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)
I had to work for that, and I planned to do exactly that until we were living the life I had always hoped we would have.
Chapter 2
Marlo
The blue and red, neon ‘OPEN’ sign hanging in the front window of Swan and Rose flickered off on the stroke of eight o’clock at night, bringing an end to yet another busy day for my famed tattoo shop.
After years of hard work, I finally took all of the bad in my life and turned it into something good. Life was a slippery slope, and I dug my heels in by making something of my own.
“And that’s a wrap!” Bryce, one of the six tattoo artists I employed, shouted as he finished cleaning up his station.
His voice echoed throughout the old Victorian building that was updated for modern business, but its charming features were still intact, like its brick exterior and cozy attic. “Did you see that dragon I did earlier? It was so badass.”
“Did you take into account those notes I sent you about getting the wings anatomically correct?” Baker asked from the station next door, giving his twin brother a pointed look. They might’ve been twins, but they looked and acted completely different. While Baker kept his natural short, dark hair, Bryce went a completely different path and had a head full of colorful dreadlocks. At least it was easy to tell them apart.
Bryce chuckled and playfully swung at Baker’s side to nudge him.
“Yeah, yeah. I did,” he replied, absentmindedly tracing the smooth metal of his lip ring with the tip of his tongue as he grinned.
“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn the webbing wasn’t properly attached to the body,” Taj spoke up from across the room as he perched on the edge of his table with a sketchbook in his lap. A smirk played out on his face as Bryce threw up his middle finger in his direction.
“All that matters is if the client loved it,” Ti said as he slung his leather messenger back onto his shoulder, making his white t-shirt pull tight against his slim build. He glanced behind him at the station farther from the door in its own little corner. “Right, Gus?”
Gus merely grunted as he cleaned off his tray, not letting his naturally narrowed eyes stray from his task. He towered over his station with his broad body, casting shadows over anything and anyone below him. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he was damn good at tattooing realistic pieces.
“See? He agrees,” Ti told the others.
“Gus will agree with anything to get you to shut up,” Taj laughed, reaching up to adjust the strap of his loose, black tank top. His fingertips brushed over the highly detailed, colorful peacock tattoo that wrapped around his upper right arm, adding a pop of color among the light brown tone of his skin.
I smirked a little as I stood at the front desk, watching everyone gather their things and double check their stations. Everyone was very organized and particular, which would’ve been surprising to anyone who took a look at me and my crew. We didn’t have that artistic, hipster look like so many tattoo artists around town looked like.
It was safe to say we were a little rougher around the edges.
I didn’t nab any of them from art schools or anything like that. I snagged them right out of prison. They were nervous and unsure about their futures once they were released, and they would face all sorts of stigma and discrimination because they were ex-cons. I wasn’t a saint myself, and I knew how hard it was to keep it together when surrounded by a hostile environment.
I helped them make this tattoo shop a home. We didn’t judge each other. We looked after each other. Essentially, we were our own messed up family, and I wouldn’t trade these guys for the world.
Marcus, my own cousin, joined me at the front desk and pushed his tablet over to me.
“We’ve got Friday the 13th coming up. We really need to do a flash sheet sale,” he told me.
I grabbed his tablet and looked at some of the sketches he did, which ranged from skulls to intricate spider webs. It sucked seeing my own flesh and blood be dragged through the prison system, but no one here had excuses for what they did. They’d messed up. We all had. So, we paid the consequences and moved forward.
It was obvious that Marcus was interested in helping me run the shop, which I wasn’t entirely opposed to. He had a military background, so he was one of the more disciplined and determined people I knew. However, he didn’t like being told what to do. If I was going to train him, that could be an issue.
“These look good. I’ve got something planned for tonight, but let’s all talk about it tomorrow,” I told him.