Gravity (Artistic Pricks Ink Book 1) (6 page)

“Looks good,” Mitch says over the buzzing of my gun as I finish off a tattoo on a guy’s chest.

“Thanks,” The guy replies. “Name’s Kevin.”

Mitch just shrugs. Occasionally, we get those like you see on television. The wonderful people with touching tales, their ink always telling a story. Most of the time, though, that’s not the case. The biggest chunk of our business is the weekenders. They come into town and drink too much, only to end up here inking on some of our greatness. A few months later, like with Kevin here, we end up inking over it with something else even greater. I’m not complaining.

Mitch straddles the stool beside me, looking through the little pink notes Shelby writes our messages on. “Got some messages and calls to return,” He informs me, tossing them to the table beside my black rolling tool chest I use to store my ink and supplies.

“I’ll get to them once I’m done here,” I reply evenly. Wiping away the excess ink, I lean back in my chair. “All done, take a look.”

Standing up, Kevin walks over and looks into the full-length mirror on the wall. Studying his new ink from every angle. The multi-colored poker chips and dice are all arranged to look like the backdrop of the Vegas Strip. His idea to cover up the name ‘Nikki’. One drunk weekend here, a month ago, Kevin ended up inked and married to a woman he didn’t even know. The ink was easier to fix than the annulment will be, I’m sure.

“I can’t even see her name now man, thanks. It looks great,” He says, not taking his eyes from his reflection.

Once he has spent ten minutes checking himself over in the mirror, I cover it with some ointment and a bandage. Once I have given him the ‘after care speech’, I send him up to pay Shelby for my work. Yanking off my gloves, I toss them to the trash and begin breaking down my station. Cleaning up my gun, I wipe down everything so that it is ready for the next body to fill my chair.  When I am done, I grab the stack of messages. Flipping through them, I prioritize which I need to get to now opposed to ones that can wait.

“You’ve been here non-stop since yesterday afternoon,” Mitch begins, as I start down the hall to my office. “You know you could go home sometime. How is anyone supposed to bitch about you bein’ a dick of a boss if you’re always here?”

“Weekends are busy. You’d know that if you worked more than one a month,” I tease him, slumping onto the old sofa in my office. “This dick is doing what you should be doing, working. You should try it instead of the nagging. You’re starting to sound like a wife.”

“Luke, you’re Mom called. Something is wrong with the electricity at her house.” Shelby explains walking through the door and ignoring Mitch completely, causing him to roll his eyes at her. Swaying her curvy hips sassily, she breezes by him like he doesn’t even exist.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” I grumble, tossing the messages to my desk. “Did you ask if she paid the damn bill?” I ask, because honestly, it’s happened before.

“Yes, I did. She said only part of the house isn’t working,” Shelby explains, sitting behind my desk. “It’s a Saturday. No one will be able to get out to the house before Monday, if then.”

“You want me to go by and handle Audrey?” Mitch asks, while flipping through his phone. “I’ve got nothing on the board this afternoon. Besides,” He shrugs. “I’ll be back in time for the nightlife.”

He has no idea how much I appreciate that he wants to help me out. I know it’s his way of apologizing for the shit I take from him at times. Mitch isn’t doing it for her, it’s for me. My mother wasn’t the mom all your friends thought kicked ass. No one wanted to hang at my house, and Mitch isn’t close to Audrey. Hell, no one really is. Everyone at Pricks offers to help me with anything I need. Like Skinner said, it’s just what we do. Thing is, I don’t want help. Nope, I want to handle shit myself. Take care of what needs to be done, so that it’s done right. Not that Mitch isn’t capable of handling an electrical problem, this is just me being me. Handling things as I have always done. That’s not changing anytime soon.

“Thanks, but nah, I’ll handle it. I honestly need to make sure she’s eating and that the bills have been paid up for the month,” I reply, figuring since I don’t know how long Derek has been gone the utilities could be shut off any time. “Handle the shop. I’ll be back in enough time for you to hit the club and bury your face in tits and booze. In the meantime, I’m sure you and Shelby can handle things.”

“I don’t need help from the secretary,” Mitch spits, glaring at her.

“Mitch you couldn’t find your ass with both hands…” Shelby deadpans, tossing her pink-tipped blonde hair over her shoulder and scrunching up her button nose in disgust. Sorting through paperwork, she scribbles down a note and giggles. “Or your dick with tweezers and a microscope, but that’s something that’s not in my job description as shop manager.” She shrugs before pushing to her feet. “Luke, I’m going to do inventory on supplies. We’ve got to put the order in on Monday.”

“Crazy bitch,” Mitch snaps, when she walks past making her laugh again. Shelby doesn’t say a word, just leaves the room making more notes on the pad.

“You need to cool it,” I say to Mitch once she’s gone. “Shelby’s more capable of running this place than either of us. We needed the organization and the structure. Whatever your problem is with her isn’t about the job she does, now is it?” I ask. Mitch shakes his head and blows out a breath. “That’s what I thought, so get over it. If there’s some tragedy that can’t wait until I get back, I’m sure the ‘Crazy Bitch’ is more than able to handle anything you can throw at her,” I add, figuring she probably just shot his ass down.

Mitch’s face darkens for a minute before he shrugs it off. “Whatever. Chase called too while you were busy.” He shakes his head in amusement. “Said you won’t be able to fly out for a few weeks. The tour is being extended and they’re heading to Toronto. Hunter was in the background bitching about hoarding bacon into Canada. Something about how he’s too pretty to go to jail for pork smuggling.”

“Sorry I missed that,” I chuckle sarcastically and rolling my eyes. “I’ll call her back later and bring her up to speed on Audrey. Play nice with Shelby.” I call out, heading toward the door.

Running through Leah’s Drive-Thru; I order some subs, fries, and bottled drinks. This is actually where I met Charlie and hired him to work at the shop. His wife, Leah, runs the so called ‘eat out’ diner and it’s my favorite place in town. I can guarantee Audrey hasn’t cooked any of the shit we bought yesterday. If I’m going to knock off the rest of the afternoon and drive all the way out there to check on her, I might as well feed us both something worth eating.

“Hi Luke,” Leah says smiling brightly as she hands me my bags out the window. Her short brown hair is pulled up in a black baseball cap that says, ‘Leah’s Drive-Thru’ across it in blue letters. “Charlie says the shop has been really busy this weekend.”

“It’s been buzzin’,” I laugh, handing her some bills.

“I see what you did there, smartass.” She giggles, covering her face when she snorts lightly. “Tossed in some extra fries and those brownie bites you guys love so much too.” Her bright smile never falters as she makes change. “Call it a ‘Pricks’ discount.”

“Thanks Leah, keep the change,” I reply, arranging the bags on my passenger seat.

“I should say that your money is no good here,” She fires back playfully, scrunching up her nose.

“Don’t give me that shit. I’m a growin’ boy,” I tease, patting my now growling stomach. “You could never keep up. What you should be doing is charging all ‘Pricks’ double.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves me off. “I’ll see ya.”

“Later,” I toss out before pulling away.

Driving out of the city limits, it’s like a different world. Sure Vegas still lights up the whole sky at night, but it’s almost as if we’re in a bubble out here. The buildings all get smaller and smaller as I speed down the old desert highway toward the ‘burbs. Twisting along the curves, I let the thoughts of everything I need to do fade away. There’s nothing but me, my car, and the road. Every mile of asphalt I eat up lifts my mood and restores my calm. In my car, with the radio up, I don’t feel alone. On the roads like this I feel alive.

Reaching down, I change the station to avoid a commercial break. I don’t see the car stopped in the middle of the road with the hazard lights flashing.
Shit!
Slamming on my brakes, I screech to a stop behind it. “What the hell are you doing?” I shout leaping from the car, mad as hell. Someone could have easily gotten killed here. “You’ve got to get this piece of shit to the shoulder before…”

I’m shocked speechless, unable to finish my rant, when the door opens and out steps Kionna. Shit. The last person I expected to see, though I’m not disappointed at all. Actually, this has made my trip to Audrey’s worthwhile. My eyes roam down her body, from her white tight t-shirt and slim fitting jeans to her sneaker covered feet. With her hands on her hips she taps her foot, in irritation. Even pissed off at the world, Kionna Slade is gorgeous.

“My apologies,” she deadpans as my eyes move back up to her face. “The next time my car breaks down, I’ll be sure to push my ‘piece of shit’ over to the shoulder before some speed demon comes flying around to kill me.” Shock registers on her face, along with recognition. Her lip quirks up, “Thanks Luke, for adding a near death experience to my already fabulous day.”

“Get in and put it in neutral, Dollface.” I gesture to the opened driver’s side door. “I’ll give you a push. All you gotta do is steer it over onto the shoulder.”

“What?” She asks in disbelief.

“Which part of that was unclear?” I ask, chuckling at her. “We need to hurry.” I motion toward the open car door, knowing that someone else could come along any minute and hit us both. Or my car.

Without a word, Kionna turns and slides back into the driver seat. Walking around to the back of the car, I watch through the back window as she fumbles with the gear shift. “Got it,” she shouts after a few minutes of fumbling. While Kionna steers, I dig in my heels and push the car until it’s over onto the shoulder.

Hopping from the car, Kionna stomps up to the front and lifts the hood. “What the hell?” She grumbles in irritation at the engine. Slowly, I make my way to the front of the car. “Perfect. Just fucking perfect.” She breathes, frustration etched all over her face.

She leans down, her fingers gripping at the radiator hose before sliding along the engine to the shredded belt. Kionna sighs in defeat, closing her eyes as her lips begin to move. I bite back my grin as she counts to ten under her breath. Part of me feels bad for her bad luck, the other part of me is pretending that I’m not looking down the front of her shirt to the barely visible pink lace beneath. Reaching out, I place my hand over hers on the engine. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Her eyes fly open, fixating on me. Her brow arches and even though I know I shouldn’t, I chuckle at how cute she looks when she’s pissed off. “No thank you.” She replies flatly, yanking her hand free of mine.

Stepping up beside her, I look down at the engine. “I don’t see you movin’ this any time soon. Unless, you’ve got an extra belt and some tools in the trunk?” I toss out, unable to help my sarcasm. This woman winds me up in weird ways and I like it. “Cell service is a crap shoot until you get off this road.  I also don’t see you walkin’ the fifteen miles it is to your house since it will be dark in about an hour or two.” With a loud grunt, Kionna slams the hood angrily. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I laugh. Her eyes snap to mine, making me attempt to swallow how amused I am watching her. She really is fucking cute when she is all worked up. Her face is flushed and her eyebrows are knitting together showing her irritation, but it’s those lips that draw me in. Her lips are pressed together in a hard line that makes me desperate to run my tongue along them and feel the moment she opens for me to take her mouth. It also has my mind wondering how she looks worked up in more entertaining ways, but I try to ignore the thoughts commanding my focus. “How long were you sitting there before I came along?”