Rox (Nameless Order: Heart Chapter #1)

5. Roxie

Five

Roxie

I t’s been two days since Mimic kissed me. Two nights of me getting off to the memory of him holding me while I used him to come. Two full days of me wanting him to take me. Fuck. The way he made me feel.

It never occurred to me that he felt the way he did. I’ve been in the dark. Too focused on what I wanted my life to be, I didn’t see what was right in front of me. After we calmed down, he’d let me go, and we sat out in the field. That night was magical in more ways than one.

“Do you really feel that way about me?” I ask shyly. It was hard to believe that he would feel about me the way he said. I’m nothing special. He could have anyone he wants, yet he wants me. I don’t understand why. Am I fishing for compliments? Yeah, probably. Do I care? Not really.

With a deep sigh, he looks away from me. “Roxy, I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“How long, Mimic?”

He doesn’t say anything. He looks out toward the fields. It’s calm out here tonight. There’s no noise except for the crickets playing their song in the background. As they call to each other, I attempt to call to Mimic. I want to know more. I want to understand. I want him.

It’s as if he unlocked something within me. Opened my eyes to what was right in front of me. I’ve had trouble seeing it, though, because I was too consumed with myself. Building myself up and getting to where I want to be in life. Then he came to my defense and shattered the dirty glass wall that was between us, and everything became clear. When he doesn’t answer, I put myself closer to him, grab his chin to make him face me, and ask again.

“How long, Mimic?”

“From the moment I met you, Rox.”

I inhale, “That was right after my birthday.”

“Yup. I’ve been crazy about you since then.”

I press my lips to his and straddle his lap. His hands hold my ass as I put my fingers through his hair. “Are you still crazy about me?”

“Even more so, Rox. I’m a fucking savage when it comes to you.”

Our lips crash back together, and—

“—Stop fucking daydreaming, and get to work!” Duncan yells from somewhere in the shop. I shake my head and bring myself out of the memory from the other night. I’ve been so consumed by it that it’s taken over my days and nights.

“Sorry Duncan, just a lot on my mind,” I tell him, even though he doesn’t deserve a response.

“I don’t fucking care what’s on your mind. Get your head out of your ass and finish cleaning.”

I don’t respond. He acts like this all the time. Always doing and saying what he can to piss me off. The best I can do for myself is let him have the last word and do whatever bullshit task he demands of me. In this instant, though, I’ve finished what he wanted. It’s part of the reason why it was so easy for me to slip back into the moment I had with Mimic the other night. When nothing is occupying my mind or myself physically, I sink back into the thoughts of Mimic.

“I’ve finished what you needed cleaned, Duncan,” I tell him without any attitude. I learned quickly that if I stood my ground and gave him any amount of sass, he’d make my life even worse. But compliant Roxie is a slightly better treated, but not really, Roxie. “What can I help you with next?”

Good girl, Roxie. Let him think you’re here to help him with whatever he needs, and maybe he’ll go easier on you. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll actually start teaching you how to tattoo.

It fucking sucks that he hasn’t done anything regarding tattooing with me since I started here. He’s turned me into his modern-day Cinderella. Clean this, clean that, and do it again until it’s done correctly. Over and over again. But new techniques, new ways to shade, line, the amount of pressure to use, he hasn’t taught me any of that. I can already tattoo. My legs prove it, but I want to learn more. I want to learn from others who have been in the business for a long time. Every artist has their own set of techniques and ways to do things. I want to take bits and pieces from everyone here and use those lessons to strengthen what I already have. Hell, even from Duncan. He’s a certified dickbag, but he’s fantastic with realism tattoos. Especially in color.

Every tattoo on me shows my growth. I started at my ankles and worked my way up. I haven’t covered anything. You can see my absolute trash bag tattoos from when I first started to my amazing—if I do say so myself—tattoos on my thigh. On my left leg, I have an abundance of flowers that almost wrap around my entire thigh. It’s my favorite piece. It took me a few sessions to get it completed. It has colors, black and white elements, and all the shading and highlights needed to make it look three-dimensional. I’m so proud of this piece. Stanford looked at all my tattoos and acknowledged my skill growing. It’s why he allowed me to apprentice here. Unfortunately, it wasn’t under him.

“Like hell, you’re fucking done,” Duncan calls out before he rounds the corner. When he sees that I did, in fact, clean everything from top to bottom, he lets out an angry growl. I don’t know what his problem with me is, but I’m over it. I want to say something, but I can’t. It’s only going to make this all worse for me. “Hmm, what do you know? You actually can follow instructions.” And there goes my control.

“What the fuck, Duncan? I’ve followed your instructions to a T since starting here. Done every bullshit job you’ve asked me to do. Which, by the way, not a single one has been about tattooing. The thing you’re actually supposed to be teaching me.”

“I don’t have to teach you shit. I’m not the one who wants you here. But since I have no choice in the matter, you’re gonna be this shop’s little bitch boy. Got it?”

“You motherfuc—”

I’m cut off by the bell on the front door of the shop. Duncan and I both turn to see Stanford walking in. He’s a big man. As in, solid muscle, tall as fuck, and hot as hell. I appreciate what he looks like and respect him as a person, but he’s got nothing on the man who’s taken over my thoughts.

“What’s going on here?” he asks as he looks at Duncan and me.

“Nothing boss. Just checking in on Roxie. She’s finished cleaning and organizing back here. I was about to take her up front to sit with me while I tattooed my next client. They should be here any moment.”

His shift in demeanor is astounding. If only Stanford knew what Duncan said to me, not three minutes ago.

“Good. I haven’t seen her at any station since she started. Get her in there and go over the things she needs to know. I want her tattooing by next week.”

“Next week? I don’t think she’s ready for that, man.”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not right here? And I fully believe I am ready.”

Stanford nods his head in agreement at me before shifting his focus back to Duncan. “As do I. She has the skill set, Duncan. You can see it if you look at her. Everything on her was done by her. Never covering up what she did poorly. Her growth is visible right there. Get her in the chair by next week.”

Once Stanford leaves, I can’t help the smirk I have on my face. I’m not one to hide what I’m feeling. And Duncan fucking hates it.

“Don’t think you’re gonna be in a chair just because you sucked his dick to get here.”

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

“Listen, I don’t know what your damn problem with me is, and frankly I don’t care. But I will be in the chair whether you want me to or not. So back the fuck up and do what you’re told for once. I came here to learn, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m done being your, what did you call it, bitch boy? No more. I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough. I’ve sat back and taken it, but I’m done.” To piss him off even more, I pat his face before getting closer, “So how about you be a good little bitch boy and teach me the ropes.” The bell rings, and I smile wider, “Looks like your client just walked in. Go put on that I’m a good boy act and start fucking teaching.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead twice over, but I don’t care. I’m going to continue to push him and make him do what he’s supposed to be doing. Teaching.

“You’re nothing but Stanford’s little pet. Believe me when I tell you, you’re not getting anything out of this. Especially not until I get anything in return.”

“Is that what this is about? You think I sucked his dick to get here, and because of that, you have some morbid idea that I’ll suck yours for the same treatment he’s given me?”

The audacity of this man. People like him that make me wish Angel would have just let me apprentice at his shop. At least there, I would have been treated like a human. I wouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit that Duncan’s giving me. I’d actually be learning something. But no, that asshole had to be all high and mighty with my father and demand I obtain something neither one of them have.

Duncan laughs, “You wish it was your mouth I wanted. No. You don’t do a damn thing for me, so I won’t do a damn thing for you.” He looks around me, and I can only assume he’s looking at Stanford, “At least, not when Stanford is gone.” He clears his throat and straightens up, “Come on, Roxie. This one will give you some good pointers.” The tone of his voice is even different. He seems happy, almost excited to be teaching. A complete one-eighty from a moment ago. I’m dealing with a true Jekyll and Hyde. Great. “We’re doing a mix of realism and fantasy with color splotching. It’s going to be something you haven’t seen before.”

He takes a quick look at Stanford and then back to me, giving me a “don’t fuck this up” look.

Because I know I need to play the game, I smile brightly, even though Stanford can’t see me, and make sure I’m loud enough to hear. “That sounds really cool. I can’t wait to see your technique.” And for a little extra mmph, and to hopefully make him squirm, I add, “Your designs are fantastic, Duncan. I’m really excited about this.” Barf.

* * *

As much as Duncan hated it, he did what he was told and actually taught me. He went over different techniques, what needles to use depending on what he was doing, the best way to mix colors, everything. I was honestly surprised, but I took note of everything he said. I listened intently and made sure to ask questions. I’m not sure if he answered because his client was there or Stanford was close by, but he answered everything. When he’d finished, I wanted to make sure he knew that I really did appreciate him. When I had told him so, he ruined the day by going straight back into his dickbag ways.

“Don’t attempt to make me think you’re grateful. I’m not falling for your bullshit. Get this fucking shop cleaned up, and get the fuck out of here.”

He couldn’t be decent for a moment. Letting out a sigh, I grab the bag of trash and head for the back door. Lifting the lid, I toss the bag in, “That’ll do it.”

Back inside, I turn off the music still playing through the shop speakers and turn off the lights as I go. It isn’t long before I’m out the front door and locking it for the night. As the lock clicks, I feel it. Turning, I look around, but I don’t see anyone. Then why do I feel their eyes on me? Not wanting to find out, I rush to my car, get in, and lock the doors.

“Phew,” I let out, “you’re okay. I’m okay.” Checking my mirrors, I don’t see anyone behind me or around me. “I guess I should head home. Ugh, why am I talking to myself?”

I’m only driving for a moment when the lights appear behind me. Given my already nervous state from before, my mind immediately assumes I’m being followed. I look around, but I can’t see much as it’s dark out tonight. There’s no moon in the sky, and streetlights are few and far between. It’s something Heart is known for. Less lighting, so we can see the stars. Yeah, well, this is really friggin’ inconvenient right now, Heart. I’m about to pass through a light, so I look in my review when the car behind me does.

“Ah, fuck!” High beams blind me, which confirms everything. “I’m fucking being followed.” As much as I’m panicking, being raised by my father has taught me things. Taking a deep breath, I press the call button on my steering wheel and wait for the beep.

“Call Da—Mimic.”

I don’t know what caused me to change my mind at the last second, but something inside me screamed not to call my dad. So when the car didn’t register who I said, I told it again, with a lot more confidence. I need Mimic.

“Call Mimic.” Two rings. That’s all it took.

“Rox,” why does he sound breathless? Oh my god. Is it possible to get turned on by the way someone says your name? Holy hell. Bitch, focus.

“Mimic,” I must have lost the control I had over my voice because he cuts me off before I can tell him what’s wrong.

“Rox? Rox, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following me. I can’t see who it is, and each time I pass through a light, they’re turning on their brights, so I can’t see anything about what they’re driving.”

“Okay, Rox, I need you to listen to me,” as if I couldn’t. The rage I hear in his tone is not only turning me on but letting me know he isn’t fucking around at all. “Rox!”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m listening.”

“Good. Drive to the clubhouse.”

“What? Why would I go there?” I knew the answer. It’s where I would be the safest. But my mind wasn’t thinking that when I called him. I wanted him to tell me to go to him. Something inside of me is calling me. It’s pointing me to him.

“I need you to drive there. I promise, once they realize that’s where you’re headed, they’re gonna turn around. And if they don’t, they’re gonna meet the end of a handful of forty-fives.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Heading there now.”

I was raised to always get to my dad and the clubhouse if anything were to go wrong or if I ever felt unsafe. I’d done that exact thing multiple times. Our safe haven is the clubhouse. So why am I reaching out to Mimic now? Why is it I didn’t want to call my dad for the first time in my life? I wanted to call Mimic.

“Rox, are you there?”

“I’m here. I’m almost at the main road to get to the club.”

“Are they still behind you?”

I look up to the mirror, and unfortunately, it’s right when we pass through a light, and I’m blinded again, “Fuck! Yes. The asshole just flashed me again.”

“I swear I’m going to find out who this son of a bitch is, and I’m going to murder them.”

He says it as if he didn’t mean for me to hear it. His voice is rough yet flows like syrup. It’s somehow sweet, the tone he used, and I’m already addicted.

“Turning now.” I hold my breath, and just like Mimic said, the car drives past. “I think it’s a white, maybe silver, vehicle, but I can’t tell you what it is. But they kept going. Where are you at? I’ll be at the club in five.”

The clubhouse is down a long country road. It’s away from traffic and other homes. Dad wanted a space that was private, but easily accessed. He wanted the public to know they could count on us, but still be somewhat secluded.

“I’m at home, Rox.” I slam my breaks. “What the hell? Rox! Are you okay? Rox!”

“I’m fine. What the fuck do you mean you’re at home? Why would you have me come here when you’re not even here?”

“They would have followed you. The club gets them off your tail.”

I let out an annoyed ugh and rub my hands over my face. I know he’s right. I don’t like it. “Fine. I get it. Thank you. I needed the help. I…just…thanks.”

“Anytime, Rox.”

After getting off the phone, I turn my car lights off and turn around. I drive up to the entrance to the road and wait. I give my eyes some time to adjust and look. Back and forth, in slow, almost predatory motions, I sweep. I don’t see anything. No lights are coming from either direction, so I make a left and head to Mimic’s. A stupid decision, I’m sure, but I wait a moment before I turn my lights on. When none come up behind me or before me, I turn mine on and hit the gas.

Dad made sure I had every member’s number. I don’t have all their real names, as that’s something they decide to provide. But I do know where all of them live. Because my parents run the horse ranch and take in abused women and children, MC members don’t live on their property or at the clubhouse. Because of that, I know where all of them live. It’s always been if I needed to get to someone I trusted, and the clubhouse wasn’t the closest. I could always go to a member. Well, sorry, Dad, but tonight, I’m not using your helpful information for any of the reasons you gave it to me.

Not even ten minutes later, I’m parked in Mimic’s drive. Getting out of my car, I hurry to his front door. I knock hard and quick while I look around. No car lights came on behind me while I was headed here, but you never know. Determined people will do crazy shit to get what they want. When I don’t see anything, I turn back to the door as I hear the lock disengage and the door is pulled open.

Mimic’s shock doesn’t match the desire in his tone, “Rox.”