by Eve R. Hart
I nodded like I understood, though I didn’t have the first clue what he was talking about.
“Anyway, bathroom and that is our snack and coffee station.” He pointed as he talked and I saw a small table set up with a single serve coffee maker and some individually wrapped junk food packages. “Don’t touch the white chocolate stuff or else Sketch will flip his shit.”
Then he walked me through the shop. There were three rooms on each side. The area in the middle was big enough to hold a couch, coffee table, and an overstuffed chair. The two rooms closest to the back were empty. Sketch and Brand had rooms next to each other, while Blade seemed to have his own side of the shop. The room that butted up to Blade’s held the Thermofax and a bunch of supplies—nicely organized, I might add.
Each room had a window beside the door, with the front two rooms having an additional window on the front facing walls, so that you could see the door, I imagined. The front of the shop held a counter, a couple of glass cases with body jewelry, and two couches. The walls were covered in all different kinds of framed art and as I looked around, I wondered if this was their work.
The shop was done in shades of grays and blues. It didn’t feel dark and enclosing and I loved that. The glass panes that lined the front of the shop were huge and let in a good amount of light, making if feel less like the dungeon I had envisioned in my mind a few days ago.
“So, that’s it,” he said taking his place on the stool behind the counter and pulling out a pencil from behind his ear.
That was when I took a good long moment to look at him. His brown hair was going every which way and long enough to where it started to curl around the edges of his ears. His arms were strong and his skin held the slightest tint of tan to it like he’d been out in the sun recently. His face was an odd mix between harsh and a boyish-like playfulness. It was almost like he had this mask to hold back the latter. I wondered why. But then quickly shook it off as I stood there awkwardly and took the rest of him in.
Wait. What?
How did I not see that before?
He was wearing a leather vest over his dark Heather gray hoodie. I studied the patches that adorned the front as well as I could without asking him to stand up and show me. There was a motorcycle that had blue flames surrounding half of it and spreading out behind it. I squinted, trying to see it better because it almost looked like…yep, the motorcycle was covered in armor. I thought it was pretty neat, to be honest. I had no idea what it meant but it was a really cool design.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to ask about it? Not for nothing, but I can feel your eyes practically making holes in me.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, his tone held an amusing ring to it.
Before I could think better of what I was doing, I took a few steps forward and ran my finger along the patch. He straightened and the countertop between us prevented me from going any further. I’d invaded his space and that was clearly a no-no.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and pulled my hand back. “Steel Paragons? Wait, you are in a motorcycle club?”
Then it came to me. I remembered my father talking about some motorcycle club coming into town and he hadn’t seemed all that thrilled about it.
“Another damn criminal empire full of good for nothing people too good to get a real job and earn money like the rest of us.”
I hadn’t pointed out to my father the fact that he didn’t really have to work to earn his money. I figured it wouldn’t have done any good.
So, this just got even more complicated because not only was I hanging out in a tattoo shop, I was hanging around with the worst of people, as my dad would put it.
“Yes, is that a problem?” His eyes narrowed at me, pinning me with an intensity that made me hold my breath.
“No, I mean, I just didn’t know…” It was clear that he was protective over the club and I got the hint not to as so much breathe negatively about it. I wondered just what the cheese sticks I’d gotten myself into.
I honestly didn’t know the first thing about motorcycle clubs. From the way my father talked, they were not exactly walking the straight and narrow. Meaning they were on the criminal side of the law. There had been words thrown around about guns and drugs in that conversation and I really had no idea if there was any truth to it.
I chewed on my lip as I debated what I should do. I didn’t feel like I was in any sort of danger. I mean, I didn’t get any kind of wiggy vibe off of Brand. Trust your gut, right? So, probably against most people’s better judgment, I decided to brush it off and stay. I had no reason to think the worst of Brand or his club until I saw anything. Maybe it was a bit naïve or dumb, but I believed that everyone got a chance to prove me wrong.
“Look,” Brand said, catching my attention. “I’m not really sure what to do with you.”
“Um, okay?”
“I just mean, I don’t really understand why you’re here. Is this like some sort of stick it to your stuffy parents who like want you to become an accountant and marry a doctor or something?”
I let out a loud, shocked laugh.
Before I could answer, the front door opened, making a chime of bells ring out in the open space. I turned my attention to see a dirty blonde haired guy walk in with light blue eyes. His smile looked as if it was permanently fixed on his face and as his curious eyes met mine, that smile widened causing me to feel warm inside. I didn’t know who this guy was but I could tell you he put me at ease right away.
“Oh, fuck!” Brand said with excitement as he jumped up and rounded the counter, moving to greet the guy. It seemed his question was long forgotten the moment this guy walked through the door. “Please tell me you brought me a number three.”
“Of course,” The blonde said turning his attention to Brand with a snap. “I got you extra meat, too.”
“Damn, I love you. Thanks!” Brand exclaimed as he grabbed the bag and hastily grabbed whatever was in it. The guy ruffled Brand’s hair in a playful way and Brand seemed unaffected by it as he took a huge bite of his sub.
“I’m Chris,” he said taking a step in my direction and holding out his hand.
“Oh. Hi. I’m Cami.” I shook his hand once, then dropped my hand away as I released his.
“Yeah, this rude fool here was telling me about you last night. Though he neglected to tell me your name.” Chris cut his eyes over to Brand.
“Yo!” a voice yelled from behind me. I whipped around to see a young, lanky, guy walking in from the back. “Fuckin’ sweet ride out back. You see that shit, Brand?”
“Yeah,” Brand grunted around a mouthful. “It’s Cami’s.”
“Who the fuck?”
He stopped a few feet from me and his eyes did a slow sweep of my body.
“Bet Ky would want to get a look under that hood,” he said as his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t mind, either.”
And, alright. I knew what he was trying to say. Yep, I got that loud and clear. I almost had to chuckle at how bad it was. Like was he for real? Did that stuff seriously work for him? And more importantly, if it did, I needed to see these women that went for lines like that.
“Cami’s here to…almost work. Back off.” Brand said, his mouth suddenly free of food. “Cami this is Sketch.”
“Hi,” I said sounding like a timid rabbit.
“Ah, the bitch that came in yesterday. Cool. Nice to me ya.” This guy was all over the place it was almost comical. I had a feeling I might have a hard time keeping up with him. “We should all take a ride over to the shop after work and show Ky. Bet he’d nut himself over that thing.” He was looking at Brand and Chris as he said this, still talking about my car, or so I assumed. I had no idea who he was talking about, but I imagined they were someone that appreciated the classics.
“Can’t,” Brand said as he balled up his wrapper and I went wide-eyed at the fact that the whole sub was gone that quickly. “We’ve got plans.”
“Shit, you two alw
ays have plans,” Sketch said, shaking his head and walking off.
I turned my attention to Brand and Chris. My eyes danced between the two of them and I wondered if I was getting it wrong. But there was definitely a closeness there.
Are they?
I wasn’t one to care about anyone’s sexual preference. That said, the whole thing had me scratching my head a little. I honestly couldn’t figure out if they were a couple or not. Something told me yes, and it was widely known with the comment that Sketch had made.
Whatever.
It wasn’t like I was there to get a boyfriend or anything. I wasn’t interested in any of them and I knew that wouldn’t change, because I really wanted this and I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.
“I want to see this car but I have to get to work. Nice to meet you, Cami. I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you,” Chris said with a quick wave in my direction before turning back to Brand. “See you after shift at the house?”
Brand gave him a quick nod, then Chris darted out the door and was gone.
And so the long hours of awkwardness began.
But I didn’t complain, not even once.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cami
In all honesty, my first day had been both boring and eye-opening. It was boring only because it seemed like I was hanging out and goofing off with Sketch more than actually learning anything. Brand seemed a bit standoffish but I could sense he was watching me to see how I was with people and handled myself around the actual tattooing. I guessed it was a good thing that I didn’t get queasy or have to leave the room.
Which, I wasn’t sure of when I agreed to watch him that first time. And it was all I could do to keep from chewing on my lip because I felt so uncertain. Watching videos of people getting tattooed on YouTube and seeing it in real life were two totally different things. Yes, I knew this and that was the reason I’d been so nervous and a bit shaky that first time.
I, like millions of other people, wasn’t a huge fan of needles but there was something magical and entrancing about watching the ink go into the skin. It fascinated me, not overly so to where it verged on creepy. It was amazing to me how Sketch and Brand could make the purple-blueish outline turn into a work of art. How they made the colors or shading in their heads come out with such perfection. Or at least it looked that way. I had no idea because I wasn’t actually in their heads to see how they envisioned it.
I had been working at the shop for about two weeks. After the third day, Brand told me he was putting me on the payroll. Which, I honestly was confused on, because I sort of thought I’d be doing everything for free. At least that was the impression that I got when I was looking up things online. But I wasn’t going to complain at all.
He didn’t blink when I filled out my information and gave him my driver’s license, which told me one of two things. Either he didn’t know who my family was or he just didn’t care. Whatever it was, I would take it, because it was bad enough that he called me ‘rich girl’ in his head. Okay, so maybe I didn’t know that for sure. But there were times I caught him eyeing me with a strange look on his face. A look that almost said ‘you don’t fit in’ and it was like he couldn’t get past the idea that someone in my position, being raised like I had, would want to so much as step inside a tattoo shop let alone want to learn how to tattoo. Also, I was sure I’d witnessed him shaking his head at my bag and shoes on more than one occasion.
I could honestly say that Sketch kept me on my toes. And I quickly learned to always knock before I opened the door to his room. I made that mistake once and would never do it again. That moment I suddenly understood why his window was the only one that had blinds. I also learned that he had metal in places that I didn’t ever want to know about. Ever. Apparently, some women liked that sort of thing, and not only that, but they liked to be smacked in the face with it. Yep, that image will stick with me for a million years, and not in a good way.
Blade was more the quiet, intense type. He was a bit scary too. I didn’t shy away from him but I definitely didn’t seek him out if I didn’t have to. He was polite though. Always greeted me when he came in and when he talked to me he seemed to lose the intense hardness that clung to his face constantly.
And then there was Brand. I really had no clue what to think about him. The more I was around the guy, the more I found myself liking him as a person. Once he warmed up to me, he joked and laughed. However, there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was almost as if he was holding himself back a little around me. But at least he wasn’t being a turd nugget. I had honestly been worried the first day I’d worked with him because he seemed to really keep his distance. Maybe it was because he was unsure of me. I had only hoped that I somehow had changed his mind.
I was pretty sure Chris and Brand were a couple. They weren’t overly touchy, but there was a huge closeness with those two. And they seemed to be attached at the hip. Every day that I’d been there, Chris had stopped by even if it was for a short minute. Then there was the fact that Brand had plans with him most nights, or if Chris was working, Brand was headed to the bar that Chris worked at after we closed up the shop.
Sketch talked about it so naturally that I didn’t think that he or Blade had any negative feelings about their relationship. But then again, I imagined that Brand wouldn’t hire people that would.
And me? Well, I didn’t care either way and if I was being completely honest, the two of them were super cute together. They picked on each other in a sweet, playful manner half the time. Brand always seemed a little lighter when Chris was around, and Chris was forever making sure Brand was taken care of. Like he’d bring him food. Or Brand would forget something and Chris would run it up to the shop, sometimes without Brand even realizing that he’d forgotten whatever it was.
“Cami!” Brand yelled from in his room.
I went running because he wasn’t one to yell and I knew it had to have been something major. He was giving some air-head blonde a rose tattoo on her ankle. And no I wasn’t being judgy, she was really dumb. For crying out loud, she asked three times where to sign her name on the form. It was not only clearly stated, but I had gotten in the habit of highlighting it.
So, if he was yelling then it had to be bad. I could tell he was less than thrilled to do the tattoo in the first place, but like a good business owner, he plastered on a smile and said something along the lines of how he would love to do it.
“Yeah?” I asked with a hard pant as I rushed through his doorway.
“Can you grab a bottle of water, she says she feels like she’s gonna—”
Barf.
No need for him to finish that statement because that was the moment she lost her orange colored cookies all over me.
“I’m sooooo sorry,” she said covering her mouth while I stood there shocked and disgusted.
I had puke on me, and not just a little, it felt like this chick had downed like two burritos and a basket of chips before she walked in here. And what the hell did she eat to make it such a bright color? Maybe it was best that I didn’t know.
“It’s just that he was about to put that thing on me and I really started to like think about what he was going to do. Like that ink is going to go into my skin. I—”
And then there was more, this time she managed to cover my shoes.
I had vomit in my shoes. I could feel it sliding down and settling in the empty space between my arch and the padding.
My eyes landed on Brand, whose face held a look of absolute horror. I could tell he knew what to do just as much as I did at that moment.
I was speechless and frozen in place.
“Oh, fuck!” Sketch said and I didn’t dare turn around to look at him. “Yo, bitch, you got to go.”
He had said exactly what I was thinking.
“Cami, shit, I’m sorry,” Brand said, managing to shake himself out of his shock. “What can I do?”
I couldn’t even, for lack of a better term. I held up my
hand because what I was thinking did not ever need to leave my brain.
Luckily, there was enough room for her to scoot past me and out the door. I thanked the powers that be that Sketch took over and not so nicely ushered her out.
I turned without a word, chunky bile falling off me in clumps, and walked to the bathroom. I needed a shower and there wasn’t going to be one of those until I got home. But I’d be damned if I was going to put my vomit covered tushie in my car. Yeah, so my backside hadn’t been touched, but you get what I meant.
Once I was tucked away in the bathroom, I stripped down with the quickness of a cheetah, not caring that my clothes were going directly in the trash along with my shoes. I patted my bra to see if there were any wet spots. I breathed a little sigh of relief that I didn’t have to ditch it and that my thick jeans had kept my panties dry as well.
I ripped a bunch of paper towels off of the roll and doused the wad with water. I scrubbed my skin as best as I could, knowing I wouldn’t feel clean until I got a hot shower and some body wash. Then lathered every inch of my skin with my favorite scented lotion, just for good measure.
“Cami,” Brands voice caused my body to jerk in surprise. The door was already opening and there wasn’t a chance that I could stop it. “Oh, fuck. Shit. Ah…” he said right after he had already stepped into the small space and realized that I was standing there almost naked.
Oh, God. How embarrassing, my boss seeing me like that.
He did his best to be respectful and avert his eyes.
Then I remembered that he had a boyfriend and that he obviously had no interest in my body.
“It’s fine,” I said with ease.
His eyes met mine in the mirror because I still couldn’t bring myself to turn around and face him. I swallowed hard and I had no idea why my words had suddenly escaped me. To his credit, he kept his gaze locked on mine. But then again, it probably wasn’t that hard for him. I had to admit that if the roles had been reversed, I might have taken a peek—or two. There was no way to deny the guy was attractive. He really was. That didn’t mean anything, though. There were plenty of men that I looked at just for the pure pleasure of enjoying their human male form.