Chapter 14 Octavia #2
At the sound of my voice being roared, I dump the stuff in my arms onto the kitchen counter and rush back into the studio, expecting to find Knight hurt, or being held at knifepoint, or something.
Instead, my new husband is running from room to room, throwing doors open dramatically, his eyes wild, his chest heaving.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“Where the hell were you?” he yells, storming toward me, lifting me off my feet and pinning me to his chest.
“I was getting supplies,” I try to say with my face squashed against his shirt.
“You do not disappear like that ever again,” he growls angrily, but his body doesn’t feel angry. He’s holding me tightly, but he’s not tense. He’s clinging to me, his hold desperate, his heart racing beneath me.
“I was just in the break room,” I tell him, not really able to move.
After a long moment, he slowly relaxes his hold, allowing me to slide down his body until my feet hit the floor.
“I didn’t leave you,” I assure him, wrapping my arms around his back to hug him.
“I know,” he replies, but his voice is robotic and cold.
I don’t understand his reaction, but it doesn’t really matter why he’s feeling this way. I just want to make it better. “Will you help me?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers gruffly.
Slowly unwrapping my arms from around him, I take his hand and lead him into the break room. Collecting all the things I abandoned when he yelled, I load them into his arms, then motion him to follow as I go back into the supply room and gather the other essential items I need to set up my station.
Once his arms are loaded with things, I stay close to him as we make our way back to the stage.
“You can put all of that on the bed. I need to clean the cabinet before I can start stocking it.”
Placing everything down on the bed, he looms over me, his arms crossed over his chest like a guard, protecting his ward. Trying to ignore his tension, I open the pack of cleansing wipes and clean down everything before I systematically start to fill my cabinet.
Once I’m confident I have all the basics in place, I open each of my boxes in turn and start to make the space my own.
Covering the doors and sides of the cabinet with stickers, I attach the custom ink shelf a buddy of mine from Rapid City made for me, then fill it with the brand of ink I prefer, starting with black at the top and working my way through the rainbow to white.
Removing my favorite pieces of art from the frames I brought with me, I slowly add them to the empty frames Betty has mounted to the walls, adding my own flair and artistic style to the familiar ones I recognize as Suede’s, Betty’s, and the ones I’ve never seen before that must belong to Cyrus.
Hours later, I watch as Knight breaks down the last of my boxes and takes them out to the dumpster. My station is completely set up, and I’m ready to work. I just need to line up some clients.
“Hey, baby, is my cell at home?” I ask when he steps back into the studio.
“No,” he says, pulling my cell phone from his pocket and holding it out to me.
“Would you take a picture of me, and then I can post it to my socials and see if I can bring some of my regulars in for appointments this week.”
My new cell is just a basic model, but it does have a camera, and it reminds me that I should probably charge my old cell up and switch the SIM card over. Smiling, I watch as he takes a single photo of me, then offers me the cell.
When I click into the gallery, it’s the only picture in there, but luckily, it’s a pretty good one, so I post it to my socials with the caption:
I’m back!!! And all settled in at my new home at Mountain Ink in Rockhead Point, MT. I know I’ve been MIA for the last couple of months, but my schedule is open for existing clients only, so drop me a DM to book. #MountainInk #RockheadPoint #Newstudio #tattoolife #happyplace
Within minutes of posting, my inbox is flooded with clients asking to schedule time. Standing, I head to the front desk, wondering who is working the reception desk now that Etta is pregnant and probably not allowed to work if her hubby-slash-stepbrother has anything to say about it.
Grabbing the huge date book, I bring it back to my station and start to write appointments into my column.
“All of those appointments have come in the last five minutes?” Knight asks curiously.
“Yeah, I’m usually booked out six months in advance, but I’ve been dodging my clients for the last few months, so a lot of them have been waiting months to get in to see me.”
“And they’ll all come here to Rockhead Point?”
“Oh yeah, only a few were actually from South Dakota. Most have traveled from other states to come get tattooed by me.”
As my cell continues to ding, alerting me to more new messages, Knight lifts me out of my seat and takes it, placing me on his lap with the date book on the tattoo bed in front of me.
“I need to get my own date book to keep track of my appointments,” I say with a sigh.
“We can go to the Walmart in Bozeman if you want to,” Knight suggests.
“Okay. I’ll text Betty to let her know I have the studio’s date book, and I can bring it back in the morning.
I need to look at buying a car too. I’d planned to find an apartment close to the studio so I wouldn’t need one straight away, but with us being up on the mountain, I’m kind of stranded without one,” I say absentmindedly as I reply to messages and add more new appointments to the date book.
“No,” Knight says brusquely.
“I need a car, Knight.”
“I will drive you anywhere you need to go.”
“And what if you’re busy?” I ask, twisting to look at him and arching an imperious eyebrow at him in challenge.
“I won’t be.”
“You can’t say that.” I scoff. The house is literally on the side of a mountain. I need a car. It’s not like I can walk into town from there, especially not in heels.
“I will buy you a car, but there will never be a time when I cannot drive you,” he declares, pulling his own cell from his pocket and tapping firmly at the screen. Bringing it to his ear, I hear the faint sound of ringing before someone answers.
“Monroe, I need you to place an order for a car for me.”
“Wait,” I start to protest, but Knight lifts his hand and covers my mouth to silence me.
“Same spec as mine, black on black.”
He pauses for a moment, obviously listening to whatever the person on the other end of the call is saying.
“As soon as possible. Yes. I need a full risk assessment on a building too. Send Hayes and Eduardo. A full system, same as the house. I’ll send you the address. Okay. Good. Bye.” Ending the call, he pushes his cell phone into his pocket and lifts his hand from my mouth.
“What the hell was that?” I snap.
“I arranged a car for you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You can’t just arrange a car for me,” I say, outraged.
“We own a security company. I ordered my car through them. Now I’ve ordered one for my wife. I don’t see the problem.”
“You don’t see the problem?” I yell, exasperated. “How much is it? I have no idea if I can afford it.”
“It’s covered,” he says calmly.
His nonchalant attitude makes me so frustrated that my fingers curl into fists. “How is it covered if I have no idea if I can afford it?” I ask slowly.
“We have plenty of money,” he tells me, like it’s simple.
“No. You have money. I have about two hundred dollars to my name. Taking my asshole landlord to court drained me, and I’m broke until I start working regularly again.”
“I assumed you wanted to work, not that you were doing it because you were worried about money. I can take care of us and as many children as you give me. Neither of us ever needs to work again.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about the money thing in a minute. I want to work. I love my job. I just need to work to pay my bills too. You know, like a normal person.”
“You don’t have any bills anymore,” he says coolly.
“Of course I have bills. I’m assuming you have a mortgage, and there are utilities and insurance. If we’re living together, I’ll pay half of that. Plus, I have my cell phone and health insurance and everything else that costs money in life.”
“We don’t have a mortgage. We own our home and the ten thousand acres of land surrounding it outright.
Well, except for the acreage I’ve gifted to my brothers.
Our home has solar panels, and although we might have some power bills for a while, at some point we’ll have enough stored power that we’ll barely need to use anything from the power grid.
The entire building is energy efficient, so the cost of living there will be minimal.
I’ve added you to my health insurance and cell phone plan, and any other expenses we have will be paid out of our joint accounts.
Nothing we have is mine or yours anymore. It’s all just ours.”
“Maybe anything we get from here on out might be ours, but anything you had before we got married is yours. It’s your house and your business and your money. None of that is mine,” I protest.
“All of me is yours,” he says so earnestly, and I melt. “You wanted a car, so I ordered you a car.”
“Is it really just that black and white for you?” I ask, wanting to know the answer.
“Yes.”
“And what if you paying for everything makes me uncomfortable?” I question.
“I’m not paying for anything. We are.”
Sighing, I turn my attention back to my cell, deciding to try to figure out how to pay my way in my marriage another time.
When the barrage of messages starts to slow, I grab the date book and let Knight strap me back into the car before he secures the studio door and closes the shutter, putting the key onto the ring with the fob for his car.
The drive to Bozeman is boring and ugly in comparison to the majestic beauty of the mountains, and I find my eyes closing.
“We’re here,” Knight says softly, cupping my cheek with his huge, warm hand.
“Urgh,” I groan, arching my back to stretch my spine as I unfurl my arms and push them out in front of me, yawning loudly.