Chapter Four
Ink
T he day got worse from the moment I kicked Xiomara out of the shop. Because she’d double-booked, I had Fer helping with stencils and prepping, more clients gathered at the front waiting impatiently for piercings or to make appointments.
It was so chaotic, I ended up sending for a club brother to come help. Cubano came in, a shit-eating grin on his stupid, pretty face. Not in the mood to deal with his bullshit, I immediately put him to work alongside Fer.
Having him there helped move things along, and yet I couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that trembled through my blood.
I liked having things in order. Everything had a place, everyone had a task. I couldn’t stand plans being upheaved or specific tasks being fucked up.
I knew whatever my club brothers whispered about me. I knew everyone thought I was a fucking nightmare to work with.
Me vale un pepino.
I was organized amidst their chaos. Anyone who wasn’t up to par got the boot.
Still, the nervous feeling stayed with me throughout the day. When the final client up and left, Cubano locked the shop doors, and I began my meticulous cleaning routine.
The backs of my shoulder blades began burning and I cracked my neck, turning to see Fer glaring at me.
“Not now,” I snapped.
“Yes, now.”
Cubano appeared, leaning against the wall, flashing white teeth in a wide smile as he stared back and forth between Fer and I.
Bastardo.
“You fired Xiomara.” Fer glared like she meant to kill me with a look.
“Because she fucked up.”
Her head shook back and forth. “You’re such an idiot. Like, your head is so far up your own ass, there’s no oxygen going to that tiny brain of yours.”
I frowned. “I’m still your boss,” I reminded her. “I can still fire you.”
She scoffed. “You won’t because I’m the only one within a twenty kilometer radius that’ll work for your grumpy ass. Now, if you’ll actually listen to me, you’ll know that Xiomara didn’t fuck up and double book your clients.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. “You like her. You’ll say anything to get her re-hired.”
“Baboso. Your stupid fucking system short-circuited and fucked up. Not her.”
Cubano laughed like he was watching a movie unfold before him. I fought hard to ignore my club hermano. He was such a chismosa I knew he was going to take this back and the whole MC was going to know what happened today.
They loved to rattle me. To see me lose my cool.
I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
I gritted my teeth. “My system is fine.”
Fer sighed. “Guess I’ll have to show you, then.” She whirled, making her way to the front computer.
I had no other choice but to follow. My neck started itching just entertaining her.
“I noticed when I was booking people earlier and doing shit that’s below my pay grade. Look.” She wiggled the mouse and opened up our calendar app.
I stared at the screen. “What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” I could hear the smugness in her voice. “The entire calendar is blank.” She pressed the refresh button and the app started wigging out, and suddenly colors appeared over the dates. “Look. It’s all fucked up. Appointments got rearranged. Your cloud hasn’t been synced to the app so the appointments haven’t popped up. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” Cubano laughed.
I rocked back on the backs of my heels, breathing heavily through my nostrils.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She was right.
Xiomara had told me she had done it right, but I’d ignored her. To be fair, her track record didn’t give me any sort of confidence that she knew how to do basic tasks. And the app had never failed me before, so how was I supposed to know that it hadn’t been her fault?
Fer whirled, glaring at me once again. “You fired her, humiliated her, in front of clients.”
I had.
I wasn’t sure I regretted it. This was a business, after all, and she’d gone around nervously all week like a skittish mouse acting like I was going to step on her.
“Well, it is unfortunate.” I didn’t want to admit that I was wrong.
“Unfortunate,” Fer echoed with disbelief. “You know what?” She grabbed her phone, fingers flying across the screen. A moment later, my own cell beeped with a message. “I texted you her address. Go apologize and hire her back.”
Why do I have to do that? The words stuck in my throat.
Fuck.
I liked to run things smoothly. I liked everything to be fucking perfect. That included myself. Just the thought that I’d fucked up didn't sit right with me, but I also had to recognize that when things got messed up, I needed to fix them.
So I would.
But, fuck, Xiomara had stared at me like she wanted to stab me in the balls. She wouldn’t accept my apology.
Regardless, it was something I had to do.
I shut off my motorcycle, sitting back in the seat and staring up at the house I parked in front of. My brows furrowed and I pulled out my phone to double check that Fer had given me the right address.
Yup.
This was where Xiomara lived.
The house was… tiny. I wasn’t surprised; a lot of houses were, actually. It was nothing new. People worked with what they had.
With a sigh, I threw my leg over my bike and went up towards the house. There was no doorbell, so I rapped my knuckles in quick succession across the door.
I knew it was late, and I prayed she was awake. I could have waited to do this tomorrow, but I didn’t want to. My nerves wouldn’t let me wait so long.
I waited a minute.
Then two.
Then five…
Finally, the locks on the other side of the door clicked and the door swung open to reveal Xiomara herself.
She was in a government-issued free t-shirt, a green logo on the front of the tattered thing that let me know it was old and well-worn. She wore sleep shorts, leaving her long legs bare.
I was surprised to see very little ink on her skin, and for a second I itched for my tattoo gun so I could put something beautiful on her thighs.
I forced my gaze away from her legs to look up at her face. It was jarring to see her without the makeup I’d grown accustomed to in such a short time. She looked younger. More vulnerable.
Her glare was the same, though.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
I hadn’t rehearsed what I was going to say, but I didn’t need to. There was no use dancing around the subject.
“You didn’t fuck up,” I said. “It was the system.”
She pressed her shoulder against the door frame and crossed her arms against her chest. Even with the small porch light glowing down on her, I could make out the outline of her breasts beneath the shirt. No bra. Nipples poking against the fabric.
Fuck.
“So? What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t fuck up. I’m hiring you back.”
She blinked, as if she couldn’t believe what it was she was hearing. I had never expected to be put in this position, so I understood. I never gave second chances. She was lucky she was getting this at all.
“So from what I’m hearing, it was your fault and you owe me an apology?”
I would have glowered harder at her had it not been for the mischievous gleam in her eye. Had she just cracked a joke?
I fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. “Do you want the job or not?”
She straightened at the brisk tone but eventually sighed and nodded. I could hardly see with the lone lamplight, but maybe I imagined the color rising on her cheeks.
What I didn’t imagine was a wall slamming closed behind her eyes and that mischievous glint vanishing, replaced by something almost shy and demure instead.
A complete turn from what she’d been like before.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’d like the job back, please.”
I nodded and then stood there.
Awkward beats passed between us and neither of us said a thing. I should have turned around and walked back to my bike, but something about the woman beneath the light was fucking hypnotizing.
The cutting, sharp points of her thick brows, the fierce angled edges of her eyes.
She was beautiful, of course; I’d fucking known that the moment I saw her. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about her right then. Stripped of the makeup she wore like armor, she looked different, and I hated how much that captivated me.
“Right.” I took a step backwards. “See you tomorrow.”
She started to close the door, but a voice filtered outside.
“Xiomara, who is that at this hour?”
An older woman appeared from behind her. Wrapped in a shawl to protect herself from the night chill, her graying hair frizzed around her forehead and cheeks. There were wrinkle lines around her eyes, the creases of her skin pulling her expression down into one of displeasure.
She glared at me, her eyes taking me in the way the senoras always did. With judgment. Disdain.
That was normal, and I didn’t take it personally.
“Who is this?” the woman demanded.
“Ma, this is my boss,” Xiomara introduced slowly.
Her eyes cut to me, and in them I read the note of panic.
I wondered if she’d told her mamá I’d fired her. Probably not. I wouldn’t mention it.
“Buenas noches, senora,” I greeted. “Sorry if I woke you. I was just telling Xiomara that I would pick her up for work tomorrow.”
Her mamá looked suspiciously at me. “This late? You couldn’t phone her instead?”
“I don’t have her number, I’m afraid.” I hadn’t bothered putting it into my contact list, thinking she wouldn’t last the week.
Her mamá looked at me like I was a liar.
“Ah, right.” Xiomara rattled off her number, and I immediately punched it into my phone before pocketing the device.
I nodded. “Thank you. And sorry again for disturbing your night.”
Taking a ride back to the club house, I enjoyed the wind whipping against my face, letting the flow clear my mind, but it kept going back to Xiomara.
I’d not pretend I didn’t feel anything other than guilt, especially when I prided myself on being immaculate.
I’d given her the job back, and I’d noted her relief, but I’d also noted her living conditions.
She appeared to live like most upper-lower class Mexicans. But if she desperately needed a job, I wondered why she couldn’t seem to hold one down.
I should have asked. I suddenly needed to know that information.
Maybe it was my guilt that drove my next action. It didn’t matter. But when I arrived at the club house, I waved over a prospect.
“You’re coming with me tomorrow,” I ordered. No need for politeness. Prospects were our bitches. “But I need you to go buy a few supplies first.”