Spade

S pade walked into Ink’s tattoo shop and looked around. His place was great, and was looking forward to getting his tattoo sleeve finished. Ink seemed like a pretty good guy, and he knew that he did great work just from seeing his club brother’s new tats.

“Can I help you?” a sexy woman asked as she walked out of the backroom. She looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place her.

“Do we know each other?” asked, ignoring her question.

“Um, I’m not sure,” she said, “you do look familiar. Are you friends with Ink?” she asked

“Yeah, we go to the same club,” said. Suddenly everything seemed to click, and he pointed at her, making her smile.

“I take it you figured it out,” she teased.

“You come into the Road Reapers once in a while, don’t you?” he asked.

“I have been there a few times. I used to go in there all the time before I had to spend a few months in California,” she admitted. He shivered at the thought of his time spent in that state. He really never felt as though he fit in while he lived there.

“I take it that you’re not a fan of California,” she said.

“Not really,” he said. “I lived there for a few years back about fifteen years ago. My parents got divorced when I was sixteen, and I moved out there with my dad. When I realized that I just couldn’t take any more of it out there, I decided to move back here and live with my mom. I guess I liked it here since I’m still sticking around.” When he stopped talking, she kind of stared at him and he tried to figure out why. Maybe he was talking too much, or oversharing, but for some reason, he found her easy to talk to. Hell, he didn’t even know her name yet, but here he was telling the poor woman his sad life story.

“Um, sorry, I’ve been told that I talk too much,” he said.

“No, it’s no problem,” she said. “I was just wondering why you are here?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “you did ask that when I walked in here, didn’t you?” She nodded her head and pasted on her best smile, but he wasn’t sure if it was genuine or not.

“I’m here for a tat from Ink. My name is .” He was hoping that introducing himself might lead to her sharing her name, but when she turned around and walked to the back room again, he was sure that he had blown any chance that he might have with the woman.

“Hey, man,” Ink said. He crossed the room and shook ’s hand, pulling him in for one of those awkward side hugs. “I’m sorry, I was feeding Bethany in my office. Charlie needed to run a few errands, and I told her that I’d take the baby for the afternoon.”

“Oh, if you need to reschedule, I’d understand,” said.

“That’s not necessary,” Ink assured. “Cynthia said that she could keep an eye on Bethany for me while I finish up your tattoo. Plus, the baby will probably sleep the entire time you’re here. She’s a good napper, just like her mom.” noted that her name was Cynthia, and he had to admit that he didn’t peg her as a Cynthia. She had tats up and down her arms, and he was sure that she even had some under her clothes, not that it helped with his unruly dick to think about Cynthia naked.

“So, does she work for you?” asked.

“Don’t say that too loudly,” Ink insisted, “Cynthia will kill you. It’s more like she works with me, not for me.”

“So, she’s an artist too?” asked.

“Yep,” Ink said. “Why?”

“No reason, I was just wondering if maybe she could do my next tattoo,” said.

Ink chuckled, “Oh, if I had a dollar for every time one of the guys from the Road Reapers came in and asked for Cynthia, I’d be a very rich man.”

“I hear that you already are a rich man, so how about if we skip the dollar and you properly introduce me to your pretty new artist?” asked.

“I thought that I heard you two talking when you came in,” Ink said.

“Yeah, but I fucked it all up,” insisted, “I had diarrhea of the mouth, and I can’t even remember what I rambled on about. I do that sometimes when I’m nervous—you know, ramble.”

Ink smiled and slapped on the shoulder. “I hadn’t noticed man,” he said with a laugh.

“Don’t be an ass, Ink,” he insisted. “Just introduce me to the pretty girl and then, I’ll let you do my tat.”

“How gracious of you,” Ink drawled. “Hey, Cynthia, can you come out here for a second?” She came out from the back of the shop, holding Ink’s baby, and damn if didn’t feel tongue-tied again.

“Yeah, what can I do for you, Ink? You know, besides change your daughter’s very stinky diaper,” Cynthia asked. Ink chuckled and crossed the room to take the baby from her. “How about you prep for his tattoo, and I’ll change Bethany’s stinky diaper?” She looked at Ink as though he had lost his ever-loving mind, but when she nodded her agreement, let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Great,” Ink said, “, this is Cynthia,” he said, introducing the two of them. “My work is done here. Now if you will both excuse me, I have a date with a princess.” He smiled down at his daughter and disappeared to the back room, talking some kind of baby gibberish that only a new parent could understand.

Cynthia walked to the front of the shop, where her station was set up, and pointed to the chair. “Sit,” she ordered. She didn’t seem at all happy about having to do this for Ink and suddenly, felt like an ass for asking him to get Cynthia to do his tat.

“Um, sorry that you have to do this,” he said. “If you want me to wait for Ink, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not what I overheard you telling Ink,” she said. “I mean, you did ask him to get me to do your tat, right?” she asked. Shit, he wasn’t the quietest person, but he didn’t think that he was loud enough for Cynthia to hear him talking to Ink about her.

“You heard that?” he asked, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself and quite nervous.

“Yeah, I heard that,” she grumbled. “So, what are we doing today?” she asked, seeming to shift from angry to professional mode.

“I’m just having this area filled in,” he said, pointing to his arm sleeve. “Ink came up with the color scheme and that’s what we were supposed to work on today.”

“Got it,” Cynthia said. “Be right back.” watched as she disappeared to the back again and he could hear her and Ink whisper arguing and he had a good idea what they were talking about—him. He was really fucking everything up.

She came back out to where he sat, holding the artwork that Ink had come up with. “Ready?” she asked.

“Sure,” drawled, “I think the question here is are you ready?” She shot him a look that told him she wasn’t going to entertain his question as she pulled on her gloves.

“So, all business then?” he asked.

“Yep,” Cynthia said. “That’s how this works. You’re my client and I’m your tattoo artist for the next few hours.”

He knew that he was taking a chance, and maybe even being a bit careless, but he just couldn’t help himself. “What are you doing after you’re done being my tattoo artist?” he asked.

“I have another client coming in,” she said as she got her tools ready.

“Oh, well, I was thinking that you might want to have dinner with me tonight,” he said. Asking her out wasn’t a part of the plan, but he really never had a plan when it came to pretty women. He usually just rolled with whatever came out of his mouth and that worked for him—sometimes.

“No thank you,” Cynthia said.

“Just like that?” he asked. “That’s all you’re going to say to my dinner offer?”

“Yep,” Cynthia said.

“Would you mind giving me a reason why you won’t go out with me? I know that we got off on the wrong foot. Hell, I talk to fucking much when I’m not nervous, but when I am, I just can’t seem to shut it off.”

“Do I make you nervous, ?” she asked leaning over his body to grab something from the other side of the chair. He damn near swallowed his tongue. She was toying with him, but he honestly didn’t mind. She was at least paying some attention to him.

“Very,” he choked.

“Good,” Cynthia said. “I like that you’re a little bit afraid of me because you should be.”

“I didn’t say that I’m afraid of you,” he said. “I said that you make me nervous.”

“Yeah, I’m not seeing a difference,” she drawled. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how I make you feel, I don’t go out with clients.”

“Technically, I’m not your client,” he insisted. “I’m Inks.”

“Yet, here you are, in my chair, getting ink from me. I think that technically makes you my client,” Cynthia insisted.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “Well, then, there’s only one thing to do.” He stood from the chair and called back to Ink, “I’m going to have to reschedule, man, and the next time I come in, I want you to work on my tats.” He gave Cynthia a mock salute and walked out of the shop, not bothering to look back at her. He wasn’t sure what he had just done, but he was sure of one thing—he had probably just blown his chances with the pretty new tattoo artist.