She smiles. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I smile back.
“Any idea who you have?” she asks.
“Maze, Grimm, Axel, and Ranger.”
She sucks air in between her teeth. “Four on day one?”
I nod. “I can handle four.”
“Yeah?” She looks at me curiously.
“Oh God, not like that!” I laugh.
She shrugs. “I won’t judge if you do.”
“What would I be judging?” I ask half-joking.
“Twenty-year age difference?” She smirks then whispers, “Daddy issues.”
“Well, he’s a …” I look over at him. David is tall, with thick salt and pepper hair, wearing a suit and tie in a tattoo shop. I’ve seen my own father in the same attire at our family’s tattoo shop, Forever Steel, before they handed it over to Kat and Ricco—many times—but David doesn’t have the edge that Dad does.
I glance at Tags, who smiles, looks down at the floor, and then glances back at me and catches me staring.
“Fuck, marry, or kill?” Maxine whispers.
“Huh?”
“Which one would you fuck, which one would you marry, and which one would you kill?”
“Are women included?”
She snorts, and all heads swing our way.
David looks at her inquisitively, and she looks at me wide-eyed. We both laugh.
“You ladies, okay?” he asks.
“Stupid question, David,” Mara mumbles.
He looks at her blankly then back at Maxine.
She whispers, “Marry,” then looks back at him. “We’re ready.”
“Good,” he says, expression unchanged, and then he looks back at the guys.
“And fuck,” she whispers. “His wallet isn’t the only thing that’s huge.”
“You little minx.” I smirk then nod to the group. “Let’s join them.”
“She hates me.”
“She’ll get used to you. Don’t change for anyone. Ever.”
We join the group.
“Maxine, you have Neo, Dagger, and Darby. Isabella, you have Maze, Grimm, Axel, and Ranger. Mara, that leaves you with Tags, Blade, and Breaker.” He looks up from the list and at Mara. “You’re giving her four on day one?”
She shrugs.
“I can handle four.”
“Doubtful,” Mara mumbles as she walks away. “Pick your first artist. We’ll each go one at a time. Fresh meat, since you can handle four, pick two as a warm-up.” She looks at Tags. “You first.”
“No problem,” he says evenly.
I have no idea how he can look at her, let alone be so calm, but he does… he is.
I look back. “Maze and Ranger, you two want to start?”
One of the men with cameras walks up. “I’m Stanley. I’m with you.”
“Perfect. Let’s capture some amazing moments, shall we?”
The theme for today is mother-daughter tattoos. It’s kind of ironic, and I find myself wondering if it hurts Mara at all. She doesn’t seem affected.
The first mother-daughter pair are night and day. Maze welcomes them with a kind smile, holding each one’s chair as they sit. He’s a big guy with a soft heart.
“What brings you two in today?” Ranger asks.
“My daughter’s eighteenth birthday.” The woman in her thirties blushes as she looks at Ranger, who’s clearly ex-military. His arms are heavily tattooed with every type of weaponry you could imagine. Aside from that, he’s a walking Ken doll. “I had her at sixteen. No one thought we’d make it. She graduated high school, so I’d say we made it.”
“Congratulations.” Maze nods. “You should be proud.”
I watch Ranger look at Maze with concern. Then back at them. “So, what are you thinking?”
She smiles. “We were hoping for some input.”
“The same but different,” her daughter adds.
“How about Ranger does one, and Maze the other? The same but different artist interpretations.” I smile.
Sitting back I watch as Ranger and Maze draw pictures, shielded from the client and the camera, as they ask personal preferences of mother and daughter. When they finish, both have the other’s favorite flower—a rose and a sunflower. The daughter has Mom in script beside the stem, and on the opposite side, You Gave Me Life. The mother has her daughter’s name, and opposite the name is, You Taught Me Love. Both women cry when they see what the other chose as script.
It’s a beautiful moment, one I’m so glad I am able to witness. Over the years, I have witnessed many of these moments, but this one is different.
After being given their aftercare information, they hug the two men.
I still get a kick out of how people who literally wear a piece of them on their skin are viewed as bad boys. Even these men, ones with criminal records, have huge hearts and enormous talent.
I look over at Tags and see him in deep concentration as he works on the daughter. He looks up briefly and gives me a wink. I’m sure it was so quick no one else but me realized it, a millisecond, but I will definitely scold him for it later.
Or maybe not.
Tags
The day went a fuck of a lot smoother than I expected. When we left the studio, I made damn sure Bella was in the same vehicle as I was. I also made damn sure to snag her phone from her and send myself a text. Why? Because I have plans that involve one Isabella Steel’s pussy and my tongue. But first, I need to turn on the charm. She deserves the charm. She more than deserves it.
I shoot her a text.
Me: Sweets, 1819 70th Street. One hour. Palm trees and a cool breeze. ~ Tag, you’re it.
Bella: I can’t be summoned like a booty call. No… ~ B.S.
Me: No B.S., I like that idea. Stop playing hard to get. That’s another two nights without getting off. ~ Tag, you’re … not getting it.
“Then, why would I come?”
I look over to see her standing on the balcony. She’s freshly showered, wrapped in a towel, and looks flushed. The towel wrapped around her hair isn’t snug and is falling off.
“Did you just get out of the shower, feeling all powerful because you’re naked, throw attitude because of it, then realized you fucked up another chance of getting off and ran out here to make it right?”
She scrunches up her face and averts eye contact. “Pft, n—”
“Don’t lie to me, sweet treat, or you’re not getting the tongue tonight.”
“Don’t treat me like a piece of”—she pauses—“ass. And—”
I hold my phone up. “I’m gonna delete this text, pretend it never happened, then try again.”
I type out another text.
Me: Sweets, 1819 70th Street. One hour. Palm trees and a cool breeze. ~ Tag, you’re it.
As I walk back into my room, my phone vibrates.
Bella: Fine. ~ B.S.
Standing outside of Shucker Waterfront Bar and Grill, I look down at my watch. She’s a minute late. Any other woman pulled this shit, I’d have left. This one has me sweating and in a fucking suit, leather shoes and shit, clearly trying to impress her and feeling like a fucking idiot.