Grizz didn’t know how to file worth shit and Noah tried when she got here, but they needed me, my money, and expertise.
Noah Grim, a pale e-girl with tattoos all over and hair that changed colors constantly. I didn’t know a ton about her, as she constantly hid behind her beast of a man—Grizz—but she told me once she had a brother and sister.
She wore this specific black contact in her left eye, reminding me of a demon you’d see in Supernatural; I wasn’t sure why she did it, but she wanted to permanently tattoo it one day. Her face had several piercings, and her ears were gauged too. She had the kindest face but the resting face of someone who’d stab you while you slept.
Grizz O’Sullivan was scarred heavily on his face. While he never really explained it, he seemed to not be comfortable if you stared too long. Noah once told me he was an Irishman, his accent only bled through when he yelled, which was not often. Their love seemed passionate, and I was certain if I ever crossed her, he’d kill me with his bare hands.
He was massive, tall and muscular with tattoos and a longer beard when not trimmed. His hair was dark, messy, but somehow it made him look like a character from Vikings. His voice was gravelly, and I was sure it resulted from lack of use.
He’d come to like me, but it took time, especially because of his protectiveness over Noah. When he did, he told me how he didn’t know what the hell he got himself into business-wise. His grandad gave him this shop. Originally, it was a pub, and Grizz didn’t want that, so he remodeled, creating a tattoo shop everyone across the country came to for its artists.
While I didn’t go to college for music, I went for art, accounting, and business. Apparently, many musicians did and I was glad, since it helped me become a partner here.
They owed so much in back taxes because they didn’t know how to do what was necessary to run a business. Luckily, they kept up on the rent and utilities for this place.
Luckily for them, I bought it and the land it was on for a pretty penny and saved a lot of headaches for the future.
Inked in Chaos, my shop shared with Grizz, Noah, Barker, Juni, and Carrig was something I couldn't appreciate more. It helped me through the darkness and gave me purpose. And while Grizz was a grumpy bastard, his three best friends, Riot, Alpha, and Scorpion were kinder. They’re another story altogether.
“I’m sorry.” Noah expressed her regret, clinging to the doorframe. Noah Grim was the most normal thing about this tattoo shop, and that said a lot since she was out of sorts.
Between her rainbow-like hair, pierced face, and tattoos, she was socially awkward and unable to hold a conversation for long.
We met when I started working here. She told me about her fucked-up family and how her two siblings went through a lot in life. Other than that, she kept her life tight-lipped.
I didn’t expect us to become friends. If Grizz had anything to say about it, we wouldn’t be. When I tell you he was possessive, he made me seem fucking normal about Andy, and the way I thought and felt about her was unhealthy as fuck. Grizz, though, he could’ve killed tons of people and no one would bat an eye. We all knew he was capable because of the way he looked at every man who entered the shop.
“Don’t be,” I reassured. “We’re caught up financially. Overall, we’re doing well.”
For the first two years here, Noah and Grizz didn’t even take wages. They were barely surviving. Noah came from money—supposedly—and she also didn’t want Grizz to fully lose this place.
When I came in, I didn't even know. I got paid, did my shit, and left. When we were at Dupont, shortly after meeting at Inked in Chaos, she explained to me how they were screwed and begged for my help.
I caved.
I loved this place. It was my own kind of reprieve from music. And, hell, reality. Sometimes, we needed to breathe to stay alive, and it felt like this place offered it.
I remembered in high school, Cars always told me to chase my dreams. Even if the musical part of them were disapproved of by my mom. Tattooing became my favorite thing.
She wouldn’t have minded the ink.
But how I went on tours just like Dad, how I escaped and abandoned everyone I loved, and how I didn’t spend much time sober... she’d be pissed. And for some reason, that brought me a kind of peace nothing had in the last five years.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said, and before she could continue, Grizz came barreling behind her.
“There’s a client for you,” he grunted unpleasantly. When I said he barreled in, I meant he was a big-ass bear and literally could tiptoe and make the room feel crowded.
“I don’t have a single person on my schedule,” I rebutted, thinking of how free said schedule had been. Tattooing was the only place I touched others. And it seemed much less intimate than touching people by choice, sexually. This was a job, it wasn’t for pleasure or sustenance. It simply was meant to mark their skin like I’d done for myself so many times before.
“He said he booked and paid.”
Closing my eyes, I tried to go over my mental schedule since my physical one was out there where the person was. You’d think as an adult I would have avoided being weird about confrontation. I could punch someone until they were black and blue but hated talking to someone if it could be avoided.
“Yeah, there’s no one,” I reassured him and myself, knowing I didn’t book anything for today. I had five on Monday, but it was Saturday and I planned on practicing with the guys soon.
“What the hell do I tell him?”
Garnering the gumption, I stood and strolled toward the door. “Fuck, I’ll do it,” I grumbled, gritting my teeth. It wasn’t Grizz’s job to be my babysitter. He didn’t need to do shit for me and this only made me more mad.
Stepping out of my office, I straightened my spine, needing to have some semblance of strength. My parents' deaths messed with me way more than anything in this life could.
The walls felt narrower when anxiety fueled my descent. When making it to the front, I opened my schedule, knowing if Grizz spoke to the person, they’d be in the showroom, where we displayed a mix of our pieces and offered refreshments.
On my schedule, I noticed no one was penciled in. That fucking liar—whoever they were—tried pulling a fast one on us.
With renewed anger, my feet led me across the main room all the way into the showroom. As soon as I did, I halted with as much strength as it took to walk out of the office in the first place.
“I said I didn’t want to see you,” I nearly hissed, feeling the hackles on my back rise. Life used to be so easy for us. It was as simple as breathing. My heart rammed against my ribs, smacking it as I left ten feet between us.
Part of me didn’t trust him to not reach for me, coerce me, beg me for time and love and the things no one like me could offer.
“No,” he emphasized, taking a step toward me. “You specifically said when I can’t feel anymore,” he corrected, his hands in his pockets. “But you know what?” I didn’t answer and he stepped closer again. “You don’t fucking feel, Mads.”
Mads.
Pain burned behind my eyes. I fisted my hands to keep them idle. Every cell in my body wanted to push him away, force him to leave, but fuck, I needed to stop running.
“You’re not feeling a single thing, I can tell.”