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“Sounds easy enough. How’s seventy five for everything sound?” I asked.

“Sounds like you’re a reasonable man,” he said.

“When do you want to do it?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “When do you have time?”

“Now? It’ll take forty-five minutes on the arm, and fifteen on the knuckles.”

“Sounds good. Name’s Slice,” he said as he extended his right hand.

“Blake,” I said.

I reached over the counter and shook his hand. He was a rough looking man with a strong jawline, a few days growth of beard, and a powerful chest. He looked like the man the director would choose to portray a biker in a Hollywood movie about a biker because he looked the part and did so very well. I pulled a waiver from the drawer, grabbed a pen, and placed them on the countertop in front of me.

“Formality,” I said as I pushed the piece of paper across the counter.

“Understood,” he said as he reached for the pen.

After a moment he slid the sheet and pen over the counter and crossed his arms.

“You alright with taking your shirt off? We could roll it up, but I’d hate to have it come down on piece we’re reworking. Maybe just go without it, but you could wear the vest for the rest of the day,” I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Long as a few scars don’t bother you.”

“Never have, don’t know why they would now,” I responded.

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

“Follow me,” I said.

As he walked beside me, he removed his vest, pulled off his tee shirt, and tossed it on the end of the chair. As he began to slip his arms through the arm holes in the vest, I turned to face him. His entire back was covered in scars, some of which were a foot long. He looked like he’d been cut intentionally by someone who wasn’t too fond of him.

As with all bikers I had met, he’d come by his club name honestly. As I turned the other direction, he snapped the buttons on his vest and turned around.

“Just have a seat and we’ll get started,” I said as I sat on my stool.

He folded his tee shirt neatly, set it aside, and sat down facing me. As I slid my stool to the side and reached for the ink cabinet, I spoke over my shoulder.

“Black on everything?” I asked.

“Yep,” he responded.

I grabbed a tube of ink, squirted out enough for the three tattoos, and pulled a fresh needle from the drawer and remove the wrapper. As I inserted the needle in the machine and adjusted it, the door buzzer went off again.

I’d gone from deserted to Grand Central Station in fifteen minutes.

I glanced toward the door and was pleasantly surprised to see Riley.

“You alright with a little company for a few minutes?” I asked.

“I’m a lot of things, but modest isn’t one of ‘em. Okay by me,” he said.

“Come on back,” I said as I waved my arm.

Riley walked up behind him, stopped a few feet short, and grinned as her gaze met mine. Dressed in worn jeans, her Chuck’s, and a snug fitting short-sleeved button down shirt, she looked fantastic.

“Uhhm, there’s a tool box on the sidewalk,” she said as she walked toward the rear of the shop.

“I fired Tyler,” I responded.

“Oh, holy shit,” she gasped.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It was inevitable, no big deal. Your hair looks great.”

“Just got it done. All one color,” she said.

“Well, it looks fucking awesome.”

Slice turned his head slightly, paused, and twisted his upper body to face Riley.

“Riley Campbell?” he asked.

She shifted her eyes toward him.

“Oh shit. Uhhm. Wow. Uhhm. Axton, right?” she asked.

“Good memory. How the hell are you? I haven’t seen you in years,” he said as he stood and opened his arms wide.

“Good. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m great,” she said as she hugged him.

“Your mother?” he asked.

“She’s good, as always. Actually, I just left there,” she said.

“I saw her a few weeks back, but just waved as we rode past. Hell, I bet I haven’t seen you since you were in high school. You still pissing off your mom and seeing that attorney?” he asked.

“No, he’s long gone,” she said.

“Probably best for you and your mother both,” he said.

“Yeah, probably so. I met this guy when I was about fourteen,” Riley said.

She walked around the end of the chair, turned to face him, and shook her head. “One of the members of his club lives down the street from my mother, and one day we were standing in the driveway trying to figure out how to change a flat. So, they were riding by, what, about ten of you?”

“Or more,” he responded.

“Well, so we were in the driveway with the jack and all the stuff, and neither of us knew what we were doing, and they turned around, pulled in front of the house, and stopped. Mom and I were scared to death. So they’re all neatly parked in front of the house, and this guy got off his motorcycle, walked up the driveway, and just started changing the flat tire. He didn’t even say anything until he was done. And ever since, he’d just stop by to make sure we were doing okay. The entire time I was in high school he stopped by once a month or so and just asked if we needed anything. Don’t let his size or looks fool you, Blake. He’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. I can’t believe I just bumped into you.”

I grinned and glanced at them both. “That’s a good story.”

“Guess what else?” Riley chuckled as she studied him.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“They come by at Christmas and hang mom’s Christmas lights. Then they come take them down.” She paused and turned to face Axton. “You guys still do that?”

“Every year. Tough for a woman living without a husband,” he said with a nod.

“You still a woman hater?” she asked.

“Got me an Ol’ Lady now, not much older than you,” he said.

“Oh shit, are you serious?” she asked as she sat in the stool beside his chair.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded his head. “Avery. Gonna get the letter “A” tattooed on my knuckle right now, kill two birds with one stone.”

“I like it,” she said.

“Same here,” he responded as he sat down.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Ready as I’m going to get,” he responded.

After wiping his arm down with soap, I shaved his bicep and began the re-work of his existing tattoo. Riley sat quietly and exchanged glances between the Axton and me as I worked. It was nice having her there watching, and being in her presence made me feel like there was a little more between us than I suspected she believed there was.

After thirty minutes, I was done with his bicep, and immediately moved to his knuckles. Ten minutes later, I was done.

“Knuckles look good,” he said as he nodded his head.

“Just be careful with them. They’re slow to heal with all the flexing of the skin,” I said.

He gazed down at his hands, turned his head to the side and inspected his bicep, and stood from his seat.

“Good work,” he said as he adjusted his vest.

I removed my gloves and tossed them in the trash. “Appreciate it.”

Riley stood from her stool, walked around the end of his chair, and stopped at my side. Axton alternated glances between us for a moment.

“Oh shit, are you two…” He paused and studied Riley.

She glanced at me and shrugged her shoulder slightly.

“What, you don’t know?” he asked.

I glanced toward her and grinned. “Yeah, we are.”

“Yeah we are,” she giggled.

“Better than your last choice, that’s for sure,” he said flatly.

“Yep, he hit me for the last time,” she said.

Axton’s cocked an eyebrow. “He what?”

“The last time he hit me, I left. Haven’t seen him since,” she said.

He fixed his eyes on me, held his gaze for a moment, and eventually shifted his eyes toward Riley. His mood seemed to quickly change from rather cheerful to angry almost immediately. He inhaled a deep breath, folded his arms in front of his chest, and glared.

“What was his name?
Get in a wreck, call Peck
? That’s what his billboards say, right? Wasn’t that it? Stephen Peck?” he asked.

She nodded her head.

He nodded his head once as he reached for his wallet.

“Here you go,” he said as he handed me two one hundred dollar bills.

“Let me get you some change,” I said.

“Keep it. Take her out for dinner or something. I appreciate you getting me in,” he said.

“Appreciate it,” I said as I shoved the bills into my pocket.

He reached down, grabbed his tee shirt, and held his right arm extended to the side. After hugging Riley and shaking my hand, he walked to his bike, started it, and left.

I turned to face Riley. “I’m guessing he didn’t like that Stephen guy.”

“I’m guessing not,” she responded.

“Fuck, he got mad,” I said.

“Uhhm, yeah. He sure seemed to.”

“What are your thoughts about sleeves?” she asked.

I raised my arms in the air and twisted my wrists around slowly. “Do you really need to ask?”

“On me…” she said.

The thought of her having a sleeve excited me. Women with well thought out sleeves were almost as attractive as women with bold black-framed glasses.

Almost.

“I like the thought of it,” I responded.

“Got time?” she asked.

I glanced beyond her and toward Tyler’s empty work station.

“I’ve got a lifetime,” I responded.

RILEY

I felt I had gone from being single forever to being mentally committed to Blake in a matter of two weeks. Whatever it was that drew me to him was sufficient enough for me to let my guard down, accept him as being a minimal threat, and welcome him into my life. I did realize we weren’t committed in a relationship sense, but for me, it was important I viewed it as otherwise. My belief that we were much more involved than we really were allowed me to look at him in an much different light than if we were simply hanging out as friends.

“It’s healing nicely,” he said as he inspected my sleeve.

“I love it. I figured she’d throw a fit, but my mom loves it too,” I said.

“That’s good, you always want to keep your mother on your good side,” he said as he released my wrist.

“So, you’ve never mentioned your parents. Do they live here?” I asked.

He shifted his eyes toward the door and stared blankly at the entrance, his eyes narrow and his thoughts obviously deep. “No, they don’t.”

I nodded my head. “Oh. How often do you…”

“They died when I was young. I grew up in an orphanage for most of my childhood, but then went to live with a foster family for a while,” he said flatly.

I felt like such a fool. I didn’t know anyone who was an orphan, and the thought of him being without a family made me feel sick. As I stood and tried to devise a way to console him, my eyes welled with tears and my throat began to tighten.

“I’m. I’m, uhhm, I’m sorry,” I said as I reached for his shoulder.

He continued to stare out the window, squinting his eyes as if he were still in deep thought. Slowly, he raised his arm, placed his palm over my hand, and turned toward me slightly. “Yeah, me too, I wish I could change it, but I can’t.”

Everyone has secrets; revealing them is simply a matter of finding out where to dig. Blake hadn’t shared his parent’s death with me, and I guess I shouldn’t have expected him to. It obviously wasn’t something he intended to hide from me forever, but he more than likely hoped to hide it until he was ready to share it with me. Unknowingly, I had dug in the right spot.

Or maybe the wrong spot.

I wanted to ask how they died, but I didn’t dare. From time to time I had heard on the news about a family being killed in a car wreck, or a train colliding with a car on the tracks outside of town, but I never thought to think if there was a child who wasn’t with the family when it happened. I realized in the future as I heard of such events, I would wonder if there was a lone child without any other family to care for him or her, and whether or not they would become an orphan. The thought of it all began to consume me, and my stomach started to feel ill.

I turned toward him, opened my arms, and hugged him. Based on his light pat against my back with his hand, it was apparent he really didn’t want to be held, so I released him. Feeling like a complete fool, I attempted to change the subject.

“So, it’s almost lunchtime, want me to run and get some sandwiches?” I asked.

He turned toward me and seemed to force a smile. “Sounds good.”

The sound of the door buzzer caused me to glance up. An adorable girl covered in tattoos from her wrists to the sleeves of her tee shirt walked in, glanced around the shop, and slowly walked toward the wall separating the waiting area from the shop. Dressed in brick-red jeans that were tight all the way to her ankles, a
Mr. Zoggs Sex Wax
tee shirt, and sneakers, she sure didn’t look like a local. As she leaned onto the countertop, she tossed her purple-highlighted brunette hair over her shoulders. As I stood and admired her, I envied her slightly.

I shifted my eyes from her to Blake, and back to her.

“What can I do for you?” Blake asked as he approached the counter.

“Name’s Stevie, and before you ask, yeah, it’s my real name. Just moved here from San Diego, and I was just wondering if you need any artists. I’m licensed in California, Oregon, and maybe still in Washington. Fuck, I don’t know. But anyway, are you needing any artists? I’m bad as fuck with black and grey and I specialize in new school and realism,” she said.

Blake nodded his head. “Have you got a portfolio or anything?”

“Hold please,” she said as she pulled her pack from her shoulder.

After a minute of digging, she produced a book. She tossed it on the counter in front of Blake.

“There you go,” she said.

Blake picked up the book, flipped through the pages, and folded it closed.

“All that’s yours?” he asked.

She shook her head as she reached for the book. “No, I stole the shit online and put it in there, hoping for a job. I’ve really been working at Jack in the Box since 2010, and I wanted a change of pace.”

Blake stared.

“Yeah, it’s mine. You like it?” she asked.

He nodded his head and grinned. “A thousand a month booth rent, due the first of the month, and not after. That buys your rent for the month following payment. I have an extra chair, two stools, and a drawing table back there, you’re more than welcome to them.”

“So, you’re offering me a spot?” she asked.

Blake nodded.

“Fuck yeah!” she hollered as she thrust her hands in the air.

She raised her chin slightly and fixed her eyes on me. “You work here?”

I shook my head..

“What? She your girl?” she asked as she shifted her eyes toward Blake.

“Yeah, she is. Riley, meet Stevie,” he said.

I took the few steps between Blake and me and stepped to his side. I held my hand out, and after tossing the book into her backpack, she shook my hand.

“Bad-ass piece on your arm,” she said as she nodded her head toward my forearm.

I tossed my head toward Blake and wagged my eyebrows. “Thanks.”

She shifted her eyes toward Blake.

“Your work?” she asked.

“Sure is,” he responded.

She turned to face me, held out her open hand, and grinned. “You mind?”

“No, not at all,” I said as I extended my arm.

She lightly held my wrist, inspected my arm carefully, and grinned as she released my wrist.

“Good line work. Love what you did with the shading. It’s got great depth,” she said.

“Appreciate it,” he said.

“Like your hair,” she said.

“Thanks,” I responded.

“Well, come on back?” Blake asked as he motioned toward the shop.

“Sure,” she responded as she grabbed her pack.

I walked to the side of the partition with no other motive other than to inspect her tattoos. As she stepped past the edge of the chest-high wall and caught a complete glimpse of me, she stopped in her tracks and widened her eyes.

“God damn. You’ve got a cute little ass on you, don’t you?” she said.

I stood and stared, uncertain of what to say, if anything.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gay and I won’t attack you or anything, I’m just saying. I wish I had an ass like that,” she said as she began following Blake to the rear of the shop.

“Uhhm. Thank you?” I said as she walked away.

“So, what’s a girl got to do to get an ass like that?” she asked as we stopped at Tyler’s old work station.

“Genetics,” Blake responded.

“I uhhm. I run on the treadmill,” I said.

“You run on the treadmill?” she said with a note of sarcasm.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve surfed since I was six, and look at this fucker,” she said as she slapped her hand against her ass.

“It’s cute,” I said.

“Not like that,” she said as she leaned to the side and raised her eyebrows.

“Well, here’s the spot. The stools, chair, and drawing table are yours to use, but if you leave, they stay here. I’ll give you two months before you must pay rent, but when you do, back rent is due, understood?” Blake asked.

“Fuck yeah, I appreciate it. You won’t regret it,” she said.

“Most shops open at noon. I open at ten. Close at nine. I’ll expect you here at your station when I unlock the door and here when I lock it up at night, whether you’re busy or not,” Blake said.

“You can bet on it,” she said as she lowered her backpack to the floor.

I was tall for a girl, or at least I always thought I was. At five foot seven, there weren’t many girls who were taller than me. As I studied Stevie and made note of where the top of her head was in relationship to Blake’s arm, I decided she was more than likely five foot tall, and not an inch taller. She was well proportioned and had some nice curves, but she was just smaller than any other woman I had ever seen.

“I don’t care what you charge hourly, as long as it’s between ninety and one-thirty,” Blake said.

“With this cheap rent, I won’t argue. Charged one-fifty in SD,” she said.

“Figures,” Blake said.

“So how long have you two been together? You’re a cute couple. I just can’t get over your ass,” she said with a laugh as she shook her head.

“Uhhm,” I said.

“We’ve been together for a bit,” Blake interrupted.

“It shows,” she said nod.

Blake rubbed his hands together, something I hadn’t seen in several days, or maybe even longer. After alternating glances between us for a few seconds, he fixed his eyes on Stevie and stopped with the hand thing.

“So, start tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get my shit in here now if it’s alright,” she said.

“Okay by me,” he said.

“So,” Blake said as he turned to face me.

“You want to just run and get something and bring it back,” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, I’ll call it in. Maybe the Anchor, they deliver.”

“Anchor sounds good,” he said.

I liked the thought of Blake getting employees who were less abrasive than Tyler, but I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable having Stevie working with him all day every day. She was far too pretty, much too outgoing, and a little more eager than I was comfortable with. Feeling slightly jealous, a little bit like I was in a competition, and like my ass was larger than she was leading me to believe, I turned toward her and smiled.

“You probably don’t eat bar food, do you?” I asked.

“I eat anything, why would you think that?” she asked.

I widened my eyes slightly and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, I just figured because you were so tiny, maybe you were vegan or vegetarian or something.”

“So, because I don’t have a nice round ass, I must eat bean sprouts or something?” she said with a laugh.

“Something like that,” I responded.

“I eat anything, why?” she said.

“We were going to get something from the bar down the street, and I wondered if you wanted something. There’s a menu up on the refrigerator,” I said as I pointed to the rear of the shop.

“Yeah, I’ll eat, thanks,” she paused, raised her hand to the side of her mouth as if preparing to tell me a secret, and leaned forward.

I bent down slightly and glanced toward Blake as she continued.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m not after your man. I only fuck guys with big cocks, and then only if they ride a Harley. He doesn’t have a big cock or ride a HOG does he?” she whispered.

I stood with my mouth hanging open and stared blankly at Blake.

“I’m just fucking with ya,” she said as she slapped the palm of her hand against my shoulder.

I forced a shitty grin and tried to decide if she was being truthful or playing around.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she said.

“Thanks,” I responded.

I watched as she unzipped her pack, dumped it on the table, and began to rifle through the contents, which were mostly sketches and books. After a few minutes, everything was in neat piles, and she walked toward the refrigerator. A quick glance at the menu, and she walked back to her work station and reached for a little black zippered bag.

“Here’s twenty,” she said as she handed me a twenty dollar bill. “Leave the change for a tip.”

“Uhhm. What do you want?” I asked.

“Bacon cheeseburger,” she said as she slapped her hand against the side of her ass. “Maybe it’ll fatten me up.”

I grinned, shook my head, and turned toward Blake.

“Mac and cheese and a grilled cheese,” he said.

“They have grilled cheese?” Stevie asked.

“Yeah, it’s good,” I responded.

“No, fuck it. I want the burger. I’ll get the grilled cheese next time,” she said.

“Here,” Blake said as he held out his hand. “Let me go get it, you can stay here and talk to Stevie.”

I eagerly handed him Stevie’s money. He called in the order, and after straightening up his work station, he said goodbye and walked to the bar.