Chapter 1

Vapor

Saturdays are always busy at our tattoo shop. I wipe away the excess ink so my customer can get a look at the memorial tattoo I just finished. It took the better part of the evening but the face on his arm is exactly like the picture he brought with him for me to use as a reference. I worked it artfully into the full sleeve that's been crawling down his arm with each visit over the last couple of months.

Looking down at the ink I just dropped, I ask nervously. "What do you think?"

I know I'm good at what I do, but there's always that moment of uncertainty when a client sees the final design. Gazing down at the image his eyes get glossy. He blinks away his tears and nods. "Vapor, I don't know what to say. You captured my grandmother's smile and her spirit perfectly. I don't know how to thank you."

"You already did by liking my work," I tell him.

His face lights up with admiration. "You're a true artist, man."

Genuine pleasure washes over me to get such a positive response. Kory is a regular customer and though I like a satisfied customer as much as the next guy, memorial tattoos are special because they're meant to be a permanent reminder of a deceased loved one.

He jerks his chin at me, and we bump fists before he heads over to the register to check out. I'm happy with the job I just did. Dropping ink feeds my creative side.

My phone jingles and I smile when I read the text. It's from a friend of mine, asking if I want to party. It's Saturday night. Of course I'd like to chill out after a long hard week, but I ain't gonna turn down an opportunity like this.

"What are you smiling about, bro?"

My brother is standing in front of me after checking out Kory. I rake one hand through my hair and yawn, "Nothing."

"You did good work on Kory's tatt. You've got a talent for faces."

I shrug, knowing that Haze hates trying to recreate faces. We bought this tattoo parlor from one of our club brothers, around six months ago and we divide the work a certain way, with me taking most of the jobs that involve faces and him focusing on the complicated pieces with tons of intricate detail. The rest we split according to who is free. We both love dropping ink so it works for us.

"That piece wasn't all that complicated. I'm glad Kory left happy."

The second the door closes, Haze locks it and flips the open sign over to closed. Turning to me, he asks, "You coming to the clubhouse tonight?"

I shake my head as I text my friend back. "No, I'm going to grab a beer with Dexter."

Haze stretches his arms over his head. "Have fun with that. Dex has to be the most boring person on the face of the earth."

I smile to myself. "Sometimes boring is good."

We do short work of closing down the shop, balancing the till and locking what little cash we took in today in the floor safe in our office. Most of our sales are credit card transactions, we still have the occasional old timer who likes to pay by cash. Once the shop is in order, we go outside, get on our bikes, and head our separate ways. Haze rides off in the direction of the clubhouse. I go in the opposite direction, to our apartment so I can shower and ditch my cut.

Tonight, I'm engaging in my one guilty pleasure. Dexter and I don't have a lot in common. He was a nerd in school, and I was considered a cool kid because I rode a motorcycle. He helped me study for my exams, and I beat up his bullies for him. Our relationship seems pretty cliché when I think back on it. It was a symbiotic relationship really back in school, but we grew closer afterward. One thing we share is a deep-seated love for trance music. Haze and every other person in my life might think it's lame, because they're more into rock, but I fucking love it.

It's not only the music, but also the whole atmosphere of trance, including the dim lighting, glowing neon jewelry, and the nonjudgmental atmosphere. And the fucking women are amazing. They're unique, smart, intellectually challenging and so goddamn beautiful when they dance that it takes my breath away. I can watch those pretty little glowing butterflies all night long without getting bored.

I'm in and out of the shower in record time, then I slide on a pair of comfortable jeans, a black t-shirt, and fasten a leather band around one wrist. Instead of the biker boots that I'm so comfortable with, I wear a pair of soft leather sneakers. This is the relaxed me, excited to spend an evening doing as I like rather than what's expected of me.

I hear Dexter pull up and head out to meet him. He always drives because I love to drink, and he hates alcohol—like I said, a symbiotic relationship. I climb into the passenger seat and close the door.

"Thanks for the heads up, Dex. Where is this party at?"

"It's being held at a warehouse right off the interstate, it's pretty isolated."

Not trespassing again? I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off. "It's totally okay because the owner is the one throwing the party and there isn't anyone around for miles to complain about the noise this time."

"Alright," I respond happily. "I'm actively looking to avoid being picked up by the cops again."

"Yeah, your brother was pretty pissed the last time. Does he know you're headed to another rave tonight?"

"Hell no. He doesn't need to know how I spend my time. Just because we're twins does not mean we're joined at the fucking hip."

He gives me an odd look, I forget with Dex, sometimes he takes things literally.

"Sorry. It's just that he can be a nosey little bastard when he wants to be. It gets old."

Dexter responds sympathetically, "He never did like the trance scene."

I relax a bit, unsure why I'm flying off the handle so easily. "He doesn't know what he's missing by being so narrow minded."

"I would think he'd come for the women alone."

I flash him a quick grin, "My brother has all the women he can handle at the Savage Legion clubhouse. He feels comfortable and fits in there."

We continue chatting as he drives down the highway toward our destination, Dex tells me there's someone he wants me to meet—he's always introducing me to his new friends, I ended up doing a backpiece on a guy he introduced me to at a rave a few months back. By the time we arrive, I'm totally relaxed again. It's clear from just pulling up that this is going to be an amazing evening. The warehouse is huge. Although I have never been here before, the entire building is being used for the rave. Neon colored string lights are flashing in every window and music is blasting from the inside. Whoever is hosting this event went all out. I can see the shadows of people dancing to a fast techno beat. This puts a smile on my face every single time.

When we step up to the front door, we get a visual on the inside. There has to be over a hundred people, all packed into a large dance floor. They're wearing fluorescent necklaces, bracelets with blinking lights and even glowing earrings. We each cram a hundred bucks into the hand of the bouncer at the door and keep moving forward into the huge warehouse.

Dexter glances over at me, all smiles and excitement. "This place is really packed tonight."

My friend's not wrong about that. I shoot him a happy grin of my own. "That's gonna be great for you, my friend."

He nods, preoccupied with watching the dancers. No matter where the party is, Dexter and I always have the same plan. Immediately upon entering the area, we go our separate ways to explore.

Dex is normally pretty standoffish, but raves are where my shy nerdy friend switches it up. He's clearly on the spectrum, though I don't think he's ever officially gotten tested, but one of his quirks is that he likes to introduce himself to every single person at the raves we attend. It's like he has to know the identity of everyone in the room and what their voices sound like. It got him into a lot of fights at school, but luckily here at the raves everyone is more understanding, and for that reason it's his happy place.

I have to say the man never forgets a face or a name. I don't know how he does it. He won't be satisfied until he's met every single person in the building.

I ask, "You're gonna be careful about pestering people tonight, right Dex?"

He just nods as he continues staring at the dance floor. Sometimes I do have to worry about people mistaking his quirkiness for rudeness, on more than one occasion I've had to jump in if it looks like things are going to get physical, but raves are generally filled with chill people and Dex is popular with the regulars.

I'm not surprised when he doesn't respond and instead zooms off and dives straight into the riot of dancing bodies.

Me? I like to slide into the bar and sample whatever the house brew is at every rave. Whoever is hosting this event has a ton of alcohol and a long bar running along the side of the room. Tonight's house brew is something called a Ruby Red. I throw twenty bucks down on the table. In this neck of the woods trance raves are not cheap, but none of us care, because they're few and far between. Usually, they're planned out well in advance, but every now and then someone will have a pop-up rave, like this one. We normally get a couple of hours' notice, if that. Lifting the big cauldron of red liquid to my mouth, I take a sip. It tastes tart like cherries and burns going down. I take another sip and then turn around to engage in one of my favorite parts of the night. My eyes wander over the crowd as I survey the lay of the land, looking for sexy women who have the right moves.

Truth be told, I'm dating for marriage. My brother is probably at the clubhouse, looking to get laid by one of the club vixens, Haze might concentrate on quantity, but I go for quality. I'm the serious one and we both know it. Several women stop by to chat with me. Some I know, others I don't. None of them really capture my notice. When I'm not quick to buy them drinks or keep the conversation ball rolling, they move on pretty quickly.

Pulling out my vape and sliding in a new cartridge only takes my attention from the dancers for a few seconds. The first puff is always heaven though. I lean back against the bar with my drink in one hand and my vape in the other, just letting my eyes wander over the crowd. That's when I see something interesting. It's a woman with long, thick blonde hair and she's dancing her pretty little ass off. She's also wearing about twenty long fluorescent glow-in-the-dark necklaces and seems to be passing them out like leis every time she bumps into someone she knows.

I down the drink in my hand in one gigantic gulp, leave the glass on the counter and walk over to introduce myself. Excitement strums in my gut at the thought of meeting a new woman. She might tell me to fuck off or I might get a dance or two. If I'm lucky and we hit it off, I might even get her number.