Spring Break Fling

Chapter 8

8

NIKKO

T he shop was a zoo.

Spring Breakers poured in like locusts, their enthusiasm for matching tattoos as unstoppable as their complete lack of originality. If I had to tattoo another infinity symbol, palm tree, or poorly thought-out inside joke, I was going to stab myself with my own machine.

“Can I get a daisy with, like, a little heart in the middle?” asked my latest client, a girl who looked barely old enough to legally order a margarita. I could tell she was a little buzzed. Most of them were. As long as they weren’t drunk, we didn’t deny service. The young woman had a tan that suggested she’d been spending a lot of time on the beach.

I forced a smile. “Sure thing. A daisy with a heart coming right up.”

She giggled, clueless to my soul slowly leaving my body.

I tried to keep my frustration under control as I sketched out the requested design for the young woman. Spring Break was always the busiest and most annoying time of year at the shop. Drunken coeds stumbled in wanting tacky, unoriginal tattoos to commemorate a trip they would likely regret once the hangovers wore off .

I glanced over at Jessie’s station where she was working on some guy’s tribal armband design. She met my gaze and rolled her eyes, clearly just as over this seasonal work as I was.

“Okay, I’ve got the design ready,” I told the girl, sliding the sketch across the counter. “Take a look and let me know if you want any changes.”

She peered at it, biting her lip. “Can you make the heart a little bigger?”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure thing.”

When I finished the masterpiece of mediocrity, I plastered on my best customer-service grin and walked her to the front desk to pay.

She was perky. Like really perky and annoying as hell. But she also looked like she had money. I was not averse to tips. A little flirting was usually worth a few extra bucks.

Lucky me, she gave me an extra twenty. “Thanks. Take care of that.”

“I will,” she said with a flirty smile.

I walked back to my station. Marcus was cleaning up after his last customer.

“You think we could start charging double for flowers and infinity signs? Spring Breaker tax?” I asked.

Marcus snorted as he wiped down the chair. “You know this is what keeps the lights on, right? Quit complaining.”

“I’m just saying, I didn’t spend years honing my craft to churn out daisies and ‘Bestie Forever’ tattoos.”

“You’ll survive,” he said with a shrug. “Different schools do Spring Break on different weeks, but the last of them will be gone by next week. Then you can go back to tattooing flaming skulls or whatever keeps your cold, dead heart beating.”

“I do more than flaming skulls,” I muttered, though not much these days.

I was longing for a really cool, daring piece. Something that got my juices flowing. Something that challenged me.

Marcus called his next client. I checked the sheet and wanted to cry. Chloe . I just knew it was going to be a butterfly. Probably on her hip bone.

I took a deep breath and called Chloe over. As she approached, all bubbly enthusiasm and a dazzling smile, I prepared myself for yet another cliché. “So, what are we doing today?” I tried to keep my tone neutral, despite my preconceptions.

Chloe flashed a pageant-worthy smile. “I want something unique! How about a butterfly? But like, with some tribal elements around it?”

Internally cringing, I nodded slowly. “Sure, we can definitely do that. Any particular colors in mind?”

“Surprise me!” she chirped, hopping onto the chair with the grace of someone who’d probably had one too many seaside cocktails.

“Where are we putting it?”

She grinned. Mischief flashing in her eyes.

Three, two, one.

She unbuttoned her shorts and jerked them down just enough to expose her hip. She started giggling. “I’m wearing a bikini. I want to make sure the tattoo can be seen.”

As if the sight of her skinny little body was going to bother me. I had inked boobs, butts, and some other places that didn’t typically see the light of day.

“Have a seat,” I said.

I started the outline of the butterfly on Chloe, focusing on making each line perfect even though it was a design I could probably do in my sleep by now. The hum of the tattoo machine was usually soothing, but right then it was just a reminder of how repetitive my job had become during this season. As the needle moved, I found myself thinking about other possible designs that would have excited me more—the detailed dragons, the intricate full-back scenes, anything that required more creativity and skill than this.

Chloe chattered on about her friends and their plans for the night, oblivious to my lack of interest. “Does this look awesome or what?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she continued her saga about last night’s party .

Finished with the outline, I began filling in the colors. I tried to breathe some life into the fairly common tattoo. It was a silent effort to make the piece slightly more bearable for me, even if Chloe would likely never appreciate the nuances of shading or the precise way I blended the colors at the edges.

She had her phone in hand and was snapping selfies.

I switched needles for finer detail work while she was rapid-fire texting.

She took a picture of me working on the tattoo.

“I’m going to get so many likes,” she said. “I have like two hundred thousand followers. Everyone is going to want to come here. I hope you’re ready for a lot of business.”

For the love of God, no. “Cool.”

I glanced over at Marcus who must have overheard. He shook his head, clearly feeling the same as I did. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but these quick little hundred-dollar tattoos paid the bills.

By the time I wrapped up my last client, the shop had emptied out. Marcus and Diego had already called it a night, leaving me and Jessie to close up.

“Anything more from your crazy ex?” Jess asked as she swept.

I sighed. “Nope.”

“Think she’ll come back for more?” she asked.

“Hell if I know,” I said. “Maybe. Probably. But I think her little boyfriend might have something to say about it. And I don’t want any of that drama.”

“Why’d you even date her if you were just going to sabotage it?”

“I didn’t know she’d go into stage-five clinger mode,” I said. “She got all serious way too fast. I tried to pull back, telling her I was going out with friends or was busy. She wasn’t horrible, but she was just so damn needy. I couldn’t fucking breathe without her asking what I was doing. Where was I going and on and on. She wasn’t taking the hint, so I made sure she had a reason to hate me.”

Jessie raised an eyebrow. “By hooking up with her friend?” I could see the disapproval on her face. “Did you cheat on her?”

“No. I slept with Jenna after we broke up. ”

“How soon after?”

I cringed, knowing how bad the truth sounded.

“Nikko, how long?”

“The next day. I knew there was no way she was going to get the picture. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” I shrugged. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re a piece of work, Nikko,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, a masterpiece,” I shot back.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“Better than being boring,” I said with a laugh.

“If a guy did that to me, I would exact some serious revenge,” she said.

“Which is why I would never date you. You’re scary.”

Jessie chuckled. “Oh, please, I’m a kitten compared to some of the wild cats you’ve dated.”

I snorted, wiping down my station. “Maybe so. But you’d still eat me alive.”

“Probably,” she admitted. “But then again, I wouldn’t have to worry about you cheating with my friends, would I?”

The dig hit home, but I shrugged it off with a smirk. “Depends on how irresistible your friends are.”

The sound of someone rattling the locked front door made us both turn. A figure stood outside, shadowed against the glow of the streetlight.

“I’ll get it,” Jessie said, heading for the door.

“Wait.” I stopped her, my stomach sinking as I got a good look at the man outside. The tattoos on his neck, the hunched posture, the way he scanned the shop like he was casing the joint—I recognized him immediately.

We weren’t about to be robbed at gunpoint. But that might be a better option than what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

“Fuck me.”

“What’s up?” Jessie asked. “Should I call the police? ”

“No, I’ve got this,” I said with a disgusted sigh. “You can head out the back.”

She hesitated, glancing between me and the door. “Why the back? Who is that?”

“Just someone I need to talk to,” I said. “It’s fine.”

Her frown deepened. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll lock up after.”

She didn’t look convinced but nodded. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

As soon as Jessie disappeared into the back, I unlocked the door and opened it just enough to step outside.

“Zip,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Hey, kid,” my dad said, his grin wide and fake. “You look good.”

“What do you want?”

He glanced past me into the shop, nodding appreciatively. “This your place? Looks good. Real professional.”

“It’s Marcus’s,” I said. “I work here. And I asked what you wanted.”

Zip’s eyes flicked to the Harley parked at the curb. “Nice bike. Yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Bet it rides like a dream,” he said. “You should see the rust bucket I’ve been riding. Burns more oil than it does gas.”

“Sounds like you need a new bike,” I said flatly. “Or a tune-up.”

“Funny you should mention that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m in a bit of a bind.”

Here we go.

My father’s entire life was a bind if you listened to him tell the story.

“What kind of bind?” I wasn’t sure why I asked. I didn’t actually care. I didn’t want to hear it. There would be another sob story. Everyone was out to get him. He was the perpetual victim.

“Nothing major,” he said, waving a hand. “Just a couple grand. Some people are breathing down my neck. You know how it is.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “Because I don’t spend money I don’t have. ”

His grin faltered. “Come on, Nikko. Just this once. I only need about two thousand. I know you’ve got it. That bike ain’t cheap.”

I snorted. “You’ve said ‘just this once’ at least five times now. I’m done. Figure it out. I’m not your fucking ATM.”

“Nikko,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I’m in real trouble this time.”

“That’s not my problem. You were in trouble last time. You’re always in fucking trouble. You ever think how fucked up it is you keep coming to your son to bail your ass out? Get your shit together, old man.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, I thought he might actually leave. But then he gave me that look—the one he’d used on me since I was a kid, the one that said, You owe me, and you know it.

I hated that look.

With a frustrated sigh, I turned and went inside, heading for the register.

“You’re lucky Marcus isn’t here,” I muttered as I pulled out the two grand in cash. He was damn lucky today had been so fucking busy and I hadn’t dropped the cash yet. “If he found out I was doing this, I’d be out on my ass.”

Zip’s face lit up as I handed him the money. “Thanks, kid. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “In fact, don’t call me at all.”

He pocketed the cash, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re a good son, Nikko.”

“Don’t push it.”

He chuckled and walked away, whistling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I locked the door behind him and let out a sigh of relief.

“Good son, my ass. Try being a mediocre father and I’d be happy.”