by Cat Mason
That day is the day Shelby Winston was truly born.
Tapping on the counter beside my desk has me glancing up and meeting Mitch’s eyes. “Make a note, would ya, sweetness?” he asks, reaching down to tap the edge of my notepad with his finger. My teeth clench tightly and it takes everything in me not to smack the smug bastard in the face with it. Who in the hell does he think he is anyway? “Let me know when my appointment shows up, I’m grabbin’ a nap in the employee lounge.”
“My office,” Luke corrects him, clearing his throat, “is not your own personal nap corner, dickhead.”
Walking over, Mitch claps Luke on the back. “It really isn’t, but it’ll have to do. I know you try your best.” Without another word, he disappears down the hallway toward the back.
I take a deep breath and push the frustration from my body. Yanking open the bottom drawer of my desk, I grab a big stack of the hot pink sticky notes I use for the guy’s messages. Taking a black marker from the cup beside my computer screen, I stand to my feet and head for Mitch’s station with determination.
“Oh shit,” Ki laughs. “What are you gonna do?”
Brushing the pink and blonde hair off my shoulder, I meet her eyes and grin wickedly. “He asked me to make a note.”
“I thought I came in early to do paperwork,” Luke says when Ki pushes to her feet. “That's what I get for thinking I’d be working at work.”
She reaches me, holding out her fist for me to bump causing me to quirk my brow. “I thought I was too hard on him?” I ask sarcastically, repeating her words.
She shrugs. “Chicks before the Pricks and all that. Besides, you’re not a secretary, Shel, you’re a badass office Pricktator.”
“Pricktator,” I giggle. “I love it.”
“I feel as if I should be offended by that,” Luke says scowling. “I’ll just be over here working. Hopefully, I’m not screwing shit up to the point of bankruptcy,” he adds dramatically.
“You can handle it,” Ki replies, brushing him off and heading my way. “No way you'll mess it up, baby.”
“Famous last words,” I giggle, knowing that I spend more time fixing his errors than actually doing the books in the first place. “Don't worry, boss man, all I need is your signature on the invoices and payroll sheets. You can't possibly fuck that up too much.”
Ripping open the plastic packaging, I stare at the blue wall of Mitch’s station and smile as I start arranging the bright pieces of adhesive paper.
***
Thirty minutes and four packages of hot pink pages later, I sit back and admire my handiwork. “Oh my God!” Ki laughs from Mitch’s chair, taking in the giant hot pink dick taking up nearly the entire wall. “A prick for a prick! You're a genius.”
Yanking the lid off the marker with my teeth, I shake my head. “Wait for it,” I tell her, before writing Torture Tactic ABCs across the top in big black letters then starting with atomic fire ant ass rape, I list twenty-six ways to torment him daily until he gives me my keys and stops being such a shit.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Skinner says, tapping his finger over the words thumbtack lined chair cushion. “I think I'm in love.”
My eyes meet his and I wink. “You could never handle me, Skins.”
Chuckling, he plants a kiss on my cheek. “I don't doubt that for a minute.”
Completely satisfied with myself, I head back to my desk to help Luke with the paperwork and wait for Mitch to come back out and see my clearly thrown neon gauntlet.
Chapter Three
Mitch
“Dance with me, Sailor?” she asks, running her fingers up the buttons of my shirt, her right hand stopping over my heart to feel it beat beneath her palm as she waits for my answer.
“There’s no music, Becky.”
Smirking at me, she shakes her head. “That’s never stopped us before.”
She’s right. Nothing could ever stop me from wanting to hold her in my arms and feel her against my body, not even lack of music to dance to.
Taking her hand, I pull her to me and spin her around the floor of our living room. “I love you so much,” she whispers, brushing her lips over mine.
“Forever or bust, baby.” My reply makes her smile, just like it always does.
“Forever or bust,” she repeats with a laugh, her black hair falling down around her face as I stare into her brown eyes. Becky has never looked as beautiful as she does right here in this moment.
“Mitch…”
I see her lips breathing my name, but the voice echoing in my ears isn’t hers. Then she is gone.
We are no longer in the apartment we shared. Now, I stand in the parking lot of a truck stop. Gunshots and screaming make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and a feeling of dread, worse than I’ve ever felt before, settles in my chest.
My feet move, but they feel so damn heavy it’s like they’re made of lead. I run for the glass doors of the store and everything else fades away except the look in her eyes.
Becky.
The way the panic drains from her eyes turns my blood ice cold. The calm I see there, in the midst of the chaos is frightening. Why is she so calm? Doesn’t she see that she is in danger? My entire life is behind that door and I can’t protect her.
It’s fucking agony.
When I finally reach her, I wrap her in my arms, but there’s no warmth in her touch. The light in those beautiful brown eyes is dim, but I can’t bring myself to admit what’s happening right in front of me. I refuse to think of a world that doesn’t have her in it.
“I’m okay,” she says staring up at me and I force a smile as I hold her close.
No, Becky, you’re not…
I know how this ends.
“It’s so pretty.” The minute her eyes break contact, I feel my heart begin to shatter.
Stay with me, God, don’t take her and leave me alone…
“I love you, Mitch.”
My heart aches, burning like a wildfire that can never be contained. Looking down, the breath rushes from my chest when I see the gun in my hand.
Frantically, I look around and see the three bodies lying on the ground around me. Becky, Kelly, and Shelby all lie lifeless at my feet. I blink furiously, trying to make it go away, but it doesn’t.
“Murderer,” a voice echoes loudly, causing me to drop the gun.
“Mitch!”
My eyes fly open, taking in my surroundings. I stare around at the walls of Luke’s office, gripping the side of the couch like a lifeline. “What?” I snap, my heart slamming like a fucking sledgehammer. Dragging air into my burning lungs, I scrub a hand over my face before glaring across the room toward the doorway. “Are you tryin’ to give me a goddamn heart attack or somethin?”
Stepping into the room, Skinner looks at me with wide eyes. He holds up both hands in an attempt to calm me and steps closer. “Sorry, but your appointment is up front waiting.”
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. Looking up at the clock on the wall, I groan and push to my feet. “Sorry.”
He nods, watching me carefully and I shake my head.
Why do they all watch me like I am two seconds away from falling apart?
Probably because you are, Taylor.
No one brings up Becky anymore, and that’s fine with me. Just hearing her name is like twisting the knife that is permanently embedded in my chest. There’s no reason to rehash the bullshit hand life dealt me. Fate dangled happiness in front of me then jerked it away and left me broken inside.
My nightmares and downward spiral have only gotten worse, since Shelby was nearly killed. All I could think about when I heard the gunshot was that it was happening all over again. People I cared about were in danger and, goddammit, this time I wouldn’t be too late.
I couldn’t be.
No one needed to die that day, however, that’s not how things went down. Greed and lack of sanity all packaged up in a desperate, blonde w
oman, with a gun, nearly cost us all our lives that day. Flashbacks haunt me, though in my nightmares, I am always too late. I live nearly paralyzed by the fear of losing everyone I love, so I shut them out.
“I’m headin’ out to pick up food for Shelby, Ki, and Luke, before I head out. You need anything?” he asks as we step out into the hallway, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m eatin’ with Ma once I finish up here,” I brush him off. “I’d kill for a drink though.”
Skinner’s eyes widen, he reaches out and grabs my arm. “A drink?” he asks, causing me to bite back a laugh.
“Yeah. You know, soda, tea, juice…,” I name off, tugging free of his grip. “Hell, I’ll settle for water from the fuckin’ hose out back at this point. I’ve got cotton mouth like a motherfucker.”
All at once, his entire body relaxes and I chuckle to myself. No need to worry man, I won’t be havin’ you play babysitter tonight. Your good time is safe.
“Sure thing,” he replies, then shoves open the backdoor and disappears out into the alley.
Heading up the hallway toward the front of the shop, I try to get my head on straight. You would think I’d be used to dreaming about losing Becky, since it used to happen every time I closed my eyes, but I’m not. Even though they happen less and less now, it’s a shock to my system; almost like losing her all over again. The last few weeks, it’s been these new dreams that jumble everything up. They are even worse, if that’s possible.
“Have a nice nap, princess?” Luke asks from behind the front desk where he sits, going through paperwork with Shelby.
He’s my best friend and has put me in my place more than once, but it’s fair to say that the last few months he has no idea what to do with me. Neither do I, though. I see what I am putting him through and, possibly, what I am doing to our business, by adding the unneeded stress to his life. No matter how hard I try, or how many times I apologize for the things I say and do, nothing seems to be getting any easier.
“I’m still fuckin’ wiped,” I say leaning on the counter. “Working my shifts, on top covering for Chuck so that he could help Leah with the restaurant, has kicked my ass,” I grumble, knowing that it’s all probably been an excuse for Luke to keep my ass chained to my chair instead of him having to come pick my drunk ass up from whatever bar or strip club I would end up in.
“Between having to close for shop repairs, Shelby being out for a bit with her injuries, then Chuck needing time has made it a rough stretch on all of us. I think it’s safe to say things are getting back to normal,” Luke says, scribbling down something on a piece of paper before handing it to Shelby to key in.
“Famous last words,” Shelby and I say in unison.
“Even with a gunshot wound I was working circles around you assholes.” I wince when she mentions her accident. Just the thought has me picturing her lying on the floor, lifeless. Shelby looks up at me from her computer screen, her blue eyes scrutinizing every inch of me as they rake up and down my body. “You look like shit, Mitch,” she says, her eyes going back to the screen as she types.
“Thanks sweetness,” I reply, bumping her chair with my hip, “but flattery will get you nowhere.”
Ma and my friends treat me like a suicide jumper on a ledge. As if, at any moment, I’m going to leap from the burning building that is my life and end it all.
Everyone, that is, except Shelby.
When she started working here, I wanted to throttle her neck. It’s not that I still don’t want to, sometimes, but we have evolved to a different plane of toleration. Funny how, when you see someone you spend every day with, in close quarters dying before you, it changes things. Losing Becky destroyed parts of me that I’ll never get back; but, being responsible for physically taking a life, even though it was a life and death situation, is a whole other thing completely. I never thought I would feel anything comparable to that pain again.
Wrong.
I feel guilty, numb and unbelievably alone, even though I rarely am. Sometimes it cripples me to the point that I can’t fucking breathe. Hell, I’m uncomfortable in my own skin more often than not and have no idea how I got here or how to fix it. It sucks when everyone around you is finding their happiness; it takes everything you have to smile, instead of flipping off the heavens at the bittersweet irony.
The only time I don’t feel like my entire world is falling apart is when I’m laying ink, blackout drunk I don’t dream, or when I’m stirring up Shelby. I have to admit, pissing her off is a new highlight to my day. She isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind or call me on being an asshole like everyone else seems to be lately. The woman drives me completely insane; but, usually, fighting with her is the best part of my day.
Yep, I’m a total asshole.
Not waiting for the sassy ass comeback, I know she is dying to give me, I head across the room toward my space to get to work. A smile spreads across my face at the sight of the fucking pink sticky note cock covering the bare blue wall. “Mitch has a nice ass,” I yell loudly, pulling one free, then another. “He is a total God.” I turn and clutch the notes to my chest and bat my lashes dramatically. Shelby seethes and it only fuels me to continue.
“That’s not what they say, shitstick,” she bites out angrily.
“I thought we were supposed to keep our feelings for each other a secret, sweetness,” I continue, ignoring her rage. “I don’t want people to be jealous when you’re givin’ me special treatment.”
“I hate you,” she grinds out through gritted teeth, making me laugh. “Fuck strangulation, the word of the day is incineration.”
“Ding ding!” Luke says with a laugh. “To your respective corners. No blood shed on company time.”
“Come on back, Seth,” I say, waving back my appointment so I can finish the back piece I started two weeks ago.
Standing to his feet, Seth clutches his skateboard under his arm and heads my way. “Hey, gorgeous, you ready to let me take you out?” he asks, eying Shelby from across the room. Setting the board on the chair, he rips his shirt over his head and lies on his stomach on the table.
“I said no two weeks ago, Seth. Answer hasn’t changed. You can’t handle me, baby, I’d ruin you.” Shelby winks at him, giving him a little sexy as hell smile while flipping me off.
“I’ll wear you down.”
Turning to look at him, I narrow my eyes. “Don’t even think about it, man.”
“Dude!” Seth says, pushing up to look at me, his eye brow arching as he grins. “You tappin’ that?”
My fists ball at my sides the minute the comment escapes his lips. “No, I’m not and neither will you,” I ground out quietly, then glance over to be sure that no one has overheard the conversation.
Seth laughs again, shaking his head before lying it back to the table. “Sure thing, man.”
Changing the station on the stereo, I blast Three Days Grace, effectively drowning out his laughter. Once I glove up and grab my gun from the table, I get to work. The buzzing of the gun calms me, clears my head, as I focus on the art I am creating. Every line, every shade of color on Seth’s skin, is his story told by my interpretation.
When Luke and I were apprenticing with Big Dick, I never thought we’d be here all these years later running a shop without him, but here we are. There was a time when the thought of laying ink made me sick to my stomach. It reminded me of Dick and I didn’t want to feel that loss or face that truth.
After a little time, and a lot of love from Becky, I found myself doing work for the guys on base. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. There is an amazing release that comes with helping a sketch transfer from paper to skin. All I need is my gun and willing pincushion. The moment my needle makes contact, art takes on a life of its own through the pain.
What a fuckin’ rush.
By the time I’m done with Seth, my fingers throb. My back and legs ache from sitting in the chair for hours, but the look on his face when he sees the fi
nished product is worth it.
“Damn man,” he says, angling his body in front of the mirror, taking in every detail of the bones that look to be coming out of torn flesh. The words ‘if you didn’t bleed, you didn’t live’ written in black and red ink across his shoulder blades. “I never want to cover it up.”
“Thanks man,” I reply, covering the finished piece with ointment and wrap it up before he puts on his shirt. “Aw, damn,” Seth groans, grabbing his skateboard. “Where’s my girl?”
Looking over, I am surprised when I see Shelby isn’t at her desk. “Sorry, looks like you’re have to settle for me,” I toss out, since Ki split once Luke’s appointment showed up. I take Seth’s cash, resisting the urge to bash his face into the counter every time he looks down the hallway for Shelby. Even though he’s not a first timer or anything, I set him up with aftercare instructions just like everyone else. It’s a habit to give the rundown on how not to fuck up your flesh work.
An infection is nothing to fuck with.
Neither is my art work.
Seth waves goodbye, promising to be back soon. Part of me wonders if it’s for more ink or to hit on Shelby. Attempting to push those thoughts from my mind, I turn my focus to cleaning up my station and shutting it down for the night. Once I’m done, I let Luke know I’m heading out so I can get to Ma’s before she paces a hole in the rug.
Chapter Four
Mitch
“There’s my favorite son,” Ma says the second I walk through the door.
“Hi, Ma.” Making my way through the small living room, I collapse into the tiny recliner and stretch out my legs, groaning as I work out the kinks. “Aren’t I your only son?” I ask, cracking my neck from side to side. Every time I see her, we do this.
At least some things never change.
Her eyes dance with amusement and she fluffs her salt and pepper hair with one hand. “Of course, there’s no reason to duplicate perfection,” she winks, giving me a smile.