Mason: Inked Reapers MC (63 page)

Chapter 8

It felt strange being in Colridge. Even though it was just one town over, it felt like a foreign country. Brea couldn’t help but gawk around at the bustling streets and bright neon signs over the stores as the cab pulled up outside what would be her new home.

Everything had happened so fast over the last few weeks. She’d secured the position as the tattoo artist’s apprentice and Sylar had helped her find an apartment close by. Though he was obviously worried about her leaving he was doing his best to be supportive and Brea appreciated that.

But now as the cab slowed and she looked up at the front door of the apartment building, she suddenly felt sick with nerves. She’d never before been this far away from Sylar. Since their parents died it had always been the two of them against the world and now they were separated by miles. She was starting to think that moving over to Colridge had been a mistake.

“You ready then, sweetheart?” the kind faced driver asked as he turned in his seat to look at her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Brea admitted, forcing herself to open the door and step outside.

It was a sunny day with warm light bathing the street and warming Brea’s bare legs. She was wearing a simple sundress with her hair tied up in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

“Let me help you,” the driver got out and bustled around to the trunk. He hauled out Brea’s suitcase and the two garbage bags she’d filled with the rest of her belongings. And that was it. She glanced sadly down at her entire world bundled up beside her. All that was missing was Sylar. But he’d promised to visit regularly. She just hoped that it was a promise he intended to keep.

“This your new place?” the driver nodded up at the door.

“Yep,” Brea nodded. She’d only seen her new apartment online at the library back in her hometown. She had no idea what to actually expect now that she was there.

“It’s a nice part of town,” the driver smiled kindly. “You’ll do well here.”

“Thanks,” Brea nodded gratefully at him. According to Google Maps the tattoo parlor where she’d be working was just two blocks away. She’d be able to walk to work every day.

“New starts are never easy,” the driver empathized. “But they are always worth it.”

“I hope so,” Brea sighed. “I really hope so.”

Chapter 9

Miles woke up as the bright sunlight seared against the back of his eyelids. Groaning he sat up, his back stiff from having spent the night on a hard mattress in a cheap motel. Raking his hands through his hair he did his best to wake up. The whiskey he’d downed the night before had left his throat feeling raw. Awkwardly he got up and stumbled towards the bathroom. He had a brief glance back at the bed and was relieved to see that it was empty which meant no awkward removal of someone he didn’t want around now that he was sober.

Turning on the faucet, Miles splashed cold water against his face. It washed away some of his fatigue allowing him to take a good look at himself in the cloudy bathroom mirror, which hung above the sink. He looked a little tired but other than that he was okay. Things could have been far worse, he smirked at the thought. Last night he’d completed his first Colridge based job. He’d had to walk to the outskirts of town, find a member of the rival gang, the Blood Pact, and break a pool cue in half over their back. He’d been expecting trouble. When he left the motel he’d hidden three small blades in various places on himself;
one in each boot and the other tucked under his belt. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use them but sometimes, during turf wars, things went really bad, really quick.

Now that Miles was in Colridge, he understood why he was actually there. His Uncle was looking for him to stir up enough trouble for the Blood Pacts to make a move against them. And when they did, because they inevitably would, the streets would run red with blood and only one victor would remain standing. Whoever that was would own all the nearby territories. His old Uncle was doing his best to strengthen the Highway Reapers. He was a crotchety old man but he was ambitious. Miles admired that.

“Come on, man, wake up,” Miles splashed more water on his face but it didn’t give him any further release. He decided instead to take an icy shower. Despite his raging hangover, he didn’t want to spend all day cooped up in a tiny, shitty, motel room. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be seen around Colridge but he was sure a quick look up and down the neighboring few blocks wouldn’t hurt. After all he was meant to be there for the better part of a month, if he didn’t find something to occupy himself during that time he would surely go crazy.

Chapter 10

Brea liked her apartment. It was modest but with shiny, modern amenities and a pleasant view over the rooftops of Colridge. With the back drop of a clear blue sky, the town had its own urban beauty which Brea enjoyed looking at. She pulled out the cell phone from her pocket and took a picture of the vista to send to Sylar. The phone had been his final parting gift to her.

“If you need me,” he’d said sternly, his eyes wide and intense, “any time, day or night, just call and I’ll be there. You got it?”

“I got it.”

Standing in her apartment Brea looked at the phone which was more than just a device, it was a life-line. With it she could be in touch with Sylar every day. With her few belongings unpacked in the furnished bedroom, Brea didn’t have much else to do. She didn’t start work until the next morning. The night stretched before her, cold and alone. Though she was used to spending every night alone at her parent’s old house, this felt different. Here, no one would be coming back in the morning. It was just her. Brea sadly lowered herself against the apartment’s sofa in the open plan living area. A sad lump formed in her throat as she realized that independence wasn’t as liberating as she’d hoped it would be. She was so used to having someone else around. Now she would be cooking for one, coming home to an empty apartment.

On the verge of tears Brea called the one number she had entered into her phone. Sylar swiftly answered.

“You okay?” he demanded briskly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brea did her best to sound convincing. “I was just wondering what you were doing?”

“I’m heading out to work.” In the background, she could hear the locking of the front door and Sylar’s heavy footsteps approaching his motorcycle.

“Oh, okay,” Brea said softly.

“There’s been some issue…at the factory.”

“Oh?”

“Someone else got hurt,” Sylar explained gruffly. “And now I’m expected to sort it all out. As if I don’t have enough going on at the moment.”

“Maybe you could just call in sick?” Brea suggested sweetly, thinking that if Sylar did that he could drive over to Colridge and they could order in a pizza and watch a movie together, like they used to do when they were younger. Back then they lived on take-out food and watched countless movies together. It was easier to sit side by side and watch something than to talk about losing their parents.

“Mine isn’t the kind of job you call in sick to.”

Brea frowned. Surely every job would permit you to call in sick when you had to?

“Good luck for tomorrow,” she heard Sylar climb on to his bike and start the engine. “I know you’ll do great.”

He ended the call and Brea was once more alone in her apartment. She didn’t want to dwell on the emptiness so she got up and headed for the bedroom, pulling her sketch pad out of a drawer. She decided she’d spend the evening drawing in readiness for her first day at her new job.

Chapter 11

After a brisk ten-minute walk, Brea was standing in her new place of work. The walls of the tattoo parlor were lined floor to ceiling with intricate images, each of them beautiful and breathtaking and probably already inked onto someone’s body. The air smelt of disinfectant and nail polish. Nervously Brea introduced herself to the heavy set man on the desk. He had piercings in his nose and running the length of his ears and a large stud in the center of his chin. He looked fearful but when Brea spoke to him, he gave her a warm smile and ushered her through to the back.

Art was everywhere. On every wall, on the arms of the artists in the back area. It was beautiful to behold. Brea took a deep, steadying breath certain that this was where she belonged. The fear she’d felt the previous night evaporated leaving only giddy excitement in its place.

Chapter 12

Miles shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked. He wished that his Uncle hadn’t sent him to Colridge alone. With someone else, it would be easier to occupy his time while he waited for more assignments to come in. As he wandered down the streets, he idly glanced at the boutique shops which sprung up around him. There was a bakery, a coffee house, which was already pretty full, and a gothic art gallery. Colridge felt like a surprisingly progressive place and he felt strangely at home there, even though it wasn’t his gang’s territory.

He was wearing dark jeans and a loose fitting white t-shirt. He hadn’t pulled on his leather jacket knowing it would be foolish to do so. Even though the sun was shining and the people he passed seemed to be in good spirits, he knew that if they saw a Highway Reaper’s logo that would all change. He’d be picking up his teeth from the curb after receiving one hell of a beating. But without the jacket he looked like anyone else. His t-shirt exposed the sleeved tattoo he had on one arm. It was an homage to his late grandfather who had served in the navy, full of battleships, large anchors, and stormy seas. He barely remembered his grandfather, just the stories he used to tell him on cold evenings about his life at sea. When Miles listened, he imagined this vast, magical ocean on which his grandfather sailed. The stories captivated him. Had Miles not been enrolled into the Reapers he would surely have gone into the service himself. Although it was doubtful that they’d have him, considering his illustrious police record.

Miles had reached a small tattoo parlor. The dark interior was obscured by all the images, which were up in the window; He stopped to look at them. There were ornate dragons, floral skulls and proud eagles with their wings spread. From what he could see there must be a very talented tattoo artist working there. Miles rubbed at his naval sleeve. It had been a few years since he’d had it completed and ever since then, he’d been eager to have something new inked on himself. Getting tattooed was like an itch that constantly needed to be scratched. Deciding that a new tattoo would be a great way to kill some time, Miles stepped inside the parlor
as the chime above the door tinkled to announce his arrival.

After half an hour he’d decided to get the lyrics to his favorite song inked in ornate lettering across his chest.

“We’re pretty busy,” the guy at the desk said apologetically as he glanced at his laptop screen. Given the quality of the work on display, this didn’t surprise Miles.

“I was hoping to get it done sooner rather than later,” he admitted.

“Well,” the guy pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “We can fit you in if you don’t mind an apprentice working on your tattoo? We’ve just had a new girl start with us.”

For a moment Miles was apprehensive. He wasn’t sure he wanted someone with little experience making a permanent mark upon his body. But then he reasoned that they needed to start somewhere and how hard could some ornate text be?

“Sure,” Miles nodded and gave a soft smile. “That sounds fine.”

Chapter 13

Brea nodded nervously.

“I know it’s only your second week here,” Gina explained, her expression kind, “but you’ve been making some great progress and text is relatively easy to work on. It’s a big piece though so you’ll probably need a few sessions with the client.”

Brea nodded again. She’d worked on a few small tattoos since the start of her apprenticeship but always under the watchful gaze of her mentor, Gina. But if Gina thought that Brea was ready to handle a client on her own then she trusted her judgment. And the thought of working alone on someone was as scary as it was exciting.

“If you have any problems, I’ll be in the next room so you can just give me a shout, okay?”

“Okay.”

Gina placed her hands firmly on Brea’s shoulders and looked down at her, which was easy for her to do since she was an impressive 6ft 2in. With her bright blue hair, she looked like some sort of ethereal Goddess whenever she walked down the street. Her arms were adorned with ornate snake tattoos that curled up towards her shoulders and licked at her neck. Brea hoped that one day she’d be able to look as fiercely beautiful as Gina always did.

“I have faith in you,” Gina gave Brea’s shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks.”

“And if that brother of yours wants to pop round again, he’s welcome anytime,” Gina added with a playful wink. Brea squirmed awkwardly. She got that Sylar had the whole brooding thing going on, but it was still embarrassing every time Gina talked about how hot she thought he was.

“The client is through there,” Gina pointed to a closed door and Brea took a deep breath. She hoped that whoever was behind the door would be patient enough to allow her to work on them over the next few weeks. Progress would be slow thanks to her inexperience, but she hoped that Gina had taught her enough in a short time to let her at least be competent.