Page 18 of Broken
Gez gets settled on the bed while I peel out a pair of black latex gloves from the box on the cabinet. All the inks are laid out and I’ve put a fresh needle in the gun.
“Jericho will lose his mind when he sees this,” the blue-haired one says.
Jericho? Oh right, yeah, the guy from the bike shop. Not motorcycles, regular bikes. He’s decent enough, got a lot of ink here. Now I remember her, she’s his girl.
“We are literally here to cover up an exes name and you’re getting his,” Lucky laughs.
“We’re never breaking up.”
Everyone laughs, even Gez. As one, everyone who works for me points to a sign on the wall.
“Name tattoos suck. Don’t be a dick sucker.”
“I don’t care. We will stand the test of time.”
She gets called a lot of names but encourages Shane to continue. He eyes me. We usually try to talk clients out of it, but I guess he was overwhelmed. And young, he hasn’t learned how to refuse or coerce people yet.
They’re all fucking loud as they shout over the music. I’m almost tempted to ask Gez to move into the private room at the back, but he seems to be enjoying and taking part in the banter.
“You good to go?” I ask him, zoning them all out. He agrees and I settle myself in my seat, test the needle with the pedal, then turn to dip it in the ink.
I’m not paying any attention when Katja comes back into the room with someone else. But when everyone starts whooping and cheering, I’m about to lose my shit. What the fuck are they all yelling about now.
All thoughts of telling them to shut up, or ignoring them like I usually do, fall out of my head.
It’s her.
The woman I ran into at the apartment last week. The one I’ve been semi, somewhat creeping on in security footage. The one I’ve had fucking fantasies about for the last couple of nights. Jesus Christ.
My hand moves and the needle hits the bottom of the ink pot. It makes a loud whirring sound, ink and water splatter across my table. They’re all still too caught up in their excitement. I mutter a curse. No one notices my fuck up. I’ll have to-do the whole set up.
Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks flush as Katja puts a hand on her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. My eyes are glued to her face. Damn she is even more perfect than I remember.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, accentuating her bone structure. She has denim shorts on that are doing all kinds of things for her long legs. And my dick. Shifting I let my eyes trail over her T-shirt.
Fucking hell.Fuck. Just as I see it, Lucky screeches.
“You did both of them! Yes, girl!”
Barbells. In her fucking nipples.
Plain as fucking day to everyone in this room, who apparently all knew she was back there getting it done. There is no way to hide it, she isn’t wearing a bra. Nipple piercings are painful and extremely sensitive right after they’ve been done.
Her T-shirt doesn’t cling, but the outline of the metal and her hard puckered nipples are not easy to hide. She has full round tits, which I can’t help but stare at. The piercings are like the icing on a very enticing and edible fucking cupcake.
Shit. I’ve pierced hundreds of nipples in my time, but not once have I ever felt fucking jealous about someone else doing it. And angry. Why the fuck that emotion hits me, I don’t know. I have no say in what she does to her body.
I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at Katja, for having seen those breasts, for piercing them. And at these assholes shouting and laughing about it.
My jaw clenches as she takes a few steps nearer to everyone.
“Can we see?”
I’m about to shout she better not get her tits out in my shop where any one of these fuckers who work for me will see them, when the woman puts her hands up.
“Sin, I love you. But I’m not showing my boobs.”
Shane guffaws and I’m thoroughly tempted to slap the back of his head, but I’d have to get up to do that. Truth is, I could. She’s a client, he should be respectful. The woman is smiling though. I guess she’s friends with Jericho’s chick.
