugged. “Maybe I like to keep things private. Besides, if I’m running around drunk, who’d bail your crazy asses out of trouble?”
They all laughed, Nate and Gage acknowledging the truth of that statement by clinking their bottlenecks together. They were wild compared to him. He preferred to keep his shit calm. But that wasn’t the only reason they’d never see him cut loose and make out with some chick. He was hoping his comment would change the subject. No such luck.
“So thirty. That mean you’re about to settle down?”
He leaned back in his lounge chair and shrugged a shoulder. “Not really.”
“Huh. Well, apparently Nate is ready to meet somebody who leaves the hair on his balls, and I’m sitting here moping over Joseph. I always figured of the three of us, you’d be the first to be in a grown up relationship.”
“Maybe y’all just got it out of your systems faster, while I’m taking my time to see what the world has to offer.”
“You’ve been sampling for a while. Every lady I see you with looks like she’s ready to throw her panties at you.”
“It’s that voice. All smooth and shit,” Gage said with a laugh.
“Well anyway, don’t take too long, old man. They say all the good ones are taken by thirty. You don’t want to end up alone.”
Max looked at Nate, then stared off into the darkness. End up alone. He probably would. Because with the way his life was going, he didn’t see any other option.
CHAPTER 1
One Month Later
It was loud in the Houston Convention Center. Music blasted from most of the booths set up on the show floor. An overzealous MC was announcing a pin-up tattoo competition on the stage, and the drone of conversation rose and fell but never ceased. Max Stovall was used to the noise. He’d been attending tattoo conventions for almost ten years. First as an apprentice, then as an artist for someone else’s shop, and for the last three years as the owner and head artist of his own studio, Bayou City Ink Society.
“Alright Boss Man, what do you think?”
Max turned to look at two of his employees, Sabrina and Dustin. They’d both come to work the booth with him today and had just finished setting everything up. The back wall of the booth was draped in black cloth. Glossy posters of various tattoos models, all inked by BCIS artists, were up in neat rows. A banner with the shop’s name and logo hung in front of the long table. The table was also draped in a black cloth, and Sabrina had neatly stacked cards for all of the artists, their look books and flyers for the shop on top of it. “Looks good.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I swear this booth could have sparkles, lights and a tattoo machine squirting ink to the beat of Beethoven’s Hallelujah Chorus, and you still wouldn’t have more than two words to say about it.”
“It looks really good.”
Dustin laughed. “That’s four words, Sabrina. You happy now?”
“Whatever.” She looked out over the sea of people, giving a wave when she saw someone she recognized. “Hey baby!”
Max looked over at who was approaching. The pretty girl with the shaved head he recognized. It was Sabrina’s girlfriend, Whitney. He didn’t know the older man with her. Sabrina leaned over the table to give her girlfriend a kiss. When she pulled back, she shook hands with the guy with her.
“Hello, Dr. Bishop.”
“Sabrina, good to see you again. This is a very nice looking set up. The pictures you’ve displayed show to the best advantage the type of work customers can expect from the artists.”
Sabrina cut her eyes at him. “Thank you for all those kind words, Dr. Bishop.”
Max raised an eyebrow in response but didn’t say anything. She playfully shook her fist at him then moved on to introducing everyone.
“Guys you already know Whitney of course, but this is her father, Dr. Patrick Bishop. Dr. Bishop, this is Dustin our piercer and Max Stovall, owner of Bayou City Ink Society.”
Dr. Bishop shook Dustin’s hand first then Max’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Max. I’ve heard a lot of great things about your studio. Whitney is pretty excited about having you do her next piece.”
“Thanks.”
Whitney leaned on the table, cracking her gum. “Show him your look book, Max. Dad loves art.”
Max glanced at Dr. Bishop. He’d come to the tattoo convention dressed in gray slacks and a dark blue, short sleeved button down shirt. He was tall, only about two inches shorter than Max, with a firm build. His body wasn’t heavy with muscle, but it was clear he took good care of himself. His face was clean shaven and unlined, with a healthy, end of summer tan. It was an intriguing contrast to his thick silver hair. He was handsome but didn’t look like the typical tattoo convention attendee. Dr. Bishop did look like he loved art, just not the kind that went into a person’s skin. When he smiled, Max figured he was just being polite, honoring something his daughter was interested in. He went ahead and opened up his portfolio.
Dr. Bishop went through the pictures slowly, commenting on several. Max specialized in working with color, and his look book reflected that. People came to him with all sorts of ideas, knowing that when he was finished they would have a piece with sharp detail and vibrant color. As Dr. Bishop flipped through the portfolio, Max didn’t offer up much other than a thank you for the ones the doc complimented, only explaining details and history about a piece when asked. Dr. Bishop glanced up at him.
“You don’t say much do you?”
“Usually
just let my work speak for itself.”
Dr. Bishop straightened. “Well, it’s certainly spoken to me. Can I have you give me a tattoo this afternoon?”
Max looked at the doctor in surprise. “What?”
“I’d like to get a tattoo today, if you have any openings.”
Max looked over at Whitney, wondering if her father was serious.
She grinned. “Dad’s been saying he wanted to get a tattoo ever since I started getting inked. I bragged on Sabrina of course, but he wants something with color. So I recommended you.”
“What do you want?”
“I’d like a caduceus, but something more than just the usual image of one. Something sort of wicked, maybe a little evil looking.”
“Pop’s a science fiction aficionado,” Whitney spoke up. “He likes things evil and weird.”
Max arched a brow. “That’s a fancy way to say you like sci-fi movies.”
Patrick smiled again, a hint of laugh lines fanning out around his denim blue eyes. “Her words, not mine. But if you have the time, I’d love to have you create something for me. ”
Max had time. Usually at these conventions he did walk-ups on people, as a way to show his work to the crowd and gain new customers. Those were usually small, however. Something like what the doc wanted would take a while. But he found himself agreeing. “I’ll need about thirty minutes to draw it up.” He was fast, so he knew he could get what the doc had asked for in that time. He already had an idea where he was going to go with it.
They talked over things further, Max getting more details on what Dr. Bishop wanted in style, size and placement. He asked questions until he felt like he had everything he needed. “Sounds good. Like I said, give me about thirty minutes and I should have a design ready for you to look at.”
“Alright. Thank you, Max. We’ll wander around so we’re not staring over your shoulder while you work. I’ll come back in a half an hour.”
Dr. Bishop held his hand out again and Max reached forward to shake it. He felt something when his skin made contact with the doc’s. Felt something as he looked into his clear blue eyes. But he didn’t let on. This wasn’t the time or place. Actually, as long as he was around any one he knew, it would never be the time or place. Max nodded at Sabrina when she said she was going to walk around with Whitney and her father. Dustin grumbled about being left on booth duty while Max got out his pad and started to draw.
Patrick walked around the convention hall with his daughter and her girlfriend. They talked about all the artists and the different styles of tattoos they saw, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Not because he wasn’t interested. He wouldn’t have come today if he weren't interested in learning about his daughter’s hobby. And like he’d said, he wanted to get a tattoo himself. But his mind was occupied with something else. The artist who would be working on him very soon. Max Stovall.
He was intrigued. Patrick wasn’t sure if Max was gay. But something in the way that he’d looked at him, made him feel that he was. He certainly hoped so. Max was gorgeous. He looked like a model, but had an air of toughness to him that warned you not to get too close. Max was a few inches taller than Patrick, his skin a smooth dark brown. His hair was cut close until only the faintest hint of soft, black hair showed on his head. Each of his muscular arms was decorated with finely detailed tattoos. Patrick was willing to bet that he had more hidden beneath his clothes. His jaw was sharply defined, his cheekbones high. A well-trimmed goatee framed full lips. They were perfectly curved, the bottom one kissed with just a hint of deep pink color. His eyes were a bright hazel, a coppery contrast to the warm brown of his skin. Patrick had looked into them for just a moment. They were direct, steady. Was there a secret behind those eyes? He was determined to find out.
“Dad, are you even listening?”
Patrick got out of his head. “Not at all, sweetheart. What were you saying?”
Whitney and Sabrina both laughed. “I was saying I wanted to get a black light tattoo but Sabrina talked me out of it.”
“Good. There’s not enough research on the effects of injecting phosphorous inks into skin. I’d rather someone other than my daughter be the guinea pig for them.”
Whitney gave an exaggerated sigh at his fatherly concern. “So what were you so deep in thought about?”
“Just thinking about the tattoo I’m about to get.”
“You’ll be fine, Dr. Bishop. It really doesn’t hurt that bad. And Max is amazing. Whatever he comes up with will be worth it.”
“Max is a little young to have his own studio, isn’t he?”
“Not really. He’s twenty-nine. And he might be an artist, but he’s got the drive and level-headedness to run a business.”
“So you like working for him?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s great. We were friends before he opened his shop. And as soon as he did, I jumped ship from where I was to come and join him. Haven’t felt the urge to leave since.”
“Max sounds like he’s a good man.” Patrick liked hearing that Max had good qualities beyond his amazing looks.
“He is. He doesn’t say much, but the barbecues he’s always throwing at his house make up for it.”
“Speaking of barbecue, we should try this new place that just opened up once we’re done here. It’s one of those food trucks and I’ve heard their ribs are so tender, the meat falls off the bone if you just look at it.”
Patrick smiled and let Whitney change the subject. He knew he couldn’t ask anything else without drawing attention to his interest in the man.
CHAPTER 2
“This is amazing.”
Dr. Bishop and his daughter were back, and Max was showing them the design he’d come up with. It was a caduceus but different as requested. He’d drawn a syringe half-filled with blood in place of the staff. The serpents weren’t just entwined around it, they were twisted and knotted as if they were fighting for control. At the top, their heads reared back, fangs extended as they hissed at each other. The wings had been replaced by scalpels drawn with such tight, clear lines, it looked as though they could slice through the paper.
“Just what I was picturing, but brought to life better than I could have imagined.”
“Sheesh, Dad. Don’t be so stuffy. Just say you like it.”
Dr. Bishop looked up from the paper, first at his daughter, then at Max. “I don’t think the artist minds hearing a little praise for his work.” He raised an eyebrow. “Am I right, Max?”
“Everybody likes hearing they did a good job.”
Dr. Bishop gave his daughter a look that practically shouted I told you so, to which she replied with a roll of her eyes. Max got a kick out of these two. He liked seeing family members that were close.
“Come around and we’ll get started.”
He came around the table while his daughter teased him about how much it was going to hurt.
“Take off your shirt.”
A teasing smile glimmered in the doc’s blue eyes. “This is the first time I’ve ever felt fear from someone saying that to me.”
Dr. Bishop began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. Max caught a glimpse of a hard chest lightly covered with salt and pepper hair before he turned away to get himself set up. Snapping on his gloves, he turned back to the doc, signaling for him to come closer.
“Now I know how my patients feel when I’m about to give them a shot.”
Max knew to take his clients minds off the needle that was about to be plunging into their skin to keep them as calm and relaxed as possible. Fear made people tense up, which made the process hurt more. “What kind of doctor are you?”
“General practitioner. I have my own office,” he answered as he approached the chair Max pointed to.
“Nice. Have a seat.” He sat on the rolling stool behind the chair, then moved in close to his client. The crisp scent of a pine forest teased his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly against his will. He loved that smell. It was even more delicious mixed w
ith the natural scent of the doc’s skin. He was tempted to get closer, to put his face against the doc’s throat and breathe. His body started to stir in reaction. Max quickly leaned away from him. He opened up the gel he needed to prep the doc’s skin, the antiseptic smell flooding the air as he used it to clean off a section of Dr. Bishop’s back. Once that was done, he applied the transfer paper to the spot his client had chosen, pressing lightly against the firm muscle to make sure the design was evenly applied. After peeling the paper off, he handed the doc a mirror and held up one himself so the doc could see his back. “Is that the right spot? Check and make sure is everything how you want it.”
“Yeah, Dad be sure. I’ve seen people with upside down tattoos because they didn’t check to make sure it was right.”
“Don’t listen to her.”
“I’m not.” Dr. Bishop eyed his daughter. “But maybe she should leave to make sure you don’t get distracted.”
“Not a chance,” Whitney said as she cracked her gum. “I’m staying for this.”
The doc shook his head and looked in the mirrors, eyeing his shoulder carefully before handing it back. “That looks perfect.”
“Alright then.” Max returned both mirrors to the table and picked up the tattooing machine. Setting his foot on the pedal, he got it buzzing. He dipped for ink, then turned back to the doc. Dr. Bishop took a deep breath and let it out. When he set the needle into the doctors’ firm skin his back twitched, but he didn’t jump. Good, Max hated jumpers. He started on the outline of the syringe first, moving at a steady pace so it came out smooth without any splotches of ink.
“Does it hurt, Pops?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Think of this as payback for all the shots you’ve given me over the years,” Whitney said in a smug tone.
“Is it normal for someone to mock another’s pain?” Dr. Bishop directed his question to Max.
“There’s always one in the group who likes to tease the person getting inked. They normally cry the loudest when it’s their turn.”
Bad Boys Need Love Too: Max Page 1