The Complete Quake Series

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The Complete Quake Series Page 56

by Chance, Jacob


  “Fuck, no. You’ll have to do better than that, son.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about your offer to fund the tattoo shop. I’m seriously considering it.”

  He studies me carefully, fingers steepled together. “Good. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think it was a good opportunity for you.”

  “And you.” I raise my chin in his direction.

  He holds up his hands. “I wouldn’t be the smart businessman I am if I didn’t recognize a good thing when I saw it. You’re an immensely talented artist. Opening a tattoo shop is a great idea. It’s a cash based business. No matter what shape the economy’s in, people always seem to find money to get inked.”

  Leaning forward, I clasp my hands between my knees. “I have a couple of stipulations and if they’re deal breakers for you then we won’t ever talk about this again.”

  He nods, letting me know I have his full attention.

  “I don’t want club money financing the shop or being filtered through it.” I pause, sitting up straight against the back of the chair. “Aside from tattooing members, I don’t want the shop to be tied to the club at all.”

  “That’s not a problem. I have my own investments outside of the money I make within the club. Turns out all those years in school didn’t go to waste.”

  “I want control of hiring the staff and the studio design.”

  “Josh, this will be your baby. You can run it how you see fit, but keep in mind you need to turn a profit for it to remain open.”

  “Absolutely. I already have a tattoo artist buddy moving here from Seattle. His work is incredible and he’s built a solid name for himself. He’ll be an asset for sure.”

  “I own a building in Boston. The location is prime for your shop. The tenant who was renting the bottom floor moved out after having a mom and pop type store there for almost twenty years and the other two floors are also vacant. You can use them as living space or make one your art studio. If you don’t want to utilize them, you can find tenants.”

  What he’s saying is too good to be true. I can’t believe this is going to happen. “Wow, Dad. Thank you. I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t expect you to hand me everything on a platter. I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “I know you aren’t son, but I don’t get to do much for you. Let me do this.” He sits up, leaning his elbows on his desk. “When your mother passed I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you live with your grandmother. JD always gravitated toward me and the club life, but you and Owen never did.” He always refers to Jameson as JD, choosing to use his club name. Running a hand over the back of his neck he continues, “while my intentions were good, having you with your grandmother meant I didn’t get to spend much time with the two of you. That’s my biggest regret.”

  “It’s not too late, Dad. I’ve no doubt there has to be a part of you that wanted us all to choose the club lifestyle, but I’m a lover not a fighter,” I joke, breaking up the seriousness of the moment.

  “Yep, you are, son. You’re kind hearted like your mom. The only things you got from me are your good looks and charming personality.”

  “You make me sound like a pussy. I’m not perfect, not even close to it. I’ve got flaws and weaknesses, the same as everyone else.” My thoughts immediately drift to Elle. She’s my biggest weakness and my feelings for her might prove to be my fatal flaw. “So, when can we start construction on the shop?” I ask, changing the subject. I’ve been pushing Elle out of my mind whenever she appears. Unfortunately, it happens more than I’m comfortable with. Maybe if I keep doing it she’ll eventually be wiped from my thoughts altogether.

  “I’ve already lined up a general contractor and an architect. All you have to do is meet with them and we can get the ball rolling.”

  Two Months Later: Late July

  “Dude, it looks amazing,” my buddy Sean says, glancing around the finished shop.

  My eyes take in the large open space of the reception area and the individual rooms designated for tattooing and piercing with pride. I had a hand in creating this from the demolition stage right to the finished product. My vision for the space has come to life with the help of my general contractor and my architect. We’ve spent entirely too much time together over the past two months.

  Studying the wood clad back wall of the reception area, my gaze moves over the horizontal pieces of one hundred plus year old pine salvaged from a barn in New Hampshire. The varying shades and sizes of the boards add texture and depth to the wall. Hung smack in the middle is a sign with my studio logo I designed. It’s a naked girl surrounded by roses and Elle was my inspiration. Granted, no one else knows this but me and I intend to keep it that way; at least for now.

  “Yeah, it really does. I can’t believe the grand opening is in two days. Are you ready?”

  “I’m always ready.” He smirks. “I’ve got everything unpacked and put away. Is there anything else we need to do?”

  “No, not that I can think of. Let’s go grab a couple brews at Tito’s. Tatum’s already there with some friends,” I say, mentioning the new receptionist. We lucked out when she walked in to interview for the job. She’s smart, personable and attractive in an edgy sort of way perfect for the studio and she desperately needed a job. She’d recently broken up with her boyfriend and moved out of their shared apartment. She hasn’t gone into details, but I’ve gotten the impression it didn’t end well. After her confession about needing the job and the details of why, I was concerned she’d bring too much drama. But, so far, she’s been a huge help, and eager to do whatever she can to assist us. The real test will be the grand opening.

  I lock up and we head down the sidewalk. The night air is muggy and the sweat beads on my brow as we walk the two blocks to the bar in silence. Summer in the city has a different feel than the small New Hampshire town I grew up in. There’s no breeze to speak of, tonight.

  When we step inside Tito’s, I breathe a sigh of relief as the cooler temperature of the air conditioning hits me. I swipe my bicep over my forehead, wiping the moisture on the short sleeve of the black vintage Rolling Stones tee Janny bought me for my last birthday.

  The crowd is decent sized as we maneuver our way through in search of Tatum. We each grab a beer from the bar, before continuing. I spot her in the back corner at a table with a few other people.

  “Hey,” she shouts with a smile. “I’m glad you guys showed.” She jumps out of the booth and hugs us both. “These are my friends, Liberty, Mel and Pete.”

  We all exchange hellos and I can’t help but notice how attractive her friend Liberty is as she smiles in my direction. I conveniently end up in the vacant seat next to her. When she turns to speak to me, I notice her eyes are a beautiful light blue. Combined with her platinum blonde hair, the two make a striking combination.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she says.

  “What do you want to know?” I lean toward her.

  She chews on her bottom lip. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  “I recently turned twenty-four, I’m an artist, a tattoo artist and Tatum’s new boss.”

  “Interesting. I like creative guys. What medium do you work with?” She angles her upper body toward me.

  “I’m a painter and I sketch too.”

  “What do you paint? Would I have seen your work anywhere?” She wraps a long strand of blonde hair around her finger.

  “If you’ve been to City Hall lately it’s possible.”

  “Really?” she asks coyly, before wrapping her shiny lips around the straw. She sucks the liquid into her mouth, staring up at me flirtatiously. It would be so easy to encourage her and see where things would go, but it wouldn’t be fair to Liberty or me. Still hung up on Elle, I’m probably the only guy my age who has a fucking conscience. Anyone else would take the opportunity to get their dick wet.

  “What do you do for work?” I ask, genuinely interested.

  “I’m a full-time student at Northeastern. I’m getting m
y Masters in Pharmacology.”

  “Nice. I’ve heard that’s a tough degree program to get into.”

  “Yeah, it’s not easy, but I love school. I don’t love work so much, though.”

  “Where do you work?” I ask, enjoying the ease of our conversation.

  “J Street Diner. We’re open twenty-four-seven. It’s a decent place and I really can’t complain.”

  “I’ve eaten there. The blueberry pancakes are amazing.”

  “They are and so is everything else on the menu. You should come in sometime when I’m working.”

  “Definitely. What’s your schedule like?” I question. This girl is cool and there’s no reason why we can’t at least be friends. Besides, Elle’s not going to occupy my heart forever. She can’t.

  “I’m there every night Monday through Thursday from six to twelve.”

  “I’m sure I’ll swing by sometime. I have to see if the pancakes are as good as I remember.” Raising the beer bottle to my lips, I take a deep pull and enjoy the icy cold beer as it hits my taste buds. My gaze sweeps around the table. Sean and Tatum are engaged in a conversation, heads close. Judging from the way Mel is draped over Pete, I think it’s safe to assume they’re a couple. My eyes return to Liberty and lock on hers. I smile. “Do you want to dance?”

  “You dance?” she questions, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “I do. I love to dance.” Rising from my seat, I hold my hand out for her. She places her palm against mine. I gently pull her to her feet and lead her through the crowd to the small dance floor in the front of the bar. My hands go to her hips and we start to move. I’ve been told I’m a good dancer by more than a few girls. My secret is I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. If I look like an idiot it doesn’t matter to me if I’m having fun. My mother taught me to dance when I was a kid. She always had music playing around our house. She would sing along as she moved from one task to another. If my brothers or I happened to walk by she would pull us over and make us dance. Our moves would run the gamut from comical to impressive, depending on our mood. We started at such a young age, it’s second nature now.

  Taking her hand, I spin her around, placing her back to my chest. My left arm closes her in, wrapping across her stomach and my other hand rests on her hip.

  She glances over her shoulder at me with a smile. “You’re pretty smooth.”

  I flash her a grin then catch her hand and spin her to face me again. She crashes into my chest, her tits pressing into me. I see a flicker of desire in her eyes before she rises up on her toes, kissing me. At first, I go along with it. Brushing her mouth with mine before connecting them for a deeper kiss. Her tongue licks my bottom lip and then rubs against mine. As far as kisses go it’s a solid effort, but she’s not who I want to be doing this with. If I can’t kiss her without thinking about Elle, then I have no business kissing her at all.

  I pull back, standing up straight. “Is something wrong?” she questions, a worried expression on her face.

  “No, that was nice.”

  She grimaces. “Ugh, nice - which is usually followed by a but.”

  “No, I really enjoyed it and if my mind wasn’t on someone else I’d still be kissing you right now.”

  She nods her head. “Okay. I can respect that. If you ever stop thinking about her, you know where to find me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Elle

  “I’m so ecstatic for Josh. I can’t believe he didn’t tell us what he’s been doing,” Janny says excitedly as I sit across from her at our favorite coffee shop. It’s the place we used to hang out between our Boston University classes and it’s also where Kyle first asked her out.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen Josh in two months, not since the Memorial Day cookout at your house.”

  “You haven’t talked to him either?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  “Nope.” I shake my head, worried she’s going to dig for details.

  “How come?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I try to keep my expression even. “I’m not sure.”

  Janny cocks her head, studying me. “Why do I feel like there’s more to this story than you’re letting on?” She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table between us. “You know you can tell me anything. Even that you and Josh had sex.”

  “How did you…?” my words trail off when I realize she’s tricked me.

  She smiles, mischievously. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know my two best friends are attracted to each other?”

  “Attracted to each other - yes, but no, I didn’t think you’d realize we had sex. Is this too weird? Am I a horrible person for sleeping with my best friend’s ex-boyfriend?” God, please don’t let her hate me.

  “I can’t believe you have to ask me. All I want is for the two of you to be as happy as I am with Kyle.” She absentmindedly rubs her hand over her ever expanding stomach. “If that means you guys being a couple; even better. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have you end up with than Josh.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen. He hates me, now.” I stare down at my chipped pink nail polish. Why do I still think about him all the time? There’s never been a time when a guy has gotten inside my head like this. Why is he different? What is it about him that has me replaying every moment of our night together over and over in my mind?

  “What makes you think so?”

  Staring down at the table, I chew on my lip. I’m still ashamed of the way I treated Josh. I never should have walked out like what we did meant nothing to me. Less than nothing. He must have been so hurt by my actions. “I walked out the next morning.”

  Janny’s lips form the shape of the letter O, but no sound comes out.

  “Oh, is right. When I saw him at your cookout he wouldn’t even look at me. It was horrible. But his behavior was justified.” Wrapping my lips around the straw, I sip on my ice coffee. My mouth is dry from stirring up all this emotion. Making me feel things I’d rather not is what Josh does best. The cool beverage soothes the gritty feeling in my throat and breathing deep helps me to stop the tears wanting to come. “You never told me what Josh has going on that had you so excited.”

  “Did you know he’s been apprenticing under a tattoo artist for three years now?”

  “No, I had no idea.”

  She smiles. “He’s opening his own shop and the grand opening is tomorrow.”

  “Joshua Dawson?” I question incredulously.

  “The one and only. Awesome, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s great.” I force myself to smile. I can’t wrap my head around this new and unknown side of Josh. I’m not sure how I feel about it. How do you keep a secret of this magnitude for years? Dumb question. I’ve got secrets I’ve been keeping for longer. “So, where’s his shop located?”

  “It’s right down the street from here. Do you want to swing by there with me after we finish up?”

  “No,” I answer quickly. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

  “The doors open for business tomorrow, at noon. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d want to be his first customer.”

  “How do you think big, bad Kyle would feel about that?” I smirk.

  “Kyle would be fine with it. He knows he has nothing to worry about.”

  * * *

  Wiping my damp palms on my black shorts, I walk down the busy Boston sidewalk. I slow my breathing as I approach Josh’s new shop. I must have lost my mind to be doing this. My feet freeze when I’m about twenty feet from the entrance. I’m paralyzed with fear at the thought of being rejected by him or even worse, ignored. If he looks right through me as if I’m not even there, it will break my heart.

  My eyes take in the hand carved sign in front of the brick building - Canvas Tattoo Studio. It’s a great name and it encompasses his love of painting. Taking a final deep breath, I force myself to move forward, walking up the stairs and through the open front door. My eyes grow large as I take in the interior of
the shop. It’s absolutely gorgeous and I can spot so much of Josh’s touch in this space. He likes original things that add character and I see plenty of both. The wooden boards that run horizontal along the wall behind the receptionist are a great touch. My gaze continues to roam, skipping over the large crowd of attendees to pick out the details I can tell he was instrumental in choosing, like the old wine crates stacked and utilized as side tables. They’re situated on either side of the black armless leather couch, adding a nice rustic touch to the urban location. I smile when I notice a scale model of the Battlestar Galactica on one of the glass shelves hung with large black iron brackets. Josh is a massive Sci-fi geek. When he dated Janny, he got me binge watching Firefly with him. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I miss those days.

  Three Years Ago

  “Turn up the volume. I can’t hear what Captain Mal has to say over your loud mouth,” I say with a giggle.

  Josh throws a piece of popcorn at me, hitting me on the nose. It lands on my lap and I snatch it up, popping it in my mouth. “Yum. Thanks.”

  “I’m at your service,” he says throwing another piece. This one lands securely between my breasts, tucked into my cleavage.

  “Nice shot,” I say, plucking it out of there and pushing it between my lips. “Who do you think is hotter? Captain Mal or Castle?”

  “I don’t think about it at all.”

  “Just humor me. These are the kinds of things running through my mind when you make me watch Sci-fi shows.”

  “Captain Mal is younger than Castle. Younger Nathan Fillion would kick his older self’s ass,” Josh says.

  “Yeah, but Castle is cheesy and you know how much I love cheese.”

  “So you’re saying you’d pick Castle?”

  “No, I’m saying I love cheese. Do you have any?” I question, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Are you fucking kidding?”

 

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