Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Marcus nodded and shut off his tablet, seeming satisfied enough.
I breathed in and ran my hand over my shaved head, preparing myself for an announcement that I had been dying to give all day.
“Before we all head out, I wanted to share something with you guys,” I said as I walked out from behind the front desk.
Everyone paused and gave me perplexed looks.
“Are we getting fired?” Bryce chuckled, immediately getting sharply nudged by Baker.
I crossed my arms over my broad chest, making the muscle of my left bicep shift under the large rose tattoo that adorned my skin.
“No, you’re not getting fired. Whether you like it or not, we’re all stuck together,” I said with a small smirk, sparking some laughter among the guys.
I was the oldest at fifty-one, while the twins were the youngest at twenty-nine, but we all shared the same sense of humor. Honestly, all of these guys and their banter and liveliness helped me feel younger than I actually was. I didn’t feel like I was wasting away with other old, miserable men who acted like it was too late to do anything important with their lives. It felt like I was just getting started.
“Hey, at least we have fun,” Taj pointed out with a sly grin on his face.
Fun could mean a lot of things to our group. That could mean hanging out at a bar together or tattooing each other. It could even mean group sex with women we met online or in clubs throughout the city. We were… flexible. And we thrived on the philosophy that we only had one life to live, so we’d better make the most of it.
“Well, we’ll have some extra funds to have more fun because the mortgage for the tattoo shop has been paid off,” I announced.
At first, there was shocked silence as the guys stared at me with wide eyes. I didn’t bring up the finances much around them, letting them focus on shop upkeep and just doing their jobs. The only person I talked to about business stuff was Marcus because he was interested in it, but I kept that secret from him so that I could surprise everyone.
“No shit. Really?” Baker asked. “I thought it would take longer.”
I shrugged before some of the guys came up to me to slap hands with me and pat me on the back. This had been a big goal of mine for a while.
“We’ve been busting our asses. Now, this place is really ours,” I said as I gestured to our golden-lit, vintage-styled tattoo shop that had pieces of each of us interwoven in its warm atmosphere. It certainly differed from the vibe we probably gave off to others in public, but everyone who walked in here left with a smile on their face.
“We wouldn’t be here without you,” Ti said as he walked up to me, giving me a small nod. He wasn’t the most expressive, coming off more stoic and sophisticated than anything else, but I knew who he was deep down. He had a lot buried underneath that straight-lipped expression, but I could sense his gratitude.
“I wouldn’t be here without all of you,” I pointed out, patting his shoulder before heading toward the glass front door. “Well, what are you guys waiting for? We should go celebrate.”
“Ice House, here we come,” Bryce said before throwing his arm around Marcus’s shoulders, drawing a smirk onto my cousin’s face as he was dragged out the door.
The Ice House was a rough dive bar around the corner from the tattoo shop. Honestly, it was full of criminals who just hadn’t been caught yet, but we didn’t let a shady crowd scare us away from good drinks. When we walked inside, there were a few hard stares, but my guys continued laughing and chatting as they took a seat at the two tables we always sat at in the back.
I headed to the bar, stopping between two burly guys in leather vests who were probably bikers. A lot of them came through here, and I heard of quite a few of them getting mixed up in the local drug trade.
“Six beers and a soda,” I told the bartender, who was a gruff man himself with a goatee and short, greying hair.
“We don’t care for kids up in here,” the bald biker to my right huffed, his words slurring slightly. An almost empty glass of beer sat in front of him.
“Kids?” I questioned him with a steady stare.
“Who the hell is ordering a soda at a bar?” the other biker with dark hair scoffed.
Footsteps sounded behind me just as our drinks were placed on the bar.
“People with more self-control than you drunks,” Baker bit out.
Both bikers jumped to their feet, nearly knocking their stools over as I held my arm out, keeping Baker from getting even closer. He had already sparked their aggression with his smart comment. We were all protective of each other, but sometimes, that got us into even more trouble.