Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“What, man?” I ask him. It’s obvious he has something to say with his shit-eating grin. I want him to spit it out.
“Seems like you’re not the only older guy she likes letting into her apartment at all hours of the night. Sorry, buddy.” He chuckles as if it’s some sort of relationship-ending revelation.
I want to slam him against the wall, but I have other things to worry about. “The older guy was her father, dipshit. Mind your business when it comes to Raina, Drew. My last warning to you, asshole.”
I leave without laying a hand on the guy even though there’s an arrogance about him that makes me want to put him through a window. Fuck him.
Like telling me about Owen is going to magically make him the runner-up in Raina’s life. Guys like him never get it. It doesn’t matter if she’s single or taken, he’s never next. I’m her first, and if she’ll have me, I’m going to be her only and last.
10
RAINA
There’s an air of rebellion I feel every time I step inside Tattoo Heaven.
Come in and get inked by an angel or a demon. Angel always brags that his wife, Avery, must have sold her soul to be such a damned good artist. The way he looks at her with love in his eyes reminds me of the way I feel when Rex can’t keep his eyes or hands off me.
Angel’s not as tall as Rex, but he’s stocky and covered in ink. Avery has two sleeves of artwork that she displays regularly. The glass display case that separates the waiting area from the rest of the shop is now sitting in front of a temporary partition. The accordion-looking paper wall typically goes up whenever someone has an appointment to get a sensitive body part worked on.
“Hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Avery asks, her snowflake tattoo beaming in the morning sunlight shining through the window. “I thought you were getting out of town for a few days.”
“Owen had other plans that made us rethink that. Rex is running around a bit, but he wanted me to stay here so I wouldn’t be alone. Got something cool coming in?” I ask, nudging my chin at the partition.
“That’s okay with me. Angel will be here by ten. I have a client coming in a few to get her areolas worked on. If you want to get paid while you wait, clock in and help prep my station?”
“I might as well work since I’m here. Rex doesn’t want me out front, just in case.”
“I got you, Raina, baby,” she says with a smile. “Those Lorenzo types ain’t nothing new. Just keep your head down and this will all blow over. If it’s not about you or nothing you did, you should be good.”
I like how she’s always positive, but I don’t think she fully understands the depths of shit Owen’s gotten me into. Although, I can’t complain since I’m bringing it to their shop. I have to get my mind off things as I clean up her chair and the table where she’ll set up her ink and the tattoo gun.
“You’re probably right,” I tell her but shift the conversation immediately to work. “Did you and Angel talk about my idea?”
Avery’s sitting on a stool with her sketchbook in hand, drawing for the client scheduled to come in. She peers up from the page. “I think that busting some tattoo myths can be fun and doing those snappy transitions from pig skin to real skin will bring in some new clients. Do you have any other ideas?”
“A few. I was thinking about maybe once a month, if you set up that subscriber account stuff I was telling you, you can run a raffle or a contest. Subscribers get to submit fan drawings or any drawings within reason, you know? Nothing that’s going to take two hours or longer.”
“All your followers get to vote on the best tattoo and subscribers get to enter the raffle to win it?” Avery asks, finishing my idea.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“How about you? How’s your drawing coming along?”
I let out a sigh of exhaustion. “Not very far since last week. It’s like, on paper everything is fine, but once I get to an orange or the pig skin, my fuckin hand won’t stop shaking.”
“Yeah, that’s no good for tattooing. Maybe think about what you’re eating.”
“What?”
Avery stops drawing to look at me. “You need your strength to sit for hours between drawing and tattooing. Food is fuel. Don’t tell me that huge hunk of handsome body guarding you isn’t trying to fatten you up.”
“He says I’m perfect, but he made me a full breakfast this morning. Better than the Pop-Tarts and protein shake I normally choke down.”
“Ah, breakfast this morning means you spent the night. So is that mister your mister now?”