Get Off on the Pain (2 page)

One week later . . .

CLAMPING THE FORCEPS ONTO THE side of the Bailey’s lip I remind her to take a slow, deep breath before I push the needle through the skin and then quickly replace it with the stud. She barely even flinches as I screw the ball on the end of the metal, and I have to admit I am proud of her. I expected her to cry since she can be so damn sensitive.

She lets out a relieved breath and smiles over at her boyfriend Landen as I dab the blood off her lip and go over the same aftercare instructions I repeat twenty plus times a day. It never gets old. Okay, so I lied. It’s old as shit.

“You sexy bitch,” I say with a smirk, happy that after all that convincing—I was right. Tossing my gloves into the trash, I reach beside me for the mirror and hold it up for her, so that she can see for herself. It looks hot, sitting just below her plump bottom lip. I told her that it would and I have spent the last six months trying to convince her of that. “Perfect placement. Perfect piercer. What did I say? No worries.”

Leaning up, Bailey looks into the mirror and reaches up to touch her lip, but I slap her hand away and growl, reminding her of our earlier discussion. “Ouch! Crap, I forgot! I knew I would still try to do that.” She focuses on her reflection in the mirror and lets out a satisfied squeak while checking out her lip at different angles. “I love it! Wow. I was a bit worried I wouldn’t look good with one, but I have to admit, I look
hot
. You were right, Lyric. I’ll give you this one.”

“No shit,” I say sarcastically. “Next time you should listen to me sooner.”

“This time,” she points out quickly. “I wouldn’t be so proud about being right for the first time like ever.”

“I’ll take it when I can get it; especially when it’s with you.” I give Landen a little shove toward the door before ushering Bailey to follow. “Now get the hell out of here so I can too. It’s late.”

Bailey stands up to follow Landen to the door, but stops before walking out. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay? I don’t want it to look like I expect things for free since I know you.”

I grab the cleaning bottle, spray it on my chair, and then toss the empty bottle aside as a reminder to fill it back up later. “Dammit, Bailey, for the twentieth time . . . no. Don’t make me say it one more time.”

Landen flexes his jaw in annoyance and pulls out a cigarette, placing it behind his ear. “Yeah, don’t offer to pay for that shit, Bailey.” Lifting an eyebrow, he pulls her up against his body and bites her neck before pulling away and groping her ass. “Let’s get out of here and let Lyric deal with that shit. She offered, so it’s not on you.”

Sometimes I feel like shoving my foot down his big throat. He’s lucky Bailey loves him so much or I would do it. No joke. “I
should
make your ass pay just for being a jerk, Landen, and for snatching up my leftover pizza last night after I told you both to save it for me for after work.” I say this next part to have a little fun with him and to maybe piss him off. Just a little. “Oh and by the way . . . no blowjobs for at least six weeks. It could cause an infection and no one wants that shit, right? So enjoy.” I smile big, enjoying my own humor.

“Oh hell no. Take that lip ring out, Bailey. You can do without it.” He reaches for Bailey’s lip as she slaps him away and shakes her head from side to side. “Take it out.”

I point to the exit door. “Buh bye.” I turn to Bailey and wink at her, causing her to laugh and follow him out into the parlor, yelling at him, and telling him the piercing stays. Let him choke on that for a bit. It’ll give her something to have fun with. He deserves to get knocked down a few notches once in a while.

A few seconds after I hear the door close Styles pops his head into my room, crosses his arms, and shakes his head in amusement.

“What?” I ask with a smirk.

He follows me out into the parlor. “That’s some fucked up shit. Do you know what that does to a man? Six weeks. That hurts.”

Styles is the owner here at
Ravage Tattoos
and hired me on the spot when I walked through that door four years ago looking for a job. That instantly put him on my good side when moving here to
Crooked Creek
.

I shrug my shoulders and grab for my thin, leather jacket, slipping it on. “He did it to himself.” I turn to face him and smile when he does. “Most men do, Styles. Trust me. When you guys stop acting like assholes, then I’ll stop making your lives hell.”

Styles bites his bottom lip and walks behind the display, looking for something. “Hot and sassy. I swear the more your sexy mouth runs, the more I want you. I like my women feisty.” He looks back up at me while slamming a folder onto the counter. “And for the record—I’ll never stop being an asshole. I’m a guy, plain and simple, and women love assholes.”

I point at him and start backing away to the door. “I’ll remember that for when I lose all standards.” I push the door open and wave a dismissive hand at him. “Later, Styles.”

He leans over the display and runs a hand through his dark curls. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? I’m about done here.”

“Nope. I walked because I wanted fresh air and a little alone time. If you give me a ride that will defeat the whole purpose. Plus, I don’t want to listen to your horny panting as you secretly check out my tits. I’m good.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out.” His eyes scan me up and down before he looks back down at whatever it is he’s doing and shrugs. “Just double checking.”

“You mean triple checking, Styles?” I quip. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Before he has a chance to speak I rush out the door to escape any more failed attempts from Styles at trying to pick me up. A smile crosses my face as the cool air hits me, reminding me that I’m free for the night. It feels nice and refreshing, making me glad that I chose tonight of all nights to walk. Mine and Bailey’s house is only about a thirty minute walk, so it doesn’t hurt to get a little exercise once in a while when I don’t have time to hit the gym, which I haven’t in about a month.

I’ve been walking for a good twenty minutes, lost in thought, when I realize that I’ve turned down a dead end street. I thought it would be a short cut, but yeah, no.

I stop and get ready to turn around, but decide against it when I hear what sounds like a bunch of people cheering on a fight.

It sounds as if it’s coming from the alley at the end of the block, and of course, instead of going the opposite way I get drawn to the rush and decide to check it out.

Walking in the direction of the sound, I make my way toward the screaming quickly, kicking up dust as I hit the dirt road. My adrenaline is pumping with curiosity now, giving me no choice but to at least get a glimpse.

Once I get to the hidden spot I see a crowd of at least fifty or more people and I was right—they’re cheering on a fight that is taking place. The scene makes me think about something I’ve been working hard to forget, but for some reason I still find myself curious and keep moving closer. I have to be stupid for wandering into an unknown crowd of people late at night, but I can’t seem to care.

Soon I find myself getting lost in the crowd, my eyes glued to the two men at the center, mauling each other like fucking animals. They’re both bloody and out of breath, but still going at it as if their lives depend on it. It’s nothing I’ve never seen before, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I’m intrigued, or maybe I’m just out of it tonight. That could be it too.

Sweaty bodies bump into me, screaming in my ear and throwing elbows and fists, egging the fighters on as I just stand here in a trance. After some piss drunk guy that weighs a ton steps on my foot and falls into me, I decide that it’s time to go. I’ve dealt with enough sweaty men for the day and after my ten-hour shift all this screaming has my head about to burst.

Pulling my eyes away, I push my way through the crowd and am just about to break free when someone grabs my arm and pulls me back in. I can’t make out what is going on or even who has me; all I know is that I’m about to throat punch someone if they don’t let go of me.

“Do you mind, asshole?” I pull my arm free as I scream, but get pulled back in as if they’re trying to get me lost in the crowd with them. This only pisses me off more. I hate being handled as if I’m a weak fucking girl that can’t take care of herself, because I’m not.

The guy holding me pumps his fist above my head and screams, “Go, Mark! I have your prize right here if you win,” he says with a slight slur while pulling me against his body.

“The hell you do.” I elbow the guy in the stomach and pull free as he grunts in surprise. I push his shoulder so he’ll look up at me. His dark eyes meet mine as he lets out a small cough. He looks as if he feels like an idiot for what he did and he should. “Put your hands on me again and next time I will rip your fucking dick off.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a few steps back. “Whoa. My bad, babe. I was just having a little fun and trying to motivate my friend up there. He’s losing his ass off. You should take that as a compliment.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, annoyed that he thinks his explanation makes it okay to just grab a random girl and offer her to his friend. “You’re an idiot . . .”

“Trevor,” he says with a smile. “But you can call me anything you want, babe.”

I give him a dirty look while looking him up and down. He looks young, about my age, maybe twenty-three or so. He has blonde, curly hair and is well built. I have to admit—he’s not a bad looking guy; just a stupid one and I don’t do stupid, not anymore.

“How about asshole? ‘Cause that works for me,” I say sarcastically.

Letting out an amused laugh he checks me out, stopping at my breasts, clearly clueless to the things I can do to him. “As long as I can call you later.”

I let out a stupefied laugh and pinch his cheek for being so stupidly cute. “No thanks, Trevor. As awesome as that sounds, I’ll pass this time.” I turn away from him and look through the crowd, trying to find an empty path. I’m ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m sure some
lucky
lady will enjoy the presence of you convulsing above her later tonight though. Good luck with that.”

I take off walking before he can say anything else. I guess it’s just one of those kind of nights.

Once I get home, I walk in to see that the place is empty. Bailey must still be out with Landen or is staying at his place for the night. It’s not unusual for her to stay over at least four nights out of the week. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s kind of nice to have the place to myself.

“Work it is I guess,” I mumble, while walking into my room and crashing on my bed. Rolling over, I reach for my camera and lay down on my back.

I search through the pictures of my last photo shoot, deleting some of the pictures that I’m not in love with. I end up searching for about an hour until my eyes begin to blur and I have to put it down for a while. I guess snapping four hundred shots was a little excessive, even for me.

Sitting up, I look out my bedroom window for the umpteenth time, just now realizing that in the three years we have lived in this place I haven’t once seen anyone come out of that damn house; yet, it wasn’t available for rent when we asked about it.

It looks old and worn down. The red paint on the outside is chipping and the porch looks as if it’s about to cave in. I’m almost positive that no one lives there, but a part of me can’t help but to still wonder. The more I stare out the window, the more I want someone to just appear. It’s like I’m looking for entertainment for the times Bailey is gone with Landen. Pathetic, right?

I’m interrupted from my house stalking when Bailey pops her head into my door. It’s dark, so I’m sure she’s straining to find me, but she whispers anyway. “You still awake?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m sleeping really hard right now and you’re ruining a really awesome dream. Go away.”

“Smartass,” she mumbles, while making her way over to my bed and falling back on it, letting her platinum blonde hair fall over the edge of the mattress in waves. “What were you doing?”

Holding up my camera, I smile and rest my feet on top of hers. “Doing a little work.”

She rolls her eyes and yawns. “Don’t you work enough? Take a break, Lyric. You’re going to drive yourself insane with work, and in return, you’re going to drive me insane.”

I sit up and slap her arm as she reaches for her lip ring . . . again. “Dammit, Bailey. Stop playing with it. You’re going to get it infected. Do you know how dirty a person’s hands are?” I curl my lip at her. “You’ve been touching it all night, haven’t you? Don’t make me tie your hands behind your back. You know I’ll do that shit.”

Bailey lets out a breath and closes her eyes. “Alright, I like being tied up and all that fun stuff, but only by Landen so I’ll stop. I promise.”

“Shit. I give up,” I groan. “We all know you suck at promises.”

“True,” she whispers.

We both lay in a comfortable silence, just relaxing with our eyes closed until we hear a car door slam closed from next door. It’s at least midnight and there isn’t another house for at least a half mile. This is someone’s property that they definitely wanted some privacy on, so it’s strange to hear the sound of a car so close.

Curious, we both scurry to the window and look outside. What I see causes my heart to jump to my throat. There’s a guy outside . . . and he looks about our age.

“Oh my goodness. Look at him,” Bailey whispers. “Talk about sexy.” She leans in closer, squinting to get a good look while pushing down on my head. “Dayum. He’s tatted and everything. I know how you love your men tatted.”

I push her out of my way and place my face back into the window to try and get a better look. The only features I can make out are: dark, messy hair, a tall muscular build, and ink covering the full length of one of his arms. He is standing under the security light with a guitar case hanging over the left of his back and he is carrying a large black bag in his right hand.

He stands there for a moment, just staring off into nowhere as if getting a feel of fresh air before turning around to pay the taxi driver. As soon as the taxi drives away, he looks straight ahead. As if he can sense me watching him, his eyes meet mine and lock. My breath hitches in my throat as he grips his bag tighter and just stares. I try to move away, but I can’t. I’m stuck. His gaze has me hypnotized and frozen in place. There seems to be so much behind his stare and I can’t help but want to keep my eyes there, waiting for his next move.